Call It Pretending (#3 - D.I. Paolo Storey Crime Series)

by Frances di Plino

  “Barbara, where have you…”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, but it’s one of the other women in your life.”

  “Jessica! Sorry, I thought it was…well, obviously, you’ve picked up on who I thought it was.”

  “Have you heard nothing from her?”

  Paolo moved back to his desk and sat on the edge.

  “No, nothing since a text on Saturday. I’ve been calling her this morning, but no answer from her office and I just get voicemail on her home phone and mobile. But never mind that, now. How’s it going up there in the frozen north?”

  She laughed. “Not so much frozen as fabulous. The sun is shining; it’s a beautiful day and I would love nothing more than taking a walk around the loch. Instead of which, I’m about to meet up with a group of single-minded psychiatrists to discuss matters so deep Nessie might be lurking down there.”

  “I wish I could be there.”

  “Discussing matters of the brain?”

  “No,” he said, choking on the image that conjured up. “Taking a walk around the loch.”

  “Maybe we should do that one weekend,” she suggested. “Anyway, I can’t stop on. My conference is due to start in five minutes. I just wanted to say hi.”

  “I’m glad you did,” Paolo said.

  As he replaced the receiver and retrieved his papers, it occurred to Paolo that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken a break. When this case is over, he vowed, a couple of weeks in Scotland with Jessica would be on the cards. It was time he looked up his Scottish relatives. He still had a few family members on his dad’s side.

  He moved out into the main office and walked to the board showing the case information. As he put down his papers on the desk next to it, Andrea called out.

  “Sir, I’ve got some news for you.”

  “Good,” he said, glancing at the board. “We certainly need information to fill in some of these gaps. Okay, listen up, everyone. Let’s recap where we are.”

  He waited for the room to fall silent and then quickly ran through the few details they knew. Unfortunately, it didn’t take him very long.

  “Right, Andrea, what have you got for us?” he said when he’d finished.

  “I’m not sure it’s going to help the case, sir, but you wanted to find out what happened to the Stormont children?”

  “Yes, did you finally get hold of their grandmother?”

  “I did. As I suspected, she’s been away on holiday and took her granddaughter with her.”

  “Not the two boys?”

  “No, she only has the granddaughter living there. Apparently she found it too difficult to cope with three children at her age, so kept the girl and sent the boys back to live with their mother.”

  “Poor boys,” Paolo said. “Have you arranged to speak to the daughter?”

  She nodded. “Yes, sir, she said we can go over there any time today.”

  “Good,” he said.

  “Did the grandmother have anything to say about her ex-son-in-law?”

  Andrea laughed. “Nothing it’s worth repeating, sir. The devil himself isn’t as evil as Conrad Stormont. According to her the mess her daughter is in today is a direct result of Conrad’s actions.”

  Paolo picked up a note of disapproval in her voice. “You don’t agree?”

  “No, sir. From what we’ve uncovered, the ex-Mrs Stormont put herself and her unhappiness ahead of trying to do the best for her children. I feel sorry for her, but that doesn’t stop me from thinking she brought a certain amount of misery on herself – and on her children, too.”

  “You could be right. Okay, moving on. Are we any closer to making a connection between Conrad Stormont and the surgeon, Edwin Fulbright?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve searched through everything I can find to do with Mr Fulbright’s charity work, his marriages, his private practice and I’ve now got someone at the hospital going through his early cases covering the period when Conrad Stormont was there under the aegis of Professor Edwards.”

  “Good thinking. They might have crossed paths then, although I wouldn’t have thought surgeons and psychiatrists dealt with the same cases.”

  “No, sir, but maybe one of the psychiatric patients needed surgery unrelated to their psychiatric condition and that brought Stormont and Fulbright into contact. Or maybe Mr Fulbright operated on someone and then referred that patient to Professor Edwards because he’d noticed the patient was unstable in some way. The hospital’s administrator has allowed one of his staff to cross-check the patient lists of Professor Edwards and Mr Fulbright for that period. In fact, she is covering the time just before and just after Conrad Stormont was at the hospital, in case it was a patient who was already being treated, or one who had surgery just after Stormont left.”

  “I don’t know how you’ve managed to get the hospital administrator in your pocket, but I’m impressed.”

  Andrea laughed. “Oh, that was easy, sir. I told him if he didn’t get someone at the hospital to do it, you’d probably demand to see the records yourself and that would involve a court order and then a massive police presence. He saw the wisdom of keeping things quiet. As you know, he’s very sensitive about the hospital attracting negative publicity. He has been ever since that young girl was murdered in her hospital bed last year and the papers were full of outrage over it.”

  Paolo knew better than anyone that the hospital hadn’t been to blame over that. He’d placed a WPC outside the girl’s room and yet the killer had waltzed in dressed as a nurse. If anyone had been to blame, it was him for not realising the danger the child had been in.

  “Good work, Andrea.”

