BURIED CRIMES: a gripping detective thriller full of twists and turns

by MICHAEL HAMBLING

  Goodall frowned. ‘Until close to their deaths, yes. Any long term dietary deficiencies would have had an effect on bone density and size, and both were good. So if you want to pin me down, I’d say that they had all the nutrition they needed until a month or two short of their deaths. Maybe right up until they died, but it’s impossible to make judgements about their final few weeks because we don’t have any soft tissue to work with. The fact is, Sophie, we’ll never know for sure how they were treated in their final days, not from the medical evidence. It’s all too long ago. I feel bitterly disappointed that I can’t be of any more help to you. What about forensics? Has our friend Dave Nash come up with anything?’

  Sophie shook her head. ‘Like you, nothing. Nothing in the soil from around the grave, nor anything unusual in the fabric remnants. It’ll be people and their activities, Benny, that will take me there. It’s like an old-fashioned case from almost a generation ago, before advanced forensics became so important. Killers were still brought to justice, though it took longer. I’ll get there, don’t worry.’

  ‘I never doubted you for a moment. So what’s your next move?’

  ‘We’re still digging into the complete tangle of their stepmother’s life. She’s still alive and she’s heavily implicated.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘But first I have another visit to pay to Finch Cottage. All is not what it seems in the Freeman family, and I’ve been told that the mother is still at home this morning. A few words are called for.’

  * * *

  ‘Jill, you need to explain to me about Pauline Stopley.’

  Jill Freeman collapsed onto the nearest chair and looked at Sophie, her eyes wide. She looked around her, as if she’d lost her sense of time and place. The two women were in the kitchen at Finch Cottage and Jill had been about to make a pot of tea. Sophie took over.

  ‘Pauline Stopley. You need to tell me about her and what’s been going on. And before you say that it’s no business of mine, you need to know that many years ago she was part owner of this house. Probably at about the same time the children died. If you’ve ever checked the record of past owners, you might have spotted the name Camberwell. That was her married name.’

  Jill looked ashen. ‘Christ. Do you mean she might have had something to do with their deaths?’ She shook her head, her dark hair swaying. ‘No, that’s not right. She’s not that kind of person. She’s thoughtful and kind.’ She looked at Sophie. ‘You must have made some kind of mistake. I know she has a bit of a lively streak but, then, she was an actress. I don’t believe she’s capable of anything criminal, let alone being involved in the deaths of two young children. It’s just not possible.’

  Sophie was watching her carefully, weighing up her words. ‘How did you meet?’

  Jill tucked her hair behind her ears. She spoke quietly. ‘It was about four or five weeks ago. She brought her sister Dorothy round one very wet day. Dorothy comes every Tuesday morning to do the cleaning. She usually comes by bus but she had a bit of a cold and was running late, so Pauline gave her a lift. She brought her car right into the driveway as close to the front door as possible, but then got blocked in when the fishmonger arrived a few seconds later. He comes on a Tuesday too. Dorothy usually collects the fish from him and puts it in the fridge, but Pauline sent her straight into the house and took the fish herself. For once I was still at home because of a late meeting the previous evening, so I was in the kitchen when she came in. We got chatting and I guess something clicked between us.’ She looked at Sophie. ‘Nothing remotely like it has ever happened before. Please don’t think I make a habit of this kind of thing. I knew things weren’t quite right between Phil and me, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. I’d been feeling for some time that something was missing, but it was something in me, not Phil’s fault at all. All it took was one smile from Pauline and I kind of melted. And she spotted it. We chatted, and she left, but she stayed in my mind all day. I couldn’t sleep properly that night. The next evening she phoned and asked me to meet her for a drink. The second time we met, a couple of days later, we went for a walk at Maiden Castle. Apparently it’s her favourite place to get her thoughts in order. We had afternoon tea in a nearby café and continued chatting. And that was it. I felt a kind of magnetic pull and I didn’t even try to resist.’

  Sophie poured the tea and pushed a mug across to Jill. ‘So you think it all happened quite by chance? That there was no pre-planning involved? Did Dorothy know that you might be there that morning?’

