Matt pondered over the details. Bryn had reverted to calling him detective; he was obviously uptight that his analysis of the crime scene was being called into question. He needed to get him back onto more informal grounds if he was to move forward at any speed.
‘Bryn, you are probably right. You’ll have to excuse my “balls to the wall” approach but I know what this rat is capable of and the fact that he has been through here makes me fear the worst.’
Bryn was immediately more jovial. ‘I understand where you’re coming from Matt, but I’ll show you the file and you can draw your own conclusions.’
Matt caught Orla’s eye. She gave him a knowing half smile. You’re not fooling anyone.
‘My pal Evan Jones has a sandwich bar just up ahead. What say we buy something there and take it back to the station? We can go over the case file as we eat.
Here we are “Bread of Evan.” He’s got plenty to choose from. Come on!’
Twenty minutes later they were all huddled around the computer monitor. Orla scrolled through the digital images; nothing had been left to chance. Every angle had been covered.
‘Bryn I have to say, it’s as good as being there!’
A conceited grin shone back. ‘And do you know Matt, they didn’t use any of my shots for the official report; took all their own.’
‘Well they missed out Bryn . . . you’ve got it all here.’ Orla was now looking at each image with a keen eye.
Bryn watched her closely. ‘Do you see anything?’
She deliberated before answering. ‘There’s one thing that bothers me!’
‘What’s that then?’
‘This nest of tables that she obviously hit her head on; what are they doing there?’
Bryn was on the defensive immediately. ‘Let me see . . . She must have moved them there to place some of her laundry on.’
‘Yes, but they are stacker tables; there are three of them. If she had wanted a table she would have just dragged the one table, the top one, across the room. But all three are there. It would have taken a big pair of hands to lift all three together and plonk them down . . . just there.’
Bryn pondered on the observation that Orla had made. ‘That’s a good point . . . they are heavy. I moved them after everything was done.’
Matt’s excitement was beginning to show. ‘I might have something . . . can you go to that image that shows the wall plug?’ The image came up. ‘That switch is on, but in this second picture, I see you’ve moved the iron and there appears to be no scorching on the carpet where the iron fell; if the switch was on the iron should have been hot! You must have moved the iron Bryn! Nothing should have been moved before the forensic team had viewed the scene.’
He blushed. ‘I tripped over the cable; the detectives bawled me out as well, but the first photo is exactly as it was when I got there.’
‘Orla, do you see what’s happened there with the plug and socket?’
Bryn interjected. ‘She’s caught her leg around the cable and as she fell, it pulled out of the wall. That’s why it’s lying on the floor.’
Matt was careful as he responded. ‘That was my first call as well, but the more I look at it . . . look how close the plug is from the wall, barely six inches. If this wire had caused her to fall, I would have thought that it would have ended up quite a bit further away from the wall point. I mean, it was wrapped around her leg!’ Bryn said nothing. His fair complexion began to change. He took his handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his brow.
Orla moved towards him. ‘Are you all right Bryn?’
‘You must think me an incompetent idiot! You’ve only looked at these pictures for two minutes and you’ve both seen things that are screaming out to be seen! You’re right, this was no accident!’
‘We need to visit the site Bryn. We will be able to draw better conclusions if we can recreate the scene.’
‘Let me get hold of young Andrew.’ Two minutes passed; Bryn appeared at the door. ‘Come on; he’s waiting for us at the house.’
Chapter 49
The boarding house door was ajar. ‘Hello . . . Anyone there?’ A man in his early thirties appeared from nowhere. His fair hair contrasted sharply with his dark suntanned complexion; he smiled. ‘Come in Inspector; Oh you’ve got company!’ Introductions were made and Bryn began to explain why they needed to revisit the scene of his mother’s accident.
Andrew Vaughan was curious. ‘I thought you had all that was required?’
‘We just need to clarify a couple of points that have cropped up.’
Andrew stood with open palms. ‘Like what?’
Matt stepped forward; he looked for approval. ‘May I?’ . . . Bryn nodded.
