The Altered Case

by Peter Turnbull

  ‘Nothing,’ Virginia Farrent replied. ‘I did nothing. I started to scream and my husband walked up to me and punched me, knocked me out. When I came to I had a numb face, which became extensively bruised over the next few days and also became very sore, so I reckon he punched me several times; he made sure I wasn’t going to come round in a hurry.’

  ‘Yes.’ Hennessey nodded. ‘Go on . . .’

  ‘Well, when I did regain consciousness there were five bodies on the living-room carpet and night had fallen. I clearly had been out for a few hours. All the bodies were tied with rope, hands behind their backs and one foot trapped under the rope binding their hands. You can’t escape from that.’

  ‘We know.’

  ‘All were soaking wet. I noticed a trail of damp leading from the corridor into the lounge. I staggered about and remember a lot of dampness on the floor of the bathroom.’

  ‘They had been drowned,’ Hennessey stated. ‘It ties in with the post-mortem findings.’

  ‘I think that must have been what happened.’ Virginia Farrent shuddered. ‘They must have known what was happening; probably saw parents or sister being put into the bath ahead of them and not being able to escape . . . trussed up like they were. I’ll never know . . .’

  ‘We won’t either.’ Hennessey sighed. ‘We won’t either; only if your husband or Nigel Parr tells us.’

  ‘Where are they?’

  ‘Both released. We couldn’t hold them,’ Hennessey advised.

  ‘I didn’t know you had arrested them. I had to go away for a bit. I knew what I had to do; I just had to collect myself before doing it.’ Virginia Farrent sank back in her chair.

  ‘Yes, your husband reported you as a mis per.’

  ‘Mis per?’ Virginia Farrent questioned.

  ‘Missing person,’ Carmen Pharoah explained. ‘He was worried about you.’

  ‘No . . . no, he wasn’t.’ Virginia Farrent shook her head. ‘No, he wasn’t and, no, he isn’t. What he is, is worried that I will do this – make a statement – that is what he is worried about. I have had cause to fear for my own safety. My husband can make people disappear. I know enough to put him away. I could have even saved my life by leaving him when I did.’ She paled. ‘I’ll never know how close I came.’

  ‘So what happened then?’

  ‘Well, then Nigel Parr and my husband carried the five bodies out of the house and put them into a trailer which they covered with a tarpaulin. Then we drove the Parrs’ car into York and left it in a car park.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘Yes . . . we . . . my husband wasn’t going to leave me in the house unsupervised. I would have phoned the police and he knew it. So we drove into York. Parr followed in his car and drove us back.’ Virginia Farrent collected herself and then she continued, ‘So then we drove the trailer into a field, pulled it behind a four-by-four, and in the field was a guy with a mechanical digger. I don’t know who he was.’

  ‘It’s all right.’ Hennessey smiled. ‘We do. He is now deceased but we know who he was. Please, carry on.’ Hennessey noticed how fetching Virginia Farrent was: balanced face, high cheekbones, wisdom and kindness in her eyes.

  ‘We then returned home . . . job done . . . that’s what my husband’s attitude seemed to be . . . job done . . . home for supper and bed and a good night’s sleep. My husband told me to clean up the mess but there was no mess to clean up, only bath water everywhere, so I left it to evaporate. After that the press and TV were full of the family who had vanished, then the world moved on and then . . . then the strangest thing happened.’

  ‘Oh?’ Hennessey asked.

  ‘I forgot it all happened.’ Virginia Farrent looked at Hennessey then at Carmen Pharoah. ‘I mean, can you believe that? It evaporated like the water on the lounge carpet, for the next thirty years. I just got on with life . . .’

  ‘Yes, we can believe it,’ Hennessey replied. ‘In fact, that aspect of human behaviour has been a bit of a hallmark of this inquiry. It’s called “blocking out”, apparently it’s a coping mechanism. This whole inquiry started when two men in their middle years came into this very police station because they had both realized the significance of a patch of freshly turned soil in a field which they noticed thirty years ago when they were schoolboys walking in the woods and fields near Catton Hill village.’

  ‘Oh . . . so I’m not insane?’ Virginia Farrent blushed with relief.

  ‘No.’ Carmen Pharoah smiled. ‘Seems to me like you were a terrified woman.’

  ‘So why did you come forward now?’ Hennessey asked softly.

