“I should have got her number,” said Elsie with admiration.
“Come on, Elsie, let’s go.”
The cool spring night rushed at Lee as she opened the bar door. It cleared her head and at the same time allowed the alcohol to take a little more effect.
“Are you sure you’ll be, alright love, you look exhausted.”
“I’m fine, Elsie, do you want me to drop you off.”
“No, the walk will do me good; I’m only two minutes from here.” Elsie gave Lee a hug. “Now see, aren’t you glad I made you come tonight?” Lee looked at her in disbelief. Elsie rubbed Lee’s arm firmly. “Give me a call Tomorrow, let me know how your feeling.” Then she set off down the High Street to her house.
*****
Lee sat in the back off the taxi. She could not take in the information. She knew that she could not tell Tom. He bristled at the mention of how Sara passed; this would set him off and cause nothing but trouble. Her head was beginning to spin. She decided to simply take the box home and have a look inside. Then she would think about how to broach the subject with Tom.
The taxi pulled up outside Hill House and Lee instructed him to wait. She climbed out and walked up to the front door. She knocked and waited for Tom.
“Hi, Lee. Is everything alright?” He was surprised to see her. “I thought you had your thing with Elsie this evening?”
“I just have to get something.” Lee brushed passed him and headed up the stairs. She reached the bottom of the attic stairs and looked up at the closed door. A shiver went through her. As much as she believed in the afterlife, it did not stop her from being afraid of the unknown.
“Tom, do you want to hold this door open for me please?” She called back to him, remembering what had happened to Jess just the day before.
Tom sighed and followed her up. “What are you looking for?”
Lee pulled on the light switch and scanned the space. A few feet away lay a box on its side with some of the contents spilling out. She scooped the papers back in and lifted the box and headed past Tom down the stairs.
Tom switched off the light and closed the door. Following her downstairs, he asked what was going on.
“Believe me, Tom, you don’t want to know. I know you find these things hard to understand. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.”
Tom caught up with her in the hallway and stretched out his arm.
“No, Lee. Tell me what is happening. I’ve already had this conversation with Jess tonight about what I believe and what I don’t.”
Concern flashed through Lee. “Where is Jess?”
“She’s fine, she and I had a good talk, and she’s in bed. Now what is going on?”
Lee let out a deep breath. “All right, but you have to hear me out, no butting into tell me I’m being ridiculous.” Tom nodded reluctantly, Lee took a deep breath. “Sara came through tonight. She said I had to get this box, it was important. I think it may have something to do with the case you’re working on.” Lee stood silent waiting for the mockery that inevitably followed these conversations with Tom. Instead, Tom turned and walked out to the taxi.
He returned putting his wallet back in his pocket. “I sent it away. If this is so important then we should look through it together.” Tom took the box from Lee and walked through to the study. “You coming?”
Lee paused. “Yeah, first I want to give Jess a hug.” She went upstairs to check on her.
“Aunt Lee, how was your night out?”
“It was ok, how was your night in?”
Jess laughed. “Dad and I had a good talk, lots of junk and watched a movie. Sorry I’ve been so cranky lately.”
Lee leaned over and kissed her head. “We all have off days, it’s allowed. And I am sorry for not listening and taking you more serious. I sometimes forget you’re not a little girl any more.” Lee stood up and gave the perfunctory pet to Topaz. Satisfied that she was not in any immediate danger, she returned to the study, where Tom had placed the box on the desk and a cup of black coffee beside it.
“I thought you might need that.” He nodded in the direction of the cup. Tom opened the box and looked in. “It’s old newspapers, Lee, some of them go back to the 1960s”
“That’s Mum for you. She collected strange things; she once said to me that today’s news was tomorrow’s history.” Lee lifted one out. “Look at this, February 1981 prince Charles and Lady Diana Spencer announce their engagement. She was right enough; it is funny to look back. I bet she has the newspaper on the day I was born.”
“Really, Lee. You think this is what we are supposed to be looking at?”
“Sorry. Look, you take the local rag and I will go through the nationals. See if there is anything there.”
The two of them sorted the large pile of papers in to two bundles and settled down on the soft chairs to read through them.
“This is why I don’t believe in all this mumble jumble, all you get are strange vague messages. If there is something there why don’t they just say it and tell you what you’re looking for?”
Lee smiled but made no comment. “Do we just read the head lines or should we go through the whole paper?”
Tom looked over at her and then at the bundles on the floor. “There is a lot here. Just read the headlines and if there isn’t anything there we can go back through the whole paper.” Tom silently hoped that what ever they were looking for would be in the headlines. The collection spanned over 30 years, dating from 1960s to the 1990s. From royal marriages to royal divorces. Tom noticed that the further back they went, the less violent the headlines were inclined to be. For a long time they both sat in silence flicking through the pile of papers.
“Got something.” Tom picked up a paper with a picture of Angela Harrison on the front. Local woman missing. He turned it to show Lee.
“Snap, Daily Mirror ran the same story.” They put it to one side and continued through the pile for anything else that matched their case. Lee was beginning to feel it was as much her case as it was Tom’s. She was not likely to get a decent night sleep until it was cleared up, according to Jean, the medium.
