Trodds Lane

by Nick Roteman

  “He is staying with me at present, helping me. He was in Bournemouth, he has an office there you know, but returned, oh I should say before seven last night, and has been here ever since. Is that good enough?”

  She could not in all honesty remember when he got back but they had had supper together, so it could have been as early as seven, anyway it was none of their business whom she entertained.

  Simpson tried another tack. “Peter, your son, where is he, we have reason to believe he is missing, what can you tell us Mrs Chandler?”

  “Oh what nonsense, who’s been telling you these lies. Peter is away on a working holiday, he’s fine I can assure you!”

  “I see, and you have spoken to him recently?” Simpson continued.

  “Yes... well no not actually spoken,” she paused. “I have had several emails from him and one from the family he is staying with.”

  Ash interrupted. “If we could perhaps have his email or the family’s, I am sure we could speedily clear up this possible confusion.” She added softly.

  “What confusion, and why are you here bothering poor Mrs Chandler?” Tom demanded, his booming voice carrying around the room as he marched in and stood next to her glaring defiantly at both the officers.

  “Would you mind, sit down, we are here investigating a brutal murder. Thank you!” Simpson growled back, and Tom reluctantly sat down on an armchair.

  “You are Tom Phipps?” Ash formally asked him.

  Tom nodded his head but said nothing, although his eyes were narrowed and his chest was still heaving with pent up aggression.

  Ash stood up and fishing out a picture of Rachel walked over to Tom and Alice.

  “Do either of you know this girl?”

  Tom shook his head this time, but Alice her eyes widening, just stared at the picture. Suddenly she got to her feet and with a faint sob pushed past Tom and rushed out the room.

  Tom abruptly stood up but Simpson shouted a warning and he hesitated before deciding to sit.

  “Just stay there...please sir!” he warned him.

  With a short twitch of his head in Ash’s direction, Simpson said. “Go and make sure Mrs Chandler is alright, we’ll stay here, won’t we Mr Phipps.”

  They left Alice and Tom shortly afterwards and continued their discussion about Tom in the car journeying back to Bournemouth.

  “I think this Phipps character only arrived back briefly before we arrived, hence he was taking a shower, removing any evidence, that’s if we are to believe Auburn, and having met that bastard I suddenly believe her.”

  “Yes Gov I do too, but we have absolutely no proof as yet.”

  “Correct, as yet, let’s hope forensic can work miracles. Chase them up will you. I’d like to be a fly on the wall now hearing what Mrs Chandler has to say on the matter, could be interesting. Now as you know the way, I’m for forty winks, you keep your eyes on the road Sergeant, you have a valuable passenger!”

  Auburn spent the morning doing very little, she was unable to focus, she kept thinking she could have done more, should be doing more now, instead of sitting staring out of the window in her bedroom. She desperately needed someone to bounce her thoughts off, but there was no one around. Freddy had deserted her, Oli seemed preoccupied, and now Rachel too.

  She had a thought and quickly went through the pockets of her jeans. Yes, she had kept it, a business card. She picked up her mobile and dialled the number.

  They arranged to meet at the café in Main Square.

  Orla was sitting waiting when Auburn showed, and waved at her.

  “You’re not in uniform, I like your uniform!” Auburn said as she chose the seat next to her, so both could look out at the people walking past them.

  “I’d like a uniform too, it would be fun.” She said wistfully, automatically picking up the menu as she was starving.

  Orla smiled. “It has its uses. Now what do you fancy, I have a feeling this is going to be fun lunch!”

  That evening Moira came back with Oli to see how Auburn was and she appeared pleased to see her. While he left them to prepare supper, they sat and kept the talk general discussing which books were flying off the shelves and what new ones were coming up.

  Having dispensed with the small talk Moira broached the delicate subject of last night, still disturbingly fresh in her mind.

  “My dear can I speak about last night, how are you feeling today really? You know you can talk to me if you like? It was just so horrifying. I don’t have words to describe how shockingly awful it was, poor Rachel, I can’t believe it, how do you feel?” she said as she put her hand on Auburn’s knee and patted it.

