by Pam Weaver
Bear shook his head. ‘Afraid not,’ he said. He paused. ‘Are you planning to stay here now, Annie? I just need to know where I can contact you at all times.’
She was picking at the frayed edge of her handkerchief and nodded dully.
‘No chance you might be thinking of returning to the home you shared with Henry?’ She looked puzzled, so he added, ‘The house in Horsham?’
‘Number 7? I had to give it up,’ Annie shrugged. ‘I haven’t been there since the trial. My old neighbour tells me it’s got new people there now.’
‘Why did you give it up?’ Bear asked.
Annie glanced at her parents. ‘After Edward was born, I was saving every penny I got in the hope that I could carry on with the rent, but without a regular income it was impossible.’
‘I see,’ said Bear.
Annie sat up as a sudden thought crossed her mind. ‘You don’t think Henry has gone back there, do you?’
‘No, no,’ said Bear. ‘Nothing like that.’
‘We could drive over there tomorrow and see, if you like,’ Malcolm said eagerly.
Bear was alarmed to see that the hope that Edward might be in Horsham had brought the family back to life. ‘Please let me assure you,’ he said quickly. ‘My colleagues in Horsham have already checked that avenue of investigation and, like you say, there’s a new family living there.’
Their defeated, despairing expressions returned. Bear left, promising to keep them informed. After his conversation with Mr Dobbin and his visit to Annie and her parents, there was only one other thing he needed to do tonight. Something he wished he’d thought about earlier.
*
During the day, the wind had got up and several items had been blown from the washing line. Sarah looked around the garden. Everything was in its place, but she had an uneasy feeling that she was being watched again. Snatching the washing from the line, she bent to pick up a couple of table napkins and one of Jenny’s socks. The feeling wouldn’t go away. Someone was there, in the shadows. ‘Who’s there?’
She saw something out of the corner of her eye and approached the shed with caution, but no one was there. She went back to the washing but she felt jumpy … scared almost. She paused as she pulled a blouse from the line and turned around slowly. The curtain in the upstairs bedroom of Mrs Goodall’s house dropped. ‘Oh it was you, you nosy old bat,’ Sarah whispered good-naturedly. ‘Back to your old tricks again.’
*
Mrs Goodall had decided to have an early bath and a long soak. The water was running and she decided to draw the bedroom curtains before undressing when she’d seen Sarah in the garden. She hadn’t wanted the girl to think she was spying on her like she used to, but as she went to draw the second curtain, Mrs Goodall saw something else. She nearly fainted with the shock. The prowler! He was back there … in the garden.
*
It was only as Sarah walked back into the kitchen that she noticed a petticoat in the flower bed. It was dirty and would have to be washed again, but as she bent to pick it up, she saw footprints and a cluster of cigarette butts under the window. Immediately, her spine began to tingle and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Someone had been spying on them through the kitchen window again.
Oh God, it was Henry. He must have come back again. What did he want this time? Surely he hadn’t come for her children as well?
‘Mrs Royal?’
She straightened up quickly and came face to face with a man dressed in a shabby raincoat. Sarah took a sharp intake of breath. He was standing in the shadows, but she could just make out his stubbly chin. He had a trilby hat, which he took off as he came towards her. She was rooted to the spot and trying not to panic.
‘I’ve been trying to catch one of you alone for days,’ he said. ‘I really wanted the other one but you’ll do.’
They both stood staring at each other. Sarah’s heart was pounding with fear. Who was this man and what did he want? She could see he was muscular and obviously very fit. ‘Are you a reporter?’ she squeaked.
He shook his head. ‘What I have to say is for your ears only.’
*
Mrs Goodall was still watching them from her bedroom window. What should she do? She had to help, but she was only half dressed. If she stopped to put her corsets back on, the poor girl wouldn’t have a chance. Pulling her dressing gown around her shoulders, she ran downstairs as fast as she could. Stopping only to grab something, she tore out into the garden.
*
Sarah felt trapped. She was standing in the flower bed and the only way she could get back into the house was to go past him. She had to keep him talking and hope against hope that someone, anyone, would walk by.
