Finding Lucy

by Ernesto Lee

  Inadvertently then, my trip back to the past has given Joanna and Eddie a convenient scapegoat in the form of Paul Oliver. The new round of investigation notes all now name him as the prime suspect in both the murder of Beatrice and in the murder/disappearance of Lucy. That’s a pretty good result for Joanna and Eddie when you consider that Paul had been rotting in the ground for at least eighteen months before the death of Beatrice.

  Thinking back to our last case, I assume that Cath must already know all of this. When changes to the past impact the present, it only seems to be me that is unaffected by those changes. For everybody else, there are no changes.

  I’m about to ask Cath a question to test out my theory when her phone rings and she answers using the hands-free car speaker.

  “Good morning, DC Swain speaking.”

  “DC Swain, good morning. This is Detective Inspector Miller, are you on your way to Spalding?”

  Cath confirms that we are and then asks if there has been any progress in identifying the body found yesterday.

  “Yes, there has,” Miller replies. “Is DS McMillan with you?”

  I answer to confirm that I am, and Miller tells me that I was right.

  “It’s your boy alright, McMillan. The height, approximate age, and approximate date of burial all point to Paul Oliver, but the dental records confirm it one hundred percent Just to be sure we had two medical examiners on site, and both are ninety-nine percent certain. Luckily for us, he must have had some quite extensive dental work done. There’s no doubt it is him.”

  This is great news and now gives us something concrete to focus on when we interview Eddie. We are just a few miles away from Spalding now and I thank Miller and end the call. Cath smiles and congratulates me.

  “You might be a pain in the ass at times, Sean, but your instincts are uncanny. That whole looking into the land registry thing and then searching the last parcel of Eddie’s land was genius. It would never have crossed my mind to even think of checking the land ownership. All the BS that Eddie and Joanna gave us about Paul being responsible for the disappearance of Lucy and the death of her mother means nothing now. If it was him, what the hell was he doing burnt and buried on Eddie’s land? I’m looking forward to this interview.”

  I nod my agreement and return the documents to the file. Cath has just confirmed what I was wondering about. Our initial conversation with Eddie and Joanna has changed completely and I am mindful now that I need to be careful not to slip up during the interview.

  We arrive at Spalding Central Police Station and are met at reception by DI Miller. After a few minutes of small talk, Miller leads us to one of the interview rooms and we prepare for the arrival of Eddie Wells. My earlier intention had been to start right at the very beginning with the disappearance of Lucy, but with the positive ID on Eddie Wells, this now seems to be the logical starting point for the questioning. I lay out my plan to Miller and to Cath and, apart from a few minor questions, my plan is accepted.

  I will introduce and set the scene for the interview and then DI Miller will take over and question Eddie about the discovery of Paul Oliver’s body on his land. The plan then is to progress through questioning him about the murder of Father Beale, the attempted murder of myself, and the disappearance of Lucy.

  Given the newly found significance of the historic statements implicating Paul in the murder of Beatrice and the disappearance of Lucy, both Cath and I will bounce off each other with the good cop, bad cop routine dependent on any responses given by Eddie to Miller or me. With luck, by the end of the day, we will have Eddie backed so far into a corner that he won’t have any other option other than to spill his guts. The real prize, though, will be if Eddie implicates Joanna ‘the bitch queen of Colevale Manor.’

  We finish our discussion and then Miller shows us to the station canteen to grab lunch. He leaves us to attend to another matter and at just after 1 pm he calls to let me know that Eddie has arrived.

  “It’s on, McMillan. Bring your A game. They have a big shot London lawyer with them. I’ve put them into interview room number three.”

  On the way there, Cath reminds me again to be careful during the interview.

  “On Thursday when we found him alone at home, you thought that he might be suffering from some kind of mental illness or dementia. If he is, then anything that we get from him would be inadmissible as evidence.”

  “Yep, I’ve been thinking about that, Cath,” I reply. “I think if he was suffering from any diagnosed illness, then he wouldn’t be here today. Any big shot London lawyer worth his salt would have already filed an objection and we would be back to square one.”