  Jill shook her head, frowning. ‘No. Even I didn’t know until the evening before when my meeting seriously overran and my boss told me not to come in until mid-morning. I discovered that Pauline had given Dorothy a lift several times before, but had always dropped her off in the street outside. It just couldn’t have been deliberate.’ She took a sip of tea. ‘Anyway, how could she possibly have been connected with the deaths of those children? Even if she did own the house then, it was being rented out to someone, wasn’t it?’

  Sophie nodded. ‘Yes. But she was their stepmother, Jill. She says she was working in New York at the time of their deaths, and that seems to check out. She looks as upset as anyone would be, but she is an actress after all. We have several lines of inquiry, and people are checking them all out as we speak. I want you to stay away from her until we can be sure that she wasn’t involved.’

  ‘Their stepmother?’ Jill whispered. ‘God. That’s unbelievable. But I can’t see it, Chief Inspector. She’s always been so sensitive and thoughtful. I really don’t believe she has that level of duplicity in her.’

  Sophie’s face hardened. ‘While she’s been seeing you, she started an affair with a man here in Dorchester. He’s now dead. I’m reallocating Theresa back to you. She’s here as protection. Do you now understand my concerns?’

  Jill said nothing.

  ‘You also need to talk to your daughter. Karen suspects you’ve been seeing someone, though she doesn’t know who. She told Theresa about it.’

  A look of desperation swept across Jill’s face. ‘How did she know?’ she whispered.

  ‘Teenagers are more observant than they lead us to believe, particularly girls. You need to reassure her, Jill. She’s only just getting over the shock of finding the bodies, and now this has landed on her. Spend some time with her. She’s vulnerable.’ Sophie got up to leave. ‘By the way, don’t worry about Theresa. She’s totally non-judgemental and very discreet. I trust her totally, so you can too.’

  * * *

  It was late morning by the time Sophie got to the police station. She was preoccupied as she parked her car, and failed to notice the dark green four-by-four vehicle sitting in one of the reserved bays. She made her way up the stairs to the incident room. There was the familiar figure of Matt Silver slouched in a chair, his plaster-encased leg stretched out in front of him. She ran across the room and flung her arms around her boss.

  ‘Ouch,’ was Silver’s first word, followed by, ‘do I deserve this?’

  ‘Hey, you! Just clamber off my husband, would you? He’s already a physical wreck and can’t cope with this level of excitement.’

  Sophie turned and gave another warm hug to the curvy brunette who’d been talking to Rae Gregson. ‘Tracy! You’ve no idea how relieved I am to see Matt in here with us.’

  ‘Really? It looked pretty obvious to all of us onlookers. Get a grip, woman. Anyone would think he was important or something.’

  ‘What are you both doing here?’

  Tracy pulled a face. ‘I’m here bringing him in for a visit, and he’s here because he’s driving me round the bloody bend. Working from home is fine when I have the place to myself, but it’s a nightmare with him and his hangdog expression filling the house with gloom. So I thought I’d bring him in, dump him on you, and you can put up with him for a few hours. Meanwhile, I’m going out to visit a few bars to celebrate several hours of freedom.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Maybe come back for him at three? Can you put up with him for that long?’ S
he dropped a number of carrier bags on a table, knocking files onto the floor in the process. ‘Just a few nibbles to keep you going for lunch. Don’t let him eat too much or he’ll get a paunch and I’ll be forced to divorce him. Then where would you be?’

  Sophie laughed. ‘Thanks, Tracy. Your timing is perfect, as always. We have quite a difficult briefing this afternoon and Matt is just who we need sitting in. We’ll try not to tire him out too much.’

  Tracy snorted. ‘Bloody hell, Sophie, why do you think I brought him in? Tire him out all you want. Then he might not fidget so much tonight and I’ll sleep better. Bye all!’ She gave Matt a quick kiss on the lips and left.

  Sophie, still smiling, looked at her boss. ‘She doesn’t change, does she?’

  He grinned back and shook his head. ‘No, thank goodness. She is who she is and I love her for it. She has a couple of appointments at the hospital.’

