Finding Lucy

by Ernesto Lee

  “Listen, Sean. Given what has happened previously, I didn’t want to bring this up again and I want you to know that I trust you one hundred percent – but please be straight with me on this one. You owe me that.”

  I can feel my face beginning to flush with embarrassment and I do my best to answer without giving anything away.

  “You saved my life, Cath. I won’t ever forget that, and you have my word that you know as much as I do about this case. My questions were just a fishing expedition. That is a huge house. It must cost a lot to keep it running. Could that be the reason for the marriage?

  “I don’t see Sir David or Joanna having the kind of money needed. Maybe in the past, but the glory days of the aristocracy are long gone. Now, Eddie, on the other hand, he was a farmer and according to the case file he had a considerable amount of land. It’s certainly worth looking into, don’t you think?”

  Cath nods her agreement.

  “Yes, it is. It would make sense, I guess. I sure can’t see any other reason why they would have married. Whatever the reason, they almost certainly haven’t told us everything they know about Lucy and you certainly hit a nerve with Joanna when you were talking about the death of her mother.”

  “I agree, but could we be reading too much into it?” I reply. “If it was Sir David’s idea to reopen the case, maybe she really does believe we are wasting our time. And let’s face it, who wouldn’t get upset when talking about the death of a loved one?”

  Cath shakes her head. “No, there was more to it and you know it as well as I do. Joanna was deliberately trying to mislead us, and her constant interruptions make me think that she was frightened of what Sir David or Eddie might say.”

  “I agree. If it was me, even after so long, I would want to know what had happened to a family member. Even if there was only the very slightest chance, you would take it, wouldn’t you, Cath?”

  She nods her agreement and then flips open her pocketbook. “Do you think that Joanna could have killed her sister, Sean?”

  “Until this morning, no, I hadn’t, but now, yes. We need to consider that as a possibility – and not just Joanna. If Joanna was responsible for Lucy’s death or disappearance, then you can bet that Dribbling Eddie was also involved. What are you thinking, Cath?”

  Cath refers to her notes again and points to a quote that she has underlined.

  “When you were asking her about the night of Lucy’s disappearance she said. ‘She went off with the O’Hanlons and that was the last time that I saw her alive.’ Don’t you think that is strange, Sean? Wouldn’t you say, that was the last time I saw her, instead of that was the last time that I saw her alive? It almost implies that she saw her when she was dead, or that she knows for sure that Lucy is dead. It makes absolutely no sense in the context of her theory that maybe Lucy skipped town with Paul Oliver – or am I overthinking it?”

  “That’s a good pickup, Cath, and no, I don’t think you are overthinking it. I think you might have been right when you talked about that big bloody ticking hand grenade. Only now I think it might well be the Partington-Browns that are holding the pin.”

  Obviously pleased to have picked up on something that I had missed, Cath gives me one of her smuggest looks of self-satisfaction.

  “Thanks, boss. Who would have thought it? Brains and beauty. So, what next?”

  “Drop me back to the hotel, Cath. Then I want you to head into Spalding and pull in a favor with the local constabulary. Get into a station and log onto a computer. Start by looking into Sir David’s estate. Look for anything unusual with the title deeds and then have a dig into the finances of all three of them.”

  Cath gives me one of those knowing looks again.

  “Are you onto something, or just fishing again?” she asks.

  “Just something nagging at me again about the connection between Eddie Wells and the PBs.”

  “The PBs?” Cath says, raising her eyebrows. “Is that what we are calling them now? I take it you mean the Partington-Browns and not the posh bastards?”

  We both laugh at the unintentional but very appropriate connection.

  “You’re on form today, Cath. Yes, the first one. I keep tripping over my tongue with the full name. Once you are done with the estate and finances, see if you can get hold of a copy of the inquest and autopsy report for the mother. It’s a long shot, but worth a look.”

  “Okay, anything else?”

