Bright Young Things Read online

  Late the year before Melissa had been kidnapped and held by a man who wanted revenge against Henry and who had been quite prepared to kill the child. This had also led to Henry’s injury.

  ‘She’s recovering,’ Cynthia told him. ‘We still have bad nights from time to time and there are some days when she just wants to cry, and so I let her, but she will recover, Mickey. We all will.’

  Mickey nodded. Biddy arrived with tea and cake and small sandwiches. ‘Cook says she knows it’s a while until dinner, ma’am, so she thought Sergeant Hitchens might be hungry.’

  ‘Tell Cook thank you. That was a good thought,’ Cynthia said.

  Henry watched as Biddy nodded happily and went out, closing the door softly behind her. ‘It seems my entire household has missed you, Mickey Hitchens,’ Cynthia said. ‘And I for one am glad you’re here. I’m only sorry that it is because some young woman has lost her life. Henry has to get back on the wagon at some time and even though he feels he’s not ready, I know that he is.’

  ‘Henry can speak for himself, you know,’ Henry said. ‘And it is good to see you.’

  He watched as Mickey filled his plate with sandwiches and cake and Cynthia set his tea on the small occasional table beside the wingback chair. The big overcoat had been taken away and Henry could now see that Mickey was sporting a rather snazzy waistcoat. This had definitely not been bought second-hand and was a deep red. He wondered if it had been a Christmas present from Belle. A watch chain hung from a buttonhole and Henry could just glimpse the top of Mickey’s old brass watch peeking out of the waistcoat pocket. It was about time it had a better home, Henry thought, battered though it was and rubbed smooth by years of handling and a life in Mickey’s jacket. It had belonged to Mickey’s father and had travelled all the way through the First World War, been loved all the years after.

  ‘Do we know who she is?’ Henry asked.

  Mickey finished a sandwich before replying and then said, ‘Ah now, that is where the strangeness lies.’ He reached for the murder bag, opened it and took a Manila envelope from inside, handed it to Henry. Then he turned to Cynthia and said, ‘I suspect you might know the young woman found on the beach. You and she probably moved in the same circles from time to time. I would not want to upset you, my dear.’

  As Henry knew she would, Cynthia came over to sit by him on the small sofa, so she could see the photographs. They had presumably been taken at the funeral directors, the dark panelling and heavy furniture an odd contrast to the woman’s body laid out on a table, plain white sheets or perhaps even a tablecloth beneath her.

  ‘There was no chance to take photographs on the beach because of the tide, but fortunately Mr Jamieson, the undertaker, had the presence of mind to take some pictures before she was taken away to the mortuary. He also had the presence of mind to record certain features of the body which seemed peculiar, such as the bag tied to her hand.’

  Henry was suddenly aware that Mickey was regarding Cynthia closely and that Cynthia had gasped and was now holding a hand over her mouth as though in shock. ‘You do know her?’ he asked.

  ‘I do, but it isn’t possible – I went to her memorial service last year. Her name, is, was … Mickey, it’s the same girl but surely that isn’t possible. This looks like Faun Moran. But she was killed in a car crash. I saw where she had been interred.’

  Mickey shook his head. ‘You saw someone buried; it certainly wasn’t the unfortunate Miss Moran. Identification in her evening bag indicated that this was indeed Faun Moran and of course the initial reaction was simply that this girl had that young lady’s possessions. But the photographs were sent to Central Office, and we compared the face with those images we had on record and the faces certainly matched. We had fingerprints taken and sent to us and they too matched.’

  ‘Why would her fingerprints be on file?’ Henry asked.

  ‘Faun was something of a wild child.’ It was Cynthia who replied. ‘I believe she was arrested for shoplifting. It was a stupid, wilful thing to do. She had money to pay but it seems she saw stealing as something of an adventure.’

  ‘One of the bright young things who see themselves above the law,’ Mickey said, ‘or so I’ve been told.’ He looked at Cynthia for confirmation or denial and she nodded.