‘You see, I know all about your Henry,’ he said, coming closer.
Sarah backed away. ‘Keep away,’ she cried helplessly as she put her hand up. She could feel the wall of the house coming up behind her. She had nowhere to run. He put his hands up in supplication, but she misunderstood his motives. ‘No, No!’ she cried.
‘I just want to talk,’ he said.
‘Then stay there,’ she quaked. ‘Stay where you are. I only have to call out and someone will telephone the police.’
‘If I was you, Mrs Royal,’ he said, leaning towards her and dropping his voice, ‘I really wouldn’t do that until you’ve heard what I have to say. Believe me, it’s for your own good.’
They both heard a slight footfall and then a voice behind him said, ‘Oh no you don’t,’ as Mrs Goodall pressed her weapon into the middle of his back. ‘I’ll have you know that when I was young I was a crack shot.’
The man’s hands shot into the air. ‘Don’t shoot, don’t shoot!’
Sarah’s relief was palpable because, at the same time, she saw Bear’s car draw into Kaye’s driveway. Bear and Garfield got out smartly and ran across the grass.
‘Right, me laddo,’ Bear was saying as he put handcuffs on the man, ‘I’m arresting you on suspicion of trespassing on private property.’
Sobbing with fright, Sarah fell into Mrs Goodall’s arms.
Thirty-Five
‘I ain’t done nothing! I was only talking to the lady. Look in me wallet. You’ll see my identification there.’ As he and Garfield were frog-marching the struggling intruder towards his car, Bear hesitated. ‘I meant no harm,’ their prisoner insisted. ‘I came to warn them about Henry Royale. I’m a private detective.’
‘This is the man I’ve seen hanging around the garden,’ said Mrs Goodall triumphantly. She pulled her dressing gown closer to her body, suddenly embarrassed by her state of undress.
By now Garfield and Bear had their prisoner, still handcuffed with his hands behind his back, leaning across the bonnet.
Lottie had come into the garden and was doing her best to comfort Sarah. Bear went to her. ‘Are you all right?’ he said, gently taking her hands in his.
She nodded but her body still juddered.
He took a clean handkerchief from his pocket and shook it out before giving it to her. ‘What’s this all about?’
Lottie looked at the prisoner and gasped. ‘He’s the man I saw looking into the window last night.’
‘It’s not what you think, lady,’ said the man. ‘I was trying to talk to the other one. Annie Royal. She’s in danger.’
All eyes were on the prisoner.
‘My name is Dennis Nelson,’ he said, looking nervously from one to the other. ‘I was employed by Henry Royale to spy on her.’
‘You what?’ cried Sarah.
‘Mr Royale wanted to bring up his son on his own so he wanted to prove that Annie was an unfit mother,’ Nelson went on. ‘I’ve been down here on and off for weeks, but I couldn’t find a thing wrong with the young lady. Mr Royale was very angry and sacked me.’
‘So what are you doing back here again?’ asked Garfield.
Nelson told them about his final meeting with Henry, where he’d revealed his plan.
‘Why didn’t you go to the police straight
away if you thought he was up to no good?’
‘I’ve got a wife and kid,’ said Nelson. ‘I don’t trust him. He knows where I live and he’s quite capable of taking it out on them if I went to the rozzers. He never even paid me what he owed. Look Gov, I’m on the level. I just wanted to warn the girl, that’s all. It cost me money to come down here.’
‘Do you think Henry Royale is going to attack Annie?’ Bear asked. He was searching through Nelson’s pockets.
Nelson shook his head. ‘Worse than that,’ he said. ‘He’s got photographs.’ He suddenly felt awkward to be talking about things like this in present company. These were respectable people.
‘What sort of photographs?’ Garfield pressed.
Bear was going through Nelson’s wallet.
‘The woman in the picture looks like Mrs Royal,’ said Nelson, carefully avoiding Mrs Goodall’s eye. ‘She’s posing like … you know.’
‘Posing?’ said Mrs Goodall. ‘What’s wrong with that?’
Bear put the wallet back in Nelson’s pocket and patted his chest.
