Finding Lucy

by Ernesto Lee

  There must be a reason for being here. Because I can’t see anything obvious amongst the shooting party, I figure the reason must be at the house itself. I follow the tree line for as long as I can and when I am far enough away from the shooting party and am confident that they won’t be able to see me, I step out onto the grassland and make my way towards the manor house.

  Within fifty feet of the house, my earlier confusion is fully cleared up when I see Paul’s Lambretta parked on the graveled driveway next to the same Landrover that I had seen the gamekeeper driving. Joanna and Paul are both standing at the top of the stairs. I can’t hear what they are saying, but it is obvious from Joanna’s body language that Paul’s presence here is not welcome.

  I move up closer and duck behind a marble sculpture of a military figure on horseback to the right of the steps. Joanna pushes Paul towards the stairs and demands he leave, but he is having none of it and brushes her hand away.

  “I’m bloody going nowhere until I get the truth about what happened. The coppers think that I’m responsible, but we both know different, don’t we? Either you go to the cops or I will. It’s your choice. What’s it to be?”

  Paul must know of Joanna’s involvement in the disappearance of her sister, and she now looks terrified. She reaches forward and takes Paul’s hand. This time, though, she pulls him towards her and pleads with him not to say anything.

  “You don’t have to do this. If the police really thought that you knew anything or were responsible, they would have arrested you by now. In a few weeks, they will get bored and will close the case. Until then, perhaps we can come to an arrangement.”

  Joanna reaches down to touch Paul’s crotch and he pulls away with a look of disgust on his face.

  “You bloody make me sick, you bitch. Your sister is missing and all you can think of is protecting yourself. It would suit you down to the ground if the cops arrested me. Well, guess what? That’s not going to happen. If you won’t tell them yourself, then I will.”

  Paul is already halfway down the steps when Joanna calls him back.

  “Okay, Paul. I’ll do it. I need to speak to Edward first though. Will you come to his farm to speak to him with me?”

  “Why the hell do I need to speak to Eddie?” Paul replies.

  “Because he is involved in this to. Please, Paul, just do this one last thing for me and then I promise I will tell the police everything.”

  Paul points to the Landrover. “Do you have the keys for that?”

  “I do,” Joanna replies. “It’s probably better, though, if you take your scooter and meet me there. Father will go berserk if he knows that you have been here. Go now and I’ll grab my coat and let Edward know that we are coming. I’ll be right behind you.”

  Paul starts his engine and then warns Joanna that she had better not be messing him around.

  “If you’re not there five minutes after me, then I’m heading straight back to Tyevale to spill the beans.”

  Joanna assures him that she will be there, and he guns his engine and speeds off down the driveway. Once he is out of sight, Joanna goes inside the house and closes the front door. My only hope of staying with them is by hiding in the back of the Landrover, so after checking that the coast is clear, I pull back the canvas flaps and climb in over the tailgate.

  The window at the back of the driver’s cabin is dirty and scratched, but to be safe, and in case Joanna does look back, I press myself as low to the floor as possible. Less than two minutes later, the driver’s side door opens and the engine splutters to life. The gear box squeals as she tries to find first gear. When she does find it, the vehicle lurches forward and I can hear the tires crunching on the gravel as we accelerate down the path and onto the main road.

  After five minutes, I can hear the tick tock of the indicator and we slow down and take a right turn as Joanna steers the vehicle down the track towards Meadow Farm. Rather than risk being found hiding in the back, I wait until she slows down again before, one hundred yards short of the farm, I roll back over the tailgate and duck into some bushes until I am sure Joanna is far enough away.

  As Joanna parks next to Paul’s Lambretta, I crouch down and run as fast as I can to the drystone wall. Paul is as angry as before and is demanding to see Eddie.

  “Where is he? I’ve tried the house, but it’s deserted. If he is not here in five minutes, I’m leaving.”

  “He’s in the forest,” Joanna replies. “Come on, I’ll take you to him.

  “What do you mean he’s in the forest? What’s he doing? Did you call him?”

