The Marriage Hearse (29 page)

‘Try and stop me.’

Rachel helped him out of the passenger seat and linked her arm through his as they walked, a supportive gesture that, he thought,
might have been misinterpreted by the casual observer. But for once he found he didn’t mind.

They reached Georgina’s Georgian retreat and Wesley was struck once again by the beauty of the house, its mellow bricks and
its fine proportions. He wondered how she could have afforded such a place. Perhaps clairvoyance paid better than nursing.

Wesley left it to Rachel to knock on the door and he stood beside her, waiting, his eyes on the lush Virginia creeper, its
leaves like hands grasping the mellow bricks. There was no answer so Rachel knocked again.

This time they heard hurrying footsteps approaching the front door. She was in.

‘Sorry,’ Georgina said as she opened the door, ‘I was in the bathroom. Do come in.’ She seemed perfectly relaxed, hardly a
woman with something to hide. But then she didn’t know what they had come to ask her yet. She led them through to the drawing
room.

‘I wasn’t expecting to see you again,’ she said as she sat down. ‘I read in the local paper that a man’s been arrested for
Kirsten’s murder.’

‘Yes, that’s right. But there are still one or two things we need to clear up.’

Georgina looked straight at Wesley. ‘You’re in pain. I sense violence. You’ve been involved in violence.’

Wesley was unimpressed. From the stiff way the pain was forcing him to move, it would be easy for anyone to tell that something
was amiss. ‘Are you making that diagnosis because you’re a clairvoyant or because you have medical knowledge, Sister?’

A momentary flash of alarm crossed Georgina’s face, hardly noticeable if you weren’t looking for it. ‘How did you know I used
to be a nurse? I’m sure I never …’

‘Let’s say a little bird at the Novavita Clinic told my colleague here.’

‘I don’t see how it can be relevant.’

‘Why’s that?’

Georgina looked uncomfortable. ‘Well, as far as I was aware, the only things that were causing Kirsten trouble were her ex-boyfriend
and something at work.’

‘You still think that?’

She looked Wesley in the eye. ‘Of course. And I was right, wasn’t I? The ex-boyfriend’s been arrested and I read in the paper
that the people who owned the college where she worked were arrested for arranging bogus marriages. There you are.’

‘Spot on,’ said Rachel with a hint of irony.

‘Do you think Kirsten knew about the marriage racket?’

‘I think she knew something was going on but I don’t think she knew the details. You think this ex-boyfriend’s innocent, don’t
you? You think she was killed for some other reason?’

‘Maybe.’

‘And her death has something to do with these bogus marriages? Someone was afraid she’d give the game away.’

Wesley didn’t answer. He knew Georgina was trying to steer his suspicions in one particular direction; to help him reach the
conclusion she wanted him to reach. And he wondered why.

‘Kirsten’s friend, Marion Blunning, said she wanted to speak to you.’

‘She did speak to me,’ the woman snapped. Suddenly she looked uneasy. ‘Of course she spoke to me. You know that already.’

‘I didn’t mean she wanted to speak to Georgina the clairvoyant. She wanted to see Sister Williams who had worked at the Novavita
Clinic. Kirsten had found out her real father was a sperm donor and her mother had attended the clinic where you worked. She
was trying to discover her father’s identity.’

‘Well, she won’t have got very far. All donors are anonymous. It’s always been a strict rule.’

‘But she did ask you?’

‘That’s between her and me.’

‘She’s dead.’ Wesley wasn’t going to take any nonsense or listen to any talk about sacred trust or priests in the confessional.
This woman might be a witness in a murder enquiry.

‘So did she come to you because she hoped you’d be able to help her find her real father?’

The answer was silence. Georgina pressed her lips together in a stubborn line.

‘Kirsten found letters from the clinic that her mother had kept. That’s how she found out Richard Harbourn wasn’t her biological
father. I presume your name was on the letters and that’s why she was looking for you.’

‘I would have signed appointment letters at that time, yes.’

‘So who was her father, Georgina?’

‘How should I know? The records will be at the clinic. I didn’t have access to that sort of information. And what if Kirsten’s
biological father had been some student desperate for the money or some man who thought he was making the world a better place.
It can hardly have anything to do with her death, can it?’