‘There’s nothing wrong with that,’ Nelson agreed quickly, ‘except she’s … she’s got no clothes on.’
Mrs Goodall gasped. Lottie looked puzzled. ‘But why would she do that?’
‘I don’t believe it,’ said Sarah stoutly. ‘Annie is not that sort of girl.’
‘I know, I know,’ said Nelson. ‘Like I said, the girl in the pictures looks like Mrs Royal.’
‘I don’t understand,’ said Lottie.
‘He’s going to release them here, in Worthing,’ said Nelson.
‘But that will ruin her reputation,’ said Mrs Goodall.
‘Exactly,’ said Bear. ‘Then she would lose her good name and her child. You should have come to us sooner.’ He jerked his head towards Garfield.
‘And what would you have done?’ said Nelson. ‘Would you have arrested a man for having photographs of his wife?’
Garfield uncuffed the prisoner. ‘What did you hope to achieve by seeing Mrs Royal?’
‘I dunno,’ said Nelson, rubbing his wrists. ‘I just wanted her to know.’
While she was listening, Sarah had been going over some other things in her mind. There were other oddities they’d never solved. Was it possible that this was the man who had cut Jenny’s hair? It didn’t make sense if he was simply trying to warn Annie about some photographs, but what with everything else that had been going on, the assault on her daughter had been all but forgotten.
‘What about my daughter’s plait?’ said Sarah. ‘Was that your doing, and if so, why did you cut it off?’
‘Cut off her plait?’ said Mrs Goodall faintly.
‘What plait?’ Nelson protested loudly. ‘I don’t know nothing about no plait.’
‘We’re going to check your story before we let you go,’ said Garfield.
‘Nah,’ said Bear, ‘let him go.’
Garfield looked a tad surprised, but Nelson didn’t hang around for him to change his mind. Picking up his fallen trilby, he hurried down the path. ‘Thanks mate,’ he called over his shoulder, ‘I owe you one. Watch out for them photographs.’
‘Was that wise?’ Mrs Goodall asked. ‘Shouldn’t you have taken a statement, given what he’s just said about Mr Royale?’
‘We know where to find him if we want him,’ said Bear. ‘I searched his wallet, remember?’
Sarah moved closer to Mrs Goodall. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘You were amazing.’
‘I was a fool,’ said Mrs Goodall modestly. ‘It’s a good job Detective Truman and his colleague turned up when they did. If that man had turned around and seen that I only had my late husband’s walking stick poking in his back, we might both have been in trouble.’
‘Well, thank you anyway,’ Sarah insisted. ‘You came just in time.’
All at once Mrs Goodall let out a gasp. ‘My bath! Heavens above, I left the taps running.’ And with, that she hurried away.
Once she was gone Bear turned to Sarah. ‘Look, I know this is an awful lot for you to cope with at the same time, but we’ve come back here because we have a shrewd idea where Henry and his accomplice are.’
Sarah seemed surprised.
‘We want to have another look through the stuff in Kaye’s office again,’ said Bear, by way of explanation. ‘We’re looking for something specific.’
As they went inside, Bear told them about the address on the scrap of paper found in Kaye’s suitcase. ‘It’s a bit of a mystery how it got there, but we know she wasn’t the only one in that car. We think that some papers must have been spilled when the car crashed. Henry must have grabbed most of them, but this one was missed.’
‘What did it say?’ asked Lottie.
‘When we showed it to Mr Dobbin,’ said Garfield, ‘he agreed that it was a solicitor’s paper instructing the sale of a property. 42 Pier Road, Littlehampton.’
‘But that was my old home,’ Sarah gasped. ‘I had to give it up when Henry left. I couldn’t afford the rent.’
‘The house belonged to Henry,’ said Bear quietly.
‘No,’ said Sarah shaking her head. ‘I had a rent book.’
‘The house belonged to your husband,’ Bear repeated more emphatically.
Sarah stared at him in disbelief. ‘Then why did the landlord put the rent up …?’ her voice trailed and her eyes filled with tears. ‘It was just to get me out, wasn’t it?’
Bear nodded.
‘How could he do that?’ Sarah said brokenly. ‘How could he do that to his children?’
