Due Process (4 page)

*   *   *

Amanda was driving in a daze.  Her world was falling apart and she didn’t know what else she could do.  She looked down at her phone sitting on the passenger seat.  If Tony was alive and well then he would have called.  Or sent a text.  It was inconceivable that he would put her through this willingly.  They had been married for ten years.  She knew him well.

              Perhaps the mysterious book and message were nothing to do with his disappearance at all.  Was she chasing rainbows?               For a brief moment she smiled.  That was an expression her grandmother had used.  If ever she had wanted something that was impossible, like being a movie star or having a horse, her grandmother would tell her it would never happen.  She might think it was possible, and try to do everything in her power to make it happen, but – her grandmother said – it was like chasing rainbows.  You could never reach them, they always seemed to move further and further away.

              That was what was happening now.  The closer she thought she was getting to Tony, the further away he seemed to be.

              But then those other thoughts began to tap away.  Maybe this was nothing to do with Tony. Maybe it was to do with her.

              She pulled up at the school gates and got out of the car to wait for Jenny,  the one constant in her life.  Thank goodness.  She waited in anticipation as the school doors opened and the children came out laughing and screaming.  In the commotion she saw Jenny and waved.  The little girl smiled and hurried over, climbing into the back seat. 

She chattered non-stop on the journey to the boat. Amanda was grateful for the distraction and tried to listen to tales of gingerbread men and games of tag.  It was nice to hear Jenny bright and cheerful as she knew the little girl had been missing her father.

She opened up the boat and they went inside, Jenny leading the way.  While Amanda was closing down the flap Jenny appeared waving a piece of paper.

              “There’s a message,” she trilled.  “Is it from daddy?”

Amanda felt the familiar icicles working their way up her spine, her legs turning to stone.  She took the note and squinted in the dimness of the cabin.

  As she read, her legs finally gave way and she sank on to the chair.

             
The kid is next.

CHAPTER FIVE

Detective Constable Christopher Blake lived alone and was glad that he did.  He had been married for two years but Janice had never taken to the life of a policeman’s wife, and had soon given him an ultimatum.  The force or her.  He had chosen the force. Although he only worked in a small town he loved the variety of the work.  Usually it was small scale crimes that kept him busy, but the disappearance of Tony Purcell was demanding all his attention.

              This case had so many unanswered questions.  If you counted the secretary then there was actually two people missing.  No-one had reported Sarah Greenwood as missing so there was not a lot he could do about her, but sooner or later someone was bound to miss her.  Unless, of course, she had done a runner with Tony Purcell, as Inspector Finley seemed to suggest. But that was highly unlikely. 

              The truth of it was, though, that it just wasn’t feasible.  A thirty two year old professional, handsome, and apparently happy man, wasn’t going to run off with a fifty seven year old secretary.  One look at the wife and child would confirm that contention.  Amanda Purcell was gorgeous, poised, smart, attractive, and the child was delightful and pretty as a picture.

              Christopher Blake sat at his kitchen table, sipped a cup of steaming tea, and looked at the facts.  Two people missing, the family home burnt to the ground thus destroying any evidence of motive, two men taking the father, although no substantive witnesses.  Still awaited was the result of the fire investigation and information on any life insurance.  Even if there was life insurance, Amanda Purcell could hardly make a claim if she didn’t know who the Life Insurance Company was. 

              The most serious thing was the incident with the little girl.  The mother’s antics had drawn most of the attention so there was definite confirmation that someone had attempted to take her in the few witness statements they had. Problem was, someone had suggested the man had been cuddling the little girl, and they didn’t think it looked like an abduction.  Mother hadn’t shouted for help, and the little girl didn’t scream. It all gave a reasonable cause for doubt.

              And on top of all this – the biggest thing to hit Walsham in a decade – there had been a suicide.  Apparent suicide.  Post Mortem tests awaited.  He looked at the police report on his desk.

             
Name of Deceased:  Paul Justin. Date of Death:  10
th
September.  Time of Death: between the hours of 12midnight and 4am.  Approximately.  Cause of Death: Drowning and/or overdose of controlled substance.  Report awaited.  Next of Kin:  not known. Other contacts:  Girlfriend – identity unknown.  Comments:  Known to police.  Criminal record for possession.  Pending hearing on possession with intent to supply.  Legal representative:  Tony Purcell, Morgan and Pacey.

