Conflicted Innocence (16 page)

“Great. Do you have a spade by any chance?” James took off his lightweight, beige jacket and handed it to me.

“All our guys are out, and they keep the tools in the vans,” Alan said.

“I’ve got one, I think,” Chris said, rushing back towards the cab office. Moments later, he returned with a shovel and handed it to James.

“Better than nothing. Thanks, mate.” James took it and began scraping away the surface dust, revealing a wooden area approximately three-feet wide and six-feet long.

Between them, James and Chris lifted several of the boards and stacked them neatly against the shelves.

I held my breath, not really knowing what to expect.

There was a gap of approximately five inches under the boards, but the pit had been filled with all kinds of rubbish and building rubble from bricks to empty cement bags.

“It will be at least six-feet deep.” Alan stroked his chin, a concerned expression on his face.

“I think I need to contact my boss.” Eric appeared concerned.

“Good idea,” James said. “And I should go and report it to the police. We could potentially ruin any evidence if we start digging around in that lot.”

Chapter 29

At first, we were treated like a couple of crackpots at the police station, until one of the officers, PC Yates, who appeared to be in his twenties. He sporting a teeny bit of bum-fluff on his chin, and had the brightest green eyes I’d ever seen. He said he’d read some of James’ books.

“I’ll go, Sarge,” he said to his boss.

“Well, don’t go upsetting the council. Check out the pit only, and get back to us if anything surfaces.” He raised his eyebrows at his colleague and then at both of us in turn.

“Dickhead!” I said under my breath.

James dug me in the ribs. “Thanks so much, sir. I appreciate the assistance,” he said, backing out of the cramped reception area.

“Kiss arse!” I hissed at him.

PC Yates walked us out the front of the building.

“Okay, I’ll just get my car and meet you there in ten.”

We found Eric and Alan still standing beside and peering into the pit. Eric seemed relieved to have a police officer on site, clearly wanting someone else in charge if anything went wrong.

“Did you speak to your boss?” I asked.

“Yes. They said we could dig out the pit so long as it was loose rubble. To dig up the concrete would be a different story as they would need to contact the owner of the property.”

“Fair enough,” James said. “Did Chris take that shovel? Best we make a start.”

Just then a council van pulled up and two burly young blokes, dressed in florescent yellow overalls, got out.

“Just in the nick of time,” Eric said, beckoning them over. “We need to dig all this crap out of the pit, guys. Do you mind?”

The larger of the two, a bearded hulk of a man, sighed and glanced at his lanky mate, clearly not thrilled to have another job added to their day’s work.

“Don’t worry about it, mate. I’ll do it.” James began taking his jacket off once again.

“Nah, you’re not dressed for it. We’ll do it, won’t we Dave?” The smaller guy said.

“Cost you a pint,” Dave said.

“I’ll buy you a six-pack each if we get to the bottom of that thing in the next hour,” James said.

“You’re on.”

Without further ado, the lads got stuck in, and with the right equipment, were making inroads in no time. They piled the rubble up at the side of the pit for ease of shoving it back in again afterwards.

“So what are we looking for?” Dave asked, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his overall sleeve.

“Something that could contain a weapon wrapped in a dress,” James said.

Dave continued digging, suddenly a little more interested.

There was all sorts of crap down the pit—boxes of paperwork, tyres, a brittle old hose snaking through everything and loads of bricks. When the younger guy pulled out an ancient looking toolbox, my heart missed a beat.

James pounced on the rusty old box and used a screwdriver that Eric passed him to pry open the lid. We all took a sharp intake of breath as we waited for the lid to flip open.

I could have cried when I saw it was empty, aside from a pack of naughty playing cards and a few crappy old tools.

James slung the toolbox back onto the pile and the lads got back to work.

As they got closer to the bottom of the pit, they pulled out three oil drums and scraped the remaining dirt out.

“Nothing. Will we still get our beer?” Dave asked.

“Course you will, so long as it all goes back the way it was,” James confirmed.

“Hang on,” Eric interrupted. “We don’t really need to put it all back in there—it’s a load of old rubbish and needs biffing. Shove it all in the skip out back, and I’ll match the beer.”

“Come on,” James said to me. “We may as well go and grab a coffee and pick up payment for these thirsty young men.”

Deflated, I followed him towards the car.

PC Yates came too. “Never mind. It was always going to be a longshot,” he said.

“I know, but wouldn’t it have been great to solve such a historic case?”

“There’s still a chance it could be there somewhere. Maybe I’ll put the case to my sarge and see if he’ll support us in a full search.”

“Would you do that?” James asked, suddenly a little excited again.

I didn’t hear his answer over the shouts coming from the workshop.

Dave ran towards us. “You might wanna look at this, mate.”

We raced back inside, eager to know what had got the moody and morose man so excited.

The younger man had one of the oil drums on its side and had crowbarred the lid off. The contents had spewed out, one of them being an old British Rail holdall.

James looked to the policeman who stepped forward and unbuckled the top of the bag before peering inside. He gasped, opening the flap further for us all to get a good look at the contents.

A pale blue, floral fabric lay scrunched in the bottom and was covered in a murky brown stain.

“Is that...?”

“Looks like blood to me. I’m going to have to call this in. Seems your old lady was telling the truth after all.

Chapter 30

I sat on the edge of my seat all the way home, jabbering incessantly about how we’d solved a historic murder in little over three days.

James kept chuckling at me, his deep dimples a permanent fixture on his face, and I couldn’t wait to get him home and devour him. There was no greater aphrodisiac than adrenaline, I discovered.

We went straight to pick up Grace, who was already fast asleep in her pushchair by the time we arrived, a little after seven.

“Aw, I so wanted to nibble on her cute little chin,” I said, pouting.

“She is such a sweet little thing,” Candice said, much more gushy than usual. “She proper belly-laughed when I popped a paper bag earlier.”

Lydia even seemed different—much calmer and happier.

“We’re going to the cottage tomorrow,” she said. “I told Lee we need to decide what to do with it, and seeing as we’ve decided to stay here, there’s no reason to keep it.”

“Good for you!” I said, almost exploding to tell her my news.

“What?” She laughed at my flapping hands.

“We solved the murder! The wife did it.”

“What murder? You mean, the ancient one James is writing about?”

I nodded, my grin so wide my face almost split in two.

“And the police know?” She smiled, sharing my excitement.

“Yes. They haven’t made any arrests yet, of course. They need to do their own investigation, but we found the murder weapon, and I got a confession off the wife. It’s only a matter of time before it’s all over the news, I’m sure.”

“Well done, you!” Lydia jumped to her feet and hugged me.

“Thanks. I’m totally stoked.”

James and Lee appeared in the doorway.

“Are my two favourite ladies ready?” James asked.

I nodded. “Thanks once again for having Grace, Lydia. We owe you big time.”

“Oh nonsense. It was my pleasure. She’s such a darling. And congratulations, James. What a result!”

“I know! I have my very own Miss Marple.” James slid his arm around my waist and pulled me to him.

“Gerroