“How long, Mr. Hopkirk, please?”
“If I enlist the help of Vera, our secretary, I may be able to find what you need by tomorrow at the latest, Inspector. I do have other work I have to do, you know.”
“This is a murder investigation, sir,” Drake stepped in quickly. “I think that's slightly more important than the mundane everyday task of running the orphanage, don't you?”
“Well, yes, of course, I only meant…well, yes, I'll give it top priority.”
“One more question, gentlemen,” Ross added. “In the last few weeks or say, the last three months, have you employed any new members of staff; teachers, orphanage carers, even gardeners or odd job people, anyone at all?”
“No, nobody,” said Hopkirk. “Oh well, not unless you count the new chaplain.”
“You have a new chaplain?” Ross's interest was immediately engaged. Anything connected to the church had to be of significance.
“Yes,” said Hopkirk. “You know we were once a wholly run Catholic Church endeavour?”
Ross nodded in the affirmative.
“Well in those days the orphanage and school were both run by the church, most of the teachers were priests and the school's church of worship was St. Luke's down the road at Woolton. After the local authority assumed control of Speke Hill we maintained the link with St. Luke's and the parish priest became traditionally the chaplain to the school and orphanage. Just a few months ago the previous priest passed away and was replaced by Father Byrne. He's not employed by us of course, but he's the only newcomer to the routine of Speke Hill in recent times. That's was another happy coincidence for us, because it turned out that Gerald Byrne was also a Speke Hill 'old boy' and attended here at the same time as Mark.”
“He did?” said Ross, almost incredulously.
“Oh yes, and in fact they remembered each other well, and Mark showed Father Byrne around when he first came to see me, just to show off our modern facilities etc. Things have changed considerably since he was here as a boy.”
By now, Andy Ross's senses were on high alert. A brief glance at his two companions and the looks on their faces told him they shared his thoughts. This was too much of a coincidence. A new priest arrives on the scene, an ex-Speke Hill resident and scholar and within weeks two of his former peers are found horrible murdered.
“Mr. Hopkirk, Mr. Machin, I appreciate the fact that these men were all here many years before your time at Speke Hill, but it may be there is some connection, a thread of circumstances that may point to the motive for these brutal murders. I hope I can count on your discretion to say nothing of this matter outside these four walls, and certainly not a word to Father Byrne until we've had a chance to talk to him.”
“You can't seriously imagine Father Byrne has anything to do with these terrible murders,” a shocked looking Alan Machin said in reply.
“I'm not saying he's directly involved, Mr. Machin,” Ross replied, “but it does appear he may have known both victims when they were all boys together and he may be able to give us important information relating to events at Speke Hill during those days of their youth.”
“Ah, of course. I see what you mean,” Machin said with a hint of relief in his voice. “As a matter of fact, Father Byrne isn't due to visit us in the next couple of days anyway, is he, Charles?” he delivered the question to Hopkirk.
“That's right, Alan. We won't see him to speak to until you've had a chance to speak to Father Byrne, Inspector.”
“Good, thank you. We won't keep you any longer for now, gentlemen, but we will have a quick word with Ms Manvers on the way out if you don't mind.”
“Feel free Inspector,” said Hopkirk. “We're happy to help in any way we can, if it will help bring Mark's killer to justice.”
Machin agreed and Ross, Drake and Bland took their leave of the two men and stopped at the office of Vera Manvers on their way out.
“Hello again,” the school secretary said as Ross led the way through her door, the three investigators standing in line before her like three naughty schoolchildren, Ross felt.
“Ms Manvers, Mr. Hopkirk will be enlisting your help in a search of the school archives later, but in the meantime, I just want to ask you if you personally know of anyone, either staff or pupils, who may have had any reason, no matter how trivial you may have thought, to feel a sense of grievance or ill-will against Mark Proctor?”