  ‘Faun was not wicked but she was thoughtless and restless and always chafing against what she saw as restrictions. But Mickey, how could she have been found on the beach? Who did I see buried?’

  ‘That, my dear, is our mystery to solve.’

  Henry flicked through the photographs. He could see no obvious marks on the body but the head was at a curious angle, the neck hidden by a scarf. ‘Was her neck broken?’

  ‘It was; death would have been instantaneous. There were no other injuries on the body.’

  Henry paused at a photograph which showed her hand and arm and the bag tied to the wrist. It was impossible to make out what kind of string had been used from the photograph; it looked like ordinary twine, heavier perhaps than might be used to tie a parcel. He looked back at the other photographs. The scarf still in place around the girl’s neck, the ornate headband tied around her hair and held in place by the little clip above her ear.

  It was Cynthia who voiced the question he had been about to ask. ‘It’s pretty obvious somebody tied her bag to her wrist so that it didn’t get lost, or perhaps to dissuade any common thief who came along and saw something of value. The knot would at least slow them down, I suppose. But why not take the scarf from her neck or tie the bag with the headband – either would have done the job. It looks as though whoever left her body there didn’t want to disturb her clothing in any way. Didn’t want to give, I don’t know, the wrong impression?’

  ‘I’m sure those are Henry’s thoughts exactly.’ Mickey laughed. ‘They were certainly mine.’

  Henry nodded brief acknowledgement and then he said, ‘According to the newspaper reports I have read, witnesses reckon the man stood there until he was noticed. He didn’t want to risk the body being left undiscovered on the beach or washed out to sea. He waited until someone saw him, then he put the body down and walked away. Does that accord with the witness statements?’

  ‘It does indeed. The witnesses were two couples, with their children, and the younger brother of one of the women went to fetch the constable. They say that they saw the man walking along the beach with the bundle in his arms, and that he was glancing towards the promenade. There were others on the promenade but they seemed not to notice him. It was when he drew level with the couples, though he was still some distance away down on the beach, that he stopped and looked directly at them as though wishing to attract their attention. They were walking quite slowly because the children were small. They had come out early for the nine o’clock Mass and as the children had not had a decent walk for a few days they decided to take them along and put up with the fact that meant a slow journey along the promenade. So, this man sees them, he stops, he turns and they realize that he has something in his arms that is not just a bundle. That it’s a body. He makes no move to hide the fact, the woman is not wrapped in anything. He made sure he was seen, he watched as the younger brother ran off for the constable. Then he set the body down and he walked away. Walked, mind, he did not run. He was in no hurry.’

  ‘And no one challenged him?’ Cynthia asked.

  ‘Bear in mind these are two couples, with three small children in tow. They knew that a constable was being summoned and apparently the man was large, tall and heavyset. But I suspect, from what they have said in the witness statements, that it was also his attitude that dissuaded them. One of the women from the couples said that he behaved like a madman, while the other said that he looked self-assured, as though he could handle himself and didn’t care about being approached. They both gained the impression that it would come off badly for anyone who did choose to challenge him.’

  ‘And yet he was determined that the body should be seen and found quickly, and that she should be found with her p
ossessions intact and with as little damage done to the body by the elements as was possible,’ Henry mused. ‘That I find interesting.’

  ‘It speaks to me of a guilty conscience,’ Mickey said.

  ‘Or of love,’ Cynthia suggested. ‘He cared about her, he wanted her found, and he wanted to have her found by the right people, not by people who would rob her after death.’

  ‘Then why not take her back to her family?’ Henry suspected both Mickey and Cynthia might be right, but if the man had cared for her, had felt his conscience pricked, then why leave her on the beach at all.

  ‘Why indeed,’ Mickey agreed. ‘And who did Faun’s family bury? The body was burnt beyond recognition and the young man driving the car has been in a very expensive nursing home ever since. His family have insisted he is not fit to be questioned by anyone, though of course we are working to circumvent that.’

  ‘Malcolm Everson,’ Cynthia said. ‘His name is Malcolm Everson and he’s a nice chap, a little older than the Moran girl. She was not yet twenty. I heard he was in such deep shock that he’s barely spoken since. Just imagine what this news will do to him.’

