Disordered Minds

by Minette Walters

  There is no such excuse for Trent, Hurst, Hopkinson and Burton, whose questioning related only to Cill Trevelyan.

  Bournemouth Evening News, Friday, June 27, 2003

  NEW EVIDENCE IN 33-YEAR-OLD MYSTERIES

  Police announced today that they have reopened the investigation into the disappearance of Priscilla Trevelyan who vanished from her parents' home in Highdown in 1970. "New evidence has come to light," said Deputy Sergeant Wyatt, the officer in charge of the case, "and we now believe Priscilla was murdered."

  No one has been arrested for the crime but three Bournemouth residents who were teenagers in 1970 are thought to be implicated. "We've been given a possible site where Priscilla's body was buried," said DS Wyatt, "and we hope to excavate it within the next few weeks." He refused to say where the site was, although he agreed it was somewhere in the Highdown area.

  Mr. David Trevelyan, father of the missing girl, said, "My wife and I have lived with this tragedy for over 30 years. It will be a relief to have closure at last." He thanked Councillor George Gardener of Highdown for her efforts in bringing the case to public attention. "Without her persistence, Priscilla would have remained a statistic."

  Councillor Gardener came across the story while she was researching a book on Howard Stamp. Stamp was charged with the murder of his grandmother nine days after Priscilla Trevelyan went missing, and the police now believe the two cases may have been linked.

  Councillor Gardener described Stamp's conviction as a terrible miscarriage of justice which couldn't happen with today's DNA testing. "I am optimistic of clearing his name," she said, "even though he isn't alive to see it happen." Tragically, Howard Stamp committed suicide in prison in 1973.

  The police are asking for witnesses from the time to come forward. "We are keen to talk to anyone who was living in Colliton Way during the first half of 1970," said Deputy Sergeant Wyatt. "They may have information that will lead to an arrest.

  From: Dr. Jonathan Hughes [jon.hughes@london.ac.uk]

  Sent: Tues. 7/15/03 19:23

  To: Andrew@spicerandhardy.co.uk

  Subject: George

  Dear A, This is a P.S. to the previous email which I'm not copying to George. The bad news is she's developed secondary cancer of the bone-in the ribs. The good news is it doesn't seem to have spread anywhere else. She's on some hefty hormone therapy and starts a course of radiation next week to deal with the pain. I've invited myself to stay with her for the duration of the summer vacation in order to act as chauffeur and get the book written. She seems happy about it. There shouldn't be a problem with the meeting next week as her radiation appointments are in the mornings, but she'll certainly be tired. She's a remarkable lady, refuses to give in to anything, although I've finally managed to persuade her to take some sick leave from the nursing home. I shall tell her I've told you, but I suggest you don't dwell on the sympathy too much. She's willing to talk about it, but won't tolerate pity!

  Best, Jon

  *27*

  SPICER & HARDY'S OFFICES, WEST LONDON

  WEDNESDAY, JULY 23, 2003, 2:30 P.M.

  Jonathan waited for George to take a seat, then dropped into the spare visitor's chair and surveyed his friend with amusement. "You look like the cat that's got the cream," he said. "Let me guess. You've managed to double the advance?"

  "Bugger off," said Andrew.

  "Don't tease," said George as she settled herself in the other chair.

  Jonathan's eyes gleamed wickedly. "Then it must be the clash of the Titans. Tall, glamorous actor-stud with full head of hair loses out to short, fat, bald bloke with embarrassing parents."

  George wagged a finger at him. "Embarrassing friends more like. I don't recall you rushing to talk about your love life."

  "Mine's nonexistent."

  "That's not what I've heard," said Andrew. "Who's this Mongolian bareback rider that George keeps talking about?"

  "Oh, for goodness sake!" said George crossly. "You're like a couple of children."

  Andrew dropped her a wink. "How's the radiotherapy going?"

  "Fine," she said, "apart from Jon's chauffeuring skills. I'm not at all convinced his license is genuine. We spend most of our time reversing."

