Songs of Innocence: The thrilling third book in the Hannah Weybridge series

by Anne Coates

  Mark had been staring across the road and watched the man set off in parallel to Hannah. “We’re off,” he said to James who looked perplexed but followed his neighbour up the street.

  By now the mystery man had crossed the road and was not far behind Hannah. There were not many people on the street at that time of day but enough to give the pursuer some cover. James and Mark halted as Hannah stopped, and answered her mobile phone as she looked into a shop window.

  Simon Ryan let out a huge sigh and drank some more of his whiskey. He’d at last had some reception on his phone and managed to make his call. And in the nick of time, it seemed.

  “Hannah, I think someone may be tailing you.” There was a silence. “Did you hear that Hannah?”

  “Yes, I’m just at the mirror shop in Lordship Lane now. I can see the one you mean. I’ll find out more and get back to you.”

  Simon chuckled to himself. Hannah was a resourceful woman. He wondered who had coached her or whether it was an innate sense of self-preservation. He wished Patrick had had as much. There was still a dull ache whenever he thought of his brother, but he was determined to get justice for him. However long it took. He was a patient man who played the long game – as someone was soon to discover.

  She swung round. The non-descript man was taken by surprise as Hannah rounded on him and took his photo with the hidden camera. The man tried to step out of her way but not quickly enough.

  “So why are you following me?”

  “Sorry I wasn’t following you…”

  “Didn’t look like that to us, mate.” Mark had come up right behind him. “You got any ID?”

  “What? Who d’you think you are?”

  “An officer in Her Majesty’s Services. And I’m asking you to identify yourself.”

  Hannah stared at Mark. And then looked at the man who was looking increasingly uncomfortable.

  “Well, the police station is just up the road,” James said.

  “Okay, okay.” The man reached into his pocket and produced a driving licence.

  Mark wrote down the details. “Anything with your phone number on, Mr Smith?”

  “What is this, a bloody police state?” Smith snatched back his driving licence, pushed James and legged it up the road, jumping on to a bus which was just about to leave.

  Mark shrugged, copied out what he’d written in a notebook and handed a slip of paper to Hannah who looked remarkably calm. “Might be useful.”

  “Thanks.” Hannah noticed he’d also included his mobile number.

  As they walked her home, James asked, “So where were you coming back from, Hannah? I’d assumed you’d been at The News offices but given your tail…”

  “No, I’d been to the interment of Patrick Ryan’s ashes at Southwark Cathedral and then at The George in Borough High Street. Patrick’s brother Simon had organised a meal there.” James nodded in silence and Mark said nothing.

  “In fact, it was Simon who rang me and said I might be being followed. That’s why I stopped at the mirror shop.”

  They had reached her house and all three stood by the gate. James hugged her tightly. “Please be careful, Hannah, promise me.”

  “I promise and thanks for your help as well Mark.”

  “Any time. Hope to see you again before I go back.”

  Hannah thought that unlikely as she let herself into the house and the sound of laughter and giggles coming from the kitchen. The perfect antidote to an emotional and stressful day.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  “So what part of tailing someone covertly do you not understand, Smith?”

  “I didn’t think she’d clocked me, sir.”

  “Really? That is why she stopped in the middle of a street and confronted you?” The menace in those eyes was disconcerting.

  The unlucky man jingled the coins in his trouser pockets.

  “I didn’t say at ease.”

  He removed his hands and corrected his posture. “I was sure she hadn’t noticed me. I think it was something to do with the two men she stopped and had a drink with.”

  “In what sense?”

  “They were following her too.”

  “And where were you while they were having a drink?”

  “At the bus stop across the road.”

  “How many buses went by?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t count. I was more concerned with keeping visual contact.”

  “So it would seem. And they could see you.”

  “Why would they bother about a man at the bus stop?”

  “You mean the one who doesn’t get on a bus. Do I have to spell it out for you?”

  He was silent. Cursing himself for such a stupid, rookie mistake.

  “So,” the voice was ominously low, “a game of follow my leader down Lordship Lane was played out?”

  “When she stopped and took out her phone, they were right behind me. Look, I know how this seems but there was definitely something odd going on.”

  “Three men tailing an attractive young woman on her way home? Yes, sounds odd to me.”

  “I …” he didn’t say one of the men had demanded ID and he’d given it.

  “My patience has run out. I want a full written report on my desk within the hour. Leave nothing out. Nothing. And don’t try to justify yourself with theories. Just facts. Within the hour. And never underestimate Ms Weybridge.”

  “Yes … I mean no, boss.”

  His superior waved a hand in dismissal. Fortunately this idiot was only the decoy. A classic call of two no trumps.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Claudia Turner leafed through the photos in the file on her desk. Three young Asian women murdered. There seemed to be no common denominator other than that they were Asian.

  Her mind went back to her conversation with Hannah Weybridge in The George Inn. What exactly was she investigating now? The DI had read her article on Amalia Kumar’s death and the latest one on the missing Asian schoolgirls. She had been surprised that The News had run with the story. But Hannah seemed to be their conscience – to make up for all the trash they published she supposed.