  “I tried, but there was no answer. Then I remembered that he told me that he would be chopping firewood today. He usually spends the whole day at it, so unless you want to stand here waiting, let’s go and find him.”

  Joanna starts walking towards the tree line, but Paul is hesitant and doesn’t move. Joanna turns back to face him.

  “You do want this over, don’t you?”

  Paul nods and then follows Joanna as she leads him towards the trees. This time and without the benefit of the cover of darkness, I am forced to wait in my hiding place until they enter the woods. Once they are out of sight, I leap over the wall and sprint as fast as I can to catch up with them. Joanna has almost certainly set a trap for Paul and I can’t afford to miss the moment that the trap is sprung. Out of breath and sweating heavily, I reach the tree line and cautiously make my way inside.

  I pick up the sound of Joanna’s and Paul’s voices and, I round a bend in the path just in time to see the back of Paul’s parka as Joanna leads him into the clearing. Crouching down in the same place as before, I can clearly see them both standing next to a pile of freshly cut branches, arranged in the shape of a bonfire. With no sign of Eddie and with no sign of the firewood he was supposed to have been cutting, Paul grabs Joanna by the arm and demands to know what is going on.

  “Enough of your bloody games, where is he? You said he would be here.”

  Until now, I hadn’t seen Eddie either. With his back facing the opposite side of the forest, Paul is completely oblivious to the impending danger as Eddie silently emerges from the edge of the trees clutching a shovel in both hands.

  Still caught in Paul’s grip, Joanna smiles and gestures towards Eddie.

  “He’s right there, Paul.”

  Paul releases his grip on Joanna and swings around to face Eddie. I was expecting Eddie to strike him immediately with the shovel blade, but he hesitates and lowers the shovel.

  Realizing that he has been set up, Paul turns his head and calls Joanna a bitch, but Joanna is looking past him scowling at Eddie and this time there is no hesitation.

  The shovel slams down on Paul’s head with a sickening thump and he drops to the ground like a ragdoll. I can hear his moans and Joanna tells Eddie that he needs to finish the job.

  “You know we can’t let him go, Edward. He knows too much. Finish him, then hurry up and light the fire. I need to get back to Colevale before the Landrover is missed.”

  I know that I can’t intervene, but no matter how many times I witness a violent crime, it never gets any easier to stomach. By the time Paul finally goes silent, the back of his head has been reduced to a bloody pulp and the blade of Eddie’s shovel is slick with bright red blood.

  With the fire blazing away, Eddie lifts the deadweight of Paul’s body and hurls him into the flames. Joanna tells Eddie to burn his own clothes and to get rid of the shovel and then she leaves him to finish his gruesome task.

  I can almost feel some sympathy for Eddie, but I have nothing but scorn for Joanna. When she gets back to Colevale, she will resume her life as easily as if she had just stepped on an ant. She might be a product of the privileged class, but I struggle to believe that any young woman could be so callous and calculating. The death of her sister and one of her friends seems to mean nothing to her and in less than another two years she will instigate the murder of her own mother. And for what? To pay off her father’s debts and to keep the estate with
in the family.

  It really takes a special kind of evil to behave in such a ruthless way. I am looking forward to meeting Eddie tomorrow and to bringing this case to a close, but for now I need to find a way home.

  Eddie has stripped down to his underwear and is staring into the fire watching his clothes burn. For a second it occurs to me to run past Eddie and to throw myself in. I’ve never yet burnt to death to get home and it might almost be worth it to see the look on his face. The potential repercussions, however, would not, and I quickly dismiss the thought. I leave Eddie to his thoughts and make my way back towards the farm.

  Joanna has already left in the Landrover and I consider stealing Eddie’s car. Instead, I turn my attention towards the barn behind the farmhouse. The doors are heavy, and it takes far more effort than I was expecting to pry one of them open far enough for me to get inside.

