by Nina Jon
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Closure
I
Felix met the coroner emerging from the cellar. As soon as he saw Felix sitting at the kitchen table, the coroner scowled and snapped, “The police shouldn’t have let you in here. What are you doing here?”
“I’m a family friend of old,” Felix explained. “My wife is the local rector. The Bailey sisters are with her at the moment at the rectory. Here, let me show you some ID.”
The coroner glanced at a young police officer guarding the back door. He nodded to confirm Felix’s story. The coroner mellowed. Before Felix could ask if there was any news, the coroner said, “We haven’t found more than a fragment of thighbone. There isn’t enough here even to sex the child, let alone say whether he was born dead or alive. Realistically the most any of them could be charged with is preventing the lawful burial of a body. Ultimately it’s up to CPS, but I would have thought that at their age the charge will be allowed to lie on the file.”
Felix thanked the coroner and called his wife.
II
On a cold, damp morning, a small funeral party, consisting of three elderly sisters, the rector, her husband and a friend, left a churchyard for a rectory.
From the road a local reporter shouted out, “How do you feel Ms Bailey?”
Dotty ignored Felix’s entreaty not to say anything and walked over to speak to him. “A burden has been lifted from my shoulders. My child has been given a Christian burial and I remain hopeful of seeing my daughter again before I die, so how do you think I feel, young man?”
“At least he had the decency to look shamefaced,” Felix said, as they reached the rectory.
At the door, Susannah took their coats. “I’ve left some tea and some sandwiches in the drawing-room,” she said, “and lit a fire.”
III
The party made themselves comfortable in the warm drawing-room. As always, the three sisters sat beside each other along a sofa. Felix poured their tea and Mirabella placed a selection of sandwiches onto side plates, which Jane handed out.
“We finally found a bungalow,” Lettice announced, taking a plate of sandwiches. “We didn’t think we’d ever find anything we all liked. We’re all so different, you see, aren’t we, girls?”
“But then we saw a lovely bungalow, and we all liked it immediately,” Nellie said. “It has three bedrooms and is just the right size for us.”
“It’s so modern. Ovens and fridges at waist-height. Everything on one floor,” Lettice said. “It even has a freezer – we’ve never had one before.”
“It will be so much easier to heat than the wool shop, I imagine,” Jane said.
“It will, and it’s near the city centre,” Dotty said.
“It’s on a bus route and has shops nearby,” Lettice said.
“And a doctor’s surgery,” Dotty said.
“And a park with a duck pond,” Nellie said.
“Well that is good news,” Felix said.
“Won’t you miss the wool shop?” Jane asked.
“We love our home, Jane,” Dotty explained. “It holds so many memories, but it’s getting harder and harder to live there. It takes two of us to turn on a tap. Walking up and down stairs at our age takes so long, that by the time we get downstairs in the morning, it’s almost time to go upstairs again.”
“It’s time to move on,” Lettice said.
The party fell silent and Felix hurriedly refilled everybody’s teacups.
As she picked up her teacup, Lettice’s eyes fell on something on a nearby table. Jane knew what she was looking at – it was a copy of the newspaper interview with James Haley, which Jane had earlier given Felix and Mirabella. “What’s this?” Lettice asked, picking up the article to read.
“My claim to fame, I’m afraid,” Jane said, rolling her eyes.
“Why this is Gary Carter,” Lettice said.
On either side of her, her sisters studied the clipping.
“You know him?” Jane asked.
“We most certainly do,” Nellie said. “For this is the son of Arthur Carter and Lady Amelia.”
“The man who tried to steal from you?” Mirabella asked.
“As did his son,” Dotty said, waving the clipping and adding dryly, “Like father, like son.”
“This fellow,” Felix said, pointing to the newspaper clipping, “also tried to steal your coal?”
Nellie took up the story. “Not coal, no. Common thievery wasn’t good enough for Lady Amelia’s son. He was a confidence trickster.”
“He came to the wool shop pretending to be a man of God – a Salvationist who had taken the pledge. It was meant to make us trust him, and sell him something for less than we knew it was worth. He went as far as telling us his name was Eton Stewart,” Lettice said. “What kind of name is that?”
“He sat in our parlour, telling us his name was Eton Stewart when we knew it wasn’t, and our vase was only worth so much, we knew it was worth more,” Dotty said.
“We knew him to be Gary Carter,” Nellie said. “Disguise or no disguise, he still looked every bit his mother’s son, but we knew him to be every bit as big as rogue as his father. It was Lettice who put him straight.”
Lettice confirmed the story. “I certainly did. I said to him: ‘Why are you telling us your name is Eton Stewart when we know full well you are Gary Carter, the son of that notorious villain Arthur Carter. We used to see you, and the poor woman who raised you, visiting your father in jail when we were visiting other more worthy prisoners.’”
Nellie carried on the story. “And once Lettice had said her piece, it was my turn. ‘You don’t fool us, mister,’ I said.”
“My goodness,” Mirabella said. “Whatever did he do?”
“He left the area that very day,” Lettice said.
“But like bad pennies always do, up he’s turned again,” Dotty said.
“I would appreciate it greatly if you could tell me all you know,” Jane said.