  “CC, I want you to continue searching through Peter Bishop’s laptop. There might be a link between Mr Fulbright and Peter Bishop we’ve overlooked. Get onto IT and see if they’ve been able to trace where Stormont was when he made contact with Bishop. Andrea, keep digging into Fulbright’s extended family. One of them might know Stormont. Dave, you and I will go to call on Stormont’s ex-mother-in-law and have a chat to his daughter.”

  The grandmother’s home was on one of the housing estates that had sprung up in Bradchester during a property boom in the eighties. Detached houses surrounded by small, but generally well maintained, gardens seemed to indicate a cared-for neighbourhood. Dave pulled up outside number 53 Sunnybrook Terrace and switched off the engine.

  “This is a bit nicer than where her daughter’s living with her new husband. No wonder Granny took the kids in,” Dave said.

  “Yes, but from what Andrea said, she no longer has the two boys with her. Shall we go and find out why?”

  As they walked towards the house, the front door opened and a teenager, maybe a year or so younger than Katy, stood on the step.

  “Are you the police?” she called out.

  Paolo pulled his warrant card out to show her. “Yes, is your grandmother at home?”

  The girl nodded. “Granny said to let you in. We saw the car pull up and guessed it was you. She’s so pleased you didn’t come in a proper police car, but I think it would have been great to shake this place up a bit. It’s like a morgue round here. I’m Celine, by the way.”

  She stood back and let them pass.

  “Go in the front room. Granny’s waiting. Should I come in, too?”

  “Yes, please,” said Paolo. “I’d like to ask you a few questions about your father.”

  She followed them into the room. “You were right, Granny. It was the police. They said they want to talk to me as well, so there’s no point in trying to send me upstairs.”

  Paolo stepped forward and held out his card. “Mrs Hastings? I’m Detective Inspector Paolo Storey and this is Detective Sergeant Dave Johnson. We’d like to ask you a few questions about your former son-in-law.”

  “Take a seat, both of you,” she said. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I haven’t seen him in years. Not since he ruined my daughter’s life.”

  “Have you any idea where he might
be now?”

  “Not a clue,” Mrs Hastings said. “And I don’t want to know.”

  “What about you, Celine? Have you kept in touch with your dad?”

  Paolo watched her face to see if she looked uncomfortable speaking in front of her grandmother, but she didn’t appear to be fazed by the question.

  “I don’t even know what he looks like and I’m not interested in finding out. He buggered off…”

  “Celine!” Mrs Hastings said. “I won’t have that language in my house. I’ve told you that before.”

  “Sorry, Granny. My dad left us when I was only three. I’ve lived with Granny since I was four. I barely know my mother but at least I see her once a year. Granny takes us both out for a meal on my birthday, as long as Mum is sober and providing she can get away from that ape she married. But I wouldn’t recognise my dad if I sat next to him on a bus.”

  “What about your brothers? Do you keep in touch with them? They might know more about where your dad is.”

  She shook her head. “They went back to live with my mum years ago and we sort of lost touch.”

  “You must miss them,” Paolo said.

  Celine laughed. “You have got to be joking. I hated it when they lived here. They were always fighting and yelling. Poor Granny couldn’t bear it, could you?” she finished, turning to give her grandmother a smile. “It’s much better since it’s been just the two of us.”

  “Celine, go and put the kettle on and make some tea, there’s a good girl.”

  She sighed theatrically, but stood up. “That means she wants to talk to you with me out of the way. I don’t know why she does it. She knows I’ll listen at the door.”

  “You’d better not, my girl,” Mrs Hastings said, but the look she gave her granddaughter showed Paolo the girl probably got away with more than was good for her.

  Mrs Hastings waited until the door was closed again before turning to Paolo.

  “I didn’t want to speak in front of Celine. I’ve tried to shield her from her mother and that dreadful man she’s with. The two boys were completely wild. I couldn’t control them. I tried for two years, but in the end I had to send them back to their mother. I’ve heard the older one’s turned out to be a real bad lot. He fell under the influence of Beatrice’s husband and got involved in some nasty doings, drugs and such like. I didn’t want Celine in contact with her brothers, so whenever one of them phoned here I put the phone down. Please don’t put ideas into her head about family ties and getting closer to her brothers. She’s safe here with me and I intend to keep her that way.”

  She frowned, as if trying to put her thoughts into words.

  “My daughter has lost her way. I tried to help her get her life straight, but she drinks and, I think, also takes drugs. I wouldn’t trust her husband with any female, far less a pretty young girl like Celine. I don’t know where Conrad is and I don’t care. Please, don’t come back again even if you find him. Celine knows she’s got one parent to be ashamed of, don’t introduce her to another.”

  In the car on the way back to the station, Mrs Hastings’s words replayed in Paolo’s head. Her thoughts and care for her granddaughter was laudable, and he could understand her wanting to keep Celine away from Carl Hunt, but she didn’t seem to mind throwing her grandsons to the wolf. Were the two boys really bad news, or did Beatrice and Carl Hunt make them that way? A firm believer in nurture over nature, he only had to look at his own life compared to that of his uncles, Paolo decided to contact Social Services. The Hunts definitely weren’t ideal parent material and the thought of the two boys being raised in that environment made him shudder. Celine was the youngest at thirteen, which meant the other two would now be fifteen and seventeen. If the grandmother sent them back seven or eight years ago, what sort of home life had they endured?

