Remember Remember (35 page)

“Probably,” nodded Rock, who smiled again at her trying to relax her then continued, “you also mentioned a holiday, has that been agreed?”

“Alan likes cruising and so we think we’ll go cruising in the Med again later in the year.”

“Have you agreed a date yet?”

“No, but I’m sure you’ll be able to find out from my boss because I’ll have to book time off from the Brown Cow won’t I,” she hissed.

“I’m sure we’ll get to know Jacky,” Rock looked intently at her pretty face then said, “now, is there anything else you’d like to talk with us about regarding Alan?”

Again her hands grasped the desk as she leaned forward, “Why can’t you just leave us both alone, Alan’s done nothing wrong, he just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Perhaps,” nodded the Major then concluded the interview saying, “thank you Jacky I’m glad you co-operated with us and if there’s anything you think of which you feel may help us, please contact myself or Sergeant Lawrence.”

She stood and looked at the Sergeant, “I suppose I’ll be able to confide in you over the bar, won’t I?”

“Hope so,” smiled Lawrence as he gently ushered her out of the interview room towards reception.

The Sergeant then returned to the interview room where Rock still sat making notes, “Well, what do you think sir?” he enquired.

“I think she’s telling the truth and I think she knows very little, but I think she’s worried because she genuinely cares for Johnson.”

“We did find out about the races and the projected holiday,” asserted Lawrence.

“We did and it’s essential we’re at York Races with our Mr Johnson. We’ll need at least six men, and preferably ones Johnson has not seen before; and Sergeant, no rookies on this case, these guys have to be good at observing Johnson unseen. You’ll also need the IT comm’s blokes to supply us all with surveillance kit; I’ll sign any requisitions you need. Now, where is Mr Johnson?”

Lawrence made a phone call to 73 Sandiway, asked the question and listened. Thirty seconds later he closed his mobile phone and smiled at the Major, “He’s at home and just received a phone call from guess who, Jacky and he’s agreed to go to the Brown Cow as soon as possible.”

“Is the Brown Cow still wired?”

“Yes sir, we can actually listen from here.”

“That may be wiser than confronting Johnson in the pub, he may be a little grumpy with us.”

“Just a little,” chortled Lawrence, “just a little.”

Alan walked into the Brown Cow and entered the snug. He looked around and saw there were only three or four people at the bar and he was alone in the snug. Jacky, on seeing him enter finished serving a customer and walked towards him.

“Are you OK love,” he said as he held out both his hands to take hers and squeezed them while looking at her worried face.

“Why won’t they leave us alone, why won’t they, what have we done?”

Still holding her hands, he gazed into her eyes and replied, “They have their reasons love.”

“What reasons?”

“Olu Deniz and a dead man.”

“Fuck Olu Deniz and a dead man, that was ages ago, it must be more than that.”

“You know it is love, you know they think I’m a terrorist and on that account they won’t let go. So we’ll have to live with it.”

“But it’s not bloody well fair, especially after all you’ve done for this country.”

“I’m just a number, I served, I got paid, that’s all there is to my past, no big deal really. Now I’m just an out-of-work guy on a terrorist list, which means they’ll never go away.”

“Bastards” she hissed, but smiled.

“Yes love,” he said still squeezing her hands, “now back to business, aren’t you supposed to be selling beer?”

“Yes OK, I’m sorry,” she said pulling her hands away and mocked, “I suppose sir wants a pint of his usual and a touch of the apron.”

“Prefer to touch what’s in the blouse.”

“Bugger off,” she said as she pulled away from his grasp, but the words were soft and her smile sent a different, warmer message.

The Brown Cow began to fill with early evening customers and with the smells of food, lager and beer as Jacky pulled Alan his second pint, placed it in front of him, took his money and returned the change, having taken one for herself.

He dropped the change on the bar, momentarily holding her hand and said, “Jacky, what did you tell them?”

She smiled at him and replied, “All I know, which is bugger all. Oh, but I did tell them that we’re more than an item and that we were going racing and perhaps on a cruise,” she looked at him with her head at a slight tilt and a smirk on her face, “is that all right sir?”

“That’s alright gorgeous,” he said as he grabbed for her hand, but she was faster; stepped back and gushed, “Will that be all for now Governor?”

“Two more pints I think love, plus a mild; I seem to have company,” retorted Alan.

John, Dave and Cyril shuffled past people at the bar each in turn muttering; “Sorry, excuse me, can I get by, thanks, thanks.” They finally reached the snug then all three took up bar stools and said good evening to Alan.

“Let’s get merry tonight eh lads?” joked Alan as Jacky plonked the beers down in front of them, took Alan’s money; then placed his change on the bar in front of him; she smiled at him and enquired, “Will that be all sir?”

“Where’s the peanuts,” groaned Dave.”

“Oh sorry Dave, I’ve not put them out yet.”

“Things are slipping here Jacky, been too busy canoodling with Alan I suppose to care about we mere customers,” teased Dave.

“I’ll get you some now my lord,” she quipped then curtseyed and ran into the kitchen, returning a few moments later with glasses of peanuts.

“See sir, they were already there, just waiting for the customers to ask.”

“Two pints over here Jacky please,” called someone from around the bar.

The square bar was filling with workers who wanted to quench their thirst before slowly chugging home in the rush hour. The noise of thirty different discussions, laughter and shouts for more beer would keep Jacky busy for the next two hours.

For three more hours copious pints of bitter and mild were consumed as the banter continued and nobody noticed in the Brown Cow or even at the police station as they listened, that Alan was slightly more reserved than usual.

