The Lazarus Secrets (9 page)

Clarissa looked at her watch; “No, you're fifty and it's almost midnight, we should keep an eye on the clock or we will miss the New Year arriving!”

“Are you all right, Max?” Sarah asked. “You look a bit pale.”

He smiled at her, “Couldn't be better darling but I've had a rotten day and wonderful evening, which is a very tiring mixture. I'm so happy that Jane managed to get here. Did you know she was coming?”

“No, David arranged it all and dashed off to collect her from the station this afternoon. I think he's trying to impress us and says he has another surprise. He's gone to get it now.”

“I don't think I can take much more of this,” Max laughed.

At that moment, David Darrington walked into the room in a naval officer's uniform and grinning widely saluted his father. Not quite sure if this was one of his pranks no-one moved.

“It's no joke,” David said. “I've joined the navy and report to Dartmouth in two weeks.”

Sarah jumped up and hugged him tightly, “You little brat, why didn't you tell us?”

“I wanted to surprise Dad on his birthday.”

Max couldn't move. He smiled, but the pain in his chest was intense and cold sweat ran down his back. Aware, of his morbid dread of the sea, his mother put her hand on his, “It's all right Max,” but when he turned his face to her she gasped.

Everyone seemed to be talking at once; congratulating David, calling, “Happy New Year” and hugging one another as the clock in the hall struck twelve.

Max stood up. He had to congratulate David, to tell him how pleased he was but the noise grew louder and louder and the pain deeper and deeper. He was falling. The room darkened and above the clamour he heard Sarah scream his name.

Chapter Eight

“Come in Darrington, so good to see you up and about,” Chief Superintendent Harry Rothwell reached out his hand across his desk.

“It's good to see you, sir,” Max answered as he shook his boss's hand.

“Sit down. How are you now? You're certainly looking better than the last time I saw you in the hospital all wired up to machines and things, you had us all very worried. I have been ringing Sarah now and again to check on your progress.”

“Yes, she told me,” Max nodded, “I'm fine now, I had a check-up last week and the doctor is happy for me to resume my duties and after three months convalescence I'm anxious to do so.”

Rothwell sorted through the papers on his desk, his rimless spectacles slid down his long nose, “The cardiologist treating you was Dr Victor Bridgman. Is that right?”

“Yes. He's very pleased with my progress and as I said happy for me to return to work.” Darrington knew he sounded desperate.

“That's not quite what it says here.” Rothwell gave a thin smile and tapped a manicured fingernail on the file open on his desk, “It says light duties for six months. You could hardly call your old job light duties now could you?”

Darrington didn't answer.

Rothwell continued in his pacifying tone, and Darrington thought the man was a diplomat if nothing else, “We want you back, make no mistake about that, but not before you're fully fit. I'm certainly taking no chances with my most successful detective. However, until then I have something for you, something tailor-made for your particular talents and not, as you may be thinking, a job created to keep you out of the front line. It's important. We need someone with your investigative skills to look into an old case, and I have to say, if it were not for the fact that the heart attack almost killed you, it could be considered fortuitous you're at our disposal for the next few months.”

There was little point in arguing and Darrington knew it and at least he would be back at work. It was a step in the right direction and what he had been expecting. “Right, so what's the job, sir?”

Rothwell pulled a newspaper from his desk drawer and handed it to him, “Have you read this article?”

Max glanced at the headlines he had seen a few weeks ago in the tabloid newspaper not exactly known for adherence to facts.

POLICE COVER UP OF BLITZ MURDERS.

“Yes, I have read it. Seemed a bit far-fetched, a bit of journalistic license to sell a few more papers. I thought it was full of ‘ifs' and ‘what ifs', and I certainly didn't take it seriously.”

Rothwell nodded, “Yes well, unfortunately, some people are taking it very seriously and the Minister has ordered an enquiry into the matter. The article suggests that in the early part of the war, 1940 – 1941, during the blitz, a serial killer ran amok in London killing at least six young women. And although the authorities were aware of it, they didn't go public so as not to alarm the population of London, who were already frightened out of their wits courtesy of the Luftwaffe. The inference is that police files on the cases were deliberately destroyed to protect the prime suspect who was a prominent figure, possibly a politician, even a policeman. Either way the conclusion being drawn is that the official silence allowed the killer to operate unchecked amongst people who had not been warned of the danger.”

Darrington glanced at the newspaper on Rothwell's desk, “It's mostly innuendo, and no actual evidence. Wouldn't it be wiser to ignore it? By now the public will be wrapping their fish and chips in that paper.”

Rothwell stood up and looked out of the window, “Yes, those would have been my sentiments but it's not quite so simple.” He turned and looked over the top of his spectacles, “What I'm telling you goes no further,” Darrington nodded, “files on this case were not deliberately destroyed that bit of the story is most certainly not true because they still exist but, unfortunately, there may be an element of truth in the rest of it. Now do you understand why we need someone of your calibre to deal with the situation?”

“Are you saying it actually happened?” Darrington asked in surprise.

“I'm telling you there was an investigation during the last months of the war when rumours of the killings were circulating and there are files of a sensitive nature in police archives, but you know what resources were like in those days, the investigation wouldn't have been as thorough as it would be today. It was 1945, every available man was in Europe trying to end the war, and it would hardly have been given priority. Your task now will be to go through the files, see what you make of the information available, ascertain if there's a case to answer and write an up-to-date report. You can work your own hours, all the Minister wants at this time is, if challenged, to be able to stand up in Parliament, hand on heart, and say the matter is under investigation. Now do you have any questions?”

“Yes, and the first that springs to mind is, why isn't this being dealt with by the Metropolitan Police in London where the supposed crimes took place?”

