Private Sorrow, A

by Reynolds, Maureen

  ‘They’re both sitting in the reception but not looking at nor talking to each other.’

  ‘What do you think of her?’ Charlie asked him.

  ‘She seems genuine enough.’

  Charlie didn’t think so but he had no way to prove otherwise. Dave Barton had said he was responsible for the accidental death of Lenny Barr, but why this charade? Why change your whole life when it was an accident? If, indeed, it was an accident. Perhaps there was more to it, but the main witness was dead and Etta Barton was one cool customer.

  Later, when the constable came back, Charlie said, ‘We’re going to pick up Miss McQueen from the hospital. We’ll take her home, get her car key and then you can drive me out to the farm. I want another look around out there and then I’ll drive her car back.’

  Molly was still in the accident and emergency room when they came to get her. She sat in silence during the ride home. She handed over her key as she was dropped off at the flat.

  ‘Try and get a good night’s sleep and I’ll see you in the morning,’ Charlie said.

  She nodded and went upstairs. She was so exhausted and her head was throbbing. She would take a couple of aspirins and try to sleep.

  Charlie and the constable reached the farm and drove into the yard. It was pitch-black but Charlie had brought a torch with him. ‘I want to look at the car,’ he said, moving over the rough ground to where it was parked.

  He was surprised to find it unlocked and when he opened the bonnet, there was no battery in it. He scouted around the shed, almost tripping over a bale of straw. In the corner, he found the battery, placed on two bricks. So it appeared as if she had been telling the truth, but how easy would it have been to take the battery out to get it charged up? This didn’t mean that she hadn’t been out on the streets at night with or without her auntie. How convenient for her, or was it just luck, that the two other main suspects were now dead and Etta Barton could get away with her attacks?

  The door to the farmhouse was locked but he could see the packing cases lined up against the wall. They had almost got away with the deception and no one would ever have known what happened.

  After driving back into the city, he parked Molly’s car in Baltic Street. When he glanced up at her window, all was in darkness.

  61

  Charlie went to see Molly early the next morning. He wanted to hear her side of the story before judging if he could charge Etta Barton with an assault.

  Molly was still in her dressing gown when he knocked at the office door. She still had her dreadful headache and as Charlie made a pot of tea and some toast, she swallowed another two aspirins. ‘Now, explain it all to me again, Molly. How exactly did you make the connection that Eck and George were Dave and Etta?’

  Molly explained about going to see Vera and seeing the album lying on the sofa. ‘I was just curious about all those old-fashioned photos and then I saw the one with Dave’s father and Vera’s mother on the farm. I recognised the gate and the house in the background immediately. Then I saw the photo of Dave and Etta that Vera had showed me at the very beginning when she first told me about the case. I thought I recognised Eck’s face when I interviewed him early on in my investigation but couldn’t place it, and it was only upon seeing the photo again along with the farm that I made the connection. As I said, Dave looked like his father in the photo. Something clicked when I saw the farm as well.

  ‘Vina’s daughter Barbara was picking potatoes at the farm and she said his name was Lenny Barr. However, when he said it was Eck Barr, I never gave it another thought. He mentioned he had come from the Borders with his stepson George and I’m afraid I scratched their names out from my notebook and never followed it up. All this time, I was so certain Dave Barton was dead that my brain didn’t even consider any other option. But then, when I saw the photo of Dave again and the parents standing at the farm, everything just fell into place. And then, of course, there was the birth certificate. Etta’s real name was Georgette and it all just seemed to be too much of a coincidence.’

  ‘You know, I’m furious with you for going there on your own. I think she’s a very dangerous woman and you got off lightly with a scalp wound.’

  ‘I’ve only got two stitches in it,’ she said indignantly.

  ‘Yes, well, you could have been badly injured or even killed.’

  Molly realised that and she said, ‘I’m sorry. I’ll never be the tough guy investigator like in the books.’