  “Okay, maybe you’re right,” Cath says. “But go easy anyway, boss. Don’t give the big shot any ammunition to shoot us down with.”

  I promise to behave.

  We arrive outside the interview room just in time to see Joanna wheeling out Sir David in his wheelchair. Neither of them says anything to us, but if looks could kill we would both be dead right now.

  Sir David is impassive, but Joanna has a look of absolute disgust on her face. She takes a seat on a bench opposite the meeting room and pulls her father to the side of her to adjust a blanket around his shoulders.

  I think for a second to say hello, but then think better of it and go inside. Eddie Wells is sitting next to an immaculately turned out gentleman with thinning gray hair. The first thing that I notice, though, is the faded burn scar on the right-hand side of Eddie’s face and a small patch completely devoid of hair above his right ear.

  My suspicion that Eddie was caught in the barn explosion seems to have been right. Catherine doesn’t bat an eyelid though. So, as I thought, the timeline has only changed for me. For Catherine, Eddie has always had the burn scars.

  DI Miller is sitting on the opposite side of the table and he stands up to introduce us to Eddie’s legal counsel.

  “DS McMillan, DC Swain, this is the Honorable Jeffrey Morris QC.”

  When DCI Morgan had warned me this morning that the PBs would be wheeling out the big guns, he really wasn’t joking. The Honorable Jeffrey Morris QC is about as big as they come. If he was an actual gun, he would be a bloody howitzer. You don’t get to be a partner in one of the UK’s most reputable law firms and a Queen’s Counsel without being a formidable an eminent lawyer.

  Whilst the title of QC is purely honorific, the very fact that it has been bestowed by the reigning monarch means that it carries a lot of weight. Morris knows exactly the weight it carries and as we take our seats, he is sizing us up in readiness for his opening statement. With everyone seated and without waiting for an invitation he makes his opening play.

  “Detective Sergeant McMillan, I would like to commend you for your work on the Network case. That really was an excellent piece of police work.

  “You are clearly a very talented detective, but I do feel compelled to warn you that my client is seventy-two years old and has never had so much as a parking ticket in his life. The work of the Cold Case Squad is no doubt important and I know that under the leadership of Detective Chief Inspector Morgan it has had some considerable success in the last few years, but to suggest that my client had anything to do with the disappearance of his wife’s sister forty-six years ago is quite absurd and I will be using all the tools at my disposal to bring this circus to an end.”

  Wow, that I was not expecting. They seem to be rattled already and I am wondering now if they know that we have found a body on Eddie’s land. It certainly seems that way. Cath suggests that we start the interview, but I’m not ready yet.

  “Thank you, Mr. Morris. Your point is well noted. Just for clarity, though, I would like to remind you that this case was reopened at the request of your client’s father-in-law, Sir David Partington-Brown. As part of our investigation it has been necessary to speak to your client, his wife, and his father-in-law. I hardly think that this constitutes harassment.”

  “Maybe not,” Morris replies. “But entering their property witho
ut permission and dragging my client here today without presenting any evidence or just cause in advance certainly is, Sergeant. I hope for your sake that you aren’t wasting all of our time on a fishing expedition.”

  “I can assure you that this is no fishing expedition. By the end of this interview you will have all the just cause that you need. Shall we proceed?”

  Morris makes a note of the time in his legal pad and nods. Catherine starts the tape and begins with the opening formalities.

  “This interview is being recorded. For the benefit of the tape, the time now is 1:12 pm and the date is Saturday April 21st, 2018. Present in the room are Detective Constable Catherine Swain, Detective Sergeant Sean McMillan, Detective Inspector Patrick Miller, Mr. Edward Wells, and Mr. Wells’ legal counsel, the Honorable Jeffrey Morris QC.

  “Mr. Wells, you are not currently under arrest, but I must caution you that anything you say during this interview may be used in evidence against you. Do you understand?”