‘Andrew, we are not happy with some of the conclusions that were drawn from the evidence that was presented.’
‘What are you saying? It was an accident . . . wasn’t it?’
‘Well . . . probably, but we just want to review the scene. Do you have the electric iron she was using on that day?’
‘I’ll get it!’ Andrew left the room and returned with the steam iron. Matt rolled out the cable and inserted the plug into the wall socket. He gently pulled on the wire; the plug held fast. It was only with a meaningful yank that the plug released from the socket and fell to the floor. It was a full two feet from the wall. They repeated the exercise a number of times, each trying to extract the plug with a minimum of effort. None were able to achieve the results shown on the photographs.
Andrew watched on in silence. ‘So what do you conclude from your experiment?’
‘Andrew, it is possible that your mother’s death was no accident!’
‘What are you saying detective . . . Are you saying my mother was murdered?’
‘Andrew, it’s too early to give you any answers. I realise it was upsetting enough to learn of your mother’s death, but to now be faced with the uncertainty of how she died, must be unbearable. I’m sorry that we are the bearers of such awful news.’
‘So, what now? Can I go ahead and bury her? The funeral is arranged for a week tomorrow!’
Bryn coughed nervously. ‘I’ll have to get it cleared by the Coroner's Office, but leave things as they are for the moment.’
Orla needed to change the focus. ‘Do you have the Guest Register? I’d like to see it if I may.’
‘It’s still where she would have kept it, in the Reception Lobby.’
‘OK, I’ll find it.’ Matt followed her out. The book was still open on the relevant page.
‘Mr & Mrs. Tonks, left that same Monday morning. Last to leave were the Carter’s at 9.05am. Ask Bryn if they were spoken to.’
Bryn remembered the details. ‘Tonks checked out OK, but the Carter’s . . . vague address in Huddersfield and no car number.’
‘So could be anyone! It could be our Crystal pair!’ Matt felt it coming together.
‘Which room were they in?’
Orla ran her finger down the page. ‘Number one.’
‘Let’s go and have a look at the room. You never know what you might find?’
Andrew was over his shock and was looking to help. ‘Let me show you the way.’
The bed had been stripped and the curtains were half-drawn. Matt pulled them open.
‘Look Orla.’ She sidled over. ‘A perfect view of the beach house. I’m sure they were in this room.’
‘We can have it checked for prints and DNA. That would provide all the proof that would be needed to put them here.’
Orla’s remark set Matt thinking. ‘You’re right, but we need more. Putting them here certainly puts them in the frame, but it’s still all circumstantial. How long will you be here for Andrew?’
‘I gave myself three weeks and a week of that has already gone. I’m fortunate that I’ve had an offer from a local chap to buy the property, lock stock and barrel. He’s got a couple of guest houses in the town and wants this one to add to his collection. But now, if I can’t bury my Mom as planned, I don’t know what will happen.
I’ve a job and a family to get back to. God knows what I’m going to do!’ Clearly distressed, he waited for a response; something that would ease his plight.
The only words of encouragement came from Bryn. ‘Leave it with us Andrew; we’ll get something sorted.’
Back at the station, a quick appraisal of the day’s events left Bryn with the odious task of revisiting two “run of the mill” incidents that could be anything but.
A helicopter search for Sturgess’s body was required. The Coroner’s verdict on the death of Mrs. Vaughan would have to be reviewed. Another post mortem would certainly have to be called for. Evidence would have to be collected to build a case against Kevin Crystal. Though loath to admit it, those same accusations would have to be levelled at Catherine until evidence could prove otherwise. Orla watched Matt’s discomfort as they discussed Catherine’s possible role in what had gone on. If she knew something and remained silent, she could be guilty by association. He was deeply troubled.
‘I thought your visit here was a waste of time, but I was wrong.’ Bryn looked sombre as he spoke.
