The owner invited the inspector to take a seat in an Edwardian fireside chair. “Would you like breakfast, Inspector?”
Massey declined.
“Coffee or tea, then?”
“Tea will be fine.”
Howard walked to the door and called across the hallway. “A pot of tea, please, Mrs Fagan.” He rejoined Massey and sat opposite to him in a matching chair.
“I owe you an apology,” said Massey and began by explaining the logic of his actions that led to Howard becoming a suspect. At that point, the housekeeper arrived with the tea and biscuits. She gave the inspector a withering look and placed the tea tray on a rosewood drum top table.
“Thank you, Mrs Fagan. That will be all for now,” said Howard.
She cast another derisive glance towards Massey and left the room.
“She can be a little over protective,” said Howard, smiling. “She means well and is very trustworthy. Such qualities in domestic staff are hard to find these days, don't you think? Milk and sugar?”
Massey nodded, wondering what it must be like to have servants about the house. He sipped some tea and continued his explanation. Howard listened intently and spoke only when Massey had finished.
“You know, Inspector, after what you have just told me, I would have made the same assumptions. However, as you said, it was mostly circumstantial. I am surprised that the Crown Prosecution Service allowed it to go to court. With a good barrister, whom I would have acquired, I do believe that I would have been proven innocent of murder, even of manslaughter.”
“Tell me one thing,” said Massey. “Did you really not know that Lara was pregnant?”
Howard smiled again. “That question was difficult; in cricket terms, it was a googly. It certainly ‘threw me’ at the time. I did know, but Lara was unaware that I knew. As I explained in my original statement, she was in the habit of forgetting stuff, leaving odd things behind. On one occasion, she left some papers. They concerned her termination. It was none of my business…I was certainly not the father. When you asked the question, I thought it to be more prudent to deny any knowledge of her problem. If I had admitted to knowing about it, more questions would have followed about whether we had discussed it, if I was the father, if I had played any part in the decision to abort the baby, etcetera. I forgot that those same papers were still at the mill.”
Massey replaced his cup and saucer on the tray. “I have copies of the naked photos taken at the studio. I assure you that they will be returned to their source. We found no copies here, either from the studio or from your camera. I find it hard to believe that you didn't retain at least one…just for the memory. She was absolutely beautiful.”
Howard stood and walked over towards a Georgian mahogany library bookcase. He opened a glass door and removed a hardback book. He passed the volume to Massey.
“The Book of Goddesses by Kris Waldherr. Take a look at Persephone, also known as the Maiden. She was the daughter of Demeter by Zeus. She symbolised the seeds of springtime.”
Massey found the appropriate chapter. Between the leaves, lightly glued to a blank page, was a photo of the naked Lara, the best of the studio photos. “How did we miss that?” he asked.
“A goddess amongst goddesses,” said Howard. “Who but an expert would notice the difference?”
Massey returned the book to him. “What about the home brew kit in the shed?”
“I never ventured into that garden shed. It was Fred's domain. Perhaps he was a secret tippler and wished to hide it from his other half. You also mentioned the shreds of bin liner by the trees. Fred used them to collect garden rubbish. And yes, she did call me the ‘Devil’…it was a mark of her affection. All the points that you have made had logical explanations. I am afraid that you put two and two together and came up with five, Inspector. At least you have now solved the case, even though the culprit has cheated his penance. I am quite happy to put this sorry event behind me, knowing that I have a dedicated police force working hard for the local community.”
“Why are you being so gracious?”
“How do you mean?”
“Why are you taking no action against the police?”
Howard smiled. “We are on the same side, Inspector. We both wanted to see Lara's murderer apprehended and brought to justice. After your explanation, as I have said, I can understand and empathise with your original belief that I was responsible. It was a complex case with scant evidence, most of which did not make much sense to you.”
“But you have suffered great indignity, intolerable inconvenience and, worst of all, spent time in Risley remand centre. I know that place. I have visited on several occasions in the course of my duties. When those metal doors clang shut, it's as though the lid of the coffin has been screwed down to blot out the remainder of your life. It is not a pleasant place. I'm astounded that your anger hasn't prompted you to seek some form of compensation.”
“You have found Lara's killer; that is my compensation. If I now ‘rock the boat’, the focus will switch to me. I want people to remember a beautiful young woman, a potential shining star whose life was extinguished by a man who allowed his animal instincts to override his humanity.
I have no wish for people to remember me…I still have my life, as do you. We all make mistakes; hopefully, we learn from the experience. If, when something goes wrong, we adopt a blame culture, we will no longer accept responsibility for our actions. That will be the beginning of anarchy. Law-abiding citizens and upholders of the legal system like your good self are the bedrock of society. I believe that those principles must be upheld at all cost.”
Massey was silent for a moment. “That's an interesting phrase to describe what Lara had endured, ‘animal instinct’…this is not the first time that it has been used. I believe that there is some basic aggression in all humans. Fortunately, however, in the civilised world most of us learn to control those inner demons.
I apologise. When we first met, I should have realised that you were not the type of individual to unleash such ferocity on a young woman, whom you obviously admired and adored. Throughout your interviews, you remained calm and controlled. On reflection, I admit to being carried away by my own self-belief and conviction of mind.”
