Cry From The Grave A Thrilling Psychological Crime Mystery (Harry Briscombe Book 1)

by Carolyn Mahony

  ‘Everything got to be too much. Hannah more or less had a nervous breakdown and became very difficult to live with. It wasn’t working for either of us.’

  ‘Some of your neighbours have talked about quite serious rows between you and your partner over that time?’

  Ben shrugged. ‘Have you got children?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, you can take it from me it’s not always what it’s cracked up to be. Hannah changed when she got pregnant and once it was born it felt like the baby dominated our lives. I make no bones about the fact that I believe children should come second to the parents. That’s what’s wrong with society today. Parents are too bloody indulgent. And your lot are too bloody easy on kids when they get into trouble, letting them off with cautions left right and centre instead of making them pay consequences for what they do.’

  He caught the look on Harry’s face and added smoothly. ‘That doesn’t mean to say that I didn't love Sophie. Of course I did. All I’m saying is that children can come between you as parents if you don’t handle things right.’

  ‘And was that something of an issue between you and Miss Walker – your different approaches to parenthood?’

  Ben hesitated. ‘Maybe. Sometimes. Hannah seemed to think the world revolved around Sophie.’

  ‘So, you felt pushed out, did you?’

  Ben gave him a supercilious smile. ‘Putting words into my mouth Sergeant? That’s not what I said.’

  ‘I know you and Miss Walker came under a lot of suspicion from the Press during that time. That must have bothered you quite a bit?’

  ‘Too right it did. And most of the flack seemed to come my way. Easier to blame a bloke, isn’t it? But we only ever had Hannah’s word for it that the pram was empty when she went out to get her in, don’t we? No-one ever thinks to question that.’

  Harry raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you saying you suspected your girlfriend, Mr. Short? Did she ever give you reason to believe she might have hurt Sophie?’

  ‘No. I’m just saying that no one even seemed to question it. In my view, the press had a lot to answer for, interfering the way they did and trying to pin it on me. And the police weren’t much better. The whole lot of them had hang-ups about me being a rich stockbroker if you ask me. They loved getting their teeth into that one.’

  He shrugged, his eyes meeting Harry’s. ‘I’m telling you now, you won’t find any evidence linking me to Sophie’s disappearance so you might as well save yourselves the trouble this time around and concentrate on something a bit more productive.’

  He held Harry’s gaze challengingly and Harry returned that look for a long moment, before closing his notebook with a snap.

  ‘Well thanks for your time, sir. I take it you have no objection to giving us a DNA sample to help eliminate you from the enquiry? Miss Walker’s already given us hers.’

  Ben scowled. ‘Well, I’m not sure about that. I didn’t have to give one last time.’

  ‘There was no body last time.’

  ‘Can’t you identify the baby from Hannah’s sample?’

  ‘We can, but for the sake of completeness it would be helpful to have yours as well.’

  Ben scowled. ‘I thought you were innocent until proven guilty in this country.’ Then he shrugged. ‘I don’t see why not. I was her father for God’s sake – it’s not as if it would be incriminating if my DNA was found.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Harry handed him a card. ‘My number’s on here if you think of anything else you might have forgotten.’

  Ben took the card and made a show of studying it. ‘I’ll look forward to seeing if you’re any better than the last lot, Detective Sergeant Briscombe. They couldn’t organise a piss-up in a brewery.’

  His manner was deliberately goading but Harry made a point of keeping his voice pleasant. ‘We’ll do our best to do a better job this time around, sir.’

  ***

  Helen Walker’s gaze moved in disbelief from the letter in her hand to her daughter’s face.

  ‘Hannah. I can’t believe you haven’t told the police.’

  Hannah wasn’t even sure why she’d decided to confide in her mother. She hadn’t intended to. But after her conversation with Jess the other night she’d accepted an invitation to go for Sunday lunch and somewhere between desert melding into coffee, she’d found herself pulling out the envelope and its contents.

  ‘I haven’t kept it from them deliberately. I just needed time to think it through. Anyway, it’s bound to be a hoax, so what’s the point taking it to the police?’

