Fountain Of Sorrow (The Christy Kennedy Mysteries Book 3)

by Paul Charles

  “Oh well, I’m sure it won’t take too long for the good Dr Taylor to get up to speed. I’ll ring him later when we get the Birmingham report in and take both that and the Burton report over to him tonight, hopefully.” Kennedy made a mental note to ring Taylor at the end of this briefing.

  He drank the remainder of his tea in one gulp; it wasn’t yet cold, but soon would be and he hated anything other than hot tea. It was Coles who spoke next.

  “I’ve just been thinking, sir. You said that only three of the four accused raped Anna Elliot. Do we know who was the one who didn’t rape her? It’s possible that if this were Rory Nash, then she has already completed her revenge and the case could be over.”

  “Interesting point, but sadly I have to tell you that Jerry Mac Kane was the one who didn’t, and he was the first one to be killed. I wonder if there is anything in that for us?”

  No one had any theories to put forward, so Kennedy started to sum up.

  “So,” he began, “DS Irvine, could you liaise with Esther, Nash’s PA, about his movements over the weekend and put two PCs on to him. Maybe have one of the marked cars pass his house regularly tonight; let’s keep up as much of a visible presence as possible.”

  “What about this - what’s her name - Anna Elliot,” Castle inquired, “how are we getting on with tracking her down? Do we have any pictures or anything?”

  “No, sir,” replied Kennedy, “she hasn’t been seen by her father since shortly after the rape and so the only photograph he has is about twenty-five years old. I have one of the visuals experts enhancing it, ageing the picture, as we speak. I hope to get the results later on this evening. Miss ann rea, a friend of Anna Elliot’s father Daniel, has managed to trace her last known address - it’s in the Birmingham area but apparently she left there about two years ago.”

  “Probably shortly after she and her mad dog did away with… oh what’s his name?” Castle fumbled in a vain attempt to do what he’d never been able to do, remember people’s names. He still had, in his top left-hand drawer, the full names of everyone in the station and their job description, which he frequently used as a prompt. He was one of those high-ranking officers who had been very grateful when name tags were first introduced for their numerous police conferences.

  “Jerry MacKane, sir,” said the ever-helpful WPC Coles.

  “Thank you.” Castle gave her a warm personalised smile, as in: ‘this one’s just for you!’ “Yes,” he said, “she probably would have left shortly after the Mac Kane death. Mind you, I’m not so sure anyone would want to hang around that city for too long anyway.” He attempted to ingratiate himself with his troops by this attempt at a joke.

  “Quite,” said Kennedy. “I’ll speak to Miss rea later and see if she’s made any progress. We’ll also supply the name and early photo to Birmingham CID, who are being extremely helpful but didn’t, unfortunately, have Anna Elliot anywhere in their files.” Kennedy was not sure if Castle was aware of his year-plus relationship with ann rea. He and Castle were not exactly matey, so Kennedy had never seen the point of discussing personal relationships with his Super, or anyone else on the force for that matter. Which was probably why he enjoyed the dark horse reputation he currently basked in.

  “I find it incredible,” said Castle, “that in 1998, someone can just disappear from the face of the earth. I mean, we’ve got computers coming out of our earholes and they spew out about a forest’s worth of paperwork per week with facts, figures and information, but can we pinpoint where one middle-aged, and dangerous, woman is? No!” Castle exclaimed as he rose from his comfy chair, one of the few exceedingly comfy chairs in Kennedy’s office.

  “If someone wants to disappear, sir,” replied Kennedy, “they’ll disappear. Even if you could tag the entire population, people would still find a way to be untraceable. The other important thing we have to remember is that Anna Elliot has been planning her tactics for twenty-four years now, so I imagine she probably started to melt back into the woodwork quite some time ago. She probably created a whole new set of misleading tracks for us as well as a few new personae, including the Miss Dipstick one, for herself. The main thing to remember here is that in her mind she doesn’t think she is doing wrong. In her mind, she is the one who was wronged and she is seeking vengeance against those who did her that wrong, on the four men who ruined her life.” Kennedy was voicing his thoughts but appeared distracted by his own words.