  "It's worse than driving Miss Daisy," groaned Jonathan. "Yack, yack, yack from the backseat-and me expected to tug my forelock so the nurses'll treat her like royalty. I wouldn't mind if we weren't using that miserable old rust bucket of hers." He leveled his forefinger at Andrew. "I'm not just the official chauffeur, you know, I'm also the resident gigolo. The neighbors are having a field day."

  George's eyes sparkled. "That's such a lie. He's told everyone he's my son."

  "Except they don't believe it. They're much happier thinking their upright local councillor has moved a black toyboy into her mock-Tudor semi. It's doing her reputation no end of good." He pulled a face, as if living with George had taught him to ape her mannerisms. "It's like sharing a house with a Mexican bean. She gets zapped with X-rays in the morning and bounces around all afternoon. When she's not on the phone, tracking down witnesses, she forces me onto the streets to get a sense of location. It's wearing me out."

  Andrew watched spots of pleased color brighten George's cheeks. "I can't let you do everything," she protested. "I have to earn my fifty percent."

  "Less Andrew's ten," Jonathan reminded her, "which he seems to think he earned by entertaining a mad woman for half an hour ... and swallowing everything she told him hook, line and sinker, not to mention being charmed out of his socks."

  Andrew grinned. "Some of it was true."

  "Such as?"

  "There was blood on Grace's windows by the Tuesday evening."

  "There's only her word for that. Roy Trent denies it."

  "The police believe her. Otherwise he wouldn't have been charged."

  Jonathan bared his teeth. "I'd rather believe Roy. At the moment Louise looks like she's washing her hands of both murders."

  Andrew looked inquiringly at George. "She's squeaky clean," she agreed with a sigh. "All she's admitted to is persuading Grace to unlock her door on Monday, then running away once the boys gained entry. Roy's been under the microscope since they found poor Cill's skeleton with the remains of the balled gag still in her mouth. They're being very cagey about the chances of recovering any DNA off it-probably vanished now-but it supports the version that Louise gave."

  "Then perhaps she's innocent," said Andrew. "It makes sense that she went back to Grace's house on the Tuesday to check that everything was all right ... and only started throwing fits and fainting when she realized it wasn't."

  "It's not credible," said Jonathan irritably. "Why would Roy and his friends want to murder Grace? Even Louise says they were hiding behind the shed-so there's no evidence Grace ever saw them. Louise is the one with the problem, because she took Cill out of the house."

  "I'm playing devil's advocate," said Andrew mildly. ''However much you dislike Louise, you must at least weigh her innocence in the balance. You're the one who'll be complaining when Jeremy Crossley accuses you of 'flawed analysis.' " He tapped his forefingers together. "How does Louise explain it?"

  "By playing the abused-child card. She was a damaged thirteen-year-old with rectal bleeding ... confused about why Cill hadn't returned home ... turned to her only friends, the boys, who told her the police would give them another grilling if they didn't persuade Grace to keep her mouth shut as well. Of course she worried that they'd killed her when she saw the blood on the window ... but then Howard was arrested and she realized they couldn't have done." He arched a sardonic eyebrow. "The DS in charge finds her very convincing."

  "What's Fred Lovatt's view?" Andrew asked George.

  "Deeply skeptical-but he's prejudiced in our favor. Poole police are milking her for all she's worth because it's her testimony that will convict Roy. She's very cunning," George finished with reluctant admiration. "Each new statement gives the police a little more of what they want while Roy's are so full of holes you ca
n drive a coach and horses through them."

  "Mm." Andrew looked from one to the other. "So what's the problem? Why are you here?"

  "We want to name her in the book as the main instigator in the murder of Cill Trevelyan and the only murderer of Grace Jefferies," said Jonathan.

  "Can you prove she murdered Grace?"

  "No. The police have lost or destroyed the physical evidence from Grace's house."

  "Then she'll sue," said Andrew.

  "That's the idea," murmured George. "As things stand at the moment she'll get Colley Hurst's damages, compensation from the state for the abuse she suffered in childhood and a small fortune off the newspapers for selling her story. It's so unjust."

  Andrew shook his head. "And another small fortune off your publisher when she wins. They'll never go for it."

