The Irish Connection

by Norma Hanton

  Broom sighed, put down his cup, and going to the counter asked for the same again. Phyllis (always ready to spout off about sensible eating) raised a shocked eyebrow. Broom nodded toward Cotton who was engrossed in his reading, one hand rubbing his brow. She relaxed a little, but still added in a low voice, “A bowl of cereal would be of more benefit.”

  He scuttled back to his table to avoid one of her lectures.

  “So it was Bell herself that drew our attention to this other house? Don’t you think that was very strange? I thought she was determined not to help us in any way.”

  As Cotton seemed to be just thinking out loud, Broom kept his opinions to himself and finished his breakfast.

  The cottage was every person’s dream of the rural idyll. Built of stone it seemed to have grown out of the soil right there in the middle of nowhere.

  Cotton stared at it. Its thatched roof was a work of art, complete with a straw cat pacing the ridge, and it even had roses arched around the door. A muddy track from the roadside was the only clue to its existence. The building had all of its original features cleverly incorporated into a modern interior. The grounds were immaculate, even the fallen leaves had been cleared away.

  Cotton wondered if the gardener was the person who’d brought it to Ann Bell’s attention. Perhaps after he’d seen the press coverage? Strange, that a man would just keep on working without being able to collect his weekly wage.

  “Find out who the gardener is and where he lives. I’d like a word with him,” Cotton told Broom.

  Bell had provided them with a set of keys to the property so breaking in was unnecessary. On opening the door Cotton noticed the heating was on and the place looked more lived in than the Mulberry Court flats.

  The forensic team found passports, bank accounts, and birth certificates, all in the names of Dawn Patterson and Caroline Johnson, all hidden in a compartment in the foot of the bed.

  A lease was also found, signed by Nathaniel Bell. It was brought to his attention that the lease had no date or time limit on it and was made out to Dawn Patterson. In the same hiding place a key was found, one that could belong to a safety deposit box. There were bank statements that included payment receipts from a gardening firm, thus sorting out one mystery. Photographs in the rooms confirmed the fact that they were indeed the two dead women.

  The cupboards were well stocked with canned food and the extremely pungent fridge contained bottles of mouldy milk and cheese and what might have once been a healthy salad, but which was now unrecognisable. All the signs that proved that the women lived here on a regular basis, and that they had intended to return there soon. Nothing suggested otherwise.

  A light covering of dust covered everything and yet the place still looked homely and cosy. A black telephone stood on the broad window sill in the sitting room. Cotton looked at the dial, copying down the phone number from the central disc. A gas bill stood propped against a vase of wilted flowers. Someone had written a note and pinned it to it, PAY TUES. As was usual in this type of case, Cotton was glad there were no animals that had been left to fend for themselves.

  The cottage stood in about three quarters of an acre of land. There was an art studio in one of the outbuildings where two paintings of Nathaniel Bell grabbed their attention. A shed containing a sit and ride lawn mower and other tools and boxes, were all searched for the murder weapon. A small wooded area nearby had a well-worn path leading into its centre where a large oak tree sheltered a cast iron, ornate seat under its branches.

  Back inside the cottage the greatest find, to Cotton’s mind, was the discovery of a photograph album containing pictures of Louisa Murphy holding a small child. A rather handsome man stood proudly beside them smiling at the camera. His arm was around Murphy’s shoulder.

  When the house had been thoroughly searched from cobwebby attic to smelly fridge, and all necessary items bagged and tagged as evidence, Cotton and Broom returned to the station where copies of the photographs were immediately sent to the Ballymena police.

  Later that same day Ann Bell was interviewed by Cotton and Mulhern. The air was still thick with tension between the two men but they were still a formidable team in an interview room.

  “We meet again, Miss Bell,” began Mulhern, “I hope you’re going to be more co-operative this time round. Let honesty and openness be the order of the day, and perhaps we can move forward a little. Or are you still going to insist that you know neither of these women?”

  “Yes I am, Superintendent. I do not know them. I have seen them only once, and I’m beginning to wish I had never heard of them. I repeat I can be of no further help to your enquiries.”

