Forgotten Voices

by Jane A. Adams

  ‘Everyone you talk to seems to have liked her,’ Mac said. ‘She seems to have been a genuinely nice woman.’

  ‘Just a case of no one wanting to speak ill of the dead?’ Rina asked.

  ‘No, I don’t think so. But you know the thing that keeps nagging at me? She must have known or at least been familiar with her killer. From the kitchen window you could see anyone coming off the ridge and towards the farm. True, anyone that wanted to stay hidden could have done until they were almost at the fence, but once they’d reached the boundary, they’d have been in clear view. She’d have seen them. Recognized a threat, even had time to run.’

  ‘But she didn’t.’

  ‘No. She must have been standing by the sink, beside the window as they came across the yard. She would have had a clear view of them. Them and the gun. It has to have been someone she knew. Someone she’d no reason to be afraid of.’

  ‘And everyone that you speak to says how much they liked her,’ Rina said.

  ‘Yes,’ Mac said quietly. ‘Yes they do.’

  SEVENTEEN

  Day three after the murder

  In the end, it was Rina who dealt with Mrs Langton, who arrived prepared for a fight, along with her daughter, embarrassed and looking guilty, in tow. Lydia had already sorted out her ration books and photographs and petrol coupons and had found the list that, as it happened, Ellen Tailor had made of the Langton possessions.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll deal with her,’ Rina told Lydia. ‘You go and get on with something useful.’

  ‘I’d better at least say hello,’ Lydia grimaced.

  ‘Mrs Langton, Janet, good to see you both. I’ve got everything ready for you, and Mrs Martin here will get you sorted out.’

  Rina stepped forward with a smile. ‘If you’d like to check the list, everything should be ready for you to collect.’ she said. ‘And would you like a cup of tea?’

  ‘I shouldn’t be having to collect anything,’ Mrs Langton said. ‘But Janet, here seemed to think I wouldn’t mind. And she was wrong,’ she added, staring hard at her daughter.

  Janet was clearly becoming irritated with her mother’s blame game. ‘Mum, it was just a few pictures and bits. They’d all have come back home after the exhibition. Half the people in the pictures aren’t even family. I’ll bet you can’t even name them.’

  Rina smiled. ‘Ladies, if you’d like to check?’

  Mrs Langton poked at the documents on the table and then examined the list, critically. ‘It looks all right,’ she said grudgingly.

  Rina slid everything into a large manilla envelope. ‘I hope you’ll come and see the exhibition when it opens,’ she said.

  ‘I will,’ Janet told her. ‘I think it’s a brilliant idea.’

  Rina watched the women go and wondered idly how long they could keep the argument going. Three other women came in through the double doors as the Langtons left and Joy, coming out from the back room, greeted them with a smile.

  ‘Hi Vera, Martha, Julia. Is Celia with you today?’

  ‘No, she won’t be able to make it. How are you today, dear?’

  ‘I’m fine thank you, Martha. How are you all? I’ve heard about poor Ellen.’

  Rina’s ears pricked up. Ellen’s friends? The three newcomers and Joy drifted off to find Lydia and Rina crossed the foyer and trailed along at the rear so that Joy could introduce her.

  Vera, Rina noted, said the least of the three. They were full of talk about Ellen Tailor and the wider family and how terrible it all was. It was natural, in Rina’s experience, for people to deal with the shock of violent death by discussing the horror of it – provided they weren’t too close to the victim. Death at a slight distance, however much it genuinely horrified, was also just a tiny bit glamorous; a little bit exciting. These women were on the borderline, Rina guessed, still close enough to be genuinely horrified but also distant enough from the victim that they would handle their shock by being just a tiny bit excited and stimulated by it. Rina wasn’t judging when she thought this; simply acknowledging what she had observed as true.

  Vera, on the other hand, was clearly in pain.

  ‘Would you like some more tea,’ Rina asked her quietly when the other two women were involved with yet another box.

  ‘No, I think I’ve had enough, thank you. I just can’t seem to settle to the task today.’ She tried to laugh but it didn’t happen. Instead it sounded almost like a sob.

