Jacob sends a text to Mr Allen that we’ll be late, and Cindy McArthur takes us on a detour. Soon we’re sitting by the lake, in one of those picnic areas that has wooden tables and seats. It’s secluded.
“We were all in love with Hugo Hennessy. He was the ultimate catch around here. Handsome, rich, charming. He excelled at sports, captain of the soccer team. Grace was popular too, so when they started dating in a way it was like we all knew it would have happened eventually. They were both so good-looking, you know?”
Jacob nods, holding his Zoom in place. I remember this too, how they were at first, the two of them, golden and shining with love.
“How long did they date for?” Jacob asks. I have a pen and a notebook so that I can look busy.
“Six months at least. He adored her. He would do anything for her. He helped her with school, so she’d get good grades. He was there for her and she was besotted. We’d be on the phone for hours, I’m not kidding, and she’d go on and on about how in love she was. She wanted to marry him, and she’d talk about how long she should wait.”
“I see. He must have taken it hard, when she died.”
“You’ve got no idea. I still see him sometimes, around the place. I don’t think he ever recovered, to be honest. He was crushed. That’s the word for it.”
Jacob is fidgety. We don’t have a lot of time, and he must be wondering why we put off Grace’s teacher for this. But Cindy is on a roll.
“He was devastated when she died,” she goes on. “You should have seen him at the funeral. He was a total write-off. So sad really, they were so in love and everything.”
I’m wondering how much longer this will go on before I can’t stop myself from hitting her.
“Anyway, I just wanted to tell you, that he was really heartbroken when she died.”
Jacob steals a look in my direction. By now, he’s as confused as I am. We’re waiting for some kind of punchline. Why did Cindy come after us? Surely not to tell us things that were common knowledge?
“Thank you, Cindy, that’s good background, we’ll be sure to include it,” Jacob says.
He’s about to put his equipment away when she grabs his arm and says, “I never said this to anyone, but she was a real slut.”
I am speechless. My mouth is gaping and when I turn to Jacob, he’s got exactly the same expression.
“What did you just say?” I ask.
“I know she was my friend and everything. But I think you should know, that’s all. I’m not judging her or anything.”
I want to stand up and I really want to hit her. Hard.
“There were photos,” she says. “Naked photos. That she took, of herself.”
“Did you see them?” Jacob asks.
Cindy colours. “Well, no—I”
“I didn’t think so,” he says, nodding to himself. “You heard about that on the podcast, didn’t you?”
“No actually—well yeah I heard it on the podcast, but it’s true! She gave them to Dennis!”
“It’s not—”
I kick Jacob in the shin.
“How do you know she took these photos?” I ask.
“She told me.”
“She told you what, exactly?”
“That Dennis liked seeing her naked, okay? That he paid for pictures! He had a crush on her, okay? Like, big time. I’m just saying! I thought you’d be interested, okay?”
She stands up, annoyed now.
“Why wasn’t Hugo at the birthday party? If they were so much in love, do you know?” Jacob asks. It’s such a good question, I could kiss him.
She gives small shakes of the head. “What?” She says at last.
“Why wasn’t he there that night?” Jacob repeats.
She scowls and bites her bottom lip. “I’m not sure, I think they were taking a break. Maybe.”
“They were?”
“I don’t know, okay?” she says sharply. “Who else have you been talking to anyway? Anyone?”
“We met with Mrs Dawson yesterday, and—”
I put a hand on Jacob’s arm.
“I have to go,” Cindy says. She stands up and we watch her push the buggy with her sleeping child. She’s gone in minutes.
“What on earth was that about?” Jacob says.
“Did you ask Hennessy?” I ask. “About those photos? You said yourself there’s no trace of them anywhere. Did he explain that?”
He nods. “Only on email. He replied that the photos were never submitted as evidence. That he wanted to protect the family. I don’t buy it.”
“Me neither,” I say.
Twenty-Eight
Missing Molly - Episode 3 - Transcript
[Intro Music]
(Vivian) Today’s episode is sponsored by Flowers Everywhere, your flower delivery service, perfect for every occasion.
Forsters Killer Commits Suicide - The quiet gardener who harboured a secret love.
This was the headline that greeted readers of the Daily Mail on eighth November two thousand and six. The article went on to detail why Dawson committed the crime in the first place.
“He was obsessed with the oldest daughter Grace. She was kind, and she always had the time for a nice word, a small chat on the side of the road with him. He mistook her kindness for attraction and decided that they should be a couple, that this was love. When his attentions were rebuffed he went to the Forsters’ residence and killed them all. ‘The murderer confessed right away,’ Chief Constable Hennessy declared soon after the arrest. ‘He had no choice, we found him at the scene, covered in blood from the victims. Less than six hours later we had a full, written confession.’ Dawson’s legal representative has claimed that he later recanted on his confession. But as of last night, this is now a moot point. Dawson took his own life in Haverigg Prison a little before midnight. The cause of death was hanging. Chief Constable Hennessy gave a statement this morning, that Dawson had told the guard on duty that he could no longer live with what he’d done. The guard believed that Dawson was distressed enough to be put on suicide watch, however by the time the paperwork was filed, it was too late.”
