“Okay, let’s organise teams to start the ball rolling,” concluded DI McKenzie as he shuffled papers around wishing he could throw them into his done-and-dusted file. He had considered assigning the case to the cold case where it would remain on hold to be re-examined should any further evidence surface.
“We’ll give this a few more weeks and if nothing comes of the current investigation, I’ll make a decision as to whether we go forward or not.”
Reggie Allison, owner of a mini-market in Mile End Road, annoyed that television programmes had been postponed to accommodate yet another political debate, flicked through channels searching for something suitable. He chose to watch a crime alert programme where crimes were re-enacted in an attempt to jog the public’s memory. He was about to flick channels again when a familiar face appeared on a wanted list.
Well then, if it isn’t Barry Jones! I thought I’d heard the last of that rogue. They are calling him Barclay.
Police were asking for information about him. Reggie Allison wasted no time in calling the number on the screen and was immediately connected to a member of the squad currently investigating Barclay Jones and Alfred Wysoki.
“I’m not sure if I can help, Officer, but about a year ago, maybe more, I thought I saw him and another man, the one on the poster with him, in a bar near my home here in the East End. I thought I was imagining things as the guy looked right through me, no recognition at all; mind you, it’s a long time since he’s seen me and I have changed a tad, you know the thing, middle-age weight gain and hair loss,” chuckled the shop owner. “As I was saying, he didn’t know me and then I doubted my own judgement. He looked too posh to be Barry Jones; that’s his name by the way, Barry, not Barclay. I never gave it another thought until tonight’s programme.”
The information was passed to a senior officer and before he could draw breath, Reggie Allison was invited to attend for a further chat. Looking through an album of photographs of known criminals, he identified Barry Jones.
“That’s a good picture of him, just as I recall him in his younger days and, yes, I’m positive he was in the bar on Morgan Street last year.” Reggie confirmed the identity when shown the criminals’ up-to-date passports. “Yes, that’s Barry Jones and that’s the other man in the bar. I’ll never forget that creep or forgive him for what he did to Peggy.”
“Peggy?” inquired the alert detective. “Tell me about her.”
“It’s over ten years now since it happened but it stays in my mind. Peggy Bryson worked in my mini-market. It was a Monday. I remember it well. I always went to the bank and the warehouse on Mondays. A young girl, Michelle, came in on Mondays to give Peggy a hand, but on that particular day she called in sick. Peggy wouldn’t hear tell of me staying on, ‘you go about things, Mr. Allison, I’ll manage fine here,’ she told me. I was back after about two hours and found the shop locked, lights blazing and no sign of Peggy. I got in via the back door and found poor Peggy slumped on a chair in a real bad way. I called for an ambulance and police, then I noticed the till drawer lying open and empty. Peggy had been attacked and suffered a massive stroke. It was touch and go for her.
“Police found the culprit, Barry Jones, a bit battered and bruised as Peggy’s lads had found him first, although that was never mentioned in court. That was an open secret around these parts. He was jailed for the assault and was never seen in the estate after his release from prison. Talk was that he had fled to America. Even his poor old mum didn’t know where he was. We all knew she secretly feared him and was probably glad to be rid of him. She died about five years ago. As for Peggy, she’s in a care home. It’s a posh, private care home, excellent place, ‘GWR’ in Great West Road. I pay for her stay there; it’s the least I could do for the lady. I used to visit, but sadly she developed dementia and doesn’t know me any more, so I stopped visiting. Her sons keep in touch with me from time to time. I often wonder if things would have been different if Michelle had turned up for work that day, but I don’t dwell on it; it could have been worse. Mind you, would that creep have backed off when he saw two women? Michelle’s a big lass and can hold her own; you don’t mess with her, that’s why I was always glad when she was there with Peggy. Barry Jones was a bully to attack an elderly person like that.”
Reggie’s information was a breakthrough for detectives in providing background for the deceased Londoner.