  “So?” the Super prodded as he reached the door.

  “So,” Kennedy replied and sighed, “we have to assume that she will stop at nothing, absolutely nothing, until she tracks down and kills Rory Nash, our self-confessed wise man of the twenty-first century. We have to assume that she is out there, somewhere, and at this very moment stalking Nash,” he said, losing his original train of thought.

  “You might well be right Inspector, but the important thing we also have to remember is that, in this area, we are the professionals and she is the amateur, and because of this we will find her and bring her to justice, because that is our job, and hopefully the fact that we do it well will be a deterrent to other would-be criminals,” said the Super, and without missing a beat continued, “well, I must leave you all to your art of detection. Mrs Castle and myself are going up west tonight to the theatre, something with that chap John Thaw in it; she’s got a bit of a thing about him you know, darned fine actor too, and I’ll get a terrible ear full of verbal if I’m not home in time to get ready.”

  With that he was gone and Kennedy and his efficient team got down to their art of detection. But Kennedy wasn’t sure that Superintendent Castle was accurate in calling Anna Elliot an amateur. So far she was responsible, Kennedy was pretty sure, for the deaths of John B. Stone, Neil Burton and Jerry Mac Kane. Not something to be particularly proud off, but then again not too bad for an amateur. Furthermore, Kennedy was forced to believe that she was currently closing in on Rory Nash, and whereas the professionals were trying very hard to get up to speed on the case, she’d been planning all her moves for twenty-four years.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Kennedy worked until very late that Friday evening. At one point in the proceedings, the point where he stopped working long enough to make himself a cup of tea, he couldn’t help thinking (with a certain amount of disbelief) that less than twenty-four hours earlier he was on a beach with ann rea getting as close as it was possible for two humans to get. Close as in physically and spiritually if love is involved, as had certainly been the case on the beach in Climping.

  Yes, love had certainly been involved. Sometimes Kennedy wasn’t as sure about ann rea’s love for him. She sometimes seemed to feel more than her fair share of guilt in that area. He had the impression that ann rea was fighting the “He loves me more than I love him,” line of thought.

  An ugly thought this may be, but, Kennedy figured, better to exorcise your demons rather than let them eventually destroy your relationship. His only worry was whether his knowledge, the knowledge that perhaps ann rea didn’t love him (well, didn’t love him as much as he loved her) could, and would, eventually eat away and destroy the love he felt for her. Where there is no love put love and you will find love, was all fine and dandy to be sure but on the other hand where there is no food, you will find only hungry people.

  Also, when was all this shit about who loved whom the most, or the least, or whatever, going to end? Were they ever going to get on with it, get on with living their lives together, or not? He couldn’t help feeling that if they could only get beyond this point, the worrying about love and the intensity of the same, and spend an equal amount of energy just living and dealing with each other in moving forwards, then - then just how fulfilling would their life together become? Or not?

  If “or not” was the case then that was fine too as far as Kennedy was concerned. He was a big boy, he’d get over it. But he just wanted to be in a position where he could get on with his life, his personal life that is. His professional life was going exactly th
e way he wanted it: pace, direction, contents, everything was fine.

  But this personal stuff, God, sometimes you just wanted to scream. Kennedy realised now why he had been prepared to put his personal life on hold for such a long time following the break-up of the relationship previous to ann rea.

  Even now he couldn’t help do that male kind of thing, you know, “Do I really love ann rea as much as I loved Linda?” Linda Longreen, that is. Each time his ‘self’ would hit him right between the eyes with a “Don’t be stupid.” Well, maybe not quite as short and sharp as that, more like “Of course you love ann rea, you love her like you have loved no other and like you will probably never love another in your life, so you’d better get your shit together, get out of all these mind games and pathetic thoughts and do exactly that, love the woman, forget all the rest, just love the woman.”