Vera Manvers was silent for a few seconds as she appeared to be delving into her own personal memory archives. Just when Ross began to think she'd forgotten they were waiting for her response, she seemed to return to the present and finally replied to his question.
“To be perfectly frank with you, Inspector, I knew very little about Mark Proctor, apart from his reputation within the school, which was of a very high standard. I met him socially twice, I think, at staff functions, when he was accompanied by his wife of course. I have very little day to day contact with the school itself or the orphanage. My role, as you can see, is purely an administrative one. I make it my business never to listen to rumours, or unsubstantiated facts that may sometimes be bandied around the staff room.”
“So, are you saying there were rumours, Ms Manvers?”
“No, I'm not saying that at all. Just that if there were, I wouldn't have listened to them.”
Ross felt the woman was being evasive, but he wanted desperately to return to headquarters and speak to the man and woman they had in custody there. Ms Vera Manvers and her rumours could wait for a little while.
“I see. Well, thank you, Ms Manvers. Just so you have advance notice, a couple of my detectives will also be arriving later and they will want to speak in turn to all the teaching and care staff, and any ancillary workers who may be present today. If they have to, they'll return tomorrow to complete the interviews.”
“Very well, I'll make sure they have a suitable room allocated where they can speak to the staff, Inspector. I'm sure everyone will want to help find Mr. Proctor's killer.”
* * *
“Bloody irritating woman, that Ms Manvers,” he said to his two companions as Drake drove them back towards headquarters in bright sunshine, the fog having lifted during their time at Speke Hill.
“My thoughts, exactly,” Drake concurred, “almost as if she knew something, but wasn't prepared to divulge it for some reason.”
“I though they were all rather elusive and hardly totally forthcoming,” Bland added. “I felt they weren't exactly lying, but were perhaps being a little economical with the information they were prepared to give us.”
“I agree,” said Ross. “Maybe they're being defensive of the establishment and its reputation but that doesn't help when we have a couple of killers running around out there. And there's this Father Byrne. We need to talk to him, Izzie. If we have time, I want to visit him later today.”
“I'm with you, sir, whatever you decide.”
“I just have a feeling we're on the cusp of discovering something, but whatever it is, I can almost feel a wall being thrown up to keep us out. Does that make sense to you, Doctor Bland?”
“Actually, it does, Inspector. I know my job is simply to provide you with a profile but I must admit my instincts all tell me the same as yours. Someone knows something, but they just aren't telling.”
“Well, we're here now. Let's go see what Southport have dug up for us, and before we speak to them, I want you to arrange for Ferris and Gable to go out to Speke Hill, Izzie. Sam's good with women and Ferris has a certain instinct, as well as an understanding of the way such places operate I think.”
“Right, sir,” said Drake as she parked the Mondeo and switched the engine off.
As he marched ahead into the building, Ross couldn't wait to begin interviewing the two suspects apprehended in possession of Proctor's car.
Chapter 20
“Billy Ruffian”
Pausing only long enough to grab a quick coffee and an update from D.C. Ferris, Ross and Drake prepared to interview the coup
le found in possession of Mark Proctor's silver Subaru. Ferris had made sure the couple had been kept apart in separate interview rooms as instructed, and informed Ross of the names they'd provided, Archie Pitt, and Carrie Evans, aged twenty-six and twenty-two respectively. Neither one had requested or been offered legal representation. After all, they hadn't been charged with anything as yet, and had been told that for the moment they were 'assisting with inquiries'. Ross felt instinctively that this young couple were not the killers, but the fact they'd been in possession of Proctor's car put them, quite possibly, at the scene of the victim's abduction, and maybe even made them witnesses to what had taken place on the night of the teacher's disappearance.
Ross and Drake spent a few minutes peering at the pair through the one way mirrors that gave them views into both interview rooms from the viewing area that served to separate the rooms. Christine Bland and D.C.I. Porteous were with them and would observe the interviews from there. Ross decided to take the young man, with Ferris as back-up, Drake would interview the woman, with Nick Dodds, who'd helped collect the couple from Southport as her number two, the other team members being out and about carrying out their own allocated inquiries. Dodds had worked with the team before and was well respected by Ross and the others, and was only too pleased to help out.