  Charlie laughed. ‘That’s only fiction, where a tap on the head doesn’t even leave a bruise, but now you see for yourself what damage it can do. By the way, she says she was only defending her property from you as she thought you were a burglar, intent on stealing her car and whatever else you could get your hands on.’

  ‘Yes, that’s what she told me.’

  ‘Dave Barton confessed to the accidental death of Lenny Barr. He said Etta wasn’t with him and she only knew when he came home in distress. He said he wanted to get away in case he was charged with murder, that he had been wanting to get away anyways and that she wanted to go with him.’

  ‘What do you think happened, Charlie?’

  ‘I think she was there. I’m not saying she had anything to do with the accident but she knows a lot more than she’s saying, that’s for sure.’

  ‘What will happen now?’

  ‘I’ll question her again today but if she sticks to her story, then no matter what I think, I’ve got no proof of any wrongdoing except that she hit you, which she’ll say was self-defence. She’ll tell the court she came across you skulking in the yard and when she challenged you, you went to hit her. It’ll be her word against yours.’

  Molly was cross. ‘I was not skulking in the yard. I was merely peering through the window.’

  Charlie threw up his hands. ‘There you go, then. You looked like you were up to no good and she reacted. You should have left it to us, Molly.’

  Molly agreed with him. ‘I’m not cut out to be in this business.’

  She looked so tired and downhearted that he felt sorry for being so annoyed. ‘Never mind, if you hadn’t found the photographs and put two and two together as quickly as you did, then they would both have disappeared again. Why they ever came back here is a mystery. They were both safe where they lived before but there’s no accounting for human nature.’

  ‘What about Robina Price? Was she involved in all of this?’

  ‘I think she was but Etta says she didn’t even know she was back in Dundee. She even asked for her address so she could go and see her and she looked so sad when I told her the woman was dead.’

  ‘Do you think Etta will stay with her mother now that she’s been found?’

  Charlie looked exhausted. ‘She says she’s going back to the Borders where she still has a cottage and there’s no word of an invite for her poor mother. Why Mrs Barton ever tried to find such a cold-hearted daughter is beyond me, for as I gather, she’s always been like this towards her.’

  Molly was beginning to get tired again. ‘I must get dressed and go down to see Jean. I hope I don’t have to go out today as I just want to sleep.’ She looked at him and his eyes had dark shadows under them. ‘You look like you should do the same, Charlie.’

  ‘I wish I could, but I have to go to work. I have a desk full of reports to fill in and a huge load of crime to investigate. Not to mention questioning the fair Etta Barton again.’

  They both went down the stairs just as Jean opened up the office. Her look of surprise was so comical, especially as she tried to look normal. Then, Molly realised she was still wearing her dressing gown and she blushed. Jean sat down at the desk after saying ‘good morning’ and kept her eyes on the typewriter.

  Molly suddenly remembered something. ‘I forgot to ask, when will Dave’s funeral be held?’

  Charlie shrugged. I expect Vera will have to arrange it but she did say it was to be a private affair, which I think is wise, None of the newspapers have got hold of the story, thank goodness, s
o I hope she organises it as quickly as possible.’

  As he walked out the door into the street, he grinned. ‘You know, I’ll have to make an honest woman of you after being seen by Jean.’

  Once again, Molly blushed and hurried inside.

  62

  Charlie made straight for Vera’s house. The two women were sitting at the table but the atmosphere in the room was icy. He felt so sorry for the older woman. It must be heart-breaking for her to find her daughter after all these years only to be faced with this sullen silence. ‘I’ve come to ask you again, Miss Barton, if you were with your father on the day of the accident?’

  ‘I’ve already said I wasn’t, so why don’t you leave me alone?’

  ‘It’s just that your father’s story doesn’t ring true. I mean, look at it this way … he’s alone with Lenny Barr and no one sees him fall, so why all this double life? It doesn’t make sense. For instance, where did he meet Lenny Barr? Why were they both together in Arbroath, especially as your mother was in hospital? You didn’t visit her that afternoon, so where were you?’