  Claudia admired Hannah’s tenacity but wondered how long she could keep on like this with a young child. And Paul Montague’s death must have been a blow. Claudia had been surprised at the suicide and after her evening with Hannah she was certain he hadn’t killed himself. But her enquiries into who had interviewed Paul before she did had drawn a blank.

  It made her think of Amalia Kumar’s death. If it hadn’t been for Hannah that would have been recorded as a suicide. But they were no further on in discovering the perpetrators. Except now they had the ring.

  Nadia Chopra’s death was also unexplained and inexplicable. As was Yasmin Sagar’s. The couple who made the horrifying discovery may have stopped the perpetrators from hiding the young girl’s body. Another devastated family. They had all been interviewed and all had cast iron alibis.

  She was mulling over the idea of holding a press conference, then decided to speak to Hannah. Her research might shed some light on the murders.

  Hannah was engrossed in Birdsong when her mobile rang.

  “Hello, Hannah.” The voice of DI Claudia sounded tired and flat. “Sorry to interrupt your evening.”

  “That’s okay.”

  “You might not think so when you hear what I have to say.”

  “Go on.” Hannah was intrigued.

  “There was another body found in Peckham Park and I…”

  “What d’you mean another body?” Hannah interrupted. She could vaguely recall a small news item about a body in the area which was both Sydenham and Dulwich Woods depending on which way you entered it.

  Claudia made a clipped sound as though she were having trouble drawing breath. “Sorry – I forgot there’s not really been any publicity. It was another young Asian girl. That makes three deaths and the families of the latter two are wary of publicity for some reason. Unlike the Kumars. I was wondering if any of your rese
arch would throw a light on this?”

  Hannah was silent. All Naaz’s information had been about young women seeking refuge. “It may do. I’m not sure. I do know that some young women go to refuges to get away from abusive relationships. I hadn’t heard of any deaths…”

  “It was a longshot but if you come up with any stories on young Asian girls going missing it might help me.”

  Hannah wondered whether she should ask if one of the girls was named Surjit Gupta but assumed she would have heard from Alesha if her cousin had been found dead.

  “Of course. And can I ask you something?”

  “Might not have the answer but fire away.”

  “Do you know if anyone is having me followed. And why?”

  “Are you sure?” Claudia sounded genuinely surprised.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I’ve no idea. But I can tell you that no one has admitted to interviewing Paul before I did. There is also a time lag between when he was arrested and when he was processed by the custody sergeant. I hadn’t noticed it before and I don’t like it. You’ve got one of my cards, haven’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Make sure you have it handy – and if you’re ever worried, call me. Okay?”

  Hannah said she would and hung up. On a personal level she didn’t know whether she was more or less reassured by Claudia’s call. But the murders of the Asian girls were a steer in the right direction.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Hannah sat on the park bench facing the pond. It seemed strange being there without Elizabeth but she needed to think after a night of very little sleep. She smiled to herself – as if the ducks were going to give her the answers she needed. She watched a family of moorhens glide across the surface. They looked serene but beneath the water their little legs would be paddling frantically to keep them afloat.

  What had stopped Amalia’s innate sense of preservation? It had to be linked to her family somehow. And the other two deaths could be linked if only she could find the reason.

  Hannah looked up at the man sitting two benches away. She knew he’d followed her. He looked cross. Probably because he was overdressed for a casual walk in the park.

  Sod him! She peered at the trees opposite. No vision of Blake’s angels there. The park was so beautiful and peaceful but had harboured two recent murders. She closed her eyes. Sometimes she was so tired, as she was now, that when she shut her eyes dreams started even though she wasn’t asleep.

  She let the images pass. Slowly. Intermingled with her vision of Sunita’s grief were images of Tom. Only a brief phone call to say things were coming to a head and he’d be home soon. Could she really trust him? She wanted to but… Her attention was brought back to the present when a loud screech broke the peace and a Canada goose almost landed on a pigeon on the bank of the pond. If only they could tell the story.

  Amalia must have been held somewhere before she was brought here. And whatever happened in those hours between her capture and drowning had been enough to convince her to do as she was told and give herself to death.

  Although the park was locked at night there were various routes in which opened on to the Rye. Presumably the captors would have driven into the car park. It would have been after the pubs closed or people from the Clock House might have wandered into the scene.

  She thought about the two boys who had found her. If it hadn’t been for their illegal fishing Amalia might have stayed there undetected for days, weeks even.

  The perpetrators would have assumed that.

  Her thoughts drifted to the other girl who had been found in the pond in Sydenham Woods. She had been there longer. What had led the police to search for her there? Proximity to her school, the last place she’d been seen? Yet another, older body had been discovered during that search.

  There were no answers here. Hannah picked up her bag and made for the gate, nodding to her tail as she left.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Hannah had just put Elizabeth to bed when the doorbell rang. She checked the video image for the front door. To her utter astonishment, Sunita’s brother was standing there looking awkward and unhappy.