  “Feel? I’m good thanks.”

  “You do realise what happened to Rachel, don’t you?”

  “She is dead.” Auburn plainly stated.

  “Yes but do you know what that means, can I tell you anything?”

  Auburn frowned, “I know she has left me like most of my friends do, and I won’t see her again. So I am sorry for that because I liked her.” She paused and sighed lightly as if that thought was painful.

  “Yes it is very sad. It’s alright to be sad you know, if you miss someone...” Moira continued to explain, keeping her voice level desperately trying not to cry, it was such a waste of someone so beautiful and young. She sniffed a couple of times and rummaged in her handbag for a tissue.

  “I will revenge her!” Auburn suddenly blurted out.

  “Sorry what was that my dear?” Moira asked, as she had been busy blowing her nose.

  “I must pee, I will be back.”

  Oli came into the living room just after Auburn had left. “So how is she, did she say anything Moira?”

  “No not really, I think she is aware Rachel has been killed, but it is more as if she had gone away, say emigrated, I can’t explain it.” She replied sadly.

  “I’m afraid that’s probably the best and only reaction you will get from her. She just doesn’t possess the natural responses we have learnt since babies. It must be a strange world for her. I’m sure she is missing her in her way but don’t be surprised if in a day or two she might have forgotten her.”

  “That’s so sad, I hope not.” Moira answered, just as Auburn re-entered the living room.

  “What’s so sad?” she asked as she walked back in and sat down.

  Moira smiled sweetly at her. “We were just talking about dear Rachel.”

  “She’s gone yes... When’s supper Oli, what have you cooked? I’m really starving can’t remember when I last ate!”

  While they were having supper, which tonight consisted of grilled sea bass with mixed vegetables and oven chips, all courtesy of M&S: at another house in Bournemouth the occupant having already eaten was now settling down for an evening in front of the TV.

  The front doorbell rang and annoyed at the interruption she uncurled herself, threw back the throw she had been snuggled under and got up off the comfortable sofa to answer it.

  She opened the door wide without really thinking, and peered out. A straight right fist hammered into her face, and she fell back inside the doorway from the force of the blow. Darren who had delivered the blow stormed in followed by Steve who helped him drag her into the hall, as he kicked the door shut behind them.

  They carried her back into her drawing room and threw her onto the sofa.

  “Nice on Stevie-Boy, get us some drinks will yer, while I watch the tart.”

  Steve left the room to return a little later carry what appeared to be an expensive bottle of red wine and two half-litre beer glasses.

  “Thought the wine glasses were too ponsey!” He said laughing loudly as he poured out the wine and handed one glass to Darren.

  “Nice one Steve!” Darren commented as he took a large swig.

  “You fuckin’ broke her
nose then!” Steve confirmed with a short laugh, as he briefly examined her.

  Natalie moaned, and attempted to say something but all she managed was a strange gurgling sound due to her choking on her own blood, which was freely flowing, not only down her throat but also over her face and onto the sofa. As they looked at her, the sofa covered in an expensive pure white fabric was now stained and fast becoming a rich red colour. In a blind panic she desperately struggled to sit up, just as Darren gave her a vicious back hander. Her head jerked backwards from the blow and she fell back onto the sofa and didn’t move.

  “Let’s finish this, get down the pub get a real drink,” Steve growled in Darren’s direction. “I’ve got the stuff, you ready?”

  Darren nodded took a final look around the room and told Steve to do it.

  In a tiny holdall Steve had brought with him, were two bottles of a dark liquid. He took the caps off the bottles, stuck a piece of rag into the necks of each bottle and lighting one threw it at the body of Natalie. The sofa burst into flames as the two hastily retreated back into the hallway. As Darren opened the front door and they stepped out, Steve threw the other bottle inside the front door and closed it rapidly.