Wesley and Rachel looked at each other. It had been a lead worth following up but he had to admit to himself that Georgina
was probably right. He was reading far too much into all this. Kirsten’s quest for her true genetic origins could hardly have
led to her murder.

Unless she had found her real father and she had inadvertently stumbled across something unsavoury which meant he – or someone
connected to him – had had to silence her. But as soon as this thought popped into Wesley’s mind he swiftly suppressed it.
He was straying into the realms of fantasy. What with the bogus
marriages at her place of work and Stuart Richter stalking her and hiring private detectives to watch her, just how much
trouble could one woman attract in her short life?

‘I still don’t understand,’ said Rachel. ‘If you thought the business about the clinic had nothing to do with Kirsten’s murder,
why didn’t you tell us all about it when we first came to see you?’ Rachel inclined her head and awaited a reply.

Georgina sighed. ‘I knew it had nothing to do with her death so I didn’t want to complicate things.’

‘Any other reason?’ Wesley had the feeling she was holding something back.

Georgina rose from her seat and walked over to the large sash window. She stared down at the street below for a few moments
before replying. ‘No, that’s it. I didn’t think it was relevant.’

‘So there was nothing untoward at the Novavita Clinic?’ Wesley felt he wanted to eliminate this possibility once and for all.

‘Nothing whatsoever, Inspector.’

‘So why did you leave?’

‘That one’s simple.’ She smiled. ‘I discovered my gift.’ She looked at her watch and stood up. ‘I’m expecting a client in
ten minutes. If you’ve finished …’

They allowed themselves to be ushered out. As Wesley glanced back at the house, he wondered whether the fact that Georgina’s
gift paid rather better than nursing had swayed her decision. But then perhaps the pain that shot through his body every time
he took a step was making him sour and cynical.

Neil Watson thought it best to keep the human skull he was carrying in a cardboard box so as not to alarm innocent passersby.
Somehow he had felt uncomfortable about leaving the poor girl lying there in a mortuary drawer without a head and he felt
rather relieved that he was returning it to her. Since he had seen her likeness on the computer screen she had become a real
person to him. At last the girl from Cudleigh Farm had a face, if not a name.

Neil had insisted on having three copies printed out on sheets of paper. One for himself, one for Margaret Lightfoot and one
for
Annabel who had promised to delve further into her archives on his behalf.

The first sight of the girl’s image had shocked him. Not because her face was ugly or marred in any way. But because she looked
so attractive, so alive. The skull had been scanned by the computer and the face built up, muscle by muscle, feature by feature.
Neil had seen faces from the past painstakingly modelled in clay before, but this was the first time he had seen high technology
used to reawaken the dead.

The girl from Cudleigh Farm had a wide, generous mouth and a slightly turned-up nose. Her hair and colouring, of course, had
to be guessed at but the computer had given her blue eyes and long sandy hair. To Neil she looked beautiful, the kind of girl
he could fall in love with. But somebody centuries ago had placed their hands around her throat and squeezed the life out
of her. And he found it hard to forgive this act of desecration.

He felt a little uneasy as he walked through the plastic swing doors into the mortuary. The thought that at any moment he
might encounter a trolley bearing a dead body made him shudder. Digging up dry bones from the earth was one thing, but meeting
bodies still covered with flesh was quite another. Sometimes he didn’t know how Wesley coped with murders that involved real
people rather than academic whodunits from the past.

Eventually he found Colin Bowman in his office writing a report. When Neil knocked tentatively on his door, the pathologist
leapt out of his seat to admit him, delighted to see a fellow human being … and one that was very much alive.

‘I’ve brought the skull back,’ Neil began as he handed Colin a plastic folder containing the image of the dead girl. ‘And
the university’s produced this. It’s what she looked like.’

Colin took the folder and opened it. He stared at the picture for a few seconds. ‘Pretty girl. Have you seen Wesley?’

‘Not since I visited him in hospital. I believe he’s gone back to work. Stupid.’

‘Not really advisable. But if he feels he’s up to it …’ Colin shrugged. ‘I was going to contact him today. Kirsten Harbourn’s
body can be released for burial.’ He frowned. ‘I don’t know what
we’re going to do with our other murder victim … that chap who was found in that guesthouse in Morbay. I suppose we’ll have
to accommodate him until a relative can be found.’

