by Ernesto Lee
I hadn’t noticed before, but Ben points out two figures silhouetted in the moonlight standing next to a wall. Lucy and Father Beale join them and the four of them start talking.
“It’s the priest, Father Beale. How long have those two been waiting there?”
“Since they left the carnival,” he replies. “They stopped for a smoke and I thought they might carry on walking, but they haven’t moved.”
I pull Ben back out into the road. “Come on, let’s try and get a bit closer. It’s less conspicuous with both of us and I need to hear what they are saying.”
We move to within fifty yards of them and I tell Ben to face me.
“Make it look like we are chatting, Ben. Keep looking the other way in case they spot us.”
At this distance I can hear them, but only barely. Eddie is angry and appears to be venting at both girls, which is hardly surprising, and Father Beale seems to be trying to calm things down, but without much success.
At the carnival, Eddie was being tormented mercilessly by both girls, but his manner now indicates something more. He is growing increasingly frustrated and lets his feelings be known to both girls. I can’t make out who it is, but one of the girls is giving back as good as she gets and as tempers rise, so too does the volume.
“Why would you do this to me? Her I can understand, but you, what have I ever done to hurt you?”
“Oh, stop being so bloody pathetic, Eddie Wells. We all know that you’re not a real man. Why do you think that we go and get our fun elsewhere?”
Even through his anger, I can hear the pain in his voice, and I can’t help feeling sorry for him.
“That’s not true, take that back. Tell her it’s not true, go on, tell her.”
“It is true, you moron. Look at me, you’re so stupid that you can’t even see the truth when it’s staring you in the face. Well, the party’s over Eddie. You should just piss off back to that bloody farm of yours.”
The darkness is making it difficult to see which of the girls is speaking each time, but to get any closer would almost certainly give us away. There is no doubt who swings the punch though. Eddie is much taller and much broader than the girls and even with the sounds of the carnival still in full swing behind us, the sound of his fist striking Lucy in the face is unmistakable and she falls backwards. Ben has heard it as well and turns to face them.
As always, my first instinct is to call out and run to help, but I know I can’t intervene. I pull Ben away back into the shadows and push him against the wall. His whole body is shaking, and he can hardly speak.
“Jesus Christ, Sean. Is she dead?”
“I don’t know, Ben. We need to keep watching. Just try and keep quiet.”
Joanna and the priest rush to help Lucy to her feet. After a few seconds she is able to stand unaided. She then launches her own verbal tirade against Eddie.
“You stupid bastard, you don’t even realize what you have done, do you?”
Eddie doesn’t reply and is almost certainly in shock. Lucy leans in towards him and whispers in his ear. Whatever she has said seems to upset him even more.
“Why, why would you do that? I didn’t mean it. It was an accident. I just lost my temper. I would never have hurt you on purpose.”
Father Beale tries to intervene again and is stopped by both sisters. Joanna now turns her aggression towards him.
“You stay out of this. You’re as bad as he is. But you’re a witness to this. You had better both do exactly as we say, or we will be going to the police and the bishop to let them know exactly what has been going on.
I now have no idea at all what is going on.
This whole thing seems to be a premeditated set up by the sisters, but I am still no closer to finding out why or what happened to Lucy. The O’Hanlons and Paul Oliver seem to be out of the frame tonight, and the way Lucy and Joanna are now talking to Eddie and the priest, I wouldn’t blame either one of them for killing her.
But a single punch and raised voices are not enough. I need to stay with them to see for myself.
The voices now are much lower, and it is a strain to hear anything clearly, but I can see that it is one of the girls talking. When she finishes, Eddie walks towards a car parked ten feet further along the road and a few seconds later the engine roars to life.
The car reverses to let the sisters and the priest get in and then it heads off on the road out of town. Realizing that I am going to lose them, I pull Ben back out into the road.
“Shit, come on, we need to find a car and quick.”