  Eddie is smartly dressed in a thick woolen suit, waistcoat and tie. As on every other occasion I’ve seen him, he is sweating heavily, and his face is flushed.

  Cath repeats the question and Eddie confirms that he understands.

  “Thank you,” Cath replies.

  I know my notes like the back of my hand, but I shuffle through them anyway until there is an uncomfortable silence. Annoyed at the unnecessary delay, Morris clears his throat in a display of irritation, and I start.

  “Mr. Wells, as you are already aware, my colleague Detective Constable Swain and I are currently assigned to investigate the disappearance of your wife’s sister, Ms. Lucy Partington-Brown. We do need to ask you some further questions regarding what you may know about this subject, but before we do, my colleague Detective Inspector Miller would now like to ask you some questions in relation to a young man that went missing shortly after the disappearance of Lucy Partington-Brown.”

  Morris is about to interrupt, but he stops when Miller turns over a photograph and pushes it across the table to Eddie.

  “Do you know who this is, Mr. Wells?” Miller asks.

  Eddie is hesitant and now his hands are trembling. DI Miller tells him to think carefully and then holds up the photograph for Eddie to take.

  “Go on, take a close look. This is Paul Oliver, isn’t it, Mr. Wells?”

  Eddie nods and Catherine asks him to confirm verbally for the tape.

  “Yes, it’s Paul Oliver,” Eddie replies.

  “You made a number of statements in 1972 implicating Paul Oliver in the disappearance of Lucy Partington-Brown and in the murder of your wife’s mother, Beatrice Partington-Brown. Do you remember making those statements, Mr. Wells?”

  Eddie looks to his counsel for guidance and Morris asks him to wait before replying.

  “DI Miller, may I ask where you are leading with this line of questioning? The statements made by my client in 1972 were corroborated by his wife and, in the case of Beatrice Partington-Brown, by multiple other eye witnesses, as I am sure you well know.”

  “Yes, I’m well aware of that, Mr. Morris. Recent developments, though, have cast doubt over the legitimacy of those statements.”

  “You’re not a member of the Cold Case Squad, are you, DI Miller? What then is the interest of Lincolnshire CID in this investigation? I assume that some aspect of this case has invoked local jurisdiction?”

  Jeffrey Morris is as sharp as they come and within minutes he has already picked up on the fact that DI Miller is leading this aspect of the questioning and not me. Miller had been hoping not to play his hand too early, but now he has no option.

  “In March of 1972, your client along with his then girlfriend, Joanna Partington-Brown, gave statements to say that the last time they saw Lucy Partington-Brown was at around 11 pm on the night of March 14th, 1972. They both stated that she had left with the O’Hanlon brothers, the owners of the O’Hanlon Brothers Carnival. Joanna Partington-Brown made a slight revision to her statement shortly after to intimate that Paul might have run away with Lucy and then on April 2nd, 1972, both your client and his wife made a significant revision to their statements. Do you remember what that revision was, Mr. Wells?”

  Morris stops Eddie from replying again.

  “Di Miller, you haven’t answered my question. Is there some aspect of this case that has invoked local jurisdiction?”

  “If you allow me to continue, Mr. Morris, I am getting to that.”

  Morris looks indignant and makes another note in his pad.

  “Yes, well, let’s proceed and get to the point please, Inspector Miller.”

  Morris indicates that Eddie can answer the question and Miller repeats the last question.

  “Mr. Wells, do you remember the revision that you made to your original statement?”

  “Yes, I do,” Edward replies.

  “And what was that?” Miller asks.

  Eddie’s voice is trembling badly as he replies and sweat has now left a sodden ring around the top of his shirt collar. His once flushed face is now pale.

  “We made a mistake. I mean, I made a mistake. Originally, I thought I had seen Lucy leaving with Tighe and Jed O’Hanlon, but I was wrong. She left with Paul Oliver.”

  I deliberately and suddenly shuffle my chair forward and scrape it on the tiled floor to get Eddie’s attention.