This article closed the case in the eyes of the public. The police had their killer, and the killer had died. There was no crime to solve, no trial required. And just like that, in a little over forty-eight hours, it was over.
But was it?
From the South Hackney Herald, I’m Vivian Brown and you’re listening to Missing Molly. If you have any information about the disappearance of Molly Forster, please contact your local police station, or you can leave me a message here on (020) 7946-0318. You can choose to remain anonymous if you wish.
[Music]
(Teacher) Grace was very pretty. Blond hair, blue eyed, she was well liked, she didn’t have a ton of friends, but she had a handful of close girlfriends, they used to hang out all the time. She was a good student. A bit shy.
(Friend) She didn’t have a boyfriend for a long time. I think she only ever had one.
(Jacob) Did she want one?
(Friend) (Laughter) We all wanted one! We were fifteen, sixteen, you know, innocent. We all thought prince charming was out there waiting for us (laughter).
(Jacob) What about Dennis Dawson? Did they ever go out on a date?
(Friend) Nah. They were friends, that’s all. She wasn’t interested in him in that way.
(Teacher) The story about the photographs? That she sold naked photos of herself? I find it very hard to believe. She wasn’t the type at all. She was not shy exactly, but certainly on the conservative side compared to other girls at the school. She was studious, pleasant, I just don’t see it. I know with social media these days girls are more at risk, but we’re talking twelve years ago. We didn’t have the same problems with social media then. No. I just don’t see it.
(Friend) Yeah, that one made me laugh, to be honest. She was kind of prudish, you know? I mean we all were. She wanted to be a singer. I remember that, a pop singer. Like Katie Perry you know? She had a real
ly nice voice. She played the guitar.
(Teacher) It was a terrible few days for our community. The poor Forster family was killed, and little Molly disappeared and then Dennis… just awful. Unbelievable.
(Jacob) Did you know Dennis Dawson?
(Teacher) I had him in my class year earlier. When he was fifteen.
(Jacob) What was he like?
(Teacher) Oh dear… he was quiet, but gentle, or so I thought back then. I thought he was a gentle boy. Sensitive. I’d never have pegged him for this kind of violence. Not in a million years. Just goes to show, doesn’t it, you never know what lies behind the facade. You just never know.
(Vivian) It’s no wonder that the community was shocked to discover that a monster lived in their midst, but there was one person who believed in him, and who has been met with obstacles at every turn. Until now. Emily Dawson still lives in Whitbrook, even after her son was arrested and killed himself shortly after. She was dismissed as a delusional mother who couldn’t accept that her own son was a monster. But there was more to her unwavering belief than a mother’s instinct. In today’s episode, you will hear why it’s highly likely that the police got the wrong man.
And if Dennis didn’t kill them, then who did?
“Everyone! I want to say something, Jenny can you get the glasses please? Come on. Everybody, come on!” Chris is at the large table proudly struggling to open a bottle of champagne.
“Well, this is different,” Mike says, rising slowly, “It’s not even three o’clock. What are we celebrating here, boss?”
Jenny is separating a stack of cheap plastic glasses. The kind you buy in bulk at the supermarket. “Don’t we have real glasses?” Chris asks.
“If we do, I’ve never seen them,” Jenny replies.
“Well put that on the list then. We should have real champagne glasses, for times like these. Never mind. A toast!”
There’s a bit of shuffling, we all stand around the table and hold our plastic cup up high. I’m beaming but I try to hide it.
“The latest episode was a cracker. No doubt about it. Congratulations, Rachel and Jacob. You guys did great. All the major news outlets are reporting that there’s strong evidence the wrong man was arrested for the murders of the Forster family. And we have passed the half a million download milestone!” he yells.
There are screams and we hug and do high fives and Jacob is shouting “Whoohoo!” and from the corner of my eye I see Vivian staring at me. I’m grinning so hard it hurts my cheeks. For a moment I forget what this podcast is really about, and I feel important, right here, in this job. Like I’ve really achieved something. I expect her to grin back, but out of all of us, she’s the only one who doesn’t. She’s clapping, even smiling a little, but nothing like the rest of us.
“If Dawson really was innocent of these murders then it’s really a tragedy,” Chris says. “I feel for his mother. But let justice prevail. That’s got to be the more important outcome here.”
“So what’s next, boss? What’s the next podcast then?” Mike asks. “Because I may have an idea or two you know. I think we could do something on horse racing. I hear there’s an interest in it.”
There’s more laughter and then in a more subdued tone, Chris says “and I can’t tell you all how proud I am.”
“So try!” Jenny says, just as Jacob, glowing, says, “Oh go away!”
“You left out the best part!” Jenny says. “The sponsors are falling over themselves to be a part of the podcast. We’re beating them off with a stick!”
“Don’t beat them too hard, Jenny, we need their money!” Chris says.
“Yeah, how else are we going to keep Mike here employed doing bugger all?”
“Hear hear!” Mike exclaims.