  ‘You knew her well, didn’t you,’ Rina asked gently. ‘She sounds like a very special woman.’

  ‘Oh, she was,’ Vera nodded. ‘She was gentle and funny and a brilliant mother. I enjoyed her company and I shall miss her terribly. I can’t believe she’s really gone.’

  Rina nodded. She could have suggested that time would heal, that the feeling of loss would diminish and so would the pain, but Rina knew that was only partly true. Instead she asked. ‘Are any of the exhibits yours?’

  Vera shook her head. ‘No, I did sort some things out, but then I didn’t feel right about bringing them over. Or rather, I let Ellen bring them over. I said she could have a look through first. She was interested, you know? I thought I’d feel all right about it all. But then … it felt all wrong and I changed my mind, you know. I’ll collect them and take things back before the exhibition opens. Ellen was going to sort things out for me but—’

  ‘Maybe I could help? We could go and look in the storeroom,’ Rina suggested.

  Vera shook her head. ‘Thank you, but I don’t think I could cope with anything else just now, if you don’t mind. My brain feels like it’s full of cotton wool.’

  Rina nodded. Lydia called her over to check that the Langtons had found everything in order and when she looked again the three women were preparing to leave.

  ‘Who’s Celia?’ Rina asked Joy.

  ‘Oh, Celia Marsden. She’s sort of part of the flower-arranging committee at St Peter’s church, where the other ladies come from, but she only turns up when she thinks it’s going to make an impression.’ Joy grinned. ‘She’s something big in local charity work, as is her son, Dan, and everyone makes a big fuss over her. Except Lydia, of course, I don’t think she’s that keen. I saw you talking to Vera?’

  ‘Ellen’s death has hit her very hard.’

  Joy nodded. ‘They got on like a house on fire,’ she said. ‘I think Vera is a very lonely woman. It’s going to be tough to pick herself up after this I think.’

  A little later curiosity got the better of Rina Martin and she wandered into the storeroom. Boxes marked up alphabetically sat on wide shelves and Rina, remembering Vera’s name was Courtney, looked for C. There were two and she lifted the first one down and examined the contents. No Courtney to be seen, despite the fact that everything had been carefully labelled and annotated. She tried the second, still no Courtney. Puzzled, Rina looked around the room to see if anything had been stored elsewhere. If there was some sort of overspill area, but she spotted nothing.

  Rina wandered out again and went to find Joy. No, Joy told her, so far as she knew everything was in there though if Vera had told Lydia she no longer wanted her stuff used, Lydia might well have separated it from the rest.

  That was a possibility, Rina thought. For the moment, she put the puzzle aside.

  EIGHTEEN

  Mac leaned on the promenade rail and watched the children running on the beach. Diane stood next to him, coffee in one hand, the other clutching at her long hair as it blew about in the stiff breeze.

  ‘It’s good to see them behaving something like normally,’ she said as Megan, shoes clutched in her hand, squealed as the waves lapped her bare feet.

  ‘That sea is cold,’ Mac said. ‘How are they? Or is that a silly question?’

  ‘It is, but it’s one that has to be asked, I suppose. They are miserable and lost and mourning and waking up at night with the most terrible dreams and not getting on very well with Daphne and … oh well, you can guess, I suppose. How would you be?’

  ‘Glad of a
little normality,’ Mac said. ‘Even if that is on a windy beach, playing in a freezing cold sea.’ He paused and sipped his coffee. ‘Not getting on with Daphne?’

  ‘Woman’s a control freak. Won’t let them out of her sight most of the time. She’s going to play merry hell when she discovers we’ve been out this afternoon.’

  Mac raised a sceptical eyebrow.

  ‘Oh, you don’t know her. Jeb and Megan overheard a phone conversation she was having. She was calling their mother all sorts. They were really upset.’

  ‘I can imagine. All sorts?’

  ‘Oh,’ Diane shrugged. ‘Ellen was never good enough for her son. She was saying Ellen was a bitch and that she was running round with other men, not raising the children properly. Properly according to the rules of the blessed Daphne. That she was running the farm into the ground—’

  ‘That’s not what I heard. I heard she was making a go of it.’