  “Just one other thing for now – find a number for our mysterious priest. Try and set up a meeting for tomorrow, if possible.”

  We swap seats and Cath starts the engine.

  “What’s your plan while I’m gone, Sean?”

  “I’m going to do some digging around locally. There must be a good few people still around that knew the family. It would be interesting to know what the locals have to say about them.”

  For once, I am not lying to Cath, well not entirely. I am going to do some digging with the locals, but it is one specific local that I have in mind and she runs the local Oxfam shop.

  Ten minutes later, Catherine drops me outside our hotel and heads off to Spalding. It’s likely that she will be gone until at least the early evening, so I should have plenty of time to do what I need to do. I head to my room and drop the case file on my bed and then I head back out onto the high street.

  Yesterday I had been wearing jeans and a t-shirt, but today I am in one of my work suits. Abigail spots me as soon as I enter the store and is quick to comment on my attire.

  “That’s funny, I was just about to call you. I got that suit you were looking for, but I don’t think you need it. That one fits you very well.”

  The insinuation is obvious, but I ignore it and thank her.

  “That’s great, thank you very much, though I am actually here on official business today.”

  Her smile changes first to a look of concern and then she looks me up and down with suspicion over the top of her glasses.

  “Whatever you are selling young man, we don’t need it.”

  I hold out my badge for her inspection and she shrugs and pushes her glasses back into position. Then she holds out her hands and offers me her wrists.

  “I admit it, officer, you’ve got me. Guilty as charged for selling outrageously outdated fashions that are a crime against humanity. Lock me up and throw away the key.”

  “That won’t be necessary, Ms. Whitchurch,” I reply with a smile, “the last time I checked, it was perfectly legal to sell bell-bottoms and platform shoes. Actually, I was hoping to ask you about the Partington-Brown family. They have an estate just outside of town and Sir David Partington-Brown used to be the Member of Parliament for Spalding. Do you know of them?”

  Her face goes white and for a second I am concerned that she might faint, but my cougar friend is made of stronger stuff and quickly composes herself.

  “Everyone knows that family, Detective. Um …”

  “It’s Detective Sergeant McMillan, but feel free to call me Sean. This is purely an off-the-record discussion, Ms. Whitchurch.”

  My assurance of an off-the-record discussion is less than convincing, but she nods anyway and invites me into her office.

  “I was wondering when the police might show up. There has been a rumor going around the village for a few weeks that the case was going to be reopened. Am I correct in assuming that this is connected to the disappearance of the youngest daughter, Lucy? That was nearly fifty years ago. Has some new information come to light?”

  “It’s partly about Lucy,” I confirm. “But also, the death of her mother and the later disappearance of a young man called Paul Oliver. Does that name mean anything to you?”

  I can see I have hit a raw nerve and she nervously bites the bottom of her lip before replying.

  “Actually, Paul was a friend of mine. Not a particularly close friend, but a friend all the same. In my early twenties, I was good friends with Lucy and Joanna, and we used to hang around with Paul and his mates.”

  I k
now this already, of course, but I feign mild surprise at this supposed revelation.

  “Oh really? That is very interesting, Ms. Whitchurch. Were you interviewed by the police or asked to give a statement after Lucy disappeared?”

  “No, no I wasn’t. I had been due to go with them to the carnival that night, but in the end I was unwell and stayed at home. I did take part in the search for her, but I was never spoken to by the police. Oh, and please call me Abigail. Ms. Whitchurch makes me sound like somebody’s grandmother.”

  “Yes, of course, thank you, Abigail. Was Paul just a friend to you all, or was there something more to it?”

  She looks puzzled and asks me to explain what I mean.

  “I mean, was Paul in a relationship with any of you?”

  The look on her face tells me that she knows that I know the answer already and her response confirms it.

  “I’m sure that you didn’t get to be a detective sergeant without doing your homework before starting an investigation, Sean. I’m sure it is mentioned a few times in whatever statements you have seen. Paul was in an on-and-off relationship with Lucy. It was never very serious. He was more into her than she was into him, but it was never going to go anywhere.”