  If only. If only it were all that easy. Kennedy wandered back to his desk and dialled Daniel Elliot’s number to speak to ann rea.

  “Christy, it’s yourself.”

  Something’s up, Kennedy thought, she rarely called him Christy and then only in tender moments.

  “Hi. How’s it going down there today?” he began tentatively. “I was just thinking about the beach last night,” she replied. “Aha.” A more positive response from Kennedy, realising where the “Christy” had come from. “Our walk, you mean?” “Well, no, not actually the walk, Kennedy,” she answered moving outof her floating mood. “But anyway, enough of that, how are you? How has today been?”

  Kennedy brought her up to date with all the recent developments in his usual precise and concise manner.

  “Daniel’s been having a really bad day,” ann rea began hesitantly, “he’s blaming himself for all of this. He’s now saying that if he and Lila had known what to do, how to support their daughter, then she would have been okay and none of this would have happened. He also now thinks he remembers a second, a split second, when he gave her an, ‘Are you really sure you didn’t ask for this?’ look. He may have doubted her by thinking, ‘Did these four young lads from good families really force you into this?’”

  “It’s a funny thing, ann rea, a lot of people think exactly that. They think that children of good and honest parents are incapable of doing wrong. Sadly, it’s rarely the case. People are innocent, not because they are children from good families, but simply because they don’t commit the crime,” Kennedy offered in support.

  “He says he keeps examining his thoughts and motives to see if that could possibly be true - did he display some disbelief to Anna? He can’t think of any other possible reason why she would have run away and failed to contact them again,” ann rea continued.

  “Has he said anything about before the incident, before she was raped? Were he and his wife close to Anna or had there been any problems?” Kennedy inquired as he began to experience the early stages of tea-leaf deprivation.

  “Yes, he has been talking about that actually. Quite a bit today in fact. He feels that, perhaps as an only child, Anna might have been too dependent on both of them. Anna was a difficult birth for Lila and the doctors advised them both against trying again. Daniel said they were very concerned that they would try again and do permanent harm to Lila. He said that Lila was prepared to risk it but that he hadn’t been. Anyway, as an only child, Anna was spoilt and that maybe they needed and wanted too much from their only child, but mostly all his memories are fond ones. During one of his stories he referred to her as Annabella and said that Lila was the only one who always used her full name, which was in itself a major source of irritation to Anna.” ann rea paused to collect her thoughts before continuing.

  “Anna was incredibly bright, did extremely well at school and college, they were always very proud of her. Daniel knew she was bound for university, and knew she was going to do well. He felt that she would submerge herself completely in her studies to block out the rape and use her academic life to replace her family life.” ann rea could sense Kennedy forming a question down the telephone line.

  “In case you were about to ask, Kennedy, I’ve traced her to Aston University and I’ve been on to them and They’ve promised me that by Monday they’ll have her file, but apart from that I’m afraid I still don’t have any other leads on her whereabouts. How can someone just disappear like that, Kennedy? I mean just completely drop out of the system? And here’s me subscribing to the big brother is watching you theory. But it would appear not.”

  “Maybe they don’t disappear, maybe they just become someone else,” Kennedy replied absent mindedly. “Do you know when you’re coming back?”

  “No I don’t,” she replied quite firmly, “I can’t really leave him when he’s like this, can I?”

  “No, I agree, I didn’t mean you should.”

  “I know, Kennedy, I’m sorry if I was short with you, I don’t mean to be. It’s just that, if I’m very honest, I’d been hoping, well, hoping that I’d be able to use some of my time to sort things out, you know? But it’s just not been possible. I haven’t read anything. I haven’t done any walking, apart from last night, I haven’t done any work on the project I brought with me. I’ve done nothing but talk and I feel absolutely drained, completely exhausted.”