  The effort is worth it. Although it is starting to get dark, there is still enough light coming in to allow me to see the Aladdin’s cave of tools, chemicals, and farm machinery laid out on shelves and cluttering the floor. Like a kid in a candy store, I don’t know where to start. The options for my demise are endless and with the very real possibility that this case is coming to an end, I want this ending to be something quite spectacular.

  My eyes settle on a steel frame full of propane gas tanks. The frame is rusty, but the propane tanks are shiny and new. One of them has a brass valve attached to the top of the tank. There is a pipe leading off from it and out through a small hole in the side of the barn. I’m no expert on the subject of propane gas, but I do know that it is commonly used for heating in rural homes, so more than likely the pipe is leading off to the farmhouse. I also know that propane burns hotter than home-heating oil or diesel fuel due to its high hydrogen content – ideal for an inferno hotter than the sun.

  I wrench the pipe away from the valve and the air is immediately filled with the hiss and the smell of escaping gas.

  This is not enough, though. With the size of the barn and the barn door open, it is going to take more than just a single leaking propane tank to kill me with any degree of certainty. I hack away with a pickaxe at the sides of the remaining cylinders and as each of them rupture, the air gets thicker and thicker with the smell of leaking liquid propane and escaping gas. I continue to strike the sides of the tanks with the pickaxe, but despite the copious amounts of sparks flying through the air, the gas doesn’t ignite.

  By now, the effects of the gas have caused my heart to race and I am struggling with fatigue. If I don’t do something soon, I will be overcome by the fumes, but I might not die. I struggle towards the barn door and suck in a huge lung full of the crisp evening air.

  My head clear’s immediately and I am just in time to see Eddie rounding the corner of the farmhouse.

  He is still in just his underwear, but he has his shotgun and has obviously been alerted by the sound of the pickaxe striking the gas tanks.

  I duck back inside and drop down behind the tanks. Eddie pulls open the barn door further but immediately shuts it again and backs away when he smells the gas. The answer to my problem is right there in his hands and I have no intention of letting him leave.

  “Where are you going, Eddie?” I shout.

  For a few seconds there is silence and then he responds.

  “Who is in there? How do you know my name?”

  “I’m your worst bloody nightmare, Eddie Wells. I know what you and Joanna have done.”

  I start to choke on the gas and in a last-ditch attempt to provoke a reaction, I hurl a hammer against the door.

  The door slides open just a few inches and by the light of the moon, I can see the barrel of the shotgun poking through and I launch the pickaxe towards the door. It falls short, but whether through fear or intention, Eddie pulls the trigger and the barn explodes in a white-hot ball of flame. My own cries are lost in the roar of the inferno, but as my skin falls from my bones, I swear that I can hear Eddie screaming and can only imagine that some part of the explosion must have caught him.

  Present Day – Saturday, 21st April, 2018

  By 9 am, we are already on the road and heading to Spalding. The meeting with Eddie Wells is not until 1 pm, but Cath has arranged for us to meet with DI Miller this morning at Spalding Central Station to agree on our game plan.

  With no further updates from the search site, Cath had rejoined me at the hotel and over breakfast she had calmly informed me that Miller would be joining us in the interview. I was less than pleased to hear this, but the discovery of the body on Eddie’s land, the death of Father Beale, and the shotgun attack have shifted jurisdiction for these elements of our case in favor of Lincolnshire Constabulary.

  This is a far from ideal situation. Whilst I will still be heading the interview overall, DI Miller will also be playing a leading role. His presence means that I may need to adjust my interview tactics somewhat and I’m annoyed that Cath waited until this morning to tell me about this new development.

  “What time did you speak with Miller last night, Cath? I really wish that you had called me. I could at least have prepared myself.”

  Cath is driving and keeps her focus on the road ahead, but she does raise her eyebrows when she answers.

  “Like I said over breakfast, Sean. It was past three in the morning. There was really nothing you could do at that time. What’s the big issue anyway? Miller seems to be a good guy.”

  “That’s not the point, Cath. I’m sure Miller is a good guy, I just like to be kept informed.”

  “Don’t we all,” Cath mutters under her breath.