  ‘Simple . . . when the bodies were discovered and the press covered it the memory returned. It all just flooded back but it didn’t come back suddenly. At first, I wondered if I was remembering a dream, then bits came back, like an episode here an episode there, over a few days, then I had to put the episodes all into chronological order. It was helped by my husband making all sorts of threats to me about what he’d do if I went to the police,’ Virginia Farrent added. ‘That helped confirm that I wasn’t remembering a dream and . . .’ she paused. ‘If I tell you my full maiden name was Virginia Mary Theresa Bernadette O’Driscoll, you can guess the implication.’

  ‘Roman Catholic?’ Hennessey smiled.

  ‘Yes . . . Irish at that . . . lapsed, but Roman Catholic. Girl’s boarding school in County Mayo, run by nuns. It’s the old Catholic guilt thing. It takes control, it emerges, it dictates . . . and here I am.’

  ‘And here you are.’ Hennessey smiled. ‘You’ll give and sign a statement to the effect of all you have just told us?’

  ‘Yes, yes I will. Will I be charged with anything?’ Virginia Farrent asked.

  ‘It’s too early to say.’ Hennessey stood. ‘But I think it highly unlikely since you have come forward as you have and you were not a part of the conspiracy. I think it’s highly unlikely the CPS will frame charges. We certainly won’t be arresting you. Where can we find you?’

  ‘I’m staying at a small hotel in Scarborough. I’ll give you the address.’

  ‘Good.’ Hennessey reached for the door handle. ‘If you’ll be good enough to give your statement to DS Pharoah? I have two arrest warrants to prepare.’

  EPILOGUE

  The following June, a man and a woman walked slowly arm in arm, early one evening, up the long winding incline that was the driveway of the hotel in which they were staying for a brief two-day break.

  ‘So, justice was served . . . eventually.’ The man glanced up at the rich foliage which overhung the driveway and which was at that moment sharply defined against the scarlet sunset. ‘And for the living there was closure. Michelle Lemmon’s brother found out what had happened to his sister and now has a grave to visit.’

  ‘It must have been agony for her family.’ The woman looked down at the gravel surface upon which she and her partner walked. ‘The not knowing where your loved one is . . . the not knowing what happened to them. Oh . . . should that ever happen to me . . .’

  ‘Yes, it isn’t funny, not funny at all. As you say . . . should that ever happen. It was though, in the event, a very short trial. Parr and Farrent instructed their barrister to go NG, as my son would say, but Virginia Farrent proved a very strong witness for the prosecution. She was solid and angry, her sincerity shone through and her husband condemned himself by throwing a temper tantrum from the dock, shouting across at her that she was “no good as a wife”, that she “had no loyalty”, and Nigel Parr turned to him and said, “You idiot, that’s an admission,” and put his head in his hands. It was then that their barristers requested a brief adjournment so as to consult their clients.’

  ‘And they changed their plea?’

  ‘Yes.’ The man’s eye was caught by a swift darting about against the sunset. ‘Yes, from NG to G, also as my son would say.’

  ‘From not guilty to guilty?’ the woman asked.

  ‘Yes, guilty as charged, my Lord,’ the man replied. ‘They both collected five life sentences with a
minimum tariff of twenty-five years, and so they won’t be much of a threat when they breathe fresh air again, if they ever do, being in their fifties now.’

  ‘So what happened to the land?’ The woman glanced at the man.

  ‘A very good question, and the answer is that it is all still up in the air. I spoke to Virginia Farrent just after the trial. Her divorce is still to be finalized but her lawyer is requesting half the Farrent estate. She said she wanted half of the value of the bungalow because that was her home. She is entitled to it, but she said she doesn’t want the land. She said she felt it was tainted with blood.’

  ‘Noble woman,’ the woman commented.

  ‘Yes, I thought much the same. So her half of the land in dispute will be taken into public ownership and unless Thomas Farrent makes a will leaving it to a named person or organization then his half will also, in the fullness of time, be taken into public ownership,’ the man explained. ‘The Farrents’ marriage being childless.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Nigel Parr loses his house in Camden. Thomas Farrent made a statement in which he confirmed that he took money from the Farrent estate to compensate Parr for not inheriting anything from his foster parents, as we suspected, in return for Nigel Parr’s help in their murder.’ The man inclined his head briefly. ‘So we will seize the house under the Proceeds of Crime legislation.’

  ‘So.’ Louise D’Acre squeezed George Hennessey’s arm against her. ‘The Parrs lost everything . . . their lives . . . And Michelle Lemmon, who just wanted to get away from home for a while, just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, lost her life as well.’

  ‘It happens.’ George Hennessey stopped walking and turned to take one last glimpse of Lake Windermere before guiding his lady onwards to their hotel, dinner, and an early night.