A Village Not So Green (John Harper Series Book 1)

by Edward Holmes

  The farmer glared at him, “I guess those people were wrong. He was selling the land and all I’m doing is just clearing up the loose ends Detective.”

  John tapped his nose lightly with his finger, “Loose ends, that’s what I’m doing Mister Bailey. Do you mind me saying sir that on further examination you don’t look that much like your brother.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? I thought this would be quick.”

  “The land sale requires a signature and meeting in person with identification of whoever is selling the land. Your brother therefore had to go and agree to this land sale. I rang the solicitors who are dealing with the sale and I asked them for a description of your brother. Do you know what they said sir?”

  “N-n-no how could I, Detective?”

  “They didn’t describe your brother Mister Bailey; no, they described someone rather like you in appearance.”

  “I’m sure they were mistaken,” Bailey said his voice losing the sternness he had used before.

  John held up a hand, “Unfortunately for you Mister Bailey, they weren’t. We both know that you were selling the land from beneath your brother for the past couple of weeks. The problem is he died and made things a little more difficult to pass off.”

  “Wait you said that the seller needed to bring identification. Therefore it must have been my brother,” Bailey said triumphantly, his hand moving towards the door, “Now if you have finished badgering me, you can be on your way.”

  John’s hand went to the door, a small amount of bruising evident on the back of it, “I haven’t finished and you are the one who was supposed to be leaving. No Mister Bailey you took your brother’s drivers licence in to the solicitors' office. That was one of the old licences, as you well know, that did not have a photo on it. No doubt you also took your brother’s birth certificate.”

  The farmer just stared at the John, his hand resting on the door, the fingernails still digging deep into the wood, “What do you want? He’s dead; the deal would’ve been sorted this week no matter what. Does it really matter that much?”

  “I’m afraid it does. You committed fraud and I’d like to know why. I would also like to know where you were on the night of your brother’s death.”

  Bailey stared at the floor, “The water company were going to have to move their pipeline at great expense. I never understood why he wouldn’t just sell them the land, they offered a lot for every piece they have bought and there is nothing of value on it. We were even offered more than other people on the route because it will be easier to dig on our parcel. If he had held out we could have lost it for nothing, I’d heard they were thinking of putting in for a compulsory purchase order on it. I was going to let Harry keep the house; they don’t even plan on going anywhere near the barns and there are plenty of other fields that he could have worked,” Bailey seemed strong enough to look at the searching eyes of John now and continued, “As for the night he died I was in Liverpool with my wife for our anniversary. We stayed at that special Beatles hotel, she’s a massive fan.”

  “Thank you sir for your honesty, finally.”

  “What do you want, Detective?”

  “What do you mean Mister Bailey?”

  The anger seemed to be returning to the farmer now. Telling the truth seemed to have lifted a weight off him and he reverted to type, “What do you want? Come on Detective, I know how this goes. You’ve collared me and this is the point where you give me you list of demands. I’ve been doing this for a long time Detective, cut to the chase.”

  “You broke the law Mister Bailey.”

  “Don’t play coy with me, Detective; this isn’t the first time I’ve been down this road. There are too many laws that get in the way of enterprise.”

  “Big words for a simple farmer.’

  “I’m a businessman. You know that’s why I sold the land. Sure the EU subsidies are nice but there will finally come a point when they won’t be giving us free cash. We don’t get as much as the Greeks or the Italians sure but the Common Agricultural Policy has been good to my family. The lump sum from the water company will allow us to buy more land, something that can be useful for my kids and their children. So how much do you want? Because Detective I don’t want to be paying any more of your kind.”

  John took his hand off the door and turned towards his car before looking back at the man he had just cornered, “I’ll get back to you this week Mr Bailey. I’d like to see how much you are getting paid for your brother's land before I make a decision. You just make sure I don’t come to any harm in the village sir, we wouldn’t want this all coming out, would we?”

  Adrenaline helped John keep his pace even as he walked back to the Jaguar. His jaw was tight with pain but the clenched muscles could not stop a smile from crossing his lips. He spun on the spot before the farmer could close the door, “One more thing Mister Bailey. You are positive that you and your brother did not know George Fleming?”

  Bailey nodded, “I have no idea who he is, Detective.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Buoyed by his success with the brother Bailey, John thought it best to double down and push his luck once again. Driving to another location on his suspect list, he parked his car outside a dilapidated bungalow in the corner of a cul-de-sac and checked his reflection in the mirror. His forehead throbbed a little and he smoothed out his side-parted hair. He took a deep breath and stepped out into the street. A few kids ran about at the other end of the road but there was no one near him.

  His legs had become worse from his brief foray out of the house but he stretched them as best he could and picked up the walking stick from the back seat. He used it as he walked up the drive and looking at the overgrown garden. The lawn was at least two feet high in places and an old deflated ball lay in residence with pieces of litter and vast amounts of ash that had been dumped from the nearest window. Tufts of grass and weeds stuck out of the paving slabs, threatening to trip him as John shuffled towards the maroon door. The paint was peeling and the door number that should have read thirty eight was just a section of unsullied wood, around it the black dirt of age.