  “And do you know if the relationship was on or off on the day that Lucy disappeared?”

  My question elicits a small laugh and Abigail shrugs her shoulders.

  “You would think as her friend I would know the answer to that question, but you really never could be sure with Lucy. She went to the carnival with Joanna, Lucy, and Eddie Wells. Apparently Paul went along later with his mates and we all heard about the fight when the carnival guys were flirting with Lucy. You would think then that maybe Lucy and Eddie were back on again, but I don’t know for sure. I don’t want to speak ill of the dead, but let’s just say that Lucy was a little loose when it came to her relationships.”

  I have no doubt at all that I am being told the truth. Earlier today Joanna painted a completely different picture of her sister, but Abigail’s description of Lucy’s attitude to relationships seems to be much closer to the way in which she was portrayed in the original statements from 1972. Not quite the village bike, but not far off it.

  “Why do you think Eddie Wells skipped town, Abigail? Do you think he had anything to do with Lucy going missing?”

  “After Eddie went missing, the police turned their attention in his direction, but I never believed it. I honestly have no idea why he left town, but I really don’t believe that he had any connection to what happened to Lucy. He was a bit of a lad, but he wasn’t into anything heavy and was always a gentleman when it came to the ladies.”

  So, may I ask what you think happened to her?”

  She closes her eyes for a few seconds, and I can imagine that she is taking herself back to 1972.

  “Lucy didn’t have a single enemy in Tyevale that I knew of. So, if you are asking me, I’m sure that it wasn’t a local. This was such a close-knit community that it would have been impossible to keep it secret. No, it wasn’t a local. The carnival was in town and those kinds of people would have had every opportunity to kill and get away with it.”

  I nod my head. “You’re talking about the O’Hanlon brothers?”

  “Yes, I am, Sergeant. I never liked them, and I never trusted them. I think the police didn’t push hard enough for the truth back then and it was just way too convenient to leave the shadow hanging over Paul.”

  I do tend to agree with her. Paul’s unexplained absence from Tyevale is a big reason to suspect his motives, but without months of planning and some considerable funds behind you, it is virtually impossible to disappear without a trace. The same would have applied even in the seventies, but since 1972, there hasn’t been a single sighting of Paul, real or imagined. This explanation simply doesn’t add up.

  “Thank you, Abigail. I just have one more question and then I can let you get back to work. You said earlier that you were good friends with Lucy and Joanna in your early twenties. Do you have any contact with Joanna now? Are you still friends?”

  She shakes her head and adjusts her glasses.

  “I have no idea why, but Joanna dropped me like a hot stone within days of Lucy going missing. I tried reaching out to her for months afterwards, but in the end, I just gave up.”

  “But that makes no sense,” I reply. “Surely at that time she would have needed the support of her friends more than ever.”

  “I couldn’t agree more, Sergeant. But It wasn’t just me. She dropped everyone apart from Eddie and her parents. She stopped coming into town and almost completely shut herself away for two or three years in that estate. In the last forty or so years, I can honestly say that I have only seen her come into Tyevale on maybe half a dozen occasions. It doesn’t make sense, but I guess people react differently to these things.”

  This new piece of information adds to my suspicions that Joanna might be involved in some way in this case, but everything I have found out so far is purely circumstantial. Tonight can’t come quickly enough. I’m keen to travel back to 1972 again, but there is something I need first. I stand up to leave and I thank Abigail for her time.

  “You really have been extremely helpful, Abigail, and I hope that I haven’t taken up too much of your time. When I came in, you mentioned something about the suit I was looking for?”

  “Oh, yes, of course. I thought perhaps that you might not be wanting it now and perhaps needing the suit was just a cover story. It’s hanging outside on one of the racks.”

  I follow her out of the office, and she leads me towards a rack next to the cash desk.