  Paolo was so deep in thought he hadn’t even realised they’d reached the station until Dave’s car came to a halt.

  “Penny for them, sir? Although, you were so far away, your thoughts might be worth a bit more than that.”

  Paolo climbed out and smiled at Dave across the car’s roof. “Just thinking about upbringing and how it shapes us.”

  Dave grinned. “See! I told you your thoughts looked expensive. That’s a bit too deep for me on a Monday.”

  Making a mental note to find out about the Stormont boys, Paolo followed Dave into the station. As soon as they entered the main office, Paolo was aware of a buzz that hadn’t been there when they’d left.

  “We think we’ve got it, sir,” Andrea called out.

  Paolo grinned. “Okay, give me a clue. Got what exactly?”

  CC handed him a piece of paper. “A connection between Stormont and our second victim, Edwin Fulbright.”

  Paolo looked down at a printed list of closely typed names and dates. Towards the end of the page he spotted Conrad Stormont’s name.

  “What is this?”

  “It’s a list of minor surgical cases Mr Fulbright worked on in 2004. He was the surgeon who saved Conrad Stormont’s life by sewing up his slashed wrists. This connects Stormont with all three victims. He worked with one, had his life saved by another and hooked up with the third on the gay chat site.”

  It sounded good, so Paolo was surprised to find it didn’t sit as well with him as he’d thought it would.

  “Great work, you two.”

  “But?” CC asked.

  “What makes you think there’s a but?” Paolo said.

  “Because, sir, I’ve worked with you long enough to hear it in your voice. What is it that’s bugging you about this?”

  Paolo sat on the nearest desk. “We know he had a definite connection to victims one and two, but how do we know that the man who chatted with Peter Bishop was, in fact, Conrad Stormont? We haven’t found any trace of him for eight years, no phone records, no voting registration, no social security payments, no tax record, not a thing, and yet here he is on a chat site. Either he’s been involved in some underground crime set up and managed to stay off the radar, or the man on that website used Conrad Stormont’s name for a reason. We need to find out which is true. I’m going to try contacting Stormont’s sons. Maybe one of them knows where he is.”

  He stood up and handed the surgery list back to Andrea.

  “This is really good work. If nothing else, we now know for sure that the killer is connected to Stormont in some way. But why now? Apart from victim three, the contact goes back ten years. What’s happened to make whoever it is act now and not a decade ago?”

  He turned to CC. “I want you and Andrea to go to Peter Bishop’s offices. Call ahead and get Constance Myers to meet you there. I know she’s not going to let you loose with any files, but see if you can get her to go through his old cases and see if there’s a connection with Conrad Stormont she can uncover. Maybe 2003 to 2005? That should cover the time period when the first two victims were known to Stormont.”

  “What about recent cases?” CC asked. “As you say, we don’t know what’s shaken whatever the motive is to the surface. Could it be something that’s happened this year, or even last year?”

  Paolo sighed. “Until we know the why, we probably won’t know the when. Concentrate on the older cases. I’ve got a gut feeling that’s where the answer lies.”

  He was about to go to his own office when CC called out.

  “We’ve had a report back from our IT people. They’ve looked into the records of the chat site hosts, who have been really helpful and cooperative.”

  “That makes a pleasant change,” Paolo said. “What did IT find out?”

  CC shrugged. “Not good news, I’m afraid. All contact from the StormyC persona came from internet cafes. He never used the same IP address twice. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he closed his account on Friday, ten minutes after his last chat with Peter Bishop. So I don’t think anyone will be hearing from StormyC again.”

  ***

  Paolo stood outside Barbara’s office door, almost scared to knock and go in. Whatev
er it was that was affecting her he knew, deep down inside, was going to be bad news in capital letters on a flashing neon sign. He just hoped he’d be able to find the right words to help her with whatever it was she was going through.

  He steeled himself and rapped on the door before his courage could fail. Without waiting for an answer he opened the door and stuck his head round it.

  “Time to talk?” he asked.

  Barbara was seated behind her desk and looked so unlike the Barbara of old Paolo felt as if he’d wandered into an alternative reality. She was completely bald and her beautiful long blonde hair lay in a heap in front of her.

  “Come in,” she said, “and shut the door before anyone else sees me. It’s bad enough sharing this with you, without everyone in this department turning up to offer their sympathy.”

  Paolo closed the door behind him, but couldn’t find the words to ask the questions burning in his brain. Barbara saved him the trouble.

  “It’s cancer, Paolo. I’ve been having chemo for the past six months.”

  “Oh, Barb,” he said, “I don’t know what to say. Shit, I thought it was something else. I wish now it was.”

  He came forward to hold her, but she put her hand up to stop him.

  “I don’t want to be hugged,” she said. “Not at the moment, anyway.”

  Paolo sat down opposite her. “Where is it?”

  “Bowel,” she said. “Apparently I’m one of the lucky ones because they found it before it had started to spread to my other organs. The chemo has shrunk the tumour and I’m down for surgery in a couple of weeks.”