  Mr Hampton, her solicitor, told them, “My client has already answered these questions and unless you have something new to add we will be leaving.”

  Mulhern glared at him and went on as if he hadn’t heard.

  “Perhaps, Miss Bell, we should interview your father and see what he knows? I did notice it was his name on the lease for the cottage, not yours. I’m sure he’ll be of help as he must have known Dawn Patterson personally. Did you know that he had given her an unlimited lease on this property?” he waited and, when no reply was forthcoming, he went on. “Yes, I think that’s the answer, we need to talk to the person that leased the house to them.” Turning to Cotton he said, “Get down to Mr Bells home and interview Nathaniel Bell. If necessary bring him in for questioning.”

  Ann Bell shot to her feet knocking her chair over in her haste as she screamed at them, “You will do no such thing, Inspector. My father is dying and is not expected to see the week out. You will not disturb him. I’ll question him myself and report his replies back to you if that is what it will take to shut you up.” The anger in her voice made her body shake with emotion, yet still she retained a vestige of self-control.

  “No, I’m sorry, Miss Bell, that won’t do at all. We’ve waited long enough. You don’t seem to understand how serious this case is and, unless you cooperate I am going to send the Inspector here down to see your father. So you can begin by telling us all you know about the two women.”

  She picked up the chair and sat down, then leapt back up and yelled at the top of her voice,

  “Go on then - do what you bloody well want, I don’t sodden care anymore,” looking at Cotton she leant forward and shouted, “Go on then, get on with it, Inspector, and screw the pair of you. I’m leaving and, unless you charge me with something right this minute, don’t bother me again.”

  At this point she picked up her handbag and made for the door. Cotton rose from his chair to intercept her when Mulhern spoke.

  “You’re free to leave at this time, until we question your father, but I will send for you again Miss Bell, even if I have to apply for a warrant to do it.”

  Bell stormed out leaving her solicitor behind.

  “I do think you’re harassing my client and I will be the one making charges, Superintendent. You seem to have made up your mind that she is the murderer, whether she’s guilty or not.” He smiled a humourless smile, “Making headway with these murders is your problem, gentlemen, not Miss Bell’s.”

  Ann Bell headed back to her father’s house with no regard to the speed limit. She was so angry she was past caring. She’d checked up on the lease and knew it had her father’s signature on it, but she’d found no evidence of any rent being paid. Ann had asked Barbara Devlin, who had been her father’s personal assistant at the time, what it was all about and was surprised when Barbara had told her,

  ‘Some things, Miss Bell, are better left undisturbed and this is one of them’. She’d suddenly known the answer to the question of, why was Dawn Patterson given an open lease? Her father! The bastard! The skinny, ugly bastard had been screwing her. She was of course, just one of his many tarts. Oh, her mother and she had known all about them, he’d made sure of that. He would be dressing to go out and he’d tell her mother he might be late, very late if his luck was in. He would brag he could keep going all night with some women.
‘Unlike you’, he would sneer, ‘a lot of women turn me on’.

  Ann came to a screeching halt on the drive, scattering the gravel in all directions, and ran into the house. Bursting into the hall way she pushed passed a startled Mathews and entered her father’s bedroom.

  He turned his head and the cold blue eyes looked at her. “How dare you come in here unannounced? Get out!” He turned from her.

  “Look at me you bastard. You’re going to listen to me for a change. You don’t frighten me anymore.”

  His head turned slowly back. “Well, the weak worm is finally turning. Call me a bastard once more daughter and I can still rip you’re fucking head off.” He didn’t even raise his voice but Mathews had entered the room. “It’s alright Mathews, let the stupid little cow have her moment of glory. She’ll never be a threat to me, she wouldn’t know how.”

  Ann waited until Mathews had left the room and turned back to meet the staring eyes.

  “You’ll not look so cocky when I tell you that the police are on their way to interview you about your lady friends in Oak Tree Cottage.”

  “Let them come, my dear, let them come. I’ll be able to tell them, and you, all the gory details.” He sneered at her, “Yes, let them come, its time you all heard the truth.”