  ‘I was waiting for Dad to come back from his walk. He went out in the early morning and said he would be back by dinner time. I didn’t want to leave the house without him and I thought my mother would understand when we went to the hospital for the next visiting hour.’

  ‘Etta, did you knock your mother over with your car and then push her under a bus?’ He heard Vera give a gasp of surprise. ‘Did you also set a fire in the doorway of 14 Baltic Street and damage a car in the same street?’

  ‘No, I’ve told you, I never came into the town as my car had no battery. It’s easily seen. You don’t work on a farm so you might not realise, but it’s hard work from morning till night and I was always dead tired by eight o’clock and in my bed, especially as I had to get up at five.’

  ‘Why did you almost empty your post office savings account all those years ago?’

  ‘I needed to buy some clothes and I didn’t want to bother my mother for money as she wasn’t well.’

  ‘Were these the clothes you took with you to the farm in the Borders?’ She nodded. ‘But you began dressing as a boy. Why would you want some pretty dresses that you would never wear?’

  ‘I only started this as a lark when Dad bought the farm here and then realised I liked wearing men’s clothes. When we were in the Borders I dressed as a girl and was known as Etta, so I wasn’t committing any offence.’

  Vera butted in. ‘Please leave her alone. I believe her and as she says, she hasn’t committed any offence. Dave told me what had happened before he died and I believe him. It was a tragic accident and although they were both stupid in running away, I do think Dave did what he thought was best.’

  Charlie was getting fed up with this woman. ‘Actually, Etta, you have committed a serious offence by striking Miss McQueen with a stick.’

  ‘I didn’t know who she was. When she came to the farm a few weeks ago, I didn’t see her face as she was in the kitchen with Dad. I caught her peering into the house and I only meant to frighten her, not hurt her like I did. Can I say sorry to her?’

  At that moment, Charlie knew he wouldn’t get any more from her. She seemed grief-stricken about the assault and there was no way he was ever going to get proof of Etta’s guilt.

  ‘I want to leave after the funeral, Detective Johns. Is that all right?’ she said.

  ‘We’ll have to wait and see, Miss Barton.’ He looked at Vera, who was now sitting by the fire with her arms wrapped around herself as if she was cold. ‘When is the funeral?’

  ‘Not for a few days. There’s to be a post-mortem, then it will be a family affair at the crematorium. Dave always said that was how he wanted to go, back in the days when we were a family.’ Tears ran down her cheeks but she brushed them away while Etta moved over to the window and looked out.

  When he left the house, Charlie was so angry. He wasn’t the type of person to get mad very often but, on this occasion, he felt a deep resentment toward Etta Barton. Her mother had spent a lot of her savings trying to trace her, she had been knocked down and pushed under a bus, Peter Walsh was still lying in the hospital and Molly had almost been suffocated with smoke and hit over the head, and he didn’t have one ounce of evidence to point the finger at her.

  It could still have been Miss Price who was the culprit. After all, she had looked on innocent pleasures as sins and thought retribution was needed to cleanse the soul, but looking through her cell-like flat with its one suitcase, he got the impression she wasn’t a woman of action. She may have spouted on about her religion but he couldn’t see her as a person who would conduct this vendetta against innocent people. But maybe he was wrong. He would never know now.

  A week later, Dave Barton was cremated, along with all his secrets. The mourners were Vera and her daughter. Charlie stood at the back of the empty crematorium chapel and watched with sadness as Vera bowed her head at another funeral. When they came out, Charlie saw that Etta was dressed in a brown pinstriped suit, which looked severe with the cropped grey hair. She looked more like a sixty-year-old than forty.

  Etta marched right up to him. ‘I’d like to leave now, please.’

  ‘I would like a copy of your address, just in case some new evidence turns up,’ he said. He knew he was being churlish but this woman annoyed him. She didn’t even have the decency to take her mother’s arm upon leaving the chapel, instead leaving that small courtesy to the minister who conducted the short service.