  Her mother looked at her, her expressive blue eyes incensed. ‘Because people shouldn’t get away with this sort of thing. It’s disgusting. And anyway, you may well be right, but you don’t know for sure that it is a hoax – and this could be the last chance the police get to look into everything thoroughly. You need to know you gave them every fact at your disposal to help them. At the very least they should test the hair sample and ease your mind that it isn’t Sophie’s. If you don’t get that done, you’ll never put it fully to bed. There’ll always be a part of you that wonders.’

  Hannah knuckled her eyes. She missed that it was at times like these in the olden days when she would have been sitting on the sofa with her mother’s arms around her, comforting her as they had this discussion. Yet she just couldn’t make the move to bridge that gap.

  ‘I know you’re right,’ she said abruptly. ‘But I also know that if I take it to the police, it’ll raise my hopes. And I don’t want to put myself through that again. I’m not sure I can take any more setbacks.’

  It was the closest she’d ever come to voicing her real fear – that there’d be one setback too many, and she’d go under.

  ‘Hannah, whatever the outcome of all this, you’ll come through it. You’re stronger than you realise. And things are different this time around – you don’t have the issues with Ben for a start. But if you’re worried that everything’s going to get on top of you at some point, well, maybe it will, there’s nothing to be ashamed of in taking a few tablets to help you through a difficult time if that’s what you need to do. You won’t be alone in doing it. Life’s a balancing act love and it’s not always easy getting it right.’

  Her words hung in the air between them before she added hesitantly. ‘You know there’s always a bed for you here if you want one?’

  ‘Thanks, Mum.’ Hannah could feel the tears beginning to well up in her eyes again and she blinked them away furiously. What was the matter with her?

  She jumped up from her chair and started to clear the table. ‘I’m sure I’ll be fine…’

  ‘Well, the offer’s there if you need it. Now, what are you going to do about the letter? Would you like me to take it to the police for you if you don’t want to do it yourself?’

  Hannah shook her head. ‘No, it’s okay. I’ll drop down to the station tomorrow – see if I can grab an appointment with the Inspector in charge of the case.’

  Later, as Hannah showered and got ready for bed, she thought back on their conversation. Her mother was right, she realised, life was a balancing act and you couldn’t always get everything right. Everyone made mistakes.

  It just felt like her mistakes were much bigger than most.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Murray picked up the Morning Post on his desk and made room for his coffee. ‘Good weekend Harry?’

  ‘Not bad, what about you?’

  Actually, it had been a bloody boring weekend. He hadn’t even gone out for a drink with his mates. He was in danger of becoming a hermit.

  ‘My wife and I went to the theatre Saturday night, she told me I needed to earn some brownie points after – shit!’

  He almost spilled his coffee. He was staring at the newspaper in his hand.

  Harry looked over. ‘Problem?’

  ‘Tell me that isn’t Adam Campbell’s wife!’

  Harry got up and looked at the picture in the newspaper. He felt a tightening in his groin just looking at her and
it wasn’t even a particularly good photo. She was looking startled into the camera as if she’d been caught off guard – that knowing, sensual look discernible even though the picture was in black and white.

  He forced his voice to sound casual. ‘I’m afraid it is. What does it say?’

  ‘I’ll tell you when I’ve read it.’

  A minute later he flung the journal down on the desk, his expression furious. ‘Jesus! Didn’t anyone tell the family not to talk to the press? We haven’t even confirmed it is the Walker baby yet.’

  “We were distraught to find such a discovery in our garden,’ Harry read. “and it’s been very upsetting, but all we can hope is that the poor child’s identity can be confirmed as soon as possible and the truth of what happened all that time ago established. And if the parents are innocent - then hopefully this will help them lay their grief to rest...”

  Harry looked up when he’d finished and grimaced. ‘They probably caught her unawares. You know what reporters are like. They’ve been hanging around their front door since all this started. There’s nothing too damaging in there.’