***
After weeks of investigative research into the likelihood that the two American tourists had taken a trip to Scotland, and with no evidence forthcoming, DI McKenzie allocated the case to the cold case department to be resurrected when and if new evidence came to light. His associates in Chicago had put the case on hold at their end to await new evidence regarding how the victims had arrived in Scotland, since nothing new had come from the visit to Scotland. DI McKenzie talked to Harvey and briefed him on the decision.
“We won’t give up, but we have to scale back the investigation for the moment. We have about 100 of these unsolved cases here in Scotland at the present time. This case has used up a hell of a lot of our budget and the big chief is bending my ear to either solve it or assign to the cold case department until further evidence is forthcoming, so that’s what we’ve done.”
“Same here, Rab. We can’t give up on this but at the moment we’re up against a brick wall. We have interviewed everyone involved in the four-year-old tragedy of young Lucy, looked at possible revenge links, but cannot find the perpetrators of your Scottish crimes. I hate to be beaten. Someone, somewhere wanted rid of those guys, but I’m damned if I know who loathed them so much as to give them such a gruesome end. I won’t rest until we have answers. People aren’t forthcoming in helping.”
“It’s endemic here Rab, folks just don’t want to give us information for fear of reprisals or to spite us or something. We sure ain’t the most loved of folks, that’s the bottom line, until, that is, they need us, and then they come hollering and expect us to jump when they snap their fingers. But, hey, we can take it on the chin.”
Harvey shared how one of his task team, set up during the enquiries into Lucy Mears’ disappearance, had undercover cops mingling with customers in a bar, and had a successful result.
“It led us to the rogue money-lenders and eventually to the whereabouts of the kid, although, as you know, we were too late to save her. It takes the right kind of cops to carry it off, but it worked for us. It gave us a lead to the kid’s abductors.”
“Aye, we do that kind of thing here too. I’ll run it past the squad and see what we come up with. If only people would talk to the police, someone must have seen your two guys around the area of their hotels. I’ll speak to my top man and see if he agrees to offer a reward for information. Money talks, so they say, although I can’t see him jumping for joy if I ask for even more funding.”
CHAPTER 26
I don’t recognise that person. Why is she in my bedroom? Who are you? I want to shout but the words seem to stick in my mouth and I can’t find my teeth. I’m sure I put them in the dish like I always do. The lady in my room seems nice; she’s speaking to me as if she knows me. ‘Don’t worry Peggy, we’ll find your teeth’, she says to me. So my name must be Peggy… yes, that’s it, Peggy, Peggy Bryson. I remember now. It wasn’t always Peggy Bryson; it was Peggy Symmons before I married my Jimmy. Where is Jimmy? I haven’t seen him in ever such a long time. I’d ask that nice lady who’s helping me look for my teeth, but the words are stuck. They are there somewhere in my head so why won’t they come out? I’m sure the nice lady will know where Jimmy is.
Peggy Bryson had over some years developed dementia. Her older sons, Alex and Joe, accepted the deterioration in their mother’s condition with sadness. Bobby, however, dependant on his mother’s emotional support all his life, could not come to terms with the fact that the woman he visited daily was not the same mother he knew. His brothers attempted to explain the symptoms
of dementia to him, but he was in denial.
“Bobby, the stroke she had all those years ago caused a bit of brain damage. She is very confused and can’t remember things from one minute to the next. It’s irreversible, we have to accept she’s lost to us as our mum, but we still need to be here for her. The staff are good. This is a top-class care home and she is settled. Look at all the activities she’s involved in; she loves the singing group who call over each week and the dance parties they have and the day trips. We need to be strong when we visit and make sure we don’t upset her. The doctor has told us there might come a time when she no longer recognises us.”
Since the disposal of Barry Jones and his friend in the pit shafts, Bobby had recurring nightmares. With each passing day he wanted to unburden his guilt to the only person he felt understood him. On a visit to his mother on one of Peggy’s better, more lucid moments, she asked:
“Where’s Alex? Why isn’t he here with you?”