  Laughing at the top of their voices, and to a backdrop of flames, they ran flat out back to their car, parked around the corner out of sight of the house.

  DS Ash arrived at the scene to find Simpson had already beaten her to it, by cadging a lift from a marked police car. They were forced to wait outside a further hour before the Fire Officer allowed them to approach the house. The Fire Brigade had managed to save most of the property except for the drawing room and part of the hallway around the front door. DI Simpson, cigarette in mouth, waited outside his patience all but exhausted, until he saw the familiar figure of Dr Bell emerging from the house.

  Dr Bell made straight for him.

  “It’s the body of a woman, other than that it’s too badly burnt at present to tell you much more.”

  “Thanks Peter, do we at least know her name?”

  “Yes Natalie Lamont,” Ash confirmed joining them. “Owns the house and lives here alone.”

  “Age?”

  “Just checking on that.”

  They were interrupted by a PC who said there was a witness waiting over the road to talk to them.

  Simpson turned to Ash, “Go and see what they have to offer Ash, will you.”

  Ash walked off, and Simpson putting an arm around Dr Bell guided him away from the mass of firemen and other busy officials and produced his cigarettes. They both lit up and puffed furiously adding to the already smoke filled night sky.

  Peter Bell glanced over at his old friend. “It was deliberate and personal. They set light to her, possibly when she was still alive, but obviously I’m just surmising at present. Nasty business, well better get on, will let you know more when I do, right see you old sport!”

  Simpson nodded back and lit up another cigarette, but stayed where he was slightly apart from the melee, until joined by Ash.

  “It was petrol, poured over the body and also around the front door.”

  “Poured over her, how?”

  “It looks like by way of two petrol bombs Guv. The witness thought she saw two men running down the road just as the flames exploded through the front door. She wouldn’t be able to recognise them again, she said.”

  “That’s helpful, bloody helpful. Ok let’s leave it at that. Tomorrow I want this whole area canvassed, I want to know everything about Natalie Lamont, ok!”

  “Yes Gov, do you want a lift back or have you got a chauffeur waiting for you?” Ash cheekily replied.

  “Thank you Sergeant, a lift to the pub would be nice, I need to think!”

  Early afternoon the next day Simpson called a meeting to find out what they had learnt.

  Ash took the lead. “We have a connection to the four local deaths and one violent beating, but absolutely no proof.”

  “Go on I’m listening,” Simpson answered, suddenly paying more attention.

  “Well,” continued Ash, “First this young man Jamie Finch is beaten to death. A gay man, into one night stands, frequented The Blue Lamp, no reason for his death. Secondly, James known as ‘Big Jim’ Layton is also beaten to death in his own place.

  Thirdly,” Ash explained getting into her stride, “Philip Charles is supposedly violently mugged and put in a coma, and happens to be the younger brother of Alice Chandler. Then Rachel Miller is also violent murdered and dumped on the pier, and finally...”

  “God how much more Sergeant, I’ll need my supper soon you know!” Simpson quipped, making the other junior members of the team chuckle.

  “Finally Gov,” she repeated with a glare in his direction, “Finally last night Natalie Lamont.”

  “And, go on then...”

  “The common denominator to them all is our chief suspect Tomas Phipps.”

  Sara Ash wrapped up her speech by reiterating with relish how they all knew him. The team left the room with instructions to concentrate on finding a chink in Tom Phipp’s armour, leaving Ash and Simpson together.

  “So my little Detective Sergeant what the fuck we gonna do now, you seem to have all the answers.” Simpson conceded giving her one of his watery smiles.

  “Well it’s too early for the pub so....”

  “Whoa not so fast Sergeant. Too early for the pub indeed!” he laughed. “I happen to know a splendid pub overlooking the sea that does a wicked cream tea, surely not too early for that, and a perfect quiet place to go over the case again.”