“I’ll make more coffee, you want one.”
“Sure,” answered Tom. A short time later Lee returned with two mugs of coffee.
“Look at this, Lee. This is what your Dad was talking about the other day.” Tom held a paper up for her to read. Local church to close tourist hostel after third hiker goes missing. “This was August 1965.”
“So Dad was right. There were others before Susanna Wheeling.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” said Tom looking at the date on the paper, “If our guy was active in 1965, given the age he would have been to competently carry out this kind of crime, he would have to be well in to his seventies now.”
“Maybe that’s how he gets girls to go with him, he seems harmless.”
“Sure, but how can a man of that age over power a young fit woman in her twenties if she’s fighting for her life?”
“Jim Watt is in his seventies and he’s still a fit man. So is John Caulder, well, John isn’t so much fit as strong,” said Lee.
Tom shook his head. “No, something just doesn’t sit right with this. I have often wondered if he has an accomplice. Someone younger and stronger. It might explain the change in his type.”
“You mean the change from red heads to blonde? What is the description of the hill walkers that went missing? If they were all blonde maybe Susanna Wheeling knew something and she was not chosen for her looks but out of necessity.”
Tom considered the possibility. He looked through the local papers to find a description of any of the hikers that had disappeared.
“Tom, you said you thought he had an accomplice, what about a woman. You know, couples who hunt together. Like Hindely and Brady or the West's. Most young women would not feel as threatened if it were a couple who approached them.”
“It’s a possibility, but that type of dynamic is very rare. Not only that, but you would th
en be looking for a couple in their seventies, BOTH with very good health.” Tom lifted the paper closer to him.
“Look, in 1964 the first one went missing, they thought she had got lost in the hills. The mountain rescue was brought in to search for her but no trace. She was described as athletic build with red hair.” Tom handed the paper to Lee punching the text with a large index finger.
“So he started out with red heads. Is it so uncommon for them to change their type?”
“This type of killer, no, a lot of it is dependant on availability and opportunity of the victim, but this man has been so consistent with the Petite blondes, it has just always niggled at me and I don’t know why. Victim profiling is only a small part of an investigation. Moreover, it’s not an exact science. Yes. These types of offenders normally have an idea of what the perfect victim will look like. However few have the patience to only attack that perfect one. Our man here has never deviated since Angela Harrison in 1978. So why did he attack red headed women before that?”
“So what type of person are we looking for?”
Tom thought for a moment. He had not completed a profile since Sara died. She was the one with the real insight into human behaviour.
“He is organized, non-social killer; he leaves nothing to chance and never deviates from the plan. He is geographically mobile in his work but has a solid base. High intelligence, socially adequate may live with a partner.”
“How do you know all that?”
“He takes his victims from all over the country, so he is geographically mobile, but the bodies don’t turn up, so he must be keeping them close, so he must have a base.”
“I always thought profiling was Sara’s domain?”
Tom sighed. “Yes, it was. Let’s see if any of it rubbed off on me over the years.”
Lee looked over at him in disbelief. “I don’t think it’s that simple, I think you have to have a bit of training in it Tom.”
“I have, Lee.” Tom smiled. “Between what I learned working with Sara and all the years of experience on the force, I have a pretty good insight into the minds of this type of offender.”
“I don’t think I fancy having that insight, Tom.”
“Well, we suspect he might be local. A profile might just narrow it down enough to bring new suspects to light. If I want any chance of holding on to this case I will need to give them something on that front by next Monday.”
It was almost 2am by the time they had gone through all the newspapers.
“Ok, then, lets focus on the three missing hikers. See what the papers had to say about them.”
“Look at this, Tom,” Lee handed him a local paper she had picked up from his feet. “They said some local men had been questioned in connection with the disappearance of the three women.”
A picture of Jim Watt and Duncan Ingles stared back at Tom.
“Well, Duncan Ingles is dead. However, Jim Watt has come up a couple of times now. Firstly, he is questioned about the hikers, and then he is close friends with Angela Harrison. And if I remember correctly, he recognised Susanna Wheeling as a bar maid from when he occasionally went into Arrochar. You said yourself he was a fit man for his years. Maybe I should pay him another visit?”
“He also has a much younger friend. He is around his mid forties; they sometimes come in for breakfast together. I think he lives at Jim’s house and helps out on the farm. There is one other thing though; Elsie thinks that Jim might be gay. Wouldn’t that make him unlikely to abduct women?”
Tom thought about it. He was still the best lead he had. “I will check in with him Tomorrow, for now, we better call it a night. I take it you’ll be staying.”
“Well, you’re the one that sent my taxi away.” Lee stretched back in the chair relieving the tense muscles at the bottom of her spine. “Ok, I’ll see you in the morning, Tom.”
As Lee stood up to leave Tom looked at her. “Lee, Sara, did she …”
Lee knew what he was asking. “Yes, she watches over you, guys and loves you both. Good night, Tom.”
Tom sat in silence. He found it hard to believe in this kind of thing, it hurt to believe.