Rothwell nodded, “Good question. The war has been over more than twenty years, but there are still some, now quite highly placed, serving officers who were on the force then, so to avoid any cry of ‘foul' or any suggestion of a police cover-up to protect our own, the committee dealing with this matter decided it should not be investigated by the Met.”

“So how did I come to be chosen?”

Rothwell's face assumed its fox-like cunning. “I happen to be the chairman of the said committee and I nominated you. I was elsewhere during the War, so were you, we are considered untainted you might say. It's just your sort of thing Darrington but not too strenuous, lots of research and paperwork I'm afraid at the moment, we need your mind not your body.”

Darrington smiled, Rothwell was known to have many highly placed contacts. He was a man who had nurtured his career and mixed with dubious characters at the top and bottom levels of society.

“Right and my next questions are, when do I start, and where are the archives?”

“Next week will be soon enough but in your enthusiasm don't forget the doctor's advice; get into it gradually, fit the work around your health requirements and, no need really to say it again, but absolutely no-one should know about this. Not even Sarah. Do you have a safe in your house?”

Darrington looked surprised and puzzled. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. The previous owner was a gunsmith and built it to keep weapons safe from his children.” A picture of the gun and box of ammunition he should have handed in when he found them in the safe years ago went through his mind. “Why?”

“Well, you can work at home when it's more convenient providing you can keep the papers secure but some files cannot be removed from the archives which, by the way, are in Winchester so it's a bit of travelling. But as I said you can work your own hours.”

“I wasn't aware we had archives in Winchester.”

“No, that's another thing, it's a new complex, built to house sensitive material so keep that quiet too. Your story is that you're doing extremely boring statistical research until you are considered fully fit for duty. Any queries should be directed to me and your final report should be submitted to me. If you need to interview anyone or to access anything other than the files, clear it through me first. Remember, we don't know who we're hunting here.”

“Are we actually hunting, sir?”

From across the desk, Rothwell looked squarely into Max's face and took a moment to reply, “I'm not exactly certain,” he said eventually.

Chapter Nine

Well, how did it go?” Sarah asked anxiously before Max had closed the front door behind him.

“Good. Well, not good really but no worse than expected, light duties for six months. Would you believe collating statistics for a government committee? Lots of work with records but very flexible hours. I'll have to travel to Winchester, but no doubt you'll be glad to see the back of me at last.”

Max was stunned when Sarah burst into tears.

“What is it? What's wrong?” Sarah didn't often cry but now she stood in the kitchen and sobbed. “Please Sarah tell me?” he begged.

“Max I'll never be glad to see the back of you. Alexander is fond of saying how you were born with ‘Auld Lane Syne' playing in your ears and quite honestly last New Year's Eve I thought you were going to die the same way. I was terrified and I've been scared to let you out of my sight since that dreadful night, never mind seeing the back of you.”

He put his arms around her, “Forgive me it was a stupid thing to say, but I wasn't serious. I just meant we would both be happier when I'm back at work. I'm such a selfish bastard I sometimes forget how much you've been through but I'm fine now. You heard what the doctor said, I've had a warning and it's up to me to heed it and I will, I promise.”

Sarah dried her eyes, “I love you so much Max, we've always shared everything, good times, bad times and the bits in between but I thought I was going to lose you and I had no-one to share my fears. Even when you were convalescing, I was frightened you would get upset if I told you anything going on in the family so I kept it all to myself.”

Max sighed and squeezed her hand. “Sarah, it's over and to prove it you can bring me up to date with all the news, good or bad and I promise I will not lose my temper or get upset.” He stretched out his arms, “You see before you the new Max Darrington, calm, serene and sweet tempered but don't tell anyone in the force, I don't want to be on light duties forever.”

Sarah began with good news, they were to be grandparents again twice over. Anna was pregnant and she and Jules were hoping for a girl this time. Heather had the same exciting news too. She and Stephen and their five-year-old daughter, Helen, wanted a boy. “I only found out today so we must be sure to ring Top Cottage and tell your mother. You know what the village grapevine is like, if we don't do it soon someone else will, more than likely Ruby Rudge.”

Max grinned, “That's great news and now why don't you tell me about the things that are not so good.”

Sarah's face clouded over, “It's Alexander. He hasn't been well, your mother finally persuaded him to see a doctor and he has lung cancer.” Her eyes filled with tears again. She knew how much his uncles meant to Max and could find no easy way to tell him.

“How bad is it?”

“The worst. They can't operate and he has a year at most. I know how you feel. I love the grumpy old sod too and I can't imagine him not being here stirring up trouble and using bad language in front of the children.”

“How's mother coping?”

“Oh, she's been absolutely marvellous! She certainly shows her mettle in a crisis. We got to know a couple of weeks ago, she must have been devastated but she wouldn't let me tell you until you'd had the all-clear from the doctor. What a strange relationship she and Alexander have, they seem like lovers but he's almost more than a husband, more than a brother, more than best friend. Sort of all three rolled into one.”

Max smiled, “Sarah, I grew up with them and I can't explain it but don't ever ask. Years ago I mentioned it to Alexander a couple of times and I thought he was going to drop me where I stood and I never again had the courage to broach the subject. It's part of the past, some promise or agreement they all made when I was born, it sort of tied the two of them and Charles and my grandmother together. I don't know all the facts, but my father had been killed and mother went into premature labour with shock when she got the news and was not expected to survive. She and Charles were estranged for some reason and Alexander had been looking after her. Apparently, when Charles went to the hospital the two of them came to blows.”

“What! Charles and Alexander?”

“Yes, Alexander once told me about it once when he'd had too much to drink, he didn't go into details but said they hated each other on sight.”

“Well, I mean Alexander in a fight in his youth yes, I can quite see that happening, but not Charles! Anyway, they obviously got over it, I've never heard those two have a cross word and they've lived in the same home for years.”