  She handed him a copy of her address and he saw it was a small village near Dumfries. ‘That’s where the cottage is and I’ll have a small piece of land to work. It means I can keep my hand in with growing vegetables and keeping some hens.’

  ‘I’ll come with you to the railway station tomorrow, Miss Barton, just to make sure you catch the right train.’

  She laughed. ‘You want to make sure I leave, don’t you?’

  Charlie didn’t return the smile but said he would meet her when her train left at ten thirty in the morning.

  Back in the house, Vera had made some dinner and tried to persuade Etta not to go. ‘You can stay here and get a job. We have so much to catch up on, Etta.’

  Etta wasn’t in the mood for cosy chats but she didn’t want her mother to be left with no hope. ‘It would never work, but I’ll leave my address and maybe you can come and visit any time you like.’

  The next morning was cold but dry. Etta said she didn’t want her mother to see her off. It was bad enough having that policeman standing watching her. Charlie got to the station early and waited till she appeared. She carried a small suitcase. When she saw him looking at it, she said, ‘I’ve ordered a removal van to bring all the things from the house. It should arrive in a few days.’ She started to walk away. ‘Goodbye and please say I’m sorry to Miss McQueen for hitting her. I hope she understands it wasn’t meant.’

  She moved over to the ticket office and Charlie stood beside her. ‘One single ticket to Dumfries, please,’ she said, handing over the money.

  Then she was through the barrier and onto the platform. The train was on time and arrived at the station with a huge belch of steam and various metallic noises. She stepped onto the train, giving him a small wave as she did. Then the train slowly made its way along the track. Charlie made sure she hadn’t come out of her compartment and then he turned and went back to work.

  The first thing he did when he reached his desk was to phone the removal company. The young woman on the other end of the line said yes, Miss Barton’s belongings would be delivered to her address in Dumfries in two days’ time. There was no more he could do. He knew he was being cautious seeing her onto the train but he didn’t want a repeat of the attacks on Vera, Peter and Molly. He thought about going to see Vera but she wouldn’t be in the mood for more questions. It was bad enough to find your daughter only to lose her again, and Charlie was suddenly tired of this whole case. There was so much deception and he could do nothing about it – at lea
st not at this moment.

  63

  Etta settled back in the carriage. Luckily she was the only occupant. She savoured the moment when she had outsmarted that policeman, although it had been touch and go for a while. She knew he suspected her but he had no proof and she had been so meek and passive when apologising to the nosy Molly McQueen. She almost burst out laughing when she recalled her actions. She had been very lucky and she knew it.

  She couldn’t believe her good fortune when she had accidentally met her Aunt Robina. She had been spying on Peter Walsh’s movements when the older woman had approached her. ‘It’s Etta, isn’t it?’ she had said.

  Etta had panicked for a moment but then she realised this woman was on her side. ‘How did you recognise me, Auntie Robina?’ she asked her, more in curiosity than anything else.

  ‘You are the image of my late mother. I look like her as well, so we have that in common. What are you doing here?’

  Etta decided to be truthful and she told her. Robina’s face grew red and she said that sin should be punished. Etta remembered the last time she had seen her. She was fifteen and her dad had put her aunt out of the house because she had made her mother cry. She went on about paying for one’s sins.

  Etta didn’t care about sins but she did have a deep and fervent desire for revenge that had been lying dormant for all these years. She asked if Robina would help her by scouting around and checking out Peter’s movements, as well as those of her mother and that pestering woman Vera had hired to trace her.

  She thought about her mother. She suspected her mum knew the truth and maybe Dad had told her before he died. Her mother had frightened her before she left when she said quietly, ‘Why was Lenny wearing Dad’s watch? It was the watch that made me identify your father. He loved that watch. I don’t know why he would have taken it off.’

  Etta had said. ‘I don’t know why Lenny had it. I wasn’t there.’