  ‘How can he not have known that Faun Moran was not the woman in his car?’ Henry wanted to know.

  ‘Well, there was certainly a lot of gossip about it at the time. It was at the Belmonts’ place, you know, up near Matlock. I didn’t go up that weekend. It was the younger family members who organized this one and I’m a little long in the tooth and poor in the purse by the standard of all the bright young things they invite to their weekenders. But I have visited on a number of occasions. The Belmonts are nice people and not as stuffy as some, despite being worth a bundle. From what I’ve been told she certainly got into his car at the start of the journey. They’d been at a party, some kind of charity do, if I remember correctly, and he’d had a few to drink. His friends tried to stop him, but you know how young men are sometimes. He took a bend too fast, the car turned over, he was thrown clear and found unconscious, but the car burst into flames and everyone assumed, naturally, that the body they found was Faun’s.’

  ‘And were his injuries consistent with the crash?’ Henry asked.

  ‘I’ve read the accident reports,’ Mickey told him, ‘and there are copies in the bag so you can take a look yourself. They crashed close to a local farm. The farmer heard the noise of the car as it came round the bend, and he heard it as it came off the road and crashed through the trees. By the time he got there it was well ablaze and from its final position they suspect it must have rolled over two or three times on the way down the hill. The young man’s body was found some distance from the car with broken ribs, a broken arm and head injuries. He didn’t regain consciousness for several days, and when he did he had a brain fever, was delirious and couldn’t remember a thing. Of course, everyone blamed him for the accident. He was most certainly drunk, and the inquest found against him. But the coroner recorded misadventure and the Moran family decided not to bring legal action. I suppose they consider the boy has suffered enough.’

  Cynthia frowned. ‘That surprised everyone. Caius Moran is not a man to be crossed. Everyone says he rules his family with a rod of iron, which is why I think Faun was so rebellious. Her brother and sister appear to have toed the line, but she was the youngest and the youngest child often gets away with more, I suppose.’

  Henry decided to backtrack a little. ‘And there’s no doubt about the identification this time. True, this new body looks like Faun Moran and you say the fingerprints agree.’

  ‘Indeed, and the father came and identified his daughter and her dental records match. I think there is little doubt.’

  ‘Were her dental records not checked after the car accident?’

  ‘As I told you, the car had rolled several times, the head was badly damaged, and then the fire seems to have finished the job. From what I understand the face was seriously damaged and disfigured and then, of course, burned beyond recognition.’

  ‘Convenient,’ Henry commented. ‘And who led the first investigation? I’m assuming it was treated as an accident and not as foul play.’

  ‘Evidence was gathered, but you are right. No foul play was suspected. It seemed a simple matter of the young man having too much to drink and driving too fast and misjudging a bend. The coroner decreed that this was an accidental death, the family chose not to bring a civil suit and the case was closed. As to who led the investigation, such as it was …’ For the first time he seemed hesitant and Henry looked keenly at him. ‘Well, that would be a Detective Inspector Harold Shelton. Late of the Yard, now serving in the Cheshire Constabulary. Given the importance of the victims, the local police asked for assistance and he was sent up there. He has been given instructions to make himself available to us and has been called to Scotland Yard to facilitate matters.’

  ‘Well, that is going to be a world of joy,’ Henry commented.

  ‘Indeed it is,’ Mickey agreed.

  ‘Vic, are you some kind of idiot? You were supposed to get rid of her, not make an exhibition of the bitch.’

  ‘I left her where she would be seen, and found, and taken home. I thought you would want her father to—’

  ‘Get back here now. Never mind about all of that and why didn’t you call me before? I had to find out about all this through the newspapers.’

  Vic hesitated. It had taken him a day or so to decide whether he wanted to make contact at all, but he knew he could delay no longer.

  He took a deep breath and gripped the telephone receiver hard enough that his knuckles whitened. ‘No,’ he said. ‘After my last job for you, I might not be coming back. We both know what we said.’

