Finding Lucy

by Ernesto Lee

She moves to the side to allow us inside and then politely nods to Catherine, but we both pick up on her obvious disdain. I’m hoping that it’s the fact that Cath is female in a male-dominated career and not that she’s black, but I suspect that it’s probably both. Joanna Partington-Brown is from a less tolerant generation and social class, with entrenched attitudes that are hard to shift.

  To make a point, Cath reaches out to shake Joanna’s hand. Joanna shakes Cath’s hand, but she doesn’t make eye contact with her and quickly turns back to me.

  “Please, come inside. My father and husband are in the study.”

  We follow behind. Although it is only just after 10 am on a warm spring day, inside the study there is a log burning in an open fire and Sir David is sitting in a wheelchair next to it with a blanket around his shoulders.

  Eddie Wells is sitting on a brown leather sofa next to him and he stands up to greet us as we enter the room.

  Unlike Joanna, Eddie looks like he has lived every one of his seventy-two years and has a noticeable stoop as he shakes my hand. His dress and general demeanor also give away his more humble beginnings as a farmer and his voice is trembling slightly as he speaks. Joanna then introduces her father and after the usual pleasantries, Cath and I take a seat on another leather sofa opposite Joanna, Eddie, and Sir David.

  Joanna pours us all tea from a silver pot and whilst I am keen to press ahead with my questions, I can see that it is better to ease into things slowly. Joanna doesn’t appear to be in any hurry, and these are not the kind of people that are used to being rushed.

  “This is a beautiful house, Sir David. Has it always been in your family?” I ask.

  His home and estate are clearly a source of pride to him and my question makes him sit up in the wheelchair and smile.

  “Colevale has been the home of the Partington-Browns since the early part of the nineteenth century, young man. It was built by my great-great-grandfather in 1821. The land was given to him by King George the Third as recognition for his service under the Duke of Wellington at the Battle of Waterloo.”

  “Wow! That’s very interesting. I suppose then you would do anything to keep the house and the estate in the family?”

  This completely random question leaves Cath looking confused as to where I am going, but despite his age I am sure that Sir David has understood. I am hoping that even after so long, his eyes might give something away.

  Unfortunately, Joanna interrupts and it is clear that she is not happy with me.

  “What is that supposed to mean and how is that relevant, Detective Sergeant? This is our family home and will remain our family home as long as there is blood in my veins. What a stupid question!”

  Cath kicks my foot under that table, and I apologize.

  “My sincere apologies for the way in which I phrased that. I wasn’t suggesting that you would ever sell up or leave. I was merely making the point that a house with such historical ties and family history must be very precious to you. I’m sorry if it came across in any other way.”

  Sir David looks gracious and accepts my apology in good faith, but Joanna looks less convinced as she speaks.

  “Yes, well, if we could kindly move along please. My father is not a well man and he tires easily. Please ask what you came to ask, Sergeant McMillan.”

  I nod to Cath and she takes out her pocketbook and a digital voice recorder.

  “Thank you. If it’s okay, I would like to ask each of you some questions about Lucy, her last known movements, and what you might know about her disappearance. This is not a formal interview, but DC Swain will be making notes in her pocketbook and, if it is okay, she will also be recording our conversation.”

  “Is a recording really necessary?” Joanna asks.

  “It’s not necessary, but it might be helpful to our enquiry. It’s often easy to miss something the first time around. Having a recording ensures that nothing gets missed. It really is nothing to be concerned about.”

  Joanna thinks about it for a few seconds and then nods her agreement. “Very well, please proceed, Sergeant.”

  Cath turns on the voice recorder and I turn towards Sir David.

  “If it’s okay, sir, would you mind telling us why after all this time you have asked for your daughter’s case to be reopened?”

  I am surprised again when it is Joanna that answers.

  “I tried to tell him that it was a waste of time after such a long time. He wouldn’t listen though. We tried to tell him, didn’t we, Edward?”