“Are you helping the police investigate this case, Mrs Hetherington?” asked Nellie.
“I was an inadvertent party to this fraud,” Jane explained. “The fraud was very elaborate and must have taken some time to plan. The fraudster was entirely convincing. He assumed the identity of another – an art dealer from Sailles. I don’t think I should tell you his name, although he wasn’t a party to the fraud.”
The sisters looked at each other. It was Lettice who said, “Was it Graham Burslem, by any chance?”
“How on earth did you know?” Jane said.
“Well, Gary Carter does have more than a passing resemblance to Graham Burslem,” Dotty said.
“You know Graham Burslem?” Jane asked.
“Oh yes – Nellie used to exhibit at his gallery. We’ve known Graham Burslem for many years,” Dotty said.
“It’s not surprising the two men look alike, in the circumstances,” Nellie said.
“What circumstances?” Mirabella said, now on the edge of her seat.
“Graham Burslem is the son of Lady Amelia’s sister,” Lettice said.
“No!” Mirabella said.
The three sisters nodded.
“Poor Graham’s been in hospital for some months now. He’s had a stroke,” Dotty said.
“His brother George, and his sister-in-law, Jenny, have had to move down to look after him, although George has now had to go back home because his elderly father’s been taken ill,” Nellie said.
“They don’t want too many people knowing how ill he is. They might have to sell the gallery, they don’t know yet,” Lettice said. “It doesn’t look as though he is going to get better.”
“No?” Mirabella asked.
The three sisters shook their heads.
“He’s suffered a relapse,” Dotty said. “It’s all so sad. It was the stress of his dear wife dying which caused all of this.”
“They’d been together for more than thirty years, so sad,” Nellie said.
“How do you think he got ah
old of the original sketches?” Felix asked.
“He must have stolen them from Graham,” Lettice said. “Graham is a very private man. After his wife died, he became even more solitary. Gary Carter must have contacted him. The two are cousins after all. He took advantage of his loneliness. He must have snooped around and come across them. A safe or a lock wouldn’t stop him.”
“But how did Graham Burslem have them?” Felix asked.
“Because he was once Jasper August’s flatmate,” Nellie said.
“So the story he told me was almost true, only he’d heard it from Graham Burslem?” Jane said.
“I bet the bugger meant to hang onto the sketches until old Burslem died, then flog ’em,” Felix said, “only Burslem got ill, by which stage Carter had tracked down Hayley. Two birds – one stone!”
“What a thing to do – to take advantage of someone else’s misfortune like that,” Mirabella said. “Gary Carter is obviously a very clever man and an amoral opportunist. I don’t think there was anything you could have done Jane. How could you have known?”
The sisters looked each other.
“There was a way you could have told Gary Carter and Graham Burslem apart, you know,” Nellie said.
“Which is?” Jane asked wearily.
“Gary Carter is six foot one, but Graham Burslem is only five foot six!” Dotty said.
III
When Mirabella and Jane finally left the wool shop, it was early evening. They walked back along Common Lane together.
“It may not have turned out quite as we expected it to, Jane,” Mirabella said, “but we promised the sisters we would help them and we have.”
“And they’ve in turn helped me.”
“Are you going to go to the police with your information about Gary Carter?”
“First thing, tomorrow morning.”
“They’ll be giving you your own chair soon,” Mirabella teased.
They’d reached the fork in Common Lane which turned left into Cuckoo Tree Lane, and right into Rectory Lane, where they’d part company. As the two ladies said goodbye, a motorcyclist, swathed in leather and hidden by a helmet, roared past, tilting so much to one side that Jane wondered how he managed not to end up bumping along the road. Although the motorcyclist raised a hand in greeting as he sped by, neither recognized him.
“I wonder if he’s one of Miles’ friends?” Mirabella asked.
“Or Susannah?” Jane said.
“Don’t even go there, her father and I can’t go through that again,” Mirabella said with a shudder.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Pandora’s Box
I
It being the last day of the month, Jane opened the database on which she recorded a summary and the outcome of each case, and read through it, as was her custom at month’s end. Roz’s words came to mind,
“I didn’t realise running for the local council would open up such a Pandora’s Box.”
The same could surely be said of Failsham Council’s decision to try and redevelop the ageing market square; her own fateful decision to help ‘Graham Burslem’ sell his sketches; Orla Wilson’s decision to instruct Jane to follow her husband; and who knows, possibly even Gary Carter’s decision to try and defraud the Bailey sisters decades earlier.
She typed – Month Two: February – A Pandora’s box!
Someone was knocking on her back door. She got up to answer it and found Jack grinning from ear to ear, clearly very excited about something. She was surprised to see him up at this time, it was still only mid-morning, and the teenager was not prone to getting up before the afternoon on weekends.
“You’re up early?” Jane said, inviting him in.
“I had to come straight round with the news,” he said, sounding so excited he almost couldn’t talk.
“Has Charity won the lottery?”
“Almost as stupendous. Johnny’s back!”
“Really?”
Now this was news. News she had to sit down to hear. “What happened to the Falkland Islands? He’s hardly had time to get there and back?” she asked.