“Mum, Alex is married. He lives in Scotland now with his wife Alice.”
“Alex, married? Who is Alice? Why was I not invited to the wedding?”
“Mum, you were there. Remember you got a lovely blue dress for the wedding?”
As he spoke, Peggy nodded off and woke with a start.
“Where’s Alex?”
“Mum, I’ve just told you. He lives in Scotland now.”
Peggy looked at the stranger in front of her, a glazed look in her eyes as she rubbed her palms together on her pretty frock. Who is that sad young man in my room? I’ll ask him why he is so sad. He looks familiar, but why is he crying?
Peggy lifted her head up a little and asked, “Where’s Alex?”
The conversation was repeated ad nauseam to the point that Bobby could no longer cope. He cried as he looked at his vacant-looking mother and could not accept her deterioration. In his distress, and needing to unburden his soul, he blurted out about the killing of Barry Jones and his mate, telling of the disposal of the bodies in the pit shafts. He did not stop until every detail of the macabre deed was offloaded to the poor woman, who smiled, nodded her head and fell asleep. Bobby left the place in tears. A staff member, seeing the distraught man, did not approach him but thought to herself, poor man, he finds it so hard to accept his mother’s condition. Bobby did not tell his brothers about his exposé.
On Joe’s next visit, his mother asked: “Where’s Barry Jones? Why was I not invited to his wedding? I have a lovely blue dress. I think Jimmy was here. He looked sad. Do you know where Jimmy is?”
Joe panicked at the mention of the name Barry Jones, and realised that his feeble brother had broken his resolve to keep quiet about their crime. He tried to hold his mother’s hand, but she clenched her fists and pulled away.
“Mum, it’s me, Joe. You remember me, don’t you?”
What have you done, Bobby? he thought as he sat with his head in his hands as if all the troubles of the world had suddenly fallen on his broad shoulders. Peggy had fallen asleep.
Senior Nurse Lydia waited in her office with the door ajar so that she could spot Peggy’s son before he left the building. This is going to be difficult, but it has to be.
Sensing there was no reason to wait any longer, Joe headed for the front door, only to be called into the office by Lydia. Staff were on good terms with Peggy’s sons and admired their faithful visits and concern for their mother.
Joe, feeling stressed and angry, experienced more of the same when Lydia reported how Mrs. Bryson’s condition was deteriorating rapidly to the point that she was disturbing other patients with her constant calling out and wandering into other residents’ rooms, demanding they leave what she thinks is her front room.
“She shouts out about Alex being in a hole in the ground and is extremely upset and disturbed. She needs to see all her sons to be reassured of their safety. And who is Barry? Is he a relative? She wants to go to his wedding. She was very upset and became even more confused after Bobby’s last visit. I don’t know what transpired, but the poor man left in tears. We are all quite concerned for her.”
Sensing Joe’s anxiety, but knowing she had to be open about his mother’s situation, she continued as gently as she could.
“I know this is not what you want to hear but I have to be honest with you. Peggy is becoming more and more confused and frustrated and I’m afraid, quite aggressive. Aggressiveness is part of her condition but she is unaware of it and can’t control it. We find her wandering aimlessly, crying out all the time and sitting in other residents’ rooms. It upsets them. Doctor Wallace has given her a strong sedative which calms her down for a time, but I’m afraid we might have to consider a more specialised establishment. She needs more nursing care than we can offer here. Also, part of her illness is loss of taste for food, and food Peggy once loved is left untouched. She won’t let any of us help feed her and I’m afraid she tosses her food at other residents. We’re concerned about her weight loss.
“I think you need to talk this over with your brothers. In the end we want what is best for Peggy. The doctor will speak to a specialist in charge of the elderly in the local hospital and we may have to consider a move there. I understand your anxiety, but if we leave things any longer she could become a danger to herself and to the other patients. Already she has poured tea over one of the kitchen staff. I know this is upsetting, Joe.”