Just opposite the entrance to the carnival, three of four cars are parked up and a group of young guys are leaning against the wall, smoking and drinking from cans of beer. Music is playing from the radio of a Ford Cortina and the keys are hanging in the ignition, which means that the doors must be unlocked.
I nod to Ben and tell him to follow my lead.
“You need to move at the same time as me, Ben. As soon as you are in, lock the door. On the count of three, okay?”
He nods and after a last check to make sure that we are not being watched, I start the count.
“Okay, one, two, thre...”
“Oy, you, stop right there!”
My heart drops when I recognize the voice of Sergeant Cuttler. I must have been wrong earlier when I thought that he hadn’t recognized me. I turn to face him, but it is not me he is looking at; it is Ben. Cuttler has two other men with him. Both are in their late fifties or early sixties. One of them is wearing a tweed three-piece suit and the other is wearing a white apron and a white cap.
Cuttler moves forward and takes Ben firmly by the arm.
“You’ve been a busy boy, haven’t you, son? Is this him, gents?”
Both nod and the guy in the suit steps closer to get a better look at Ben.
“Yes, that’s him, Sergeant. The thieving little sod came into the supermarket twice and helped himself to chocolate and soft drinks.”
And this is why I didn’t want him tagging along with me. Way to screw things up, Ben.
Cuttler turns back to Ben and asks him what he has to say for himself. Until now Cuttler doesn’t appear to have noticed me, but as Ben replies, it is obvious that he is looking at me.
“Sorry, Sergeant. I put it down to my upbringing. No father figure in my family to keep me on the straight and narrow.”
Cuttler is less than impressed at Ben’s flimsy attempt at courting sympathy and he now turns his attention in my direction.
“And who might you be, sir? Have we met before?”
Wearing a suit changes you into a completely different person and that’s just as well. This situation is complicated enough already, without him remembering where we met before.
“No, this is my first time in town. I just came for the carnival, but I do know this guy. What has he done?”
“Shoplifting from the local supermarket this morning and yesterday evening.”
“And running off without paying for his cod and chips,” interjects the guy in the apron.
“Yes, quite,” replies Sergeant Cuttler. “And the theft of one large portion of cod and chips.”
I look towards Ben with disbelief and he shrugs his shoulders.
“What? I didn’t have any cash and I was hungry.”
The chance of catching up with the sisters is already long gone and even if I can get Ben out of this, I have no idea where they are going. I’m resigned to the fact that I have lost them for now and I reach into my pocket for my wallet.
“Listen, Sergeant. Let me pay these gentlemen for their losses and I will make sure that you never see this idiot in Tyevale again. There’s no need to waste your valuable time on unnecessary paperwork. What do you say, Sergeant?”
He looks me up and down for a few seconds and then points to my wallet.
“What I say, sir, is that unless you want to be joining your friend in the cells, you need to put that wallet back away in your pocket.”
There is no point pushing t
he point any further and I nod towards Ben and shrug my shoulders.
“Sorry, mate. Don’t worry, though – you’ll be fine.”
As Ben is pulled away back towards the town, he shouts over his shoulder, “Sean! Sean! what should I do?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Ben. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”
I never wanted Ben to travel with me in the first place, but if nothing else, this will have taught him a few valuable lessons. I’m sure that after a night in the cells, he will be kicked back out on the streets and will find his way home from there. There is no way that Cuttler is going to waste too much time over some fish and chips and a few groceries. It’s more hassle than it’s worth. Ben is not my problem now anyway. Getting home is. The time now is nearly midnight and I need to be as fresh as possible for my meeting with Anti-corruption in the morning.
The crowd at the carnival has started to thin out and some of the rides and stalls have already started to pack away, but the Ferris wheel is still operating.
There are only a handful of people waiting to board the ride. After a few minutes, I pay for my ticket at the booth and climb aboard an empty gondola.