  Apart from saying hello to us, Eddie Wells has said nothing else up to this point and the sudden question from Joanna has him looking like a rabbit caught in a headlight. When he doesn’t answer quickly enough, Joanna continues.

  “Well we did, but he is a stubborn old man. It’s a waste of all our time and no good will come of it. If you have any sense at all, Sergeant, you will tell him that it is a waste of time.”

  I look back to Sir David, but the earlier spark has gone. He once more looks like the frail ninety-three-year-old man that he is. Joanna’s outburst seems to have frightened him and I know that it would be pointless to ask the question again. I turn my attention back to Joanna.

  “Why do you think that it’s a waste of time, Ms. Parlington-Brown? What do you think happened to your sister? Do you think that she is dead? The first statement you gave in 1972 suggested that she was, and you pointed towards the owners of the carnival, the O’Hanlon brothers. Later, though, you suggested a connection to an ex-boyfriend of Lucy’s. Why did you change your opinion on what had happened?”

  Joanna is now sitting ram-rod straight in her seat and she takes an audible deep breath and smooths down her skirt before answering.

  “The last time I saw my sister alive was when she went off with those awful brothers. No doubt you have read my statement in detail. Lucy and I were at the carnival with Edward, minding our own business, when the O’Hanlon brothers and a few others showed up. One of the brothers, Jed O’Hanlon, was coming on to Lucy and when Paul Oliver showed up with his friends there was a minor scuffle between the two groups. It wasn’t particularly serious, but Paul was furious with Lucy and demanded that she go home.”

  “And what happened next?” I ask.

  “Well, she certainly didn’t go home. My sister was not the kind of girl to take orders from anyone, and particularly not from an ex-boyfriend. She went off with the O’Hanlons and that was the last time that I saw her alive.”

  “If it’s not too sensitive a point, may I ask if your sister had been seeing one of the O’Hanlon brothers previously, Joanna?”

  Her face hardens, and she surprises me with her response and use of an obscenity. “Do you mean was she fucking one of them, sergeant?”

  Sir David protests, “Joanna, please, there is no need for that kind of language.”

  “Oh please, let’s not beat around the bush, Father. It was well known by all, including you, that Lucy was fucking Jed O’Hanlon and, not just in the weeks before she disappeared. Sergeant McMillan. The O’Hanlon Carnival had been visiting Tyevale once a year since the early sixties and Lucy and Jed had been at it like rabbits for at least two years on and off whenever the carnival was in town.”

  “So, because of this you thought that the O’Hanlons had something to do with your sister’s disappearance?”

  “Yes, I did at the time.”

  “But not now?” I ask her. “What do you think now? What do you think happened to your sister?”

  She doesn’t answer my question immediately but looks towards her father for support. He doesn’t say anything, though, merely dropping his head again as if embarrassed by what is coming.

  “I believe now that either my sister is alive and living somewhere with Paul Oliver, or that Paul Oliver killed her out of jealousy and that’s why he left town so soon after her disappearance. Why else would he leave and why has he never been seen since?”

  The look on Sir David’s face suggests that he doesn’t agree with his daughter’s
theory. I am about to ask him for his theory when Cath kicks my foot again and nods towards Eddie Wells.

  Eddie is now visibly shaking and sweating heavily, and so I direct the question to him instead.

  “Mr. Wells, do you agree?”

  My question catches him off guard and when he does answer he is clearly flustered.

  “Um, I mean, sorry. Agree about what?”

  “Do you agree with your wife? Do you think that Paul Oliver was responsible in some way for Lucy’s disappearance?”

  There are now drops of sweat hanging precariously off the end of his chin and he turns away from me and looks towards Joanna. He is shaking so badly that I think he might be about to collapse, and I reach forward and tap him on the shoulder.

  “Mr. Wells, listen to me please. I need to know what you think. Do you agree with your wife? Do you think that Paul Oliver was responsible in some way for Lucy’s disappearance?”