*****
The following morning Tom left Lee sleeping. He dropped Jess and Gemma at school. He smiled to himself as he listened to their conversation. Gemma was good for Jess, she wasn’t so serious. She was in fact, very funny. Tom had to work at keeping his face straight as he listened to the light hearted girl. He dropped them at the school gates and he headed back through the village to see Jim Watt.
Tom parked the Jeep and had a casual look round the property. It was isolated enough, and there was plenty of land. Still something did not sit well with him. He didn’t feel this was the place.
“Can I help you, Detective Hunter?” Jim Watt was standing at the front door with his coffee cup in his hand. Tom walked toward him.
“I hope you can, I have a few questions for you.” Reluctantly Jim led him through the house to the kitchen once again.
“Do you remember the disappearance of three hikers back in 1964, 65?”
Jim sat at the table. “Yes, you know I do. If you have looked into it you will know I was questioned, along with half the town.”
“Did you have any contact with any of the women; maybe see them in the village or something?”
“No, Mr Hunter, I was not the only man questioned. Just about every man in his twenties and above, including the vicar were all taken in at some point. Anyway, I had an alibi for the first woman, I think it was.”
“What was it?”
“I was at an equestrian show in surrey; my alibi was never in question.”
“That wasn’t mentioned in the paper.”
“Yes, the local rag. No, it was not, they only wanted headlines. They were not interested in people being cleared. They didn’t mention that half the village had been questioned either.”
Tom took down as many details as Jim could remember about the horse show. He didn’t see any point in not checking it out for himself now that he had taken the trouble to come up here.
“Your friend, Jim, the young man that lives here with you, what is his name?”
Jim visibly squirmed in his seat. “You mean George.”
“How long have you known George?”
“I don’t see what he has to do with an incident in the sixties.” Tom held his stare waiting for an answer. Jim took in along breath.
“All right, I have known George for about fifteen years; he started working for me when he was around thirty. After his divorce I offered him a place to live and he has stayed here ever since, that was about ten years ago.”
“And your relationship, you are just friends.” Again, Jim began to shift in his seat. Tom could feel his discomfort.
“I regard George as a very good friend.” Tom recognised his evasion of the question. He also knew that Jim was brought up in a time where there was no place for homosexuality, and in small villages like Coppersfield, there was still some bigotry. He put his note pad away and moved forward to the edge of his seat.
“Jim, off the record. I would just like to know if you and George are more than friends. It won’t go any further.”
“Why would you like to know that?”
“It would help me greatly in my investigations, Jim.”
Jim sat silently for a moment, deciding if Tom Hunter could be trusted.
“Let’s just say that after George began working here, his marriage started to break down.”
Tom nodded at the secret that had not been strictly spoken.
“Thank you, Jim.”
Tom climbed back into his Jeep to drive down to the nursing home to speak to Jimmy. He always felt that Jim Watt had been hiding something from him, now he felt sure he knew what that was. It also explained how he could have such an intimate yet innocent relationship with Angela Harrison. To Jim, being gay was something that had to be kept secret, he had not moved into the accepting new millennium, for him it was always going to
be a curse.
Tom drove down to the nursing home and parked the Jeep. He walked round to the assisted living area to were Jimmy lived. Jimmy was in the garden tending the same pots as before.
“Morning, Jimmy, how are you?”
“Good, son, good. Have you brought Jess?”
“No, Jimmy, she’s at school, but I will bring her down on Sunday. Ok.”
A wave of disappointment washed over the old mans face. Jess had missed the last visit because of her hurt foot, and now Jimmy was missing her.
“This is just a quick visit, Jim, to see if you can help me out with something.”
“Go on.”
“The hikers you mentioned the other day, I looked into them. Can you tell me some of the men that you were suspicious of at that time?”
“Oh. It’s a long time back, son.”
“Was Jim Watt one of them?”
“No, he was taken in along with the rest of us, but Jim never bothered much with young women.”
“Anyone else? I know Duncan Ingles was questioned. But he's dead now. Was there anyone else that the locals maybe whispered about but never made it in to the papers or anything?” Jimmy scratched his balding head.
“It’s so long ago, Tom. I think the minister was looked at. You know, some things are best left alone.”
Tom thanked him and turned to leave. He could sense that Jimmy was holding something back, but he could not tell if it was his memory that was letting him down or if it was more than that.
“Tom?” The old man called after him and walked to the fence. “What makes you think Duncan Ingles is dead?”
“He had a stroke back in the eighties, Jim. Do you not remember?”
“Yes, I remember. Young Matt let everyone think that he had died, but he hadn’t. He didn’t want everyone knowing how ill his father was, you see. Didn’t want folks to see him the way he was.” Jimmy was leaning in and had lowered his voice to a whisper. “Duncan didn’t die; he was put in a nursing home somewhere in Edinburgh or that. He was in a bad way.” He raised his voice back to a normal pitch and added. “’Course, he could be dead now, who knows.” The old man went back to potting his plants and Tom slowly walked back to the Jeep.
Echoes of the Past Page 16