Joe held back tears of frustration and anger as he quietly left the premises, frustration at his lack of control over his mother’s mental state and anger at the foolishness of his brother. He returned home, emotionally exhausted. He berated his younger brother for his foolhardiness and related what had been said to him by Lydia.
“Due to your stupidity, Bobby, Mum might have to be moved to a more secure place. GWR has been her home now for years and we will have to uproot her. You bloody idiot! She will hate being in hospital in a ward full of other people when she’s been used to her own room and privacy. The staff here are so good with her. She loves the activities, the singing group, the crafts, and the different events, all that will be lost to her if she is moved. GWR has been her security since her stroke, it’s her home, and look what you’ve gone and done.”
“I can’t cope, Joe. It’s doing my head in. I can’t sleep and every time I close my eyes I see those guys in the shafts. Why did we have to do that?”
“Yeah, so you’ve forgotten that when Barry Jones attacked mum her whole life was changed? She lost out on the good life that she had with us. If you go about spouting forth and blubbering, Alex and I will give you something to have nightmares about.”
Joe left the room in anger. It took all of his willpower not to strike out at his brother. In frustration, he left home to drown his sorrows at the local pub where he called Alex to update him on events.
“Calm down, Joe. Take it easy, right, tell me from the beginning.”
“I’m worried now about Bobby’s mental health as well as worrying about mum. Wish you lived nearer, Alex. I feel it’s all fallen on my shoulders.”
Joe sobbed as the effects of his drinking loosened his emotions and he unburdened his fears to his elder brother.
“I can’t reason with him, Alex. He can’t take in the fact that mum’s health is deteriorating and that she’s not going to get better.”
Bobby’s stress levels by now had affected his mental well-being. The young Bobby had always suffered from low self-esteem and anxiety. His saving grace as he grew up was the security of knowing his brothers would protect him from being bullied. He attempted to emulate their toughness and bravado, but was not comfortable in doing so. He was basically a gentle person who avoided confrontation at all costs. Now, his sleep was disturbed by the recurring nightmares, as Joe who slept in the next room was well aware. His brothers realised he needed professional help, but knew that to go down the route of counselling would lead Bobby to unburden his gui
lt to a stranger and inevitably involve them in unwanted police enquiries.
Joe continued, “I can’t risk him going to see the GP. I just know he will break down and tell the doctor what we’ve done, especially if it’s Doc Chambers who always asks after Mum. It would be the finish of us.”
Things came to a head after a recommendation was made by the medical doctor to move Peggy Bryson from her privately run care home to a state hospital. Joe visited it as suggested and was appalled at the crowded conditions that his mother would have to live in compared to her present situation. He told his older brother how he met some kind staff but how exhausted they looked.
‘There just aren’t enough of us,’ he was told. ‘We do our best but the old folks need more time than we are allowed to give them. It’s rush, rush, rush. We’ll take care of your mother sir, but without more hands on deck, she won’t get the same amount of care as Great West gave her. Sorry, but that’s the way of it here. We need more funding but the likelihood of that coming our way is practically nil.’
He and Alex decided that something had to be done. For the time being, the youngest sibling had to be kept away from their mother.
“We need to come up with a plan for them both before next month when Mum is due to move.”
CHAPTER 27
At Great West Road Care Home, a Yamaha V-Star Cruiser glided carefully into a space used regularly by the rider. Skillfully controlled, it gleamed like a mirror reflecting the helmet-clad owner’s love for the vehicle. A man tending a flowerbed stopped his work to admire both machine and rider.
“Morning Sam and how’s your baby today?”
Patting the motorcycle affectionately, the rider dismounted like a proud jockey after a successful race.
“Baby’s fine, Liam, runs like a dream after the garage sorted the sluggishness. I can’t wait to finish today and take her for a spin. Am I still okay to park here? Won’t be in your way, will I?”
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