  ‘And she was. Not that she could earn a proper living from it, not yet, but she was managing and the kids were happy and she was there for them, you know? What more could she have done? When her Jeb fell ill, she nursed him day and night. Daphne wanted him to go and stay with her. Said he should be “at home” as she put it, or in the hospital. He hated the hospital. But nothing Ellen could do was ever right for that bitch.’

  Mac waited, but Diane’s anger seemed to have burned out for the moment. ‘And where is she this afternoon. How did you manage to escape with the children?’ He was smiling, trying to break the tension but looking at Diane’s face he realized he’d hit a nerve.

  ‘That’s what the kids want to do,’ she said. ‘They want to just get in my car and clear off somewhere. Anywhere. They don’t want to be with Daphne.’

  ‘Not a good idea,’ Mac cautioned.

  ‘Being their grandmother doesn’t give her an automatic right to take care of them, you know?’

  ‘No, it doesn’t. But until guardianship is established … Diane, did Ellen leave a will?’

  For the first time she smiled properly. She nodded. ‘After Jeb was told he wouldn’t make it, they both made wills. You know how much resentment his caused, I’m sure.’

  ‘I have some idea, yes.’

  ‘Well, that’s going to be nothing to the upset Ellen’s is going to create. I’ve not said anything to the kids yet. I’ve got the solicitor going over it, making sure nothing can be challenged, and that we’re ready to counter anything if she tries. Ellen was careful, though and so far it all looks absolutely watertight.’

  ‘And the will says?’ Mac asked. But he thought he could guess.

  ‘The farm is left to the kids. Equal shares. Daphne gets first refusal if they want to sell. They get the rents and the solicitor takes an admin fee if they want to keep it on and rent it out. And I get guardianship of Ellen’s children. And there’s not a damned thing she can do about it.’

  ‘Does the name Philip Soames mean anything to you?’

  The self-congratulatory mood was broken. Diane rounded on him. ‘What about him?’ she demanded.

  ‘I understand he was an old boyfriend.’

  ‘Understand this. That bastard was a creep. Big time. She tried to break up with him, so he stalked her. Phone calls, letters, waiting outside the flat, outside where she worked. Making a scene.’

  ‘Well, it seems he came to see her a few months ago.’

  ‘Hope he got himself arrested.’

  ‘Ellen reported an intruder. Then she called back a few minutes later to say it was a false alarm.’

  ‘That bastard. He made her!’

  ‘Officers did a welfare check, stayed for a while. They left, satisfied that all was well.’

  Diane laughed, mirthlessly. ‘Oh, he was good at twisting a situation, was Philip. He’d seem all sweetness and concern, but he was a right bastard.’

  ‘Did he hurt her?’

  ‘Physically? No. He just tried to control her. To stop her seeing her friends, to stop her seeing me. Didn’t want her to work or study or do anything except be where he could be in control of her.’

  ‘A bit like Daphne then?’

  She scowled at Mac. ‘Beside him, Daphne is an amateur. He threatened her, though. What he’d do if she left him. He threatened violence. He threatened to kill her once.’

  ‘And she went to the police?’

  ‘Eventually. Got a court order. I heard he’d been arrested for something else, got out, but I’m not sure how long for. Ellen left and moved away while he was inside. She came down here, met Jebediah and the rest—’

  ‘As they say, is history.’ Mac nodded. ‘Do you have an address? Know which prison he was in? Where he was sentenced?’

  ‘I can give you his last address. That’s all I know.’

  Mac nodded. ‘You never told me where Daphne was this afternoon.’

  ‘Ah, that’s another story, isn’t it? Another conversation the kids overheard. It seems her lovely son, Ray, is back in the country. She’s apparently meeting him this afternoon.’ She laughed. ‘She kept that one quiet, didn’t she?’

  NINETEEN

  Day four after the murder

  Philip Soames tapped his fingers against the plastic table top and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Mac watched him for a few moments on the video link and then glanced over at Kendall. ‘You’re lead on this, of course, but I’d like to sit in.’

  Kendall shook his head. ‘I’d rather you watched from here. I want Yolanda in with me. She could use the experience and, besides, I’d like to keep you in reserve for now.’