“Archie Pitt, that your real name?” Ross asked the scruffy twenty-something young man sitting opposite him.
“Aye, course it is. Why should you think otherwise?”
“Archie, that's a Scottish name.”
“So, me Dad liked the name. Told me he named me after a character in that old war film, The Great Escape.”
“Ah, right, Archibald 'Archie' Ives, known as The Mole, I believe,” said Ross. I rather like that film too. The name suits you. You look like a little mole to me. Now, Archie, are you going to tell me how you came to be caught in possession of a car that belonged to a man who was murdered in a particularly nasty fashion? Just what part did you and your girlfriend have to play in all this?”
Archie Pitt's face fell at the mention of the word 'murder'.
“Whoa, hold your horses there, Mr. Policeman. I ain't had nothin' to do with no murder, like, you know?”
“That's just it, Archie, I don't know. You tell me. I want to know exactly how you came to be driving that Subaru, where and when you found it and why you took it.”
“Okay, okay, as long as you know we didn't do no murder, you know?”
“So talk to me.”
* * *
“I've only known him a couple of weeks,” Carrie Evans bleated in a rather irritating high-pitched voice. “We met up one night in town in a club and sort of got along, like, you know?”
“So tell me about the car, Carrie,” said Drake.
“Yeah, right. Well, we was in the Billy Ruffian that night, early doors you know? Archie said it was a good place to score.”
“What was it you were after, Carrie, cocaine, heroin?”
“God no, nothing like that. I'm not into the hard stuff, just a bit of grass, you know?”
“Okay, calm down, Carrie and tell me the whole story.”
Behind the mirror, Bland looked questioningly at D.C.I. Porteous, and asked, “Billy Ruffian?”
“A pub near the old Clarence Graving Dock, used to be popular with seamen. Its real name is The Belerophon, named after one of Nelson's warships at the Battle of Trafalgar. The pub sign shows the old ship, all guns blazing, quite impressive.”
“I see, thanks for the history lesson,” Bland replied, smiling as they turned back to the interviews in progress.
“Archie saw the guy he was looking for, and went to talk to him, while I sat at the table next to the window.”
“Who was this man, Carrie? Do you have a name for me?”
“Shit, I don't know. I'd only been in there once, the week before with Archie. I don't know the name of his supplier if that's what you want?”
“I'm not interested in a bit of cannabis, Carrie. I just want someone who can confirm your story, someone who can make me believe you're not involved in two murders.”
“Murders? I'm not into anything like that, honest, and I'm telling the truth. I don't know who the man was. You've got to believe me.”
“What did he look like, then? Describe him to me.”
“I only saw him from the back, while Archie talked to him at the bar. He was just some scally, thin, with long black hair and he was wearing an old donkey jacket, black with leather across the shoulders, you know what I mean?”
“Yes, I know what a donkey jacket looks like, Carrie. Anything else, jeans, trousers?”
“Jeans, I think.”
* * *
“What's his name, Archie?” Ross asked as Archie Pitt told a similar story in the next room.
“Er, I don't know.”
“Yes, you do. You don't expect me to believe you regularly buy cannabis from a man and don't even know his first name.”
“It's Mac, and honest, Inspector, that's the only name I've ever known him by. Everyone just knows him as Mac.”
That, at least, was believable.
“So you bought your drugs, then what?”
“I bought us a drink, a pint for me and a gin and tonic for Carrie, then went and sat back down with her.”
“Where were you sitting?
“Next to the window that looked out on to the car park. That's when I saw the car.”
Now he had Ross's attention. By careful questioning, Ross had brought Archie round to what he really wanted to know. Now, perhaps Archie would reveal something of real relevance to the case.
“Go on, Archie. I'm listening.”