             
Detective Constable Christopher Blake gasped and slopped his cup of tea. The coincidences in this case were past ridiculous and he knew it was time to go back to Inspector Finley with his suspicions.

*   *   *

Amanda was frantic.  What the hell was going on?  She didn’t think things could get any worse, but how wrong could she be?  Someone had been on board the boat and left that message, letting her know they knew where she was and who she was.  They knew about Jenny.

              Without giving it much thought she hurried outside and untied the guy ropes, threw them on deck, jumped aboard and started the engine.  There was no way she was staying at the dock now.  She would go down river and find a quiet spot to moor for the night whilst she decided what to do.  It was only as she was chugging away that she looked back and saw her car.  Without that they were stuck.

              “Damn it,” she said, her hands shaking as she steered the boat out onto the open river.  They had to get away; she would decide what to do later.  Her first priority was to keep Jenny safe.

              “Where are we going, mummy?”

              Amanda turned quickly to see Jenny in her plaid pyjamas, clutching her teddy and looking so, so vulnerable.  Amanda reached out and the little girl hurried forward and took her mother’s hand.

              “Just a little boat trip,” Amanda explained in a soft voice.

              “But it’s nearly dark.”

              “Yes, I know,” Amanda replied quickly, “isn’t it exciting?”

              Jenny climbed on to her mother’s lap and peered into the gloom ahead.

              “I can’t see very much.”

              Amanda plopped a kiss on the crown of her daughter’s head.

              “We’re not going far.  Just down the river to a little dyke I know.  We’ll stay there tonight and come back in the morning.”

              “I mustn’t be late for school,” said Jenny in a quiet voice as she began to rub her eyes.

              “No, I promise you won’t be late,” soothed Amanda, “now why don’t you go back to bed and I’ll come and tuck you in again when I have moored up.”

              “Okay.”

              As Jenny wandered back to the cabin Amanda searched the river ahead looking for the little dyke that she knew veered off to the left.  They would often take the boat there for picnics in the summer.   She just had to remember exactly where it was.

              A low mist hovered above the water, giving it a surreal appearance.  She could hear the owls calling as the dusk settled.  Sometimes the river was a beautiful place, but at the moment with fear in her stomach it was a place of foreboding.

              Suddenly out of the gloom another boat appeared.  It was on the wrong side of the river and heading straight for them.  Amanda gasped and yanked the wheel over to the right so that the boats passed within inches of one another.  Jenny let out a squeal as the boat began to rock in the wake.

              “It’s alright, Jenny, just another silly boat.”

              Amanda unzipped the side flap and listened.  She could hear the boat returning.  Fear began to creep up her spine like a hunting tarantula.

              She increased the speed to maximum, not caring if she missed the turn off for the dyke.  She had to move quickly.  She could hear the other boat’s motor getting louder and louder and then there was a mighty crash and something hit them from behind.  Jenny screamed.  Amanda was knocked from the seat and fell heavily to the floor, catching her arm on the steering wheel as she tried to grab something.  The wheel veered to the right and as she pulled herself upright, wincing at the pain in her shoulder, she could see the river bank looming.

              She dove for the wheel and with two hands jerked it to the left, and the boat turned full circle.  She saw the boat behind her then.  A high powered boat with two men aboard.  They looked straight at her as she passed them, and she knew she would never be able to outrun them in the cruiser.  Still at maximum speed she willed the boat to hurry, skimming the surface and leaving a wake that must have been like a mini tsunami to the ducks and moorhens sleeping in the shallows.

              As she reached the dock she cut the engine and listened for a fleeting moment.  The other boat was seconds behind.  Without stopping to secure the boat she grabbed Jenny, her handbag, and car keys, and hurried out to the car.  She moved so fast Jenny had no time to protest.  With skidding tyres and engine roaring she raced down the track to the main road, securing Jenny’s seatbelt as she went.

*   *   *

Inspector Finley put down his pen, clicked a switch to hibernate his computer, and looked at D.C.Blake.

              “So any developments?”

              “I have got some cause for concern, sir,” said D.C. Blake as he fiddled with his notes, wondering where to start and trying to focus on being as concise as possible.

              “Let’s hear what you have, then.”