We’re all laughing ourselves silly. Chris raises his hands. “Truly people, I’m delighted. Like Jenny said, that the sponsors are beating at the door. Our little newspaper has earned a reprieve. It’s early days, but for now, we can all relax.”
There are more whoops and cheers and Jenny refills the plastic glasses.
“Does that mean we should concentrate on finding out who the real killer was then?” I ask, since no one else does.
“Great question, Rach, I suspect that the police department will want to reopen that case soon. They’ll be in touch at some point so please make sure all the recordings are stored safely.”
“I think we should stick with the Molly angle. We’re getting so many leads on the phone lines and on email. Let’s get back on that track,” Vivian says.
“I agree with Vivian,” Jacob says. “We should focus back on Molly.”
“I think we should follow up on the boyfriend story,” I say.
Everyone has dispersed except Vivian and I. She’s standing right next to me. I smile at her.
“We should follow up on the boyfriend story!” She’s mimicking me, but not in a nice way. She takes a gulp of her champagne. “You’re doing really well for yourself, Rachel, aren’t you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Who would have thought? Shy little Rachel, who went from making sandwiches to producing the hottest podcast in the country. You’re killing it, Rach. Well done.”
“We’re killing it.”
“Oh, you more than most.” She rubs a finger over the top of the table. “It’s funny that Chris sent you to Whitbrook, don’t you think?”
“Why?”
“You’ve got Gracie to look after. Surely it would have been easier for me to go.”
“I asked to go.”
“Ah.” She gives me a knowing look before walking off, except I don’t even know what it’s supposed to mean. I feel awkward all of a sudden, standing there by myself, so I walk over to Jacob’s desk.
“I think we should follow up on the relationship between Hugo Hennessy and Grace,” I tell him.
The phone rings in the background and I see from the corner of my eye Jenny walking across to answer it. “Especially now that there’s doubt over Dennis Dawson as the killer. You said it yourself. Why wasn’t Hugo at the party? Why were they having a break?”
There’s a shift in the mood. I become aware that no one is saying anything. They’re all staring at Jenny who is holding the handset in both hands. She looks pale and wide-eyed.
“You all right there, Jen?” Chris says.
She pauses. It’s as if she doesn’t know how to say it.
“Who’s that on the phone?” he asks.
She blinks. “Detective Mary Halliday, CID. For you.” She points the handset towards Chris. He looks at Vivian, Jacob, and me briefly, a small smile playing on his lips, before taking the call.
“They’re reopening the case. We did it!” I hiss to Jacob, bumping him on the shoulder, just as Jenny says,
“It’s Emily Dawson. She’s dead.”
Twenty-Nine
My hand flies to my mouth. “She’s dead? Mrs Dawson?”
Jacob looks white. I grab the nearest chair and sit down. “How did she die?”
“At the moment it looks like suicide. They found her hanged in her bedroom.”
I close my eyes. A moaning sound comes out of me. An image of Emily Dawson’s limp, swaying body flashes against my eyelids. I open them again. Chris is talking on the phone, his back to us.
Jacob sits down next to me. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
They killed her.
“You spoke to her, before the episode went live, didn’t you, Rach?” Jenny asks. “How did she seem?”
“She wasn’t there when I called, but I left her a message on her answering machine. To let her know, you know, that we were putting it out, and the interview we had of her, everything. Dennis’s alibi. I wanted to tell her there would be ramifications. That she should be prepared. The papers will want to talk to you, I told her.”
“Poor Mrs Dawson. What could have possibly driven her to do this? Do you know?” Vivian asks me.
I bristle. “Driven to do this? I don’t think
anything drove her to it.”
“What do you mean? Obviously—”
“I mean that the real killer got her!” I can hear how shrill I sound but I can’t help it. “It makes sense! She reveals that she has evidence to prove Dennis’s innocence and now she’s dead. Convenient, wouldn’t you say?”
Jacob’s eyes widen and he becomes a shade paler.
“But we don’t even know the details yet, Rachel. You can’t jump to that,” Vivian says, in an overly reasonable tone, I think. “I know it’s a shock and it’s sad, but let’s find out what the police know first, okay?”
“Of course.” I nod like that’s a sensible request. But I know. I wipe a tear with the tip of my finger. Chris puts the handset back in its cradle.
“So?” Vivian asks.
“They want to ask a few questions.”
“Did they say who found her?”
“The home care people from the council. A woman who drops by and helps her with shopping and things. She’d been dead a few days.”
“A few days?” Jacob and I both say it at the same time. He’s turned grey. I suspect I have too.
“Do they know when exactly?” Jacob asks.
“I don’t know,” Chris says. “You can ask the police when they get here.”
“What do the cops want?” I ask.
“To hear the tapes apparently.”
“Why?”
“She wrote a suicide note,” Chris looks at me, and then at Jacob. “I’m sorry guys. She wrote that she’d made it all up, about the alibi. Dennis was never with her that day. She lied to you. She made it all up.”
“Bullshit,” I blurt out. “They should listen to the interview. They’ll know then, she didn’t make it up. It’s pretty obvious she’s genuine.”
Missing Molly Page 13