  Joanna hands him her handkerchief to wipe his face with and then takes one of his hands and gently squeezes it.

  “Answer the sergeant, Edward. There is nothing to worry about.”

  Her reassuring words seem to calm him, and he turns back around to face me.

  “Yes, that’s what happened, Sergeant.”

  His response is not exactly what I asked, so I ask him to clarify what he means. “That’s what happened, or that’s what you think happened?”

  “He means, that is what he thinks happened, Sergeant McMillan. You agree with me, don’t you, dear?”

  Edward once more turns to face his wife and nods.

  “Yes, I agree with my wife. I agree with my wife, Officer.”

  Joanna smiles at her husband and squeezes his hand again. If it wasn’t obvious before, it is now completely clear to Cath and me who is pulling the strings in this family. Sir David is a frail old man and Edward Wells is either a doormat or perhaps possibly not the sharpest tool in the box. I know already that I will be wasting my time asking either of them any more questions. Whatever answers I do get will either come from Joanna or will be her opinion, so I might as well just direct them all to her.

  “Thank you for your opinion, Ms. Partington-Brown. The O’Hanlon brothers and Paul Oliver are certainly of interest to us and in due course we will be looking into anything that might connect them to the disappearance of your sister. May I also ask about Father James Beale? What can you tell us about your sister’s relationship with him?”

  “There was no relationship!” Joanna snaps. “Whatever anyone else has said is not true. He was an idealistic Catholic priest trying to boost his congregation in a predominantly Church of England parish. There is nothing more to it than that.”

  Her comment about what others might have said opens the door for my next question.

  “What do you mean about everyone else saying things that were not true. What were other people saying?”

  Sir David is looking embarrassed again and I can’t help but feel sorry for him. The image and memory of his daughter is unfortunately far from the reality that he has had to face since her disappearance, and the passage of time doesn’t make it any easier.

  “Please don’t play games, Sergeant. You know very well what people were saying about my sister. That she was sleeping with the priest. That she was the village bike. That she was the posh girl from the manor house that got her rocks off with commoners, gypsies, and priests.

  Sorry, Father, but it’s true and there is no sugar-coating it. That’s what people thought – but it’s simply not true, Sergeant.”

  Sir David looks completely crestfallen, but Joanna also now looks visibly upset. Catherine puts down her notepad and suggests that we call an end to the questions for now. Joanna reaches for a box of tissues and dabs the corners of her eyes.

  “I think that might be for the best, Sergeant McMillan. My father needs to rest and this whole thing is very stressful for Edward and me.”

  Catherine is probably right, but I still have a few questions to ask before I am ready to leave.

  “Just a few minutes more, if that is okay, and then we will leave you all in peace for today. Ms. Partington-Brown, did you know that Father Beale is now back living and working in another Lincolnshire parish?”

  “Yes, we knew about that,” she replies. “Beckhampton is not that far from Tyevale and that kind of news doesn’t stay secret for very long.”

  “Did the news bother you? When you found out that he was so close I mean? How did you feel?”

  She is clearly annoyed now at my line of questioning and makes no attempt to hide it when she answers.

  “I didn’t feel anything at all, Sergeant! He means nothing to me and as long as he stays away from me and my family, then it will continue to remain that way.”

  “So, you never considered the possibility that he might have been responsible for Lucy’s disappearance?”

  “No, never, there was never anything going on between them. My only gripe with Father James Beale, if any, was that his attempts to convert her to Catholicism led to the completely unfounded and disgusting rumors that you were referring to earlier.”

  “Okay, thank you. I’m sure that Father Beale will be able to confirm that when we speak with him.”

  That last statement was a deliberate attempt to elicit a reaction from Joanna. When I get none, I move on to my final question.

  “May I ask about your mother and the circumstances of her death?”

  If looks could kill, by rights I should be dropping down dead right now. The death of her mother is clearly a taboo subject and Joanna once again makes no attempt to hide her contempt for my line of questioning.