  “That’s not true, though, is it, Mr. Wells? That’s a story that was cooked up by your wife, wasn’t it?”

  My sudden interruption has shocked Eddie and Morris is quick to object.

  “DS McMillan, your tone and your accusation are completely inappropriate.”

  In line with our game plan, Miller pulls me back and apologizes to Morris and Eddie. Morris continues to scribble in his pad and Miller continues the questioning.

  “What my colleague meant to say, Mr. Morris, was that it’s a striking coincidence that your client and his now wife both changed their statements to implicate Paul Oliver in the disappearance of Lucy on the very same day that they gave statements to say that they witnessed Paul Oliver murdering Beatrice Partington-Brown. That’s all a bit convenient, don’t you think?”

  “Convenient or not, do you have any actual evidence to suggest that my client lied when giving his statements, DI Miller?” Morris responds. “I really must insist that you get to the point and elaborate on the just cause for questioning my client in such a way more than forty-five years after the events that you are referring to. If you don’t have just cause and this is just a fishing expedition, as I first thought, then I must further insist that you allow my client to leave immediately and refrain from any further unwarranted harassment.”

  Morris makes a show of closing his notebook and readying himself to leave, but he stops in his tracks when Miller pushes another photograph across the table and flips it over for Eddie and Morris to see. The first photograph of Paul Oliver was the creased and stained one from the case file, but this one is crisp and new. Morris looks perplexed, but Eddie knows exactly what he is looking at and his complexion grows progressively whiter as he stares at the charred bones of Paul Oliver.

  Morris pushes the photograph back across the table and then hands a glass of water to Eddie.

  “DI Miller, may I remind you again that my client is seventy-two years old and in poor health? These kind of shock tactics will not be accepted. Do I make myself clear?”

  Miller ignores the rant from Morgan and indicates for me to take over, which invokes a further protest from Morris.

  “Gentlemen, these tactics are reprehensible. My client is an old ma...”

  “Old man or not, your client is a liar,” I interrupt. I push the photograph back across the table and tell Eddie to look down at it. “You know who that is, don’t you, Mr. Wells?”

  He looks towards his counsel and Morris whispers in his ear.

  “I don’t know who it is,” Eddie replies. “Why are you showing that to me? I don’t know anything about it.”

  “You’re lying, Mr. Wells,”
I insist. “You know exactly who it is, don’t you? Look again!”

  Eddie keeps his eyes firmly focused ahead and then blurts out, “I don’t know who she is. Take it away please.”

  We all immediately realize the significance of what he has just said, and Morris’ face turns nearly as white as Eddie’s.

  “What was that you said, Mr. Wells?” I snap. “Why did you say, you don’t know who she is? I didn’t say this was a female. Why did you say ‘she’, Mr. Wells?”

  “My client was mistaken, Sergeant. It was a turn of phrase, nothing else,” Morris insists. “Move on please.”

  Morris knows that he is clutching at straws, but for now I let Eddie’s slip of the tongue pass and I bank it for later use.

  “Thank you, Mr. Morris, your point is duly noted.”

  I turn my attention back to Eddie. To allow him to compose himself slightly, I pull the photograph away and turn it over.

  “Mr. Wells, I asked you if you knew who it was in the photograph. This is your chance to be honest with us. Are you sure that you don’t know who it is?”

  “I already told you I don’t know who it is,” he replies.

  “Okay, Mr. Wells. That’s fine. Let me ask you a different question. Where do you think this body was found?”

  “DI McMillan, how on earth would my client know the answer to that question?” Morris answers.

  I flip over the photograph again and throw it across the table.

  “Because the remains that you are looking at were found yesterday evening on a parcel of land belonging to your client and they were positively identified this morning as Paul Oliver. That’s why your client might know the answer and he had better start talking or things are going to go very badly for him.”

  Eddie is trembling so badly that I can feel the table shaking every time his legs or arms touch it and Jeffrey Morris looks momentarily lost for words. Determined to press my advantage, I take another two photographs from the file and hold them up for Eddie to see.