              The papers rustled as D.C.Blake gave his update.  He recapped on the disappearances of solicitor and secretary, the house fire, and the latest development with the death of Paul Justin, and the unusual and coincidental link between all four occurrences.

              “What was the offence for Justin?”

              D.C. Blake checked his notes.

              “Possession with intent to supply. He was a known drug user, suspected dealer, and a court hearing listed for 4
th
October.”

              He took a piece of paper and handed it to the Inspector.

              “Here’s the charge sheet, sir.”

              Inspector Finley read the sheet and looked thoughtful.

              “Any news on the cause of the fire?” he asked.

              D.C. Blake nodded and extracted another sheet of paper and handed it over.

              “Looks like it was started deliberately, sir. Traces of an inflammable liquid were found.  Started in the wardrobe in the main bedroom.”

              “And the Justin guy, what do we have on him?”

              “We’re waiting on the autopsy.  It looks like overdose and drowning in the bath, sir. No witnesses saw or heard anything.  No-one seen entering or leaving about the time of death.”

              Inspector Finley woke his computer and his eyes scanned the screen, and then he called up a page.

              “Ah, I see autopsy report should be with us later today. No next of kin I see. An unknown girlfriend.  And then the solicitor.” He paused for a moment.  “Right, get on to the solicitors office and find out the last time Tony Purcell met up with this Justin.  Ask around the staff and see what you can find out.  They can’t claim solicitor/client privilege if you don’t talk about the drugs case.”

              “Yes, sir.”

              At that moment there was a knock on the door and both men turned towards the sound, one in surprise and the other in annoyance.

              “What is it?” barked the Inspector.

              The door opened and a young civilian secretary said in a timid voice.

              “Sir. Mrs. Purcell is outside.  She is very distressed.  She says someone is chasing her and threatened to kill her daughter.” 

              There was a commotion outside in the corridor, and then Amanda hurried in, Jenny at her side.  She held the piece of paper out for the men to see.

              “Can you read it?” she asked, wrapping her arms around her daughter. “What else is it going to take for you to believe me?”

*   *   *

CHAPTER SIX

George Town, Grand Cayman

When Great Aunt Millie died Sarah Greenwood had not thought much about it other than to feel a little sad.  She didn’t remember ever having met the aunt, although it seemed the aunt had remembered her. She thought she had no relatives left, with her parents gone and no siblings. When the letter from the probate solicitors had arrived, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Dear Ms. Greenwood,

We are Executors under the Will of your Great Aunt Mildred Watts.  As you may be aware Miss Watts died on 1
st
May 2011.  Other than several small legacies to charity, Miss Watts named you as sole beneficiary.  We have just completed the sale of her home and other assets, and will be in a position to finalise the estate shortly.  We would be grateful if you would arrange to call at our office at a time convenient to you to receive the net proceeds of the estate. Please bring with you items for identification such as a valid British passport, and an up to date utilities bill.

If you have any questions please do not hesitate to contact us.

Yours sincerely,

J. Prescott

Probate Solicitor

That had been the first bombshell.  The second had been when she picked up the cheque.  Fifty Thousand Pounds. Sarah had been stunned.  She had worked at Morgan and Pacey for seventeen years and resented every day of it.  Whilst she had a high regard for her boss, Tony Purcell, and sometimes found his criminal clients interesting, to say the least, she hated sitting behind a desk all day glued to a computer screen.  Especially during the summer when the sun was shining and the only glimpse she got of the sun was when it struggled through the window blinds and glinted on her glasses.

She would dream of visiting distant countries, some place where the sun always shone and the lifestyle was slow.  Very slow.  Not Europe, because she couldn’t speak any foreign language.  Somewhere like the Caribbean. Not long ago she had found a postcard of the Cayman Islands. Well not exactly found, it had been sitting on her desk.  No one claimed it so she pinned it to her computer screen so she could look at it and dream.

So on 23
rd
August she collected the banker’s draft, astounded her bank manager by paying in to her account more money than she could save in a lifetime, and walked in to the nearest travel agency and booked a flight to the Cayman Islands. And it was hot.  The endless blue sky disappeared into a steamy horizon and after a while Sarah began to realize that the Caribbean in the height of summer was probably not the best choice. But the beaches were amazing, with their pure white sand as fine as icing sugar. The people were friendly and the cuisine delicious. She had only ever been on holiday to Wales before, so the lifestyle, the luxury, the heat, and the fact that someone came to her apartment every day and cleaned and left a mint on her pillow every night was, to her, enchanting. Her apartment was on Seven Mile beach, and it was. Seven miles. She had walked the length many times in the cool of the evenings.