Bear put his hand over hers. ‘I don’t know.’ His voice was gentle and their eyes locked.
‘We also discovered that Mrs Annie Royal’s home in Horsham was owned by Henry Royale,’ Garfield interjected.
Sarah found it hard to grasp what they were saying. ‘I don’t understand …’
‘It seems that Henry fleeced vulnerable women of their savings,’ said Garfield. ‘And used the money to buy property after property.’
‘The point is,’ said Bear, ‘if we want to prove there’s a pattern here, we need to find out where Kaye lived when she was married to him.’
‘We’ve checked the other two properties, Pier Road and the house in Horsham, but Henry isn’t there,’ said Bear. ‘We need to find that other address.’
‘We’re wondering if he has taken Edward there,’ said Garfield.
Sarah inhaled sharply.
‘It was Chichester,’ Lottie suddenly said.
Everyone turned to look at her. ‘When she got me out of that terrible place,’ she went on, ‘Kaye said she was sorry she hadn’t known I was so close by. She lived in Chichester for many years before moving here.’
‘Come to think of it, Lottie’s right,’ said Sarah. ‘She once told Annie and me that she’d lived in Chichester.’
‘Do you know the address?’ said Bear eagerly.
Sarah shrugged helplessly. ‘I’m not sure she ever said the actual address.’
Lottie’s face coloured as she shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’
The two policemen went into Kaye’s office and shut the door.
Sometime later, Bear and Garfield emerged from the office. They looked tired. ‘Anything?’ asked Sarah eagerly, even though she could tell by their dejected expressions that they’d found nothing.
‘Let’s ask Annie,’ said Sarah going to the phone.
It was late, and at first Judith was reluctant to wake Annie, but once Sarah had explained everything, she brought Annie to the telephone.
‘Any news?’ Annie asked.
‘Nothing concrete,’ said Sarah, ‘but Bear maybe onto something.’
‘I don’t know,’ Annie wailed when Sarah explained everything once again. ‘He never talked about his past.’
Sarah heard her choking back her tears. ‘Oh please don’t cry, darling.’
‘Oh Sarah,’ Annie wept. ‘What am I going to do? I feel so alone.’
‘But you’re not alone are you, darling,�
� said Sarah. ‘We’re all desperate to find Edward, and we don’t want to leave any stone unturned. Think for a minute will you, darling. Was there anything he might have let slip?’
‘Not that I can’t think of,’ Annie sighed. ‘Oh, hang on, wait a minute … I found some photographs in his secret drawer when he got arrested.’ Her voice was brightening up. ‘There was something written on the back of one. They’re in my room.’
‘Can I go and get them?’ Sarah asked eagerly. ‘Where are they exactly?’
‘There’s an old Turkish delight box on my dresser,’ said Annie. ‘I put them in there. You will ring me back and tell me if you find anything?’
Sarah hung up and ran upstairs two at a time, calling, ‘She’s got some old photographs,’ over her shoulder.
She hadn’t been in Annie’s room since the night she took the shawl away from Edward. It was neat and tidy but his things were scattered all around. The blue elephant he liked on his bed, the rattle which always made him laugh and that yellow cardigan Lottie had spent so long knitting him. But tonight, with the others piling into the room behind her, Sarah had no time for sentimentality. ‘She mentioned they’re in a Turkish delight box,’ she said, looking around wildly. It wasn’t on the dresser.
‘Is this it?’ Lottie was holding it up.
‘Where was it?’ asked Bear.
‘In the wardrobe,’ said Lottie.
A minute later they were all poring over them. One was of Henry in swimming trunks. He looked much younger and even more good-looking. He stood next to a youthful Kaye who had a long cigarette holder in her hand and her hair was tied up in a white turban. The other photographs were of a man sitting on a wall and a third picture of Henry in a garden which overlooked a field.
Sarah turned over the photograph of the man sitting on the wall. On the back Kaye had written Bunny Warren RIP.
‘So that was Bunny Warren,’ said Sarah. He was tall, muscular and good-looking.
‘Who is Bunny Warren?’ Bear asked.