  There was no knocker on the door and the bell was hanging by the frayed wiring so rather than risk electrocution he rapped the wood with his knuckle. Standing there for thirty seconds he heard nothing on the other side and repeated the action. Still no answer. John was getting a little annoyed as he was beginning to suffer. He took out his anger with the crook of the stick, till he heard movement from in the house.

  After some scratching and rattling the door opened, to reveal a gaunt man. John barely recognised him from the photo of Martin Wills, who had become something of a bogeyman over the whole visit to Hollingswood. He was older obviously but a lot thinner now. John had seen a recent picture of the man taken whilst in prison but the outside had not been kind to him. Wills no longer sported a moustache but did have sprouting of white stubble. Deep lines snaked across his face and his grey eyes stared out from dark hollows. Wearing a white t-shirt, which was greying and stained with a number of food products, and a pair of dark trousers he stood barefoot in the doorway. The smell of stale tobacco and alcohol wafted out onto the street, “Whatever you’re selling I aint buying, now piss off,” Wills said in a gravelly voice.

  John kept his stick on the door, “I’m not selling anything sir. Are you Mister Martin Wills?”

  “Who’s asking?”

  “Detective Inspector John Harper, I’m here to have a little discussion with you,” John said just keeping any malice out of his voice. The man had served his time and should be respected for that but John was also very aware that Wills had never revealed the whereabouts of the Bennett girl’s body.

  Wills squinted his eyes at the detective, “I did my stint inside copper, leave me alone I don’t know where the body is. Never have and never will.”

  “We could discuss this inside, sir. It has nothing to do with your incarceration,” John said bitin
g the inside of his mouth as his legs flared up in warm agony.

  “Be quicker if you just say your peace here copper, you aint coming into my place without a warrant, not after the last lot.”

  “Mister Wills I think it would be best to discuss this inside. All I want to do is ask you some questions in relation to Harry Bailey and George Fleming.”

  Wills did not move, “What about them?”

  “As I am sure you are aware they have both passed away recently and since you knew them both I thought you could help me with a little background history. If you'd be so kind as to let me into your home.”

  “Why the hell do you wanna come in here?”

  “Because I’m trying to save you some sort of dignity here. This village sees you as some sort of monster and I wouldn’t want to fan those flames anymore,” John said leaning on his stick so much that it was bending.

  Wills laughed, “That aint gonna change anytime soon copper but out of respect for the dead I’ll let you in but I aint taking my eyes off you,” he said stepping aside letting John walk into the house.

  The smell increased as the detective was directed into a sitting room on the left. It was painted a dull yellow with smoke markings on the ceiling, in a brown stain. Two faux leather couches and one well used armchair sat facing a large television which was showing the usual daytime drivel of chat shows, next to that an old gas fire that had silver duct tape around the piping. A small table was next to the armchair, a grimy mug and a bottle of brandy rested on it and an ashtray stand, which was full, stood the other side, nearest to the door.

  John took his chances and sat down on the couch closest to the armchair doing his best not to groan as he did so. Wills took up his seat, which was marked with small burns, and proceeded to light a cigarette from a crumpled foreign packet from his pocket. He placed the packet and the cheap disposable lighter on the table, “So what do you want to know about Bailey and Fleming?”

  “How well you knew them and when was the last time you saw them?”

  “Huh well, being at Her Majesty’s pleasure doesn’t give much time for socialising. I don’t think I’ve seen Bailey in twenty odd years. I knew him from school, used to play on his farm as a kid but they’re all a bit weird that farming lot,” Wills said punctuating his statement by tapping ash into the tray.

  John nodded having seen the inside of Harry Bailey’s house, “And what of Fleming?”

  “Old George,” he exclaimed coughing the words out, “he was a good laugh. I’d known his brother but he died whilst in the Army, he was only a kid then but I felt I needed to take him under my wing for Gus’s sake. George took to hanging around with me and my buddies especially when he was old enough to drink,” Wills said mournfully, pouring himself a healthy portion of brandy.

  “When was the last time you saw him?”

  “A couple of weeks ago. We didn’t fraternise much since I came out, but I saw him at the shops. He looked well but he was in a rush so we didn’t exactly have that much of a discussion. George had moved on like most people from my past; no one wants to chat with the killer of a beautiful young woman. It was a shame that they both died but then again lots of people I knew died whilst I was inside. You know they wouldn’t even let me go to my own mother’s funeral,” the former convict stared at John trying to elicit some sort of sympathy. Stubbing out the cigarette and taking out another.

  “That’s a shame sir. Did it come as a shock to you, Fleming committing suicide?”

  “A little but like I said time has changed everyone. Before I went inside he was a carefree young man who enjoyed life. The couple of times I saw him since he’d given up the drink and spent most of his time with young boys. I know he was married but I’ve met enough people who have the same sort of façade to doubt his good intentions.”