“It was your belief that helped you to solve the case. I congratulate you.”
“Thank you,” said Massey, glancing at his watch. “I must make a move. I have a meeting scheduled. Maybe we will meet again under more pleasant circumstances. You must be very sad about losing Lara.”
“She was not mine to lose. I feel for her family. She had so much potential. She would have brought so much joy into their lives. It was not to be. You are right. Her death was a great loss, a loss to society, a loss to all of us, but I will always have fond memories.”
Massey left shortly afterwards, content that he had appeased Charles Devlin Howard and could finally bring closure to a most difficult investigation.
*****
Several weeks later, a cocker spaniel in the company of its owner discovered a slightly decomposed body in dense undergrowth on heath land in Little Budworth. It was eventually identified as the remains of Mary Cole. Following intense forensic scrutiny, Jimmy Moran was charged with her murder whilst still in custody undergoing interrogation for his part in the terrorism threat.
Massey was convinced that Lara Crawford would have been found in that very same spot but for the Easter rescheduling of refuse collection. If that had been the case, his original murder enquiry may have possibly taken a different direction. He wondered if Charles Howard would have been a suspect, given that the proximity of the mill to the landfill site led them to investigate him. Would a connection to the Barleycorn have surfaced? He concluded that finding Lara's killer under those circumstances would have been even more difficult.
*****
Massey scooped up the last of his crème brûlée, washing it down with a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon. He dabbed his lips with a damask serviette and sank into the cu
shioned back of his dining chair.
“That was superb…I mean the whole meal not just the dessert.”
Massey's wife, Helen was away in London, supervising a weekend school trip taking in several educational venues like the Science Museum and other tourist attractions. He had taken the opportunity to accept Caroline Finch's invitation to spend a weekend in the Peak District. It was Saturday night and she had joined him in the restaurant at the Beacon.
“How about a digestive and coffee to round off?” she asked.
“Why not? The excellent food and wine, the relaxing atmosphere and fresh Derbyshire air are already having the desired effect. I don't suppose that a small Cognac will make much difference.”
Caroline ordered two glasses of Armagnac and a pot of coffee from one of her staff. “I know you asked for Cognac, but I have recently acquired a bottle of Château de Ravignan Armagnac which is just asking to be sampled. It's a pleasure to see you relaxed for a change. Your job must be as demanding as mine.”
“Twenty four seven…always on call. When I married Helen, I thought that it would be a perfect match…two professionals serving the local community. Unfortunately, because of the unpredictable hours that we both face, we are sometimes like ‘ships that pass in the night’. She is desperate to start a family, but that would cause even more stress unless we had a live-in nanny. But how unfair is that on the child?”
“I'm afraid that family life for the majority of working couples is heading that way these days.”
“Have you never been married?”
Caroline smiled. “I did once get very close. He was smart, intelligent and he adored me, but it would never have worked. He could not understand my involvement with the customers, the repartee and smalltalk that is part and parcel of a licensee's role. I was here trying to extract as much spending from my customers, whilst he was more concerned about their liquidity. He was an assistant bank manager. Perhaps I should have looked for an out-of-work toyboy!”
Massey laughed. “And I should have married a work-shy bimbo!”
“Maybe people in our professions should stay single.”
“Casual flings…that must be the answer!”
“Agreed, but then the years catch up. One day, you glance at the mirror and realise that life has passed you by. I think that is why I was so devoted to Lara. She was so vibrant. It was as though I was living my life through her. I miss her terribly.”
Massey patted her hand. “I'm only sorry that we were unable to bring her killer to the justice that he deserved. In one way, I feel guilty that I allowed him to cheat the system.”
“It was a difficult case. Who could possibly have imagined that her own father was the perpetrator? How on earth did you even begin to fathom that? It must have been a nightmare.”
Massey sipped the Armagnac. “In a strange way, your niece pointed me in the right direction. If she had ignored her birth mother, we may never have met Suzanne Ridley. As it was, her presence at the funeral and her comments to O’Malley became the final pieces of the puzzle. It was as though Lara herself had completed the picture for us.
In a similar way, her death also opened the door to a possible terrorist threat. Those involved are now under interrogation and at least one will be charged with the murder of the cleaner at the Barleycorn. Besides completing the puzzle, the whole Lara affair caused a domino effect affecting the lives of many other individuals.”
“It's obvious now that meeting her birth mother was the exciting news that she promised me. I can't stop thinking about that poor woman. To give birth to your daughter and witness her burial with no contact during those intervening years…she must be utterly distraught. Fortunately, I have fond memories that I will cherish forever; she has only a tragic void to contemplate.”
“I imagine that the revelations took Suzanne Ridley to hell and back. Her mind was in turmoil with the revolting nature of the crime. It is said that time heals, but in her case, I believe those scars will be embedded for the rest of her life.”
Though Massey realised that his chosen career would frequently lead him down similar tortuous paths, he was unaware of the personal grief that he would have to endure in the near future. At this moment, he could only empathise. It was time to move on.
He raised his glass. “To the memory of Lara.”
THE END
James R. Vance
January 2010
e-mail: [email protected]
Animal Instinct Page 21