  "Then find us a publisher who will." George urged him. "She might just as well have persuaded Roy to murder Howard as well. The end result was the same." She leaned forward. "Do you know what I find most appalling? The way she uses her father's abuse to excuse all her actions. He was a disgusting man-and I would never condone what he did to her-I even have sympathy for her when I consider her objectively-" she sighed-"but hundreds of children a year are abused by their parents, and they don't become murderers. Look at Roy. He was as damaged as she was, but he's not claiming his father was responsible for what he did to Cill."

  "Are you feeling sorry for him, George?"

  She pulled one of her gargoyle faces. "Yes," she admitted. "Whatever Louise says, I don't think Roy and his friends murdered Grace. Only one person took a bath in Grace's tub that day and only one pair of gloves was recovered. There'll be as gross a miscarriage of justice the second time round as there was with Howard. At least Roy tried to learn from his mistakes. He didn't abandon his son. He honored Robyn's wishes to keep the pub and pass it on to the boy. His garage is a storeroom for Peter's possessions. He gave Louise a home ... gave Colley a home. He's watched over everyone in one way or another. Me, too, when I first got cancer. What he hasn't done is continue to destroy people."

  "And Louise has?"

  "Yes."

  Andrew exchanged a glance with Jonathan, who knew as well as he did that no publisher would countenance a potential libel suit. "What do you think?" he asked his friend.

  "She's guilty as sin," said Jonathan. "Her nature is pathologically jealous and deceitful. She loses her temper at the drop of a hat and provokes fights when it suits her. She's the only one who had anything to lose if Grace spoke to the police about Cill's continued disappearance. She wielded the knife herself and enjoyed watching Grace die. She took a bath afterward and got a buzz from doing it because the last time she was in that room was when Cill was washing hymenal blood off her legs." He shrugged. "The only thing we might be able to prove is a negative: if all she did was gain entry for Roy and his friends, then why did the police find no evidence of them?"

  "What are you waiting for?"

  "Advice," said Jonathan. "Neither of us has yet worked out how to prove a negative."

  *28*

  WINCHESTER PRISON

  TUESDAY, JULY 29, 2003, 3:00 P.M.

  George waited with DS Wyatt in a side room off the entry corridor of Winchester Prison for ten minutes before Roy was brought from the remand wing. The sergeant had been more open to persuasion on this project than George had expected, and she wondered if Fred Lovatt had dropped a word in his ear. Or perhaps Louise's charm was beginning to wear thin. Unable to repress her curiosity indefinitely, she asked him why he'd agreed to do it, and he told her he was beginning to find both her and Dr. Hughes's arguments persuasive. But he warned her that they undermined the case for Howard Stamp's innocence.

  "You'll never persuade a jury that a skinny thirteen-year-old was capable of slashing an adult to death on her own," he said.

  "She had no trouble pinning Roy and Sasha to the floor," George reminded him, "and she isn't much bigger now."

  When Roy finally arrived, he showed immediate antagonism toward George. "What's she doing here?" he demanded, taking a seat on the other side of the table and looking at Wyatt. "I was told it was another police interview."

  The sergeant offered him a cigarette. "I've agreed to let Ms. Gardener ask the questions."

  "What if I refuse to answer them?"

  "I'll put the questions for her. It'll take a lot longer, Roy, but you aren't going anywhere."

  Grudgingly, he accepted a light. "Where's the wog?" he said with a sneer for George. "Why isn't he part of this jolly little party?"

  "Dr. Hughes is waiting outside," she told him. She wasn't surprised Roy was angry, but she did wonder whether he felt the same kinship for her as she did for him. Their friendship had had its lighter moments and there was a sort of recognition in his eyes as if he remembered them. No man was so evil, she thought, that he had no redeeming qualities, and Roy had been kind to her. "He didn't think you'd talk in front of him."

  Roy watched her for a moment. "Too damn right," he said bluntly, "but I'm not going to talk in front of you either, girl, so you've wasted your time coming. I should have given you your marching orders the first time I saw you."

  "Why didn't you?"

  "Because that stupid old fool Jim Longhurst told you I knew Howard, and I thought you'd be suspicious if I didn't show some interest." He propped his elbows on the table and stared belligerently from one to the other.