  ‘No one walks out on me; she found that out.’

  ‘Perhaps I’m walking now; how do you feel about that?’

  ‘I’ll hunt you down, you know that. No one walks out on me. You are no exception.’

  He replaced the phone receiver carefully down in the cradle and stood for a moment catching his breath, steadying himself. His body was shaking, with excitement, with fear? With adrenaline, certainly. But he walked away with a strange lightness in his step and his spirit. What was the worst his boss could do? Kill him? He was glad he had done what he had done, made sure the girl was found. The rest of it would play out in its own way and it would have consequences, he knew that. But sometimes risks had to be taken. Risk was what made life enjoyable. And the game they played brought risk and reward aplenty.

  TWO

  Wednesday 8 January

  DI Harold Shelton. Henry thought about him as he shaved the following morning. Shelton was a small, shrew-like man with a taste in loud jackets and fancy hats. Last time Henry had seen him he had worn a black fedora decorated with a leather band through which several fishing flies were pinned. He was a busy seeming man, always on the move – a trait which matched his shrew-like appearance, Henry thought. Though his busyness, in Henry’s opinion, did not always yield valid results. He was also a man so confident in his own opinion that he never asked for a second or questioned that first opinion, even should the evidence show otherwise.

  Was that being unfair? Henry paused with the straight razor close to his cheek and thought about it. Decided that it wasn’t. This obstinacy had seen the DI demoted to DS and then threatened with further demotion. He had narrowly avoided this by leaving Scotland Yard and finding a post across the country in Cheshire, a constabulary that was building up its stock of inspectors and detectives, and perhaps with an interview board that Henry found himself assuming must have been more impressed by the fact that the man had worked at Scotland Yard than by his sudden loss of standing.

  Henry and Mickey had had several run-ins with the man before he left. None of them had been major but they left a bad taste in the mouth because this man was so unwilling to even listen to a second opinion, particularly from an officer of lesser rank. On two occasions, when Mickey had cause to work with him, he had disregarded the sergeant’s crime scene analysis to such an extent that
evidence had been ignored that might have proved someone innocent. Mickey had gone over Shelton’s head to report this, and that action had led to a disciplinary hearing and had been part of the evidence that had led to his demotion. That Henry had backed Mickey’s affirmation and spoken up for his sergeant meant that neither could be viewed favourably by Harold Shelton, even though he had now regained his original rank.

  Henry took a moment to acknowledge the satisfaction that he, now DCI, outranked the man and another moment, this time of guilt and disappointment, that Mickey did not. His sergeant undoubtedly had the ability but seemed unwilling to apply for the promotion that he knew, for various reasons, he would not get despite his skills. The fact that Mickey’s actions over Shelton had caused him to be labelled a troublemaker had certainly not helped his cause. Mickey might have been morally right in his actions, but he had acted against a senior officer, a senior officer who had come from a class far above that of the sergeant’s, and Henry knew what impact that had on Mickey’s prospects.

  He finished shaving and dashed cold water on his face, then patted it dry. Mickey, of course, was right. It was time for Henry to get himself back in the saddle. He couldn’t hide out at Cynthia’s place forever. So in the morning he and Mickey would go to inspect the body, and in the meantime he could study the reports of the vehicle accident that had so injured Malcolm Everson and, presumably, killed the young woman who had been with him.

  The familiar emotions – excitement, curiosity, the thrill of the puzzle and, if he was honest, the chase – were awakening with a force he had not reckoned on. Cynthia was right, Henry thought, he was ready to get back to work. But then, Henry was used to his sister being right.

  At breakfast Henry discovered that his sergeant had already been on the phone making appointments for the morning. First stop was to interview the two couples and the younger brother who had seen the body being placed on the beach. Then they would speak to the constable and after that the funeral director who had taken the photographs. After that they would go to the mortuary and view the body. The post-mortem had not yet taken place, delayed until the detectives could get there; Mickey had known that his boss would want to see the unfortunate young woman as she had been found.