  ‘Maybe not but it’s hardly going to help the case. Go there and explain to Mrs Campbell that we only give press releases when we’re sure of our facts. And she doesn’t give them at all. And while you’re at it, see if her husband’s got his legal advice yet. The sooner we can get on with that the better. Talking of which...’

  He rose from his seat and went into the outer office. ‘Rosie ... is the post sorted yet?’

  ‘I’m just doing it, sir.’

  ‘Anything from Forensics that you can see?’

  She rifled through the enormous pile in her basket and finally looked up shaking her head. ‘Doesn’t seem to be. I’ll check the emails.’

  ‘Thanks. And if there’s nothing there, get onto Edwards and chase him up, will you? I don’t care how short staffed they are, we need to get on and confirm if that baby is Sophie Walker or not.’

  Harry looked at him as he walked back into the office, and said, ‘I spoke to Edwards on Friday. He assured me they’d have something for us this week.’

  ‘Good. How are we getting on pursuing other angles? What about the previous owners of the house – any luck tracing them yet?’

  ‘The Campbells were right. They were a middle-aged couple who moved to Australia – a Mr. & Mrs Lewis. The Aussie police have tracked them down and are interviewing them. We should hear back any day now.’

  ‘Good. Any other leads?’

  ‘Not really. We’ve been interviewing the Campbells’ neighbours to see if they can shed any light on anything, but it was probably a bit much to hope that someone might remember unusual digging going on in the garden.’

  ‘Did any of them know the previous owners?’

  ‘Not well. Seems they kept themselves pretty much to themselves. Considered they were above everyone was the general opinion, and took off in a bit of a hurry. One minute there, the next minute gone. But no kids on the scene.’

  Murray sighed.

  ‘Well, keep on it – and get around to see Mrs Campbell, will you? Make sure she knows I’m not happy about that article – or the fact they haven’t given us their DNA samples yet.’

  ***

  ‘I’ll certainly pass your message onto my husband, Sergeant,’ Natasha said, smiling at Harry as she invited him into the kitchen. ‘Would you like a coffee? I’ve just made some.’

  ‘Thanks, just a small one then. White, no sugar.’

  She was dressed in tight fitting jeans tucked into boots and a navy-blue polo-neck sweater. Her dark hair was swept neatly up into a ponytail. She didn’t look old enough to be married with a child.

  ‘Adam’s seeing the solicitor about the DNA issue today,’ Natasha said, pouring the coffee, ‘so we’ll probably have some news for you by this afternoon, if you want to call back?’

  ‘Thank you. Obviously it would speed things up to be able to eliminate you and your husband from our enquiries.’

  She handed him his coffee and sat down opposite him. Harry couldn’t help noticing that like everything else in the house the kitchen table was spotless – not a crumb to be seen. He realised she’d probably have a hissy fit if she ever saw his own personal tip that was his bedroom.

  ‘You do understand that it’s not because we’ve got anything to hide that we’re reluctant to give the DNA? It’s just the thought of being ‘marked’ people afterwards that doesn’t sit easily with Adam.’

  She pointed to the newspaper on the table and grinned. ‘I’m a celebrity ... did you see?’

  She sounded almost childlike in her excitement about it. Harry felt harsh having to prick her bubble.

  ‘Erm yes ... my boss wasn’t too happy about that I’m afraid. He asked me to request that you don’t give any more interviews for the time being.’

  ‘Oh. Right. I didn’t see there was any harm in it.’

  ‘We’ve not established the identity of the baby yet. It may not even be Hannah Walker’s child.’

  ‘Oh, come on! Who else is it likely to be?’

  ‘We don’t work on likelies, Mrs Campbell. We work on facts. And until they’re established - those are the orders I’m afraid.’

  ‘Okay,’ she tossed her head and looked at him teasingly over her cup. ‘I promise I’ll be a good girl and not speak to any more of those horrible reporters. I didn’t particularly want to in the first place, but they promised they’d go away and leave us in peace over the weekend if we gave them an interview. It seemed like a good deal, and I have to say I feel much better having had the break from them.’