At the highest point of its rotation I estimate that I am more than sixty feet above the ground and the volume of steel and machinery below will almost certainly guarantee me an instant death. I allow the wheel to complete two more full rotations and then I release the safety bar and stand up. I don’t even need to jump. As the gondola reaches and crosses over the high point, I fall forward, and my body flips out and hurtles towards the ground. On the way down, I collide with two of the other gondolas and briefly see the looks of horror and hear the screams of the occupants, before my head smashes against the steel casing on the motor housing.
Present Day – Thursday, 19th April, 2018
The alarm on my phone is set to go off at 6 am but, worried that I might oversleep, I am woken by the sound of a text message from Catherine ten minutes before.
Hey, Sean. Just checking you are awake?
Bleary eyed and slightly disoriented, I send a short reply and then spend fifteen minutes jotting down my observations from last night’s travel. With everything I can remember captured in my notebook, I finish with a short summary. Not for the first time after a dream episode, I am left with almost as many questions as I have answers.
The O’Hanlon brothers appear to have been telling the truth in their original statements – Lucy did leave them just after 11 pm – but is it possible that she went back later? I think that this is unlikely given the way that she left them and the fact that I last saw her driving away with her sister, Eddie Wells, and the priest.
Paul Oliver also seems to be in the clear, but whilst it’s improbable that he met or went looking for Lucy later, it’s not completely beyond the realms of possibility. Abigail Whitchurch more or less told me that he was infatuated with Lucy. He was very upset when she left with the O’Hanlons and love does make you do some crazy things.
Then there is Father James Beale. I can’t say yet if he is a murderer or a kidnapper, but he is most certainly a liar. He stated quite clearly in his interview notes that he was at home and that he never saw or spoke to Lucy on the night of her disappearance.
It also appears that he lied about his relationship with Lucy. Joanna’s aggressive attitude towards him seemed to indicate strongly that there was something he would rather the bishop did not know about and it’s not too difficult to guess what that might be. I can’t think of any other reason why he would lie about seeing her or indeed of knowing about Eddie assaulting her, yet he never mentioned this in his statement to the police.
Lastly, we have the sisters themselves and Joanna’s boyfriend, ‘Bumbling Eddie Wells’. The assault on Lucy by Eddie was a shock, but almost understandable given the level of provocation he was subjected to. Lucy appeared to be relatively unhurt, but it wouldn’t be the first time that someone who initially seems to be okay after an assault subsequently dies through a slow internal bleed or some kind of hemorrhage. It’s a possibility, albeit a slim one. But if that is what happened, did Joanna cover it up by blackmailing both Eddie and Father Beale?
Was she blackmailing Eddie in return for his cash to clear her father’s debts? Marrying him then would have been the next logical step to keeping him close and within her control. And did she buy Father Beale’s silence by agreeing to keep silent about his affair with Lucy?
Even in 2018, something like that would be frowned upon. In 1972 he would most likely have been defrocked and excommunicated by the Catholic Church. Reason enough then to want to keep it secret.
Nothing is clear yet, but my next move is obvious. I need to return to 1972, to follow them when they drive away. This time I already know where they will be, and I already know where to find a car. I think I might even take Ben along with me for the ride. He was right last night; it was a bit of a shit’s trick sending him to the wrong day. In the cold light of day, I’m actually feeling a little bit proud of his resilience in waiting around for me for two days.
I’m less proud of course that the dipshit got collared for pilfering groceries and take-away food, but I suppose I can’t really blame him given the circumstances.
I’m sitting on the edge of the bed wondering how Ben has managed to get home when I am interrupted by a new text message from Catherine.
Heading down now, will meet you at the car.
I have been so engrossed in trying to make sense of things that the time has flown past. It’s almost six-twenty and Cath was hoping to be on the road by half-past the hour. I put my notebook away in my jacket pocket and then quickly type a reply to her message.