  They sat silently in the room, he in his large oak bed wheezing for breath and she in the window seat. She sat waiting. She saw them coming up the drive and waited until she heard their voices before getting to her feet. Mathews entered the room.

  “It’s the police, sir, they insist on seeing you.”

  “Let them in, man, let them in.”

  Cotton strode in with Broom close behind.

  “Good afternoon, Inspector,” wheezed her father. “My darling daughter dashed home to tell me you would be calling on me for information on the cottage. Please be seated and I’ll tell you all.” He paused to catch his breath. “You see before you a dying man so let this be considered as a deathbed confession. If you’ll allow me to take my time because of breathing difficulties, I’ll begin.”

  Without waiting for a reply he began.

  “Yes, I gave Dawn the lease for the cottage and, at first, I did pay a token amount each year to balance the books, but then I thought, ‘why should I, I own the damn place.’ May I ask why I should answer to you, or her, on the matter? I’m the owner of the building, and the land surrounding it, so I could give it to who the hell I wanted,” the veins on his neck stood out.

  “If you could keep calm, sir, and answer a few questions maybe we could sort this all out.” Cotton didn’t like the look on the man’s face. It was a grey colour and his lips had a blue tinge to them, yet he wanted answers before Nathaniel Bell popped his clogs. “Would you like your daughter to leave the room, sir? Maybe it would be easier for you to discuss the matter?”

  “Oh! No Inspector, I really want her here.” he sneered. “I definitely want her to know. So let me continue uninterrupted – let’s get it all out in the open. Dawn deserves that. God knows she’s had to keep quiet long enough, and nothing I say can harm her now.”

  Nathaniel motioned to Mathews to help him sit up and when the man left the room he said, his eyes fixed on Ann’s face.

  “My story begins on Dawn’s fifteenth birthday. Her mother, Mavis - what a terrible name - was my mistress at that time and I was getting very bored with the woman. When Mavis realised the golden rooster was not going to lay any more golden eggs on her bed she made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. She promised me I could be the first man to have her daughter, but made me swear to leave her alone until her sixteenth birthday.

  I kept that promise, I assure you, I didn’t go in for underage sex,” a strangled laugh stopped him talking for a minute and Cotton took this time to look at Ann Bell’s face. She sat on the window seat staring at her father with utter loathing, her face as white as snow and looking as if she could be physically sick.

  The weak, breathless voice continued, “I took Dawn to Oak Tree Cottage on her birthday, her mother had told her all about the deal. We had a great time. I kept her at it all night, she could hardly walk the next day,” with a voice full of glee and cold blue eyes fixed on his daughter he continued.

  “How does that grab you, miss prissy knickers? I was given Dawn as a present in exchange for paying her mother a few quid and not evicting her from one of my properties. Needless to say, once I’d moved Dawn into the cottage the mother was evicted.” He cackled a laugh then choked a little, but went on. “She was so good, Inspector,” he watched Cotton’s face now. “Her mother used to moan and complain about the biting and the bruises but it’s all part of the game, isn’t it?” Cotton just sat quietly waiting for him to continue. “Frigid Bridget there wouldn’t know good sex if it hit her in the face with a mallet. Do you know why? I’ll tell you. Because she is ugly inside and out, just like her mother,” he turned to face Ann who had leapt to her feet and was trying to get to the bed. Broom was desperately trying to restrain her. “Well let me tell you daughter, mummykins soon learned who wore the trousers in my house. Her daddy couldn’t help her. He’d been paid off at the wedding.” He was getting agitated and was wheezing louder. “It took her a while to learn mind you. I had to teach her a lesson she wouldn’t forget before she stopped trying to be cocky with me. Do you want to hear how I finally tamed her, Ann?” Broom was still holding her arms but she seemed not to see anyone but the dying man. “She had the gall to ask me for a divorce. Can you believe it? I take her from a poverty stricken father, gave her everything a heart could desire, and she wanted a divorce.” He smiled at his daughter. “I put a stop to it one night when she was whining on about leaving and how she didn’t want a penny out of my estate. She was even planning to take my heir with her.” Father and daughter stared at each other. Hate on one face, glee on the other. “I tied her to the bed and raped her,” Broom was hanging on for grim death now to stop her reaching the bed, even he and Cotton had exhaled loud gasps of air at the coldness of the revelation. But worse was to come. “Then I invited a few mates around and told them she was a prostitute and we could all have a night of fun. I told them she’d been well paid to act as if she were my wife and would protest loudly, as if she were being raped. Four of them thoroughly enjoyed themselves before she passed out.” At this point Cotton had to go to Broom’s assistance or the girl would have been on the bed and would have killed the disgusting old man. “Two weeks later I went home unexpectedly and I found her packing a bag with clothes for herself and that thing standing there. Well, I stopped her in her tracks when I pushed her down the stairs. I thought she was just pretending to be unconscious but when I kicked her and she just lay there I looked closer and saw my troubles were over.