Matt tried to reassure him. ‘If we had been in your shoes we would probably have come up with the same results. You had no reason to believe that what you were witnessing was nothing more than the pains that affect ordinary folk. We had the advantage of knowing that a psychopath had knocked on your door. We were looking for something, and with your help, we found it. Still a lot of work to do but I’m sure you are up to it.’
Bryn lifted his eyebrows, ‘You can be sure of it, but we need to find that body. Once we have that we can start to get down to what’s gone on. Without that, we’ll be kicking shit uphill.’ He looked at Orla. ‘Sorry for that!’
She smiled. ‘It’s hard to kick it uphill, I’ve tried.’
Bryn responded with a meek smile. He turned away muttering quietly, ‘I’m getting too old for this!’
Chapter 50
‘I’ve got to get word to Tom Dundas. This whole thing will now have to be put in someone else’s hands; we’ve done all we can. He will have to cover up this covert operation but no point in us worrying about it. I think we need to check into “The Grand”.’ Matt closed his eyes. ‘A long hot bath I think . . . How about you?’
Orla nodded. ‘I just need to close my eyes for an hour.’
Twenty minutes later, with registration complete, they entered the lift.
‘I’ll be on the phone for a while . . . What say I’ll knock on your door at 6.30? That gives us about an hour and a half.’
Orla agreed. ‘That’ll suit me fine.’
John Brown answered the phone on the second ring. His manner was officious; he didn’t waste words. ‘Brown!’
‘Mr Brown, this is DI Black, I’m phoning from Pembroke.’
‘I know where you are detective. I’ve been expecting your call.’
Matt spent the next ten minutes explaining what had transpired. John Brown listened without making comment. ‘Are you still there Mr Brown?’
‘Of course detective; what you’ve told me I will relay to the superintendent. I have recorded your report; nothing will be omitted. I’m sure he will contact you once he has had time to review the situation. Thank you for the call.’ Click . . . the line went dead.
* * *
Orla looked at her watch, it was 6.30 on the dot. Matt’s knock was two seconds late. ‘Are you ready? . . . my . . . you look stunning!’
‘What! In this old thing?’ . . . Eat your heart out!
‘I brought John Brown up to speed. He will tell Tom Dundas what has gone on
and then, well . . . I’m not sure how it’s going to develop from there.’
‘It’s probably time to let Ana off the hook.’
He smiled. ‘Ah yes . . . Ana! . . . Orla, we’ll have to leave that to Bob Dillon. He will need to talk to her about her actions around the time of her husband’s apparent suicide.’
The maître d’ ushered them to a table; he presented them with the menu. ‘The waiter will be with you presently.’
‘Do you still think she might have had a hand in her husband’s death?’
‘One thing has always bothered me about that suicide. Who would climb out of a bath, dry himself off, to then find his wife had gone AWOL. And would then be so distraught that he would climb back into the bath before shooting himself! Doesn’t much sound like our man. More likely he would find her and shoot her; I don’t think he was the type to top himself . . . do you?’
‘You may have a point.’
‘Come on, time to relax; what would you like to drink?’ Matt’s manner was trying to be upbeat but their recent intimacy was forever intruding into both their thoughts.
The waiter arrived, eager and ready to please. ‘Our special tonight is chateaubriand.’ For the first time that day, their eyes met and their faces softened.
‘Do you have a Chilean Merlot?’ Orla struggled to keep a straight face.
‘Indeed we do Ma’am.’
‘Then the choice is made! Thank you.’
The evening passed quietly; even the drinks weren’t sufficient to lift the banter and eventually they headed for their rooms.
‘Breakfast . . . about 8.30?’
‘See you then.’ Orla smiled serenely as she closed the door. What am I to do about you, Matt Black?
The morning breakfast was conducted with polite but stilted chat; stepping from the hotel, cases in tow, Matt sniffed the air. ‘It’s a bit dull but I prefer that when I’m driving.’
‘And you are driving; I did my bit getting here.’ Her remark was met with a quiet laugh as he heaved the cases into the boot. He turned the car towards home. As they left the town, the red and white striped tent appeared on their right.