But she was getting the tiniest bit bored. She was also starting to feel a bit guilty that she hadn’t let anyone know what she was doing at Morgan and Pacey. Just walking out like that was not very professional.  She had sent Tony an email
Tony, we need to talk,
but he had not responded and she didn’t want to spend one more day at the office.  So she just packed up and left and told no-one.

She sat up on the sun bed and slipped her feet into her new sandals. She had noticed an internet café down the street.  Maybe she ought to send them an email. Then perhaps it would be time to move on.  Somewhere a bit cooler. Maybe Canada.

She picked up her bag and sunglasses and wandered through the landscaped gardens and out to the street. The air was like a furnace. The internet café was refreshingly cool inside as the air conditioning hummed.  There was a free computer and she inserted her coins and called up AOL to check her email.  There was nothing of interest, and no reply from Tony.  Would it be best to send an email to Helen in recruitment, or to Tony, or direct to Isaac Morgan?  While she gave this some thought she opened another window and decided to check on local news. Her sunglasses fell to the floor as she read the headlines:

Local solicitor Tony Purcell missing.

Sarah’s hands shook as she clicked on the link for more info.

Local Solicitor Tony Purcell has been missing since Sunday 26
th
August. Mr. Purcell works for local solicitors firm Morgan and Pacey and specialises in criminal law. To date police have no leads on the disappearance, or on the disappearance of Mr. Purcell’s secretary, Sarah Greenwood.

Sarah gasped and scrolled down the page.

Mr. Purcell’s family home was burned down in a mysterious fire that occurred on the day of his disappearance.  In a further development, one of Mr. Purcell’s clients, Paul Justin, was yesterday found dead in his home having apparently committed suicide.  Police refuse to say whether there is any connection. Anyone with information is asked to call police on freephone 4781 or on the direct line 0300 555555.

Sarah sat back in her chair and felt numb.  Whatever was going on?  Tony was missing, his house had burned down, Paul Justin was dead.

She hurried over to the pay booth.

“I’d like to make a call to England please.”

*   *   *

This was why D.C. Blake enjoyed his job so much.  Three more officers had now been assigned to the investigation and the room was humming.  Telephones were ringing, computers were buzzing, and there were now four minds working on the case rather than one.

              He was bringing the others up to date, giving the background of the disappearances, the fire, and then the Paul Justin case.

              “Autopsy report on Justin confirms death by cocaine overdose and drowning.” He consulted his pile of papers.

              “Lungs were filled with water so he was alive when he went under.  Conclusion seems to be he either fell asleep or unconscious and slipped under the bath water.  It’s possible he was forced or pushed, but that is purely speculative as there is no evidence to indicate other than accident or possibly suicide.  It’s more than likely the Coroner will find death by misadventure.”

              One of the officers looked up from his computer screen.

              “So what links Justin to Tony Purcell’s disappearance?”

              D.C. Blake shrugged his shoulders.

              “Actually, nothing.  The only link is that of solicitor and client, and maybe a pending hearing.”

              “So where is the wife – Amanda Purcell – now?” asked the officer.

              D.C. Blake scanned through his papers.

              “Right.  Mrs. Purcell and daughter, Jennifer, were staying on the family boat after the fire. It’s a small cruiser moored at their private boat dock about two miles from town.  Two nights ago when mother and daughter returned to the boat there was a note inside the cabin.”

              He waved the note in the air. It was encased in a plastic sheath.

              “It says “
The kid is next”. 
Forensics has found nothing other than Amanda and Jennifer’s fingerprints.  Paper is common and ink just a blue ballpoint.  No sign of forced entry – not a problem on a boat where a flap is the front door.”

              One of the other officers sat back in his seat and indicated he had a question.

              “Where is the family now?”

              “I was coming to that.  After she found the note Mrs. Purcell took the boat out on to the river to moor further down the river that wasn’t accessible by road.  Another boat tried to intercept them, and in fact actually rammed them from the rear.  There’s a large gash in the back of the boat, so no cause for doubt about the story. Blue paint in the dent so river police are keeping a look out. She managed to get back to her car and came here.  Daughter has now gone to Tony’s Purcell’s sister in Scotland.  Amanda is in a safe house for the time being.”