  “What was that?” I ask.

  “Nothing,” Cath replies “And sorry – I’ll make sure to keep you fully informed from now on.”

  Before I can say anything else, my phone vibrates in my pocket. It’s DCI Morgan and for him to be calling during the slot normally reserved for his morning briefing it must be something urgent.

  “Good morning, sir. We are on our way to Spalding Central now. Is everything okay?”

  “Yes, everything’s fine, Sean. I’m just calling to ensure that it stays that way.”

  “Sorry, I’m not following you, sir,” I reply.

  “As we expected, Sir David has been making noises about the planned interview with the Wells chap today. The Home Secretary just called me for an update. Obviously, he was surprised to find out that the investigation has moved so quickly in the direction of the immediate family but, based on recent developments, he is supportive of the decision to bring Eddie Wells in. You can go ahead with your interview, lad, but tread carefully. Don’t be at all surprised if they wheel out the big guns to represent Wells.”

  “Thank you, sir. I fully understand.”

  “Good,” Morgan replies. “Any ID on the body yet or any further developments from the search site?”

  “No, nothing yet, sir. I’m hoping to get confirmation on the ID before we start the interview. If it does turn out to be Paul Oliver, it will strengthen our hand due to the connection with the sisters and Eddie Wells himself.”

  “Well, let’s hope you’re right, Sean. Call me later please.”

  With that, Morgan ends the call and I turn to Cath.

  “I guess you heard most of that?”

  “Yes, I did. It shouldn’t change anything, though,” Cath replies, before adding, “As long as we play by the book, boss.”

  I ignore the insinuation and tell Cath to concentrate on the road.

  “We’re nearly there now. You just keep your eyes on the road and make sure not to miss our exit. I’m going to have a flick through the case file and make some notes for the interview.

  I know most of the contents of the file intimately, but with my newly gained knowledge of the deaths of Paul Oliver and Beatrice Partington-Brown, I’m determined to use this to my advantage today. I know how they both died, but I still don’t know why with any degree of certainty. Paul seemed to know that something had happened to Lucy and was therefore killed to silence
him. It might then be safe to assume that Beatrice also somehow found out, but assumption and theory is not enough. I need Eddie to talk.

  I open the file and pull out the sections relating to Paul and Beatrice. Without even having to look at the contents, I realize straightaway that something has changed. Both sections of the file are much heavier than they were before and now contain additional statements and other documents.

  I start with the file on Beatrice Partington-Brown and my heart nearly skips a beat when I check the death certificate. Prior to my witnessing her murder, the cause of death had been recorded as ‘cardiac arrest following a prolonged bout of unexplained illness.’ Now, however, it says ‘Unlawful killing by asphyxiation.’

  There is still no autopsy report, but with two eye-witness statements and another half-dozen witnesses to the suspect fleeing the scene of the crime, it was most likely deemed unnecessary.

  This change to the timeline is no surprise to me of course. I know only two well the risks of dream travel and I smile to myself when I compare the remarkably similar suspect descriptions given by each of the witnesses. It’s evident that Joanna has coerced or coached her domestic staff when describing the suspect, but it’s the other similarity in the statements that is the real master stroke.

  The photo-fit looks remarkably like me, but it also looks remarkably like another well-dressed young man in a suit. Without exception, the witnesses have named Paul Oliver as the man seen fleeing Colevale Manor after the death of Beatrice Partington-Brown. Joanna and Eddie specifically state that they caught him standing over her body with a cushion in his hand and Derek Burgess, the fruit and veg delivery man, states that it was Paul Oliver that attacked him in the ground-floor corridor.

  Just in case the statements were not enough to fully implicate Paul in the murder, the all-too-convenient discovery of a set of keys to a Lambretta scooter under Beatrice’s bed was the final nail in his coffin. The keys were discovered by one of the first police officers on the scene, but it was Joanna that was able to helpfully suggest a name to go with the stylized P & O on the monogrammed leather key fob. No surprises, of course, that they were the same initials as the suspect’s.