  Unlocking the door, Hannah stood aside for him to enter. “Good evening, Mr Kumar.”

  “Ms Weybridge, I am so sorry to disturb you at home unannounced. I feared that if I rang you first I would lose my courage.”

  What on earth was he going on about? “Not at all.” She indicated the door to the sitting room and he preceded her in. Seeing the photos of Elizabeth displayed on the wall, he smiled.

  “A beautiful child.”

  “Thank you. Would you like a drink? Tea, coffee?”

  “No nothing, thank you.”

  He sat on the sofa and stared at his hands. Silent. Hannah waited. She was tempted to ask questions but she too remained silent.

  At last Mr Kumar seemed to come to a decision. He sighed and smiled sadly at Hannah. “My wife and my sister know that I am here, and they know some of what I am going to tell you. But there are other things, facts, of which they are ignorant. They will be devastated – that is, if they are able to feel any more so.”

  Hannah waited.

  “My daughter, my beautiful, intelligent daughter, Ms Weybridge, was in fact my niece.”

  Hannah thought she must have misheard what he said. “I’m sorry Amalia was…”

  “My niece.” He sighed deeply. “My wife and I were – are – unable to have children.”

  “But you had…”

  “No, we adopted Amalia.”

  “But why does this have any bearing…”

  “We adopted my sister’s baby. Sunita is her birth mother.”

  Hannah said nothing. The fact explained much about Sunita’s behaviour but really it changed little else.

  “You don’t seem surprised.”

  “It explains your sister’s grief and …”

  “Amalia didn’t know, of course. It was an arrangement that we all thought was for the best at the time.” Mr Kumar studied his hands. Hannah noticed a tear, which splashed down on to his finger.

  “My sister was engaged to be married but her fiancé was killed in a tragic accident. My wife and I happened to be in India visiting our parents when this happened. When she discovered she was pregnant my wife and I – we already knew we could not have children – invited Sunita to stay with us in Ealing. Her life would not have been worth living in India. After Amalia was born, my wife and I registered the baby as ours. Then we moved to our present home in Herne Hill.”

  “Well, I am very sorry for your loss. It must be a very difficult situation.”

  “Yes, and thanks to you we know that Amalia did not commit suicide. However I fear – I am certain – that her death is down to me and a decision I made.” He saw she was about to interrupt and raised a hand.

  “Five months ago, I was approached by a family to make an arranged marriage between their son and Amalia. Now, as you know, this is common in our culture although we had already decided years ago that Amalia would be free to make her own choice. My wife and I had an arranged marriage and believe me it has worked very well. We grew to love each other and have been very happy. Sunita’s fiancé was a friend of our family. They had known each other since childhood. It was a happy coincidence they were betrothed to each other.” He smiled as if at the memory then his face grew grave.

  “However we were approached by an intermediary to make an arranged marriage with Amalia. I doubted the motives of the family. They have a certain influence and status but their son had no profession, little education and he was ten years older. He has … a certain reputation. Anyway, I turned down the offer and the family took it as a great insult. I offered them a financial settlement but that too was regarded with suspicion…”

  Hannah sensed she was not going to like this story. So far it had been sinister but…

  “I believe they killed Amalia to punish me.”

  “But surely –”

  “I also believe the
y discovered Amalia’s true parentage somehow and used that against her. Maybe they threatened to reveal the truth. Amalia’s death was retribution of the worst kind.”

  After Mr Kumar left, Hannah thought about what she had just learned. He seemed totally sincere in his belief of what had happened but was it feasible? Thinking about Amalia’s death – made to look like suicide – how did the perpetrators effect it? Had they threatened to expose her family if she did not follow their instructions? There was little evidence that she had fought for her life. Had she been complicit? But there was evidence of Diazepam in her blood. Hannah shuddered. In seemed farfetched but… at least there seemed to be a motive for what had appeared to be a senseless murder. She wondered how much of this she should or could tell the police.

  Her thoughts turned to Sunita Kumar having to give up her daughter. It must have been bittersweet watching her grow up as her brother’s child. But at least she had the reassurance of seeing Amalia every day. She wondered about the dynamics between the three adults. How much did Amalia know or discover?

  She tried to imagine her daughter at fourteen being sent to another country to be married off to someone she’d never met. What mother – what father – could let this happen?

  From the information Naaz had given her it seemed that some families had very little choice in the matter. Pressure was brought to bear by their community or religious leaders and other family members. Hannah wondered what it would be like to live under such constrictions. Hell. But then she hadn’t been brought up in such a way.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  The ringing doorbell broke into her thoughts. She looked at the video monitor and was amazed to see James and DI Claudia Turner on her doorstep, both looking incredibly serious. James, in particular, looked haggard.

  She unlocked and opened the door. “Hi, this is unexpected…”

  James hugged her. He smelled of soap and the evening air. Claudia closed the door behind them. When James released her, she saw that the other woman had a tightness about her face. Her expression looked as though it was held together by a thread which might break at any moment. Her eyes were too bright. Hannah had never seen her looking so, so… something she couldn’t divine.