              “Daughter’s in Scotland?”

              “Yes, she was taken up yesterday.  Mrs. Purcell doesn’t seem to have any family members living so we went with the sister-in-law.”

              Just then the telephone rang and D.C.Blake picked up the handset.and listened intently.

              “What? Put her through.  Hello?  Yes, this is D.C.Blake, I’m in charge of the investigation.”  He paused. “You’re kidding?”

              He looked at the others and pointed to the phone and raised his eyebrows heavenward.

              “I’m sorry to have to ask this, but how do I know you are who you say you are?”

              Silence as he listened. He grabbed a pen and notebook and began to write.

              “Can I have your number there? We’re going to have to talk further with you, but thank you for getting in touch.”

              He put the phone down and saw the other officers looking at him quizzically.

              “Well, that’s one mystery solved,” he said, “that was Sarah Greenwood.  The secretary.  She
says
she received an unexpected inheritance and just took off.  She’s in the Cayman Islands.  Says she tried to contact Tony Purcell.  Sent him an email but never got a response so thought he didn’t care, and just went.  She’s just read about his disappearance online.”

              “You’re joking?”

              D.C.Blake shook his head.

              “No, really.  We’ll need to check out her story, of course, but it looks like her disappearance is totally innocent.”

              No-one spoke for a few minutes as they digested this new information.

              “So that means…” began one of the officers “that if the secretary’s story holds up, and Justin’s death was not suspicious…all we’ve got is the house fire.”

              D.C.Blake nodded.

              “And a missing solicitor and an attempted child abduction. Nothing out of the ordinary for us,” he said sarcastically.

*   *   *

“Hello, Detective,” said Sarah Greenwood as she showed him to a table at the Hyatt café.  He looked a little awestruck. The Caymans had that effect on people, especially those who were not used to travelling.  She suspected that to be the case with D.C. Blake judging by his pallor and the way he kept gazing at everything around him. The turquoise sea always took the breath away, and the azure sky and the happy people.  Sunshine made people happy. That was why she had been so desperate to leave rainy old England.

“Miss Greenwood,” he said, “thanks for meeting me.”

“I’m amazed you came all this way just to see me,” she replied.

His eyes wandered as two stunning women passed by the table, their perfect figures embraced by bikinis that might have been painted on. She waited for his attention to come back to her.

“This is an amazing place…” he began, and then seemed to pull himself together.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I’m still a bit jet-lagged.”

“How long are you staying?” she asked.

“Heading back tomorrow, unfortunately.  I could certainly do with staying a few days,  but the budget won’t allow it.  I’ve been heading up this investigation from the start which is why I was chosen to come and speak to you.”

He carried a briefcase from which he took a notebook and pen.  She noticed he was sweating.  He was wearing dark trousers and a short-sleeved white shirt.  He must be burning up.

“You should have brought some shorts to wear,” she remarked.  He looked down at his wool encased legs and smiled.

“You’re right. I left quickly, didn’t have much time to think about suitable clothing.”

She smiled.  “We could go inside if you’d like, The air conditioning will be on.”

“That would be wonderful.”

He picked up his briefcase and she grabbed her beach bag and they went inside the café. The cool air felt like someone had opened a giant refrigerator door.  They settled at a corner table, ordered some drinks, and he finally seemed more relaxed.

“Miss Greenwood…”

“Please call me Sarah.”

“Sarah…I’m not sure how much you know.  I’ll start from the beginning, and then perhaps you can answer some questions.”

She sat in silence as he told her what had happened since Tony Purcell disappeared.  Her eyes grew horrified as she heard about the fire, the ramming of the boat, the threat to little Jenny. She gasped when he told her of Paul Justin’s death.  Neither of them touched their drinks as he related the series of events.

Then it was her turn.  She told him about the inheritance again, how she had struggled at work doing a job she did not enjoy. She related the email she had sent to Tony

Tony, we need to talk.

How she just decided to leave, telling no-one.  She had no-one to tell.

“The Justin case,” he asked, “ was there anything unusual about it?  Did Tony feel unhappy about it?”

“Not that I remember,” she replied. “He was a strange character, that’s for sure. He had more hair on his face than on his head, and his clothes would be turned down by Oxfam.”