Matt was looking to make conversation. ‘I see Billy Graham is still encamped. What’s today’s quote on the board? John, chapter 11, verse 35, Jesus wept.’
Orla looked away. I know how he felt.
* * *
Matt drove on, wrapped in his thoughts. As they neared home, he was as muddled about the way forward as he was when they left. Orla had spent the time listening to music through headphones and napping.
A text message came in on Matt’s phone. Tapping her knee to get some attention, he spoke without looking. ‘Orla, can you open that up for me?’
She took the phone from the cradle. ‘It’s from Tom Dundas. As expected some problems have arisen, have extended your time off. Report to Leek Wooton on Monday 10 am. Advise DC Graham. . . . Am unavailable until then.’
‘I wonder what’s going on?’ She glanced at Matt, his jaw was set.
‘Whatever it is, they don’t want us around; so my guess is, it’s to do with us!’
‘That gives us the rest of the week off . . . great’ Orla let out a big sigh.
Matt picked up on her relaxed response. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘I’m going to fly back home to see my Mom. With any luck I can get an early flight out tomorrow morning. What about you?’
Matt was quiet; What was he going to do? ‘I’ve got to try and find out about Catherine’s involvement . . . but I don’t quite know how to do it.’
‘Why don’t you wait until Monday? You need to know what Tom Dundas has come up with before you try to do anything! You don’t want it to backfire do you?’
Matt remained silent. What to do? What to do? She was right of course.
Chapter 51
Andrew Vaughan paced the floor. What a bloody mess! . . . Shit! What the hell’s gone on here? His train of thought was broken by the ring of his Cell phone.
‘Hello!’
‘Andy! Hou gaan dit?’ The guttural Afrikaans voice was instantly recognisable.
‘Pieter! . . . Howzit man?’
‘Kan nie kla nie man, but Danie and Kobus are a bit cranky. Waar is jy Andy?’
‘Ek is op my mom se plek.
‘Lekker . . . Get the kettle on. We’ll be there in five minutes.’
Andrew’s jaw dr
opped. ‘What the . . . ?’ The phone went dead.
Piet and Danie de Bruin with lifelong pal Kobus Kotze, were all joint owners of a successful construction company based in Johannesburg. Andrew had joined them as an apprentice and over a period of some fifteen years had become an important part of their managerial team. Sharing the same interests and humour, they had become firm friends.
A few minutes later three grinning South Africans clambered from their car.
Sporting dense beards and with their tanned leathery skin, Piet and Danie could not possibly disguise their Afrikaans pedigree. Kobus was completely different; slight in stature and clean shaven, he gave no outward clues to his heritage, but his accent; that was unmistakeable.
Andrew held back the tears as they embraced. ‘How did you get away? What about the business?’
‘Not a worry. It’ll run itself for a week and then we’ll be back. Forget the tea; grab a cold Castle!’
The South African Lager was a favourite with them all and Andrew quickly pulled back the tab and took a long slug. ‘God . . . I needed that.’
‘Courtesy of SAA . . . Cheers!’
‘But why are you here? You’ve come six thousand miles!’
Piet put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. ‘Andy, we knew it was going to be tough for you, coming over to sort through your Mom’s stuff and to put her to rest and all that, but when Rita told us that maybe her death wasn’t . . .well . . . accidental, we thought that you might need a hand. So, I don’t know what we can do, but your folks were always there for us whenever we came over to go climbing; they pulled out all the stops.’
‘That’s right boet!’ Danie had drained his beer. ‘What’s gone on?’
Andrew related the events that had brought about the change in the status of Ruth Vaughan’s death. How the two new cops had decided that her death was no accident and that there could be a second homicide involving the neighbour.
‘So this guy across the road has just disappeared, and they suspect the two incidents are somehow connected.’ Piet was thoughtful. ‘But nothing’s going to happen until they find a body, at least that’s my understanding.’ Andrew nodded . . . he had nothing else to add.
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