No worries, nearly ready. Will be down in 10 mins. See if you can rustle up some takeaway tea or coffee
I had been hoping to arrive for my meeting in London looking refreshed, but my shave and shower will have to wait. With DCI Morgan and investigators from the Anti-corruption unit involved, it is better to arrive looking a bit rough than to arrive late. My morning routine today is restricted to a cold face cloth, a bottle of mouthwash, and a can of Lynx. At six-thirty exactly I climb into the car smelling like an industrial accident at a deodorant factory.
“Jesus Christ, Sean! You’re going to meet Anti-corruption, not going to a scratch and sniff convention. What happened? Did the top come off your bottle of Old Spice?”
“Yeh, good one, Cath. A bit less of the jibber-jabber please, Detective Constable, and a bit more of passing me one of those cups, if you don’t mind. What is it?”
Cath can see that I am less than with it right now and has the good sense not to comment on my stubble.
But she can’t resist a knowing smirk as she hands me one of the takeaway cups.
“It’s coffee, that’s all that was ready. Regretting that last double whiskey, are we, boss?”
“I regret a lot of things, Cath. But whiskey is not one of them. Come on, let’s make a move. We don’t want to keep Morgan waiting.”
Cath puts her own coffee cup into the holder between the front seats and we head out of the village and south on the motorway towards London. She was right to be overly cautious with the time it would take us this morning. Twelve miles outside of London, there is a jack-knifed lorry blocking two of the four lanes and by the time we pull into the car park of Blackwell Station it is already nearly 9:45 am. Catherine wishes me luck before turning the car around and heading off to the coroner’s office.
Inside the station, Detective Sergeant Sarah Gray is waiting for me at reception, but she doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. She ushers me straight into the lift.
“Go straight to Morgan’s office, Sean. He wants to speak to you before AC do.”
The boys from Anti-corruption are obvious as soon as I step out of the lift. The term ‘sticking out like a bull-dog’s bollocks’ comes to mind again. They are both coppers about my age, but other than that, I seriously doubt whether we have anything in common. Anti-corruption are a necessary part of
modern policing, as I know only too well from recent experience, but no copper in their right mind wants to spend time with them. This is probably why Morgan has them sitting outside his office like a couple of naughty schoolboys waiting to see the headmaster.
As I pass, they recognize me immediately and nod politely.
Morgan is waiting at the door and invites me in. He tells them that he won’t keep them long. I wait until the boss has sat down and then I take a seat opposite him.
“I’m sorry to put you to all this trouble, sir.”
“It’s no problem at all, Sean. You were instrumental in putting away some big fish and there were bound to be more questions for you at some stage. Just assure me that there is nothing I should be worried about?”
“One hundred percent, sir. I’ve been completely transparent with you and in all of my interviews about what I know. I really have no idea what this could be about.”
My response seems to satisfy him, and he reaches over the desk and pats my arm.
“Good lad, I never doubted it. Let’s get those two in and get on with this, so we can get back to some real police work.”
Morgan calls his PA to let her know that we are ready and thirty seconds later the two detectives from anti-corruption come in and we stand up to meet them.
“DS McMillan, good to meet you finally. My name is Detective Inspector Tony Robertson, and this is my colleague, DS Chris Marshall.”
I shake both of their hands and then Morgan asks them to sit down.
“I take it, DI Robertson, that there is no objection to me sitting in while you talk to DS McMillan?” Morgan asks.
“Not at all, sir. Out of respect to DS McMillan, this is not currently a formal matter and neither do we expect it to be. There has been an allegation made about his conduct during his time in Meerholt Prison, but we don’t believe it to be credible. I’m not expecting this to take long, sir.”
Morgan looks pleased with the explanation from DI Robertson and indicates for him to carry on.
“That’s good. DS McMillan is a fine police officer and I won’t stand by and let any of those crooked bastards tarnish his hard-earned reputation. Let’s get on with it please, so we can all get back to work.”