  She shrugged holding his gaze. ‘But I wouldn’t want to upset the Inspector. What’s he like ... is he scary?’

  Harry laughed. ‘He can be. You wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of him, that’s for sure.’

  ‘I’m more interested in getting on the right side of you.’

  Her eyes flirted openly with his and Harry shifted uncomfortably, thinking for the hundredth time that it was pathetic the way his body responded as if it had a mind of its own, to her very obvious feminine charms. He’d only ever reacted to a woman like this once before, and that had been when he was eighteen for God’s sake.

  She dipped her biscuit into her coffee cup, and placing her elbow on the table, leaned cheekily forward as she placed it slowly in her mouth. How could an action as mundane as that seem so sexy? It made him think of the last time he was here, when they’d sat so close on the sofa.

  ‘Have you been thinking about me at all?’ She could almost have been reading his mind. ‘I have about you.’

  ‘Maybe ... but I know I shouldn’t.’

  ‘That’s half the fun of it though don’t you think? The naughtiness?’

  ‘I’ve seen too many marriages break up because of affairs, to call it fun.’

  She pouted. ‘Oh Harry, you’re so serious. Sounds to me like you need a bit of sparkle in your life. Haven’t you ever done anything you shouldn’t? And anyway, I told you – Adam and I have an understanding about this sort of thing, so who’s it harming? You and I could have fun, and I could do with a good time at the moment.’ She tipped her head to one side, looking at him saucily.

  There it was. The offer was down on the table. All he had to do was reach out and take her hand. And he was tempted. It had been too long. But it was a golden rule not to mix business with pleasure.

  He smiled ruefully. ‘You’re a temptress Mrs Campbell ... all right, Natasha,’ he said seeing the look on her face, ‘I can see that. But it’d be more than my job’s worth to get involved with you. And I think I’d better take myself off before I forget that.’

  At the door, she brushed an imaginary speck of dirt off his lapel.

  ‘Bye then...’ she grinned impishly. ‘Think of me when you’re lying all alone in your bed, consoling yourself with the knowledge that you did the right thing. I’ll be thinking about you ... and all the things I could be doing to you.’

  Harry’s he
art was pumping. She was so close he could have whisked her to him. Nearly did in fact. But he didn’t. Instead he smiled awkwardly and walked away, knowing even as he did so that there was a sense of inevitability about all this. He couldn’t help it; despite knowing he would be mad to even entertain the idea, a tingle of anticipation ran along his spine at the thought.

  Natasha closed the door behind him and looked at her watch. Four hours to kill before her session with the psycho-babbler. And she felt fidgety.

  She shouldn’t, she knew – she was getting to be too reliant on the stuff – but she couldn’t help thinking about the package she’d got hidden away in her sewing box. And she had the rest of the morning to herself.

  ***

  ‘So, what do you think is the main cause of the problems in your relationship with Adam?’

  Natasha stared impatiently at the therapist across the desk, her eyes glittery and over-bright. Christ, hadn’t the woman been listening to anything she’d been saying over the past couple of months?

  ‘I’d have thought that was obvious …’

  The therapist waited.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Natasha felt uncomfortable being put on the spot. ‘Anyone would have problems being married to me, wouldn’t they? I make a mess of everything.’

  ‘And why do you think that is?’

  God, she hated all this skirting around. ‘I thought that was why I was paying you Amanda – so you could tell me.’

  The therapist smiled. ‘You know that’s not how it works. My job is to try and help you pinpoint where you feel things have gone wrong for you and why. Once we’ve identified that, hopefully we can start to move forward and put things in place to improve your situation. But we can only do that if you’re serious about confronting your issues in the first place.’

  ‘Of course I’m serious. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.’

  ‘Okay ... let’s see if we can narrow things down a bit. Over the course of our sessions you’ve identified two big problems that have affected your relationship with your Adam – and I can probably add a third. One is the abuse you suffered from your father, the second is the affair which Adam has now found out about, and the third significant one, which I’d tag on to those two, is the fact you’re still taking drugs – which you’ve somehow managed to conceal from him.’