  Still, we were talking about the real love of my life - Dawn.” He was calmly continuing with his confession. “Dawn soon discovered that she could make a fortune setting up on her own as well as being at my beck and call. I was quite angry when I found out, but I do like an entrepreneurial spirit, so I said nothing. Mind you,” he cackled, “I didn’t know she was using one of my properties for a brothel. That was down to you daughter. You signed her lease. You were her ‘Madam’, weren’t you? How much did you make out of her?” Here the old man laughed so hard he started choking and Mathews appeared as if by magic. Cotton took the opportunity to help Broom drag Ann Bell out of the room. Once outside she reverted to her usual self and knocked their hands away.

  “It might be better if you let us finish his confession on our own,” began Cotton, “This must be terrible for you. I can hardly believe it myself.”

  Straightening herself up, she yelled at them, “Oh! I believe it alright! I believe every word of it. He killed my mother. I’ve always known that. I want the bastard arrested right now and charged with her murder. I don’t want him to hang and get off Scott free; I want him to suffer in jail with people of his kind.”

  To Cotton’s surprise she suddenly rested her head against his chest and wept quietly. They stood like
statues the three of them until Mathews came out of the room and informed them that the master wished to continue.

  Cotton tried again to persuade Ann to stay outside the room but she dried her face and they all went reluctantly back in.

  Nathaniel Bell had an oxygen mask on his face now, but the blue eyes were still alert.

  “Now where was I?” he tried to see his daughters face but she was standing with her back to him staring out the window. “Oh! Yes. My daughter was acting as a Madam to Dawn and her little friend Caroline. I didn’t know you had the guts to do it dear. Give yourself a pat on the back, eh?” Ann didn’t rise to his bait but stood silent.

  “I never got to meet Caroline but Dawn had mentioned her from time to time. Apparently they were in business together, is that right, Inspector?” Cotton replied that he couldn’t discuss the case at this time. “Pity, I would have liked to hear all the details before I die. Never mind. Well my wife died and I asked Dawn to move in with me, but she refused. She loved the cottage and wouldn’t leave it, she said, for anything. Not even the fact that I was dying, or that I could leave it all to her, would entice her. I even promised to throw that little bitch out on the street if she came.” Ann still didn’t react and it seemed to annoy him. “Still, she would visit me from time to time when madam there was at work. She told me how she’d allowed Caroline to move into the cottage and that they were great friends. Then, one evening, just before she died she came here and told me she was afraid her friends life was in danger and needed money to buy off the person who was threatening her. I gave her a check for fifty thousand pounds, and told her to hire someone to do the deal and not to put herself in danger. The money left my account but Dawn didn’t return. I have lain here since wondering if the threat came from my daughter there or did she know the murderer personally.” He put his hand under the pillow and pulled out a sheet of paper which he handed to Cotton. “This is a list of names of all the people Dawn ever mentioned to me. I hope it will help you to catch the bastard that killed my Dawn, and don’t forget to add her name to it,” he pointed to Ann; “She was probably seeking revenge for her mother, stupid little bitch. That’s all I have to say Inspector, now get out there and catch them, and, while you’re at it, get that cow out of my house.” Ann turned to face him,