  ‘I had no idea she was your wife, sir,’ Rae said. ‘I had a series of sessions with her a couple of years ago and she worked wonders on my voice. I knew her as Tracy Daunt.’

  ‘That attitude of hers is all show,’ Silver replied. ‘She was already well-established when we met, and there aren’t many speech therapists who’ve managed to get to her level of recognition. I can understand her wanting to retain her previous name for her work. Why change all that after marriage?’ He turned to Sophie. ‘You’d better look in the bags. I suspect Tracy’s description of a few nibbles is somewhat wide of the mark.’

  So it proved. One bag contained a tub of cold roast chicken legs, a tub of cold sausages and a box of baby-plum tomatoes, and another held a mass of smoked salmon sandwiches, all carefully wrapped in aluminium foil. A third contained a box of homemade, sliced fruit cake and several bunches of bananas. Sophie looked at the clock on the wall. ‘Early lunch, I think. We can talk while we eat. Everyone in agreement?’

  Sophie already knew that her hopes of building a case against Pauline Stopley had taken a severe knock. Earlier that morning, Barry Marsh had made a number of calls to the Hong Kong police. The liaison officer there had confirmed all of the important details of Pauline’s story. The actress had flown into the city in April 1995 with the twins and records showed that she had flown back to Britain a week later, by herself. Children’s Agency records showed that local officials had been aware of the children’s transfer into the care of their aunt. Moreover, the Hong Kong police still had a record of Pauline’s later visit in 1996 when she’d been unable to trace the two young children. A missing-persons’ investigation had been set up, but the youngsters had never been found. Marsh had even spoken to an officer who had been involved in the search, and she had assured him that Pauline Stopley had been genuinely distressed by the disappearance.

  Rae had been checking flight records dating back to the mid-nineties and had found bookings and flights that also corroborated Pauline’s story. All the flights matched up with the account she’d given Sophie and Marsh. Moreover, Rae had uncovered a set of travel data from early 1996 that showed that Kenneth and Jasmine Camberwell had taken a flight back to the UK from Hong Kong. They were accompanied by a Jing Hua Chen, the aunt who had taken them in the previous year. Jing Hua had flown back to Hong Kong two days later, alone. Rae had double-checked with passport usage records and these gave further evidence to support the story. There was little doubt: the twins had returned from Hong Kong some ten months after leaving these shores. And there the trail went cold.

  ‘I think you’ve done an outstanding job so far,’ Matt Silver said. ‘It shows you were right in sticking to your guns, Sophie. Is it possible to trace this aunt, Jing Hua Chen, and see what she has to say?’

  Marsh shook his head. ‘We can’t. Hong Kong police finally traced some of her records last week and emailed them over yesterday. She died ten years ago. A brain tumour. And they haven’t been able to find anyone else in the family. It’s a dead end.’

  Chapter 32: Scones and Clotted Cream

  Thursday

  Sophie turned to Rae. ‘What was it you discovered yesterday evening? I’m all ears.’

  ‘The week of the hit and run accident that killed Li Hua Camberwell, Pauline Stopley was appearing in a Tom Stoppard play. At the Hippodrome. In Bristol. But not that actual night. It was a Monday so there was no performance. She had an evening off.’

  ‘Not her again. Why does she keep popping up at every single twist and turn?’ Sophie sighed loudly.

  ‘Sorry, ma’am,’ Rae said.

  Sophie laughed. ‘Don’t apologise, Rae. It might turn out to be a vital piece of information. My problem is, I haven’t found a way in behind her facade. Whenever I interview her I always find myself wondering whether what I’m seeing is the real Pauline. She was a first-rate actress by all accounts, and I keep wondering if she’s putting on an act for me. Have I ever spoken to the real her or has it always been one of her characters? How do you fancy having a go? You might be able to find a way through. I’m due in Bristol this morning anyway.’

  ‘If you want me to ma’am, but I’m not sure I’d be as perceptive as you.’

  Sophie pondered. ‘Yes, let’s do it. I can’t give it to Barry. She’d put on the seductive charm and he’d be mesmerised. You might well confuse her. I hope you don’t mind me using that?’