  At this distance Kennedy felt unable to do, or say, anything other than, “look ann rea, just take it easy.” He felt completely stupid when he said it but now he’d started he’d have to take it somewhere. “He needs you. Daniel needs you. You told me that you wanted to be down there for him because of all the times he and his wife had been there for you and so you need to keep your energy up, for him and for yourself. We don’t know how long all this could last, but it could be some time.”

  “You’re right, and you know what, I probably wouldn’t react to anyone other than yourself this way, and I’m sorry for dumping on you. You always allow me to do that, you’re always there for me. But you know what, Kennedy? You never dump on me. You always seem to keep it on the rails, keep it all together. How do you do that? Where do you get all your strength from, Kennedy?”

  “Spinach, it works great for me, and for Popeye,” he replied, trying hard to derail her current dark mood which could only end up in the predictable “I don’t seem to be able to be there for you, ever, so maybe it’s not love” siding.

  Equally, Kennedy felt that his simple theory might not be so well received in ann rea’s current state of anguish. His engine was stoked with the philosophy of, “You know what, all this stuff really doesn’t matter because come what may at the end of each and every day you are going to go to bed and go to sleep and then it will another day, and if it’s not, if this is to be the night, the one you don’t make it through, then it’s all over and done with anyway, so who cares? The whole thing will go on with or without you.” Definitely not worked out by a rocket scientist but equally, absolutely one to get you through the night.

  “Shit, does that mean I’m Olive Oil? Ah, come on, Kennedy, that’s definitely not fair,” said ann rea, forcing a laugh. She knew from experience that this was positively one area Kennedy was not prepared to follow her into.

  “Well, I’d have to say, it’s close,” Kennedy lied, “But I still think it’s you by a… well, at least a couple of beautiful breasts.”

  “Kennedy! Is that you bordering on the sexist or are you just thinking about our time on the beach again?” she teased.

  Kennedy was indeed thinking about the beach again, but he knew it was not something he should dwell on this weekend. He immediately snapped himself out of it and concluded the conversation with, “Well, I better chase up Dr Taylor, ann rea. I need him to come in tomorrow, we’re expecting the Jerry Mac Kane report and Dr Forsythe has broken James Irvine’s heart and gone on holiday for a few weeks, so I need to see what Dr Taylor will make of all of this. I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”

  He just about heard a very small, and dejected, “Bye” in reply.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  On the fifth day, also known as Saturday, th
ings fell into place. Normally this would have been a major relief to everyone involved.

  Kennedy, and the theatrical Dr Leonard Taylor, were sitting in the latter’s office. It was packed, literally, to overflowing but Taylor had the well justified reputation for knowing exactly where everything was, and could put his hand on a required file at a moment’s notice.

  There were files on the floor, files on the sofa, files on every chair, files on his desk, files by the sink, even files precariously close to a two-bar electric fire. The entire office looked like it was about to sink under a sea of files. And today the space was even more packed than normal on account of his recent absence. Everyone seemed to have used his absence as an excuse to dump their unwanted files in Taylor’s office, which was on the third floor of St Pancras All Saints Hospital, on the borders of Camden Town and King’s Cross.

  Taylor and Kennedy had worked quite a lot together over the years and had a mutual respect; and on that Saturday morning the doctor was only too happy to delay his round of golf to meet with Kennedy. Kennedy had said that it was important, and that was good enough for Taylor.

  Kennedy was amused at seeing Taylor, already at his desk, dressed in his golf attire of green plus-fours, white roll-neck jumper under a pink v-neck jumper, and pink socks, all magnificently set off with a pair of brown and cream brogues. The detective felt positively underdressed in his black crewneck sweater, black casual slacks, green pumps and dark green windbreaker.

  Taylor made some tea. When I say some tea, I mean great tea. He wasn’t by any stretch of the imagination a tea fanatic but he had the knack of consistently making a great cup of brew, much to Kennedy’s delight. Today’s brew was no exception.