* * *
“Archie saw this car pull up,” Carrie Evans said. “It was a silver one. He said the guy who got out of it was a pillock because he didn't lock it. He could tell he said, 'cause the idiot just got out and walked away without pointing the keys at it, you know, like, to lock it. Archie said we'd leave it a few minutes and if the guy didn't come back, we could maybe take it and go for a ride.”
* * *
“This man, Archie. Did he come into the pub?”
“No, that was the weird thing, like. He just got out of the car and walked away. Then, I saw him standing by the side of the main road, like he was waiting for someone. Another car pulled up and he looked around as if he was looking to see if he was being watched, then jumped into the car and it sort of sped off. I knew he'd left the Subaru unlocked so me and Carrie finished our drinks, and walked out, casual, like, and I checked no one was watching and told her to get in. I, er, well, sort of hot wired it and we were away before you knew it.”
“Done it before, have you, Archie, car theft?”
“Yeah, alright, once or twice, but you said…”
“I know, just tell me the truth, Archie.”
“That's about it, really. I had a few quid in me pocket, you know, so I said to Carrie it'd be nice to go to the seaside for a day or two. Less chance of the car being spotted too, I thought, so I drove to Southport and that's where we stayed until those two coppers picked us up.”
“Did you get a good look at the man who left the car in the pub car park?”
“Well, no, I didn't. When he got out of the car, he had his back to us, and didn't even turn round to look at the pub. He was tallish, maybe five foot nine or ten, had a dark blue hoody on with the hood up and it was pulled tight if you ask me so it covered a lot of his head and face. He had gloves on too, black ones if it helps.”
“Could you tell if he was black or white?”
“No, not that I was taking notice. I was more interested in the car.”
* * *
“What about the car that picked him up, Carrie?” Drake asked. “Do you know what kind of car it was?”
“It was red, I think,” Carrie replied. “I don't know nothin' about cars.”
“What about the driver. Could you see if it was a man or a woman?”
“Too far away to tell,” said the gir
l. “Soon as he got in they were away like the wind. We went out, got in the car and Archie did something to it and it started and he drove us to Southport for a little holiday, he said.”
* * *
“Come on, Archie, you've nicked cars before so you must know what type of car picked him up.” Ross was hoping for a real clue, depending on Archie Pitt's answer.”
“Look, Inspector, I'd smoked a couple of joints that afternoon, and I was kinda focussed on the Subaru, so I wasn't paying much attention to the friggin' car that picked the jerk up.”
“Think, Archie, come on, for God's sake man, you must have seen it for at least a few seconds.”
Archie Pitt closed his eyes, trying to recall those few seconds when the driver of the Subaru climbed into the other car. He shook his head and replied,
“I'm real sorry, honest, but I just don't know. It was red, I think, that bright pillar box red, you know, the bloody default colour the dealers offer to everyone when they can't supply the colour of choice to customers. Fuck me, Inspector, every bloody car maker on the planet makes cars that colour. But listen, I think I remember it was a hatchback, not too big, maybe a Ford or Vauxhall, or then again it could have been a Honda or even a Citroen. I just don't know. It's not like I thought I'd ever have to bloody well remember the damn car is it?”
Archie threw his hands up in a gesture of despair and somehow, Ross felt he'd got all he was going to get from the young cannabis smoking car thief.
* * *
Izzie Drake passed a box of tissues across to Carrie Evans, as the young woman sat quietly sobbing. Carrie had finally broken down when Drake told her the potential trouble she could be in, and was now in fear of having to tell her parents about the mess she'd got herself into. Unlike Archie Pitt, who appeared to live on his wits and rented a poky little flat in one of the city's few remaining high rise blocks, Carrie lived in Huyton in a modern three bedroom house with her stockbroker father, stay-at-home mum, and younger brother, all of whom would be in shock at the trouble the young rebel of the family had got herself into.
All Saints- Murder on the Mersey Page 18