  The clock in the back office where Auburn was working finally clicked onto 5 o’clock, and emitting a deep sigh almost of relief, she logged off. She was tired as she had done much today, hardly even stopping for a lunch break. There didn’t seem much point at the moment; Moira was not working today, and Oli she noted always seemed to find something which called him away, whenever she stopped for tea, or anything in fact. She couldn’t understand why he was ignoring her.

  So she left the library on her own and was crossing the square when a voice called out to her.

  Orla had been sitting on the low wall surrounding the statue in the middle of the square, waiting. “Hiya Auburn, thought I’d wait here for you, walk home with you, if that’s ok?”

  Auburn walked over to her. “You’re not in uniform again, why?” she commented, but nevertheless her frown quickly turned into a grin.

  “Perhaps we can find you one you can wear in the house, not outside of course, what you reckon?”

  “Ooh yes, yes, I feel happier now. I thought I was tired after a busy day, but I think I was just feeling sad. Can you come home and have a cup of tea with me Orla, I don’t want to be alone.”

  Auburn had not only made a pot of tea, she had also brought out the remnants of an Italian chocolate cake, which she claimed begged to be finished. They sat down in Oli’s living room and wisely while she allowed Orla to pour the tea she cut the cake into two chunky pieces.

  Orla was still concerned for Auburn after the death of Rachel. “How are you feeling today, you know?” she asked keeping her tone light.

  Auburn glanced up and looked straight at her. “I’m tired that’s all. I do know what you are asking, but I’m fine with Rachel. I know I won’t see her again, and I will miss her, I really will, but I have to carry on.” She gave a shrug of her fine shoulders, “Ok?”

  Orla smiled back. “Ok!” she agreed. “I won’t ask again, promise, it’s just I do care for you.”

  “That’s nice.”

  She fished inside one of her pockets and produced two photos which she showed to Auburn.

  Auburn nodded to the first, which was of Tom, but shook her head at the second one, which was of Natalie.

  “Tom Phipps is your nemesis isn’t he?” Orla asked, putting the photos bac
k inside one of her pockets.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Like Superman and Lex Luther, or Dr Who and the Daleks, if you get my meaning.”

  “You mean I am the one should bring Tom to justice?”

  “Something along those lines possibly, yes.” Orla confirmed. ““But you must be careful, although I will be around, and you have got me, you still need to be very careful, promise me, he and his friends are very dangerous men.”

  “Tom killed Rachel, that’s all I know, but I still feel something has happened to Peter, no matter how many times people say differently. Most people I find lie, but I don’t understand why.” Auburn stated adamantly, her eyes fixed on her tea cup.

  “Very perceptive if I may say so, trust no one and you won’t go far wrong.”

  “But I trust you Orla, you are my new friend as I am one short. You, Moira and Freddy. I used to think Oliver was too but he avoids me now and I don’t know why.” She glanced at the teapot, “I need more tea please, Mrs Pourer.”

  It was Orla’s time to smile, almost a joke how wonderful, she thought. She would have loved to have put her arms around her at this moment and given her a warm hug, but perhaps this was too soon. She had just secured her trust; that would have to do for the time being. All other ideas would have to be relegated to the fantasy compartment of her mind for the time being. There were many compartments in her mind, some in fact most were not that sweet or gentle, but that would forever be her secret.

  By sheer luck, Orla left Oli’s house just moments before he arrived home. She had asked Auburn if their meeting today could be their secret, and Auburn didn’t see why not. Although in truth if Oli were to ask her tonight about Orla she would probably tell all.

  Oli had had the afternoon to think about the circumstances surrounding Auburn being his temporary guest, and had decided he should try and be more friendly while she was with him.

  She was in the kitchen, having decided to woo him with her culinary skills having read that a man’s heart was through his stomach. To this end she had stopped work briefly during the day, and had run down to the supermarket to buy a free range chicken, a packet of pre-prepared potatoes ready for roasting, and a Savoy cabbage, one of her favourite vegetables, sadly this one came with a sting in the tail, or in layman’s terms, wind- but it was only human nature and anyway she enjoyed letting off.