  ‘Yolanda,’ Mac said. Then nodded. ‘She needs something, that’s for sure. I suppose you could call it experience.’

  ‘From what I’ve heard she could do with a pair of walking boots too,’ Kendall said. He grinned at Mac. ‘She’s a pain in the arse,’ he agreed, ‘but I think she’s got potential.’

  ‘For? Well, if you’re not going to let me play then I’ll spectate for a bit and then I’m going off for a word with Daphne Tailor. See what she has to say about her son being back and where he was the day Ellen Tailor died.’

  ‘Lucky us,’ Kendall’s voice was heavy with sarcasm. ‘Two solid leads.’

  ‘Best we’ve got at the moment. Better than we had at any rate. I still think William Trent is worth another prodding too.’

  ‘Because you don’t like the man or because you think he’s got something to offer?’

  Mac shrugged. ‘Because I’ve got a feeling,’ he said. ‘An itch I can’t scratch, if you like. And it’s probably nothing, but.’

  ‘You want to take Yolanda back with you after I’ve done with her?’

  Mac actually thought about it for a full minute. Yolanda, annoying though he found her, had noticed something that Mac had missed. He’d not seen the photo of Trent and the woman. But did that amount to anything? And what about the material he had borrowed from Ellen Tailor? Could that possibly, in any small way have significance? It seemed unlikely that Ellen had been killed because she’d loaned a historian some old papers but – ‘I’ll take her out with me next time. You’d better get in to see our man Soames, before he wears a hole in that table or thinks he’d better call on the services of a lawyer.’

  ‘He’s just here for a little chat,’ Kendall said airily. ‘If that worries him, then all the better for us.’

  Mac watched as Kendall and Yolanda took their seats and announced their presence for the tape. Soames was thirty-six, according to his file. Muscular, but without being obviously heavy, and a shade over six feet. Had Mac been asked, he would have speculated about him being a swimmer; the broad shoulders and slim waist seemed to fit that sport. Good-looking, Mac supposed, with very blue eyes and very dark hair and the sort of square jaw that he had been told a lot of women went for. He thought of the pictures he had seen of Ellen Tailor and decided that they would have made what his mother would have called a handsome couple. It was a phrase she used when she was at a loss to explain why on earth else two people might be together,
as though the fact that they looked well together might provide an explanation of sorts. But then, Mac thought, he was also guilty of making assumptions on the basis of appearance. He hadn’t known Ellen. Everything he knew about her was second-hand and, when he actually thought about it, pretty vague.

  ‘I want to ask you about February third of this year. You went to see Ellen Tailor. We had a call out about an intruder—’

  ‘Which she explained was a mistake. Look, I’m sorry I spooked Ellen but I got a bit lost. There are no lights in that lane and I was looking for a front door. Something with a bell, as you do.’

  He was trying to look bored. Insouciant, Mac thought, and not quite pulling it off. Mac could see the tension in the man’s shoulders.

  ‘She went to court to stop you from stalking her, I understand.’

  ‘Stalking?’ Soames laughed. ‘Look, what Ellen and I had was special. I just didn’t want to lose her, so maybe you could say I came over a bit heavy-handed. A bit too intense. But, Inspector Kendall, when you’ve got something special, you really don’t want to let it go, do you?’

  ‘You obviously frightened her,’ Yolanda said. ‘No woman wants to go through the courts, all that hassle, all that pain, just because someone is a bit intense.’

  ‘So, she misread what I wanted. Look, that was a long time ago and I’ve learnt sense. When she got the police and the courts involved, well I backed off, didn’t I.’

  ‘Or you backed off because you’d been locked up,’ Kendall said flatly. He consulted the folder on the table in front of him. ‘GBH, wasn’t it? Because someone dared come on to your girlfriend, according to the reports.’

  That was news to Mac. He’d not yet seen Soames’ sheet.

  ‘Look,’ Soames was saying. ‘He got drunk. I’d had a bit too much. Ellen was flirting, trying to make me jealous the way women do.’ He gestured towards Yolanda. Good job there’s a table between them, Mac thought. She looked ready for a bit of GBH herself.