“Said it was too cold, but really, it’s ‘cos he missed me and Charity. He said so, when we were alone, me and ‘im. He turned up on a motorcycle last night, with some lemons to make Pimms.”
Typical Johnny, thought Jane. Pimms! In February!
“He said he saw you on the lane with Mirabella.”
“Ah – so that’s who it was!” she said.
“I was still at my friend’s house when he arrived. Charity was one foot out of the front door. Any later and he’d’ve missed her. Not that it made any difference. She was so angry with him for just turning up out of the blue like that, she still went out. He had to spend the whole night in the house by himself. I got back this morning and found him still waiting. Charity’s only now got back.”
Would Charity take Johnny back, Jane wondered, and would he stay if she did?
“Is she going to take him back?”
Jack shrugged. “Dunno. That’s why I’m here – give them some space.”
“What do you think about it? I know what good friends you are.”
“I like it when he’s there, more than when he’s not there. It’s more fun when there’s the three of us. It’s good to have a man about the place. Charity does her best, but it’s nice to have a bloke to talk to. But I hate it when he ups and leaves. It really upsets Charity, and it really upsets me. I told him as much. He said he came back because he loves us, and really missed us to bits, and if Charity takes him back, he won’t ever leave again. I said, if he did, I’d hunt him down like a dog, and kill him and you’d help me. Hunting him down, I mean. Not killing him. I wouldn’t expect you to do that, Jane. I’d do that myself!”
“Well we’d better hope that if Charity takes him back, he stays put, then hadn’t we? I wouldn’t want to be visiting you in jail for the next twenty years.”
“I think he will,” Jack said.
Jane got to her feet. She hoped Jack would be proved right. All Jane wanted for Charity and Jack was that they be happy; and she’d always had a soft spot for Johnny.
“I bought some of those toasted chocolate sandwiches the other day that you like so much,” Jane said. “Would you like one for your breakfast?”
Jack said he would. “My day’s getting better and better,” he said, as Jane removed a couple of the frozen sandwiches from the freezer, and dropped them in the toaster. “All I need now is for Southstoft City to win Three - Nil!” he said.
II
Jane learnt later that Southstoft City went on to lose their match Three – Nil. She could only smile to herself when she heard that. Oh well, she thought. Two out of three wasn’t a bad result.
A GAME OF CAT AND MOUSE
Jane Hetherington’s Adventures in Detection: 3
CHAPTER ONE
Sisters! Sisters!
I
In kitchen of her sister’s house, eighteen-year-old Lucy Erpingham poured two glasses of white wine and carried them over to the table where her sister, Jodie Narbade, peeled cellophane away from a selection of dips.
“Jodie, would you say you’re very much the older sister?” Lucy asked, slumping down in the chair next to Jodie.
“What makes you ask?” Jodie replied.
“Some new guy has started at work and I got talking to him and said you were six years older than me. He said with an age gap like that, he bet you’d always been very much the older sister – that’s what he said – and I said, what you mean bossy?”
Jodie helped herself to a breadstick. She knew what her sister really wanted to talk about. “Do you like him – this new guy?”
“A bit.”
“A bit, eh? How old is he?”
“Bit older than me.”
“Has he got a girlfriend?”
Instead of replying, Lucy opened a bag of crisps, dunked one of them in some of the dip and popped it in her mouth.
“What’s his name?” Jodie asked
.
With a mouthful of food, Lucy mumbled something incomprehensible, to which Jodie raised her wineglass and said, “Here’s to Lucy and Mmunamable!”
“Me and Mmunamable! I wish we could do this more often, Jodie. Get together like this.”
“I’m always here for you Lucy, you know that, but I’m a married woman now, I’m not at your beck and call anymore, love.”
“Yeah, but I need someone to confide in.”
“Why? What have you done?” Jodie teased. “Is that the door?” she asked just as the front doorbell rang for the second time. “Who on earth can that be at this time?”
She answered the door to find her neighbour looking quite flustered.
“I’m so glad you’re in Jodie,” he said. “My battery’s flat and I’m already late. I need somebody to jump it. Is your husband about?”
“No, he’s at a stag night, but don’t worry I’ve got leads in the back of my car. I’ll just get my keys.”
She picked up her keys from the hall table, and called out to her sister, “Lucy I’m just helping my neighbour jump-start his car. I won’t be long.”
“Okay,” Lucy called back.
II
Less than fifteen minutes later, Jodie walked back into the kitchen with the words, “Got him started.” Lucy wasn’t there. “Lucy? Where are you?” she called out. Sisters! Sisters!
Nobody replied, and so she knocked on the door of the downstairs’ cloakroom, but the door swung open, revealing an empty room. Lucy wasn’t in the living room either. Jodie yelled upstairs: “Lucy? Are you up there?”
When she didn’t hear anything, she ran up the stairs but her sister wasn’t anywhere that she could see. She returned to the kitchen. It was a bit like the Marie Celeste – the wine bottle was where she’d left it, as were their snacks and wineglasses, both still two thirds full. Where on earth was she? She was about to say, “I think you’re a bit old for hide and seek love,” when she realised Lucy’s handbag and coat were gone.