  “I fail to see what relevance my mother’s death has to this investigation, Sergeant McMillan.”

  “I’m sorry if it upsets you, but in police business sometimes it’s the things that appear to be the most irrelevant that have the most relevance. According to our case notes, she passed away in January of 1974. That was less than two years after Lucy went missing and she was only forty-five-years-old. Had there been any history of illness prior to her death?”

  “I really don’t see that this is any of your business,” she replies. “But if you insist, my mother was bedridden for almost twelve months before her death. The doctors were unable to find anything wrong with her. If you want my opinion, she died of a broken heart. She never got over the loss of my sister.”

  “And was there an inquest into her death?”

  “Yes, there was an inquest! What are you suggesting, Sergeant? I really don’t like or appreciate these questions and, quite frankly, the inference that my mother’s death might have some connection to what happened to Lucy is preposterous. If that is everything, then I would like you both to leave now.”

  Her defensive attitude earlier was a surprise, but her unwillingness to talk about the death of her mother now has me wondering about her own possible involvement in the disappearance of her sister and maybe even the death of her mother.

  I know already what we need to focus on for the rest of the day, but I need her to answer one final question.

  “Yes, of course, we are just about done here for today anyway. Just one final thing, what was the outc …”

  “It was an open verdict. Cause of death was heart failure, but what triggered the heart failure was unknown. That is what you were going to ask me, isn’t it, Sergeant?”

  This latest interruption should not be a surprise to me. The fact that she is predicting my questions suggests again, though, that the death of her mother is a completely taboo subject.

  Joanna Partington-Brown is an extremely intelligent woman and I am convinced that she knows far more then she is letting on about both the death of her mother and the disappearance of her sister – and she is not the only one. I want to speak to Eddie Wells again, but without Joanna around.

  “It was, thank you, Ms. Partington-Brown. That is what I was going to ask.”

  I get up to leave and Joanna noticeably relaxes again and escorts
us to the door. On the way she assures us of her and her family’s full support.

  “I’m sorry if I came across a little aggressive, Sergeant McMillan. As I am sure you can appreciate, the loss of my sister is an extremely emotive subject even after so long.”

  “That’s quite alright and perfectly understandable. You have all been very helpful. We will be in touch if there is anything else we need.”

  The door closes behind us, but my instinct tells me that Joanna will be looking through the spyhole to make sure that we have left. Catherine looks like she is itching to ask me a question, but I stop her.

  “Not yet, Cath. Let’s get out of here first.”

  As soon as we are through the gates, I pull into a layby out of sight of the house.

  “Go on then, Cath, get it off your chest, was it my completely random questions, or her ladyship’s obvious dislike for you?”

  Cath pulls a face and then smirks at me.

  “Don’t flatter yourself, Sean, she wasn’t exactly falling over herself with admiration for you either. But, by God, what a complete an utter bitch! The way she looked at me on the steps, I was half expecting her to ask me to use the backdoor with the rest of the servants.”

  “I shouldn’t worry about it too much. She was probably just worried that you were going to make a move on her husband.”

  This makes Cath laugh and she playfully punches me in the shoulder.

  “Oooh, that’s disgusting, Sean. And besides, I doubt if Dribbling Eddie has so much as looked at another woman in the last fifty years. The ice queen would have his balls on a silver platter. Don’t you think it’s a bit of an odd match up, Sean? Joanna and Eddie, I mean. They clearly have absolutely nothing in common.”

  Cath is right, and I was thinking the same thing myself.

  “It is an odd match, Cath. But there must be some reason that she married him. What did you think of her attitude?”

  “Defensive and evasive, but in fairness your questions were all over the place. I assume that there was some logic to them and that no doubt you are about to enlighten me?”

  Her question is a leading one and a less-than-subtle reference to my withholding of all the facts on our last case. I am thinking over my response when Cath speaks again.