Neil said nothing. These modern deaths were none of his concern. ‘I’d better get back to the dig. I’ll leave the skull with
you then. That all right?’

As soon as Neil had gone, Colin walked to the room where the bodies were stored and reunited the girl’s skull with her body.
When he returned to the office he stared for a while at the picture Neil had left him.

The question still remained. Who was she?

‘Where is he?’ James Creston looked around as he stepped into his sister’s flat. He was dressed in his running clothes, shorts
and singlet, and he smelled of sweat.

Julia closed the door behind him, wrinkling her nose. ‘If you mean Simon, he’s gone back to his own place.’

‘Good.’

Julia said nothing. She knew how much James despised Simon Jephson; how he’d always spoken of him with veiled contempt.

‘I trust you’ve told him where to get off.’

‘I’m keeping my options open. And I wish you’d have a shower before you come here. The place stinks for hours after …’

‘Don’t change the subject. If you’re still involved with Jephson you’re asking for trouble. And you were stupid to let him
stay here while the police were looking for him.’

‘He hadn’t done anything. You know that as well as I do.’

‘He was friendly with our dear late future-sister-in-law. That made him a suspect.’

‘He wasn’t the only one who used to call on her. So did you.’ James was starting to annoy her. He always had annoyed her ever
since they were children. Peter was so much nicer. And more malleable. ‘Why have you come?’

James hesitated, wondering if he could trust her. But she was his sister; his own flesh and blood. If you can’t trust family,
who can you trust? ‘I wanted to remind you to stick to the story we agreed if the police come round asking questions again.’

‘It’s hardly likely. They’ve arrested that man who was stalking her.’

James walked to the window and stared out. ‘If they find out I …’

‘They won’t. If someone had seen you, they’d have reported it by now.’

James suddenly turned and Julia saw a single tear running down his cheek. She rushed to him and took his face in her hands.
‘Nobody’s ever going to find out, James. Get that into your head. If you keep calm nobody’s ever going to know the truth.’

‘Not even Peter?’

‘Especially not Peter.’

Dedication to duty is all very well but Gerry Heffernan considered that Wesley was taking things a bit too far. It was perfectly
obvious to everyone in CID that he was experiencing discomfort, if not plain old-fashioned pain. When he’d returned to the
office with Rachel to report on their meeting with Georgina Williams, Heffernan had told him to get off home and rest. He
would be no good to anybody if he overdid things.

Wesley had disagreed, saying that he’d take some painkillers and get some rest at home later. He was quite adamant that he
was all right to work.

Heffernan was a little puzzled as to why Wesley was pursuing Kirsten Harbourn’s tenuous connection with the Novavita Clinic
and Sister Williams, worrying at it like a terrier with a juicy bone. The Kirsten Harbourn case was cleared up and her killer
was awaiting trial. DNA evidence … the lot. Bar the paperwork, they were free now to concentrate on other things.

Heffernan wondered why Wesley wasn’t showing more interest in the skeleton Neil Watson had dug up – he usually liked some
ancient puzzle to keep him from the arms of boredom.

The thought of the skeleton reminded him of the play. Joyce had said she was looking forward to
The Fair Wife of Padua
. She was getting a neighbour to sit in with her mother specially. Wesley and Pam were going … as was Wesley’s sister and
her fiancé. A real family outing. He’d heard that the play was gruesome and he
was a little worried about Joyce. Perhaps it had been a mistake to ask her but then Rachel Tracey had been so keen to sell
tickets to her first public performance in years.

Steve Carstairs interrupted his thoughts.

‘Sir. There’s been another call from that bloke, Quigley. The private eye.’ He spoke the words with heavy irony. ‘He says
it’s not urgent but could you give him a call. Says he just wants to check on progress.’

Heffernan grunted. He hadn’t time to indulge the whims of the would-be Sherlock Holmes. ‘He can wait. Anything else?’

‘Liston’s asking to see you.’

‘What about?’

‘Says he’ll only speak to you.’

Slowly, like a hippopotamus rising from the water, Heffernan eased himself out of his chair and stretched. He’d been sitting
too long.