  “Yes well marriage does tend to provide a good cover for people, doesn’t it sir?”

  Those cold grey eyes flashed with anger but Wills’s voice showed none, “Is that a slight at me, Detective?”

  “Not at all, sir,” John said flippantly, “personal experience. My ex enjoyed a very active lifestyle whilst I was out working. I take it you are no longer married?”

  “I’m sure you already know that I’m not. No, Betty left me during the trial, would’ve been a blessing if I had got off.”

  “I understand you were something of a ladies' man back then.”

  Wills took a swig from his glass and nodded ever so slightly, “Could say that. Being a barman always has its advantages. I’m sure you mean the sort of relationship I had with Janine Bennett. You’re all the same; you just want to dredge up the past. What good is it gonna do you?”

  John held up his hands, “I don’t have any issues with the past sir. I wasn’t here back then and that case was solved.”

  “Ha, solved! They just picked me up because I was an easy mark. They let that boyfriend of hers go pretty much straight away,” Wills said pointing his now lit cigarette at the detective, “They had their man and they wanted to end that case there and then. Young girl goes missing and its in all the papers, your lot always need a quick result. Hey, in the past year there must have been five cases where they’ve picked up someone to question, the press get hold, vilify him to the public and you make the whole thing about them. There was that case where the guy got locked up for a year because he matched your profile of the killer and it was on TV, turned out you got the wrong guy when another body turned up, only took your lot about ten years to apologise.”

  “Mistakes happen, sir.”

  “Mistakes or cover ups,” the calm demeanour leaving Wills, “there was so much corruption back then and it all comes out now. Fat lot of good it does me. Can I get back the twenty five years I spent inside? I come out to find nothing is the same. I was rich back then copper; I had it all. House, two cars, a business and a wife.”

  “And a mistress,” John added before he could continue his list.

  “So what? I shagged Janine Bennett,” Wills exclaimed raising his hands to the air, ash falling from the cigarette in his fingers, “she was a nice piece of skirt and she was young and interested in me. You would’ve done the same, hell any man would have done what I did. Doesn’t mean I killed her. I slept with a lot of women back then. Nearly every barmaid who worked for me I’d had my way with. But that is small comfort in the dead of night when you are sleeping on a cold cot in a prison cell.”

  John stroked his chin thoughtfully, “I’m sorry if I have upset you sir, that was not my intention.”

  “Upset me? You think that could upset me? No, I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that your kind look after one another. Those coppers back then planted the evidence that was the deal breaker, did you know that?” Wills had turned on John now, the chair swivelling in place on plastic casters.

  “I did not.”

  “They never called any of the other women either, you know as character witnesses, just made me out to be a villain.”

  “So they planted the blood in the pub, flat and the car?”

  Those grey eyes enlarged slightly, “What? No, the blood was there from weeks ago. In fact the blood in the pub was probably from an altercation she had with another woman that week.”

  “Another woman?”

  “Yeah there was a fight, probably over a man no doubt. Not me, Detective, I must say. I barred the other woman and Janine went up to my flat above the pub to clean up. I told them all this back then. No, the thing that had me bang to rights, as they say, was the earring they found.”

  John raised his eyebrows, “The earring?”

  “You don’t seem that well versed with my case Detective. Thought most people knew all about it.”

  “Like I said sir I’m new to the area. I was told that you had been to prison and that you knew both of the recently deceased. What happened back then is not really my concern sir, is it? You served your time, paid your debt to society and that should be the end of it. I’m surprised though that you still live in
the village.”

  “Where else would I go detective? I lost the lot when I went inside. My sister offered to put me up and I’ve been here ever since. The courts were lenient on letting me return here, which is something I suppose. The earring is what did me in. She’d been wearing them the day she disappeared and one of them was found in the pub. If it was there Detective tell me how they missed it the first eight times they went through the place?”

  “I can’t possibly speculate on the search methods of another force over twenty years ago sir.”

  “Corrupt bastards the lot of ya,” Wills shook his head and then ran a hand through his greying greasy mane which was long enough to tie at the back, “My lawyer couldn’t organise a piss up in a brewery and every time I have tried for an appeal that militant bitch of a mother has made sure I never got a fair representation. She’s the reason the village hates me,” finishing the cigarette and placing the remains with the others in the ever increasing mound of the ashtray, “I did a lot here before the witch hunt.”

  None of the ex-convicts rhetoric was new to the John, it was surprising to him though that the man was still so angry and vehement, which made the detective think there might be some truth to his statement, “If you don’t mind me asking sir what did happen back then?”

  “What’s the point?” Wills said slapping his thighs, a slight layer of dust and ash escaping from them, “I won’t find my justice.”

  “Police corruption is something they are keen to investigate now. People wrongly accused and sentenced are entitled to justice and monetary reparations,” John answered. He did not believe the man was being truthful in his defence but was interested in hearing first hand Wills’s testimony. Any sum of money would be useful to the man after seeing the house he shared with his sister and should be enough to entice him to speak.