  ‘You mean the fact that I’m a TS . . ? I can see your reasoning, ma’am. You want me to deliberately give clues, is that it? To let it slip out?’

  Sophie nodded. ‘Pauline always plays on perceived masculine and feminine weaknesses. She has seductive strategies for both genders and uses them during conversation. It will be interesting to see how she copes with you.’

  ‘Ma’am, I’ll do it but only this once. I’ve put so much time and effort into being a woman that I’m not going to let it slip now. This is a favour to you. A one-off, and a thank you for all the support you’ve given me. When do you want me to see her?’

  ‘There’s no time like the present, is there? See her in her own office rather than bringing her here.’

  Sophie began to wonder if she’d made a serious and unfortunate misjudgement but it was too late to back away now.

  ‘Okay’, Rae answered curtly. She picked up her jacket and left the incident room without saying goodbye to anyone. The door slammed behind her.

  Sophie got the message, loud and clear. She put her hand to her head and thought, God, what have I done?

  * * *

  The request to try using more masculine behaviour — to revert — came as a shock to Rae. And it came from someone she had come to consider as her most understanding supporter. But the DCI could obviously set aside her principles when it was convenient to do so. Was she aware of the pain this might cause? Of course she was. Doubtlessly the desire for a possible breakthrough outweighed the sense of betrayal that she, Rae, would obviously feel, indeed did feel and all too strongly.

  Rae began the interview.

  ‘You were in a production at the Bristol Old Vic that week. I checked. Can you tell me about it?’

  Pauline turned her head a little so that her face was slightly profiled. ‘It was a long time ago. Do you really expect me to remember it all?’

  Rae nodded. ‘Yes. It would have been an important event for you in lots of ways. A starring role. In the city where your ex-boyfriend lived. The week his wife was killed. Of course you remember.’

  She would normally have crossed her legs at this point, and possibly smoothed out her grey corduroy skirt, but she continued to sit upright with her knees slightly parted. She’d dropped her voice to a slightly lower register, and had omitted all feminine terms from her speech, although she’d found it hard to do so. She was trying her best to speak in the clipped tones that she’d spent months attempting to alter. Her mobile phone beeped and she glanced at the display. A message from the boss, marked urgent.

  ‘I’ll just have to check this,’ she said, and read.

  "Sincere apologies," it said. "I should never have asked you to do it in that way. I c
ould kick myself. Please be your normal self. I promise never to ask you to do the same again. S."

  Rae sighed, crossed her legs at the ankle, smoothed out a wrinkle where her skirt tightened against her thighs and relaxed into her chair. She looked at Pauline Stopley and gave her a slight smile. ‘Please go on,’ she said.

  ‘I wasn’t working that night,’ Pauline said. ‘It was a Monday. I was tired after the weekend so I spent the evening in my hotel and had an early night. I think I may have visited the bar for a drink after my meal, but I didn’t leave the place.’

  ‘And you didn’t meet Richard at all? Not that night?’

  ‘No. It was a temptation, I admit, but it would have been too difficult. Anyway, I was in the middle of a short fling with one of the supporting actors.’

  ‘Did you spend the evening with him? It was a him, was it?’

  There was a pause. Was the actress weighing up the chances of getting away with a lie?

  ‘Yes and yes. We ate in the restaurant, had a drink in the lounge then went to my room. He stayed until late evening. I expect you’ll want to know who he was?’

  Rae nodded. The name was well known from his numerous television appearances.

  ‘It went on all the time and probably still does. Meaningless flings between people on tour together. It’s more to alleviate the boredom than anything else, and to help us come down after the highs of a performance. I’d be buzzing, with no other way of dissipating all that energy.’

  ‘I’m not judging you, Ms Stopley. You don’t need to justify it to me.’

  ‘Oh but I do. It’s almost impossible to explain to someone who doesn’t regularly perform in front of audiences. The ups and downs, and the need for some emotional release. People in ordinary jobs and from ordinary backgrounds just can’t begin to understand.’