At 9.00 pm he left the Brown Cow, sat in his waiting taxi, gave his address and pondered his visit to York in June. His meeting with Shan at the races would have to be carefully thought through because he knew both he and Jacky would be shadowed; that the Ivy would be bugged and that even at the races voice directional microphones could pick up his conversations. Did he actually need the meeting with Shan? Yes, he needed a contact, an address somewhere in the Middle East and a new identity and he needed it quite soon. He would have to risk meeting Shan again even though the meeting was now fraught with danger and all because of some fucking idiot with a mobile phone in Olu Deniz. The taxi pulled up outside his home, money was exchanged and he entered 78 Sandiway. He was asleep in 40 minutes and the listening station at the police HQ was turned off; however the one at 73 Sandiway remained, taping Alan’s sporadic snoring throughout the night.

June 10th,Yoxford, Suffolk, England.

Detective Inspector Metcalf drove down the main street of Yoxford, he passed the church on the right, then the Bloise Arms pub and stopped outside a small row of semi detached houses. Number 12 had already been cordoned off and at the front gate stood a constable; next door an old man was busy filling the stall in front of his garden with the day’s offerings of fresh grown beans and late potatoes. A serve yourself notice alongside a small tin, in which to place your money for the purchases gave some idea of the type of village which Yoxford still was. The old man watched as the inspector showed his identity card to the constable and asked for any background information which may help.

All the constable knew was that at 08.35 an emergency call had been received from a tearful woman to say her mother, father and grand mother were lying dead in the house.

Inspector Metcalf made his way down the path observing the neighbours houses as he walked; their curtains twitched and stilled and he supposed they had a right to their nosiness. Obviously nothing like this had happened in Yoxford for a very long time; if ever and in a small community like this they were bound to be interested in what had happened.

He was greeted at the front door by a short plump lady who introduced herself as Beryl, a friend of the family. She informed the inspector that Brenda Jarvis the daughter of the family, was in bed having been given a sedative by the doctor due to the state she was in and that whoever had done this terrible thing should be shot.

The Inspector thanked Beryl for her concern and help; then walked past her into the lounge. His first impression was one of piece and calm, the room was pleasantly decorated and contained the usual furniture including a TV in the corner, near the lounge window which looked out onto the front garden. Two easy chairs, a settee and a small table completed the setting; a mirror over the fireplace, two pictures of what he presumed would be family and various ornaments seemed to give an air of working class normality. The simple difference was that the room contained a doctor who was attending to one body while a police constable took photographs of a second body.

The constable acknowledged the inspectors presence with a nod toward the kitchen and said, “There’s another one in there sir, bloody mystery to me how they died. There hasn’t been any violence as far as I can see and it seems as if they were just going about there business and then dropped dead, I suppose quite normal when it’s only one person but three in the same place at the same time that’s weird.”

“Yeah that’s weird,” responded Metcalfe who turned to the doctor, “hello Doctor Miller what have you got for me.”

“Not a lot really, they’re all obviously dead, no external wounds, no obvious signs of poisoning or asphyxiation, it seems that at one moment they were living a normal life and then they all died in a very short space of time.”

The Inspector nodded and enquired, “When will you be able to give me more information.”

“If it’s OK with you I’ve asked for the removal of all three bodies to the morgue and we will be able to give you a clearer picture after the autopsies, in about four days.”

“Thanks doc, keep in touch.”

Metcalfe turned to Constable Wardle and demanded, “Tell me all you know.”

The constable confirmed two police officers had attended the scene after an emergency call had been received at 08.35. At the scene they had found a very distraught woman and three dead bodies; the woman was the daughter of two of the victims and the grand daughter of the third; she had come round this morning to take them all to Norwich shopping. This was something she did every week as they had no transport and the bus service in Yoxford wasn’t very good. When she got no answer from ringing the front door bell she used her own key to let herself in and found them all as you see them now. She says she touched nothing nor moved anything and just called the police then ran next door to Beryl’s house because she didn’t know what else to do. The two police officers immediately called for back-up and the house was sealed off as a crime scene; both constables are still here, one at the rear and one at the front of the house.

Wardle had arrived at the same time as the doctor to find Brenda Jarvis very distressed and being tended to by her neighbour Beryl a rather fussy, but helpful woman. Brenda was so upset the doctor gave her a sedative and told her to rest. There was little else to say, there was no sign of a break in, no sign of violence or a struggle and Beryl who lived in the adjoining semi, had heard nothing unusual. Wardle knew Beryl and had the impression she would know if anything was out of the ordinary in Yoxford. This was a typical day in Yoxford except that three people were dead. The only noise Beryl heard all evening was from number six who were celebrating the birth of their son but even this was over very soon. There had also been a celebration and firework display a couple of days ago for John, a neighbour who was sixty, but that was all.

The Inspector thanked Wardle and surveyed the ground floor of the house; everything seemed normal as already observed and to his trained eye it seemed as if all three had died from natural causes. He phoned in his preliminary report and stated he would remain on the scene to interview the daughter when she awoke from the sedative.

Brenda Jarvis was a tall slim lady, perhaps too slim for his liking, with straight black hair and a pinched puffy complexioned faced. Her whole body seemed to be shaking and tear lines etched her face, it was obvious she had been and still was traumatised by what she had found.

Metcalf found no further clues from his short interview with her; her parents were normal every day folk, they were reasonably fit for their age, were in good health and enjoyed gardening. In fact she had spoken to them only the night before and they sounded happy. Their only problem seemed to be that they were all suffering from a cold and grandmother also had a bad chest, and although this had been going on for a couple of days, they had taken some paracetamol and felt a little better. They were looking forward to seeing her the next day and would give her some fresh potatoes they had just dug from their garden; grandmother was staying with them and would be coming shopping too.