  “Well, what do you think? It’s magnificent, isn’t it?”

  She has found me a blue three-piece suit with a light pinstripe, and I must admit that it looks pretty cool.

  “Wow! That’s a sharp suit and it’s in great condition.”

  My compliment meets with her satisfaction. She reaches behind the desk and hands me a white shirt, a trilby hat, and the widest tie I have ever seen. The pattern is paisley on a maroon background. I wouldn’t normally be seen dead in such a hideous tie, but Abigail is convinced that it will complete my outfit.

  “So, when is your fancy-dress party, Sean?”

  “Excuse me?” I reply.

  “I was just wondering. I mean it must be a very important party for you to take time out of your investigation to look for a suit in Tyevale. Don’t they have charity shops in London?”

  She has me at a disadvantage, but I laugh it off and smile whilst she takes payment and bags up my outfit. As she passes me the bag, I deliberately brush my hand against hers and look her directly in the eye.

  “Oh, there are plenty of charity shops, Abigail. Just none with such amazing and personal service, or indeed such an attractive manager. Thank you for everything.”

  My compliment and obvious flirting leave her looking flustered and more than a little embarrassed. With a final wink, I turn to leave, happy to have turned the tables on her.

  On the walk back to the hotel, I check my phone. There is a message from Detective Chief Inspector Morgan asking me to call him and there are three missed calls from Ben. Obviously, the persistent little shit has changed his mind about waiting to hear from me. I need to find a way to buy more time with him, but for now I push the thought to the back of my mind. I need to plan my next moves before Catherine gets back from Spalding and I also need to call Kevin Morgan before he gets impatient and calls me.

  It’s just after 1:30 pm and the lobby of the hotel is deserted, apart from the young woman on reception, who politely nods as I pass her, and a pair of stereotypical Japanese tourists heavily laden down with all manner of camera equipment and a moth-eaten guidebook to Lincolnshire.

  I can hear the television in my room as soon as I step out of the lift. At first I assume that the cleaner must have turned it on for some background noise. My door is slightly ajar, but strangely I can’t see a cleaning cart outside, nor indeed is there one anywhere to be s
een in the corridor.

  It can’t be Catherine. There is no way that she could have got to Spalding and back so quickly and unless Lincolnshire burglars like to watch TV while they work, this only leaves one possibility. If my hunch is right, I am going to stick my shoe so far up Ben’s ass that he will be tasting leather in his mouth for a week.

  Just in case it’s not Ben, I carefully push open the door and cautiously step into the room.

  He is so engrossed in watching Jerry Springer tearing into a couple of pug-ugly hillbillies that it takes him a few seconds to notice me standing by the door. When he does finally see me, it is obvious that I am in no mood for a pleasant chat and he sheepishly turns off the TV and stands up.

  “Um, Sean, listen, I tried to call you. I, um …”

  “Shut it, Ben. I’m not interested. I bloody well told you yesterday that I would get in touch as soon as I got back into London. Sit the fuck down and keep your mouth shut.”

  I doubt whether he has ever been spoken to like this and picking wisely he sits down without question as I close the door and position myself in front of the TV.

  “Right then, you can start by telling me how the hell you knew where to find me and then you can tell me how you got into my room. By rights, I could have you for breaking and entering.”

  “The door was open, Sean,” he replies. A bit of the previous cockiness that I saw when we met in 1994 is back, but not entirely and I can see he is thinking carefully about his words.

  “What do you mean the door was open? I know for a fact that I closed it when I left this morning.”

  “When I got here this morning, I asked for you at reception, but there was no answer from your room. I tried calling you myself and when I didn’t get any reply, I just waited for the cleaner to open your room. I just walked in and she didn’t ask who I was. She probably thought I was you. You told me something before about acting as if you belong when you dream travel. I took your advice and just plonked myself down on the sofa in front of the television. It worked like a charm. So, in a way it’s your fault, Sean.”