  "Ms. Gardener's on your side, Roy," said DS Wyatt mildly. "She doesn't believe you killed Grace."

  "More fool her. If it wasn't me and Colley, then it was Howard, and she's been scraping the barrel for years trying to prove that little wanker innocent."

  Wyatt gave a faint smile. "I've explained that to her, but I'm still interested to hear how you respond to her questions. This isn't a formal interview so you aren't obliged to talk to her ... but I suggest you do. You've nothing to lose by it."

  "I've got everything to lose if she twists my words so she and her tame author can claim Howard was innocent."

  "That's why I'm here, to ensure fair play." The sergeant tapped his forefinger on the table. "You're on remand because the magistrates agreed you pose a threat to a witness-Mrs. Fletcher. But that threat only relates to Grace Jefferies's murder."

  "She's lying through her teeth," said Roy angrily. "We never went near Grace's house after the Saturday evening."

  "Then persuade us of that and there's a possibility the remand order will be revoked. We wouldn't have opposed bail on Cill Trevelyan's manslaughter. You've already said you won't contest the charges, and your clean record since 1974 and the fact that you were a juvenile when the crime was committed work in your favor." He paused for emphasis. "But I need something more convincing than denials, and 'she's lying through her teeth,' if you expect a review on the Jefferies' murder."

  Roy stared him down. "If I had anything more convincing, don't you think I'd have told you? How am I supposed to prove the bitch is lying when Micky's dead and Colley can't remember a damn thing? She can say what the hell she likes ... and you'll believe her."

  George leaned forward. "Negatives are such difficult things to prove, Roy. In your favor is the fact that the police found no evidence that there was more than one person in Grace's house when she died. Against you are Louise's testimony that she engineered your access to Grace ... that you had a motive ... and that you'd already committed one murder."

  He refused to look at her, not out of anger or resentment, she decided, but out of shame. "It was an accident," he said. "Mr. Wyatt's accepted we didn't mean to kill her."

  "The end result was the same," said George.

  "I'm not denying that," he said curtly, "which is why I'm holding my hands up to manslaughter."

  "Do you regret it?" she asked.

  Anger sparked in his face again. "Of course I bloody regret it," he snarled. "The poor kid would have lived if she'd listened to her father and steered clear of the likes of us."

  "You were quite happy to s
mear David Trevelyan when Jonathan and I spoke to you," she reminded him. "Why should any of us believe that you aren't doing the same to Louise? Her story holds water. Yours doesn't." She watched his fingers clench involuntarily round his cigarette. "Perhaps whoever killed Grace didn't mean to do it either, but she was still dead by the time they left ... and at the moment you and your friends are the only people apart from Louise and Howard who had any close connection with her."

  He took a breath. "We-never-had-any-connection- with-Grace," he said with painstaking emphasis. "We knew her name from Howard, and we knew where she lived, but the only time we came anywhere close to her was when she shut the door behind Cill on the Saturday night."

  "Then help me prove it," she urged. "If it wasn't you who killed her, who was it?"

  "Howard," he said.

  "What about Colley Hurst or Micky Hopkinson?"

  Roy shook his head. "We were always together. One of us couldn't have done it without the others knowing."

  "Then why is Louise saying you did?"

  He raised impatient eyes to hers. "To get me banged up in here and Colley confined to a loony bin. It's like Mr. Wyatt says, we'd rip her miserable heart out if we had the chance. She only came up with this stuff when I looked like making bail on Cill."

  George pulled a wry expression. "So your only regret is being caught? As long as no one ever found out about Cill, you could pretend to yourself her death was just an unfortunate accident."

  He pressed his thumb and forefinger into the corners of his eyes. "Don't lecture me," he warned her, with a dangerous edge to his voice. "You haven't lived my life. You don't know what I regret and what I don't."

  "Was Grace another unfortunate accident? Did it start as a joke and end up as a murder because Micky pricked her with his knife and she started squealing the way Howard did?" She moistened her mouth in face of his naked anger. "You said it yourself," she went on. "If Howard didn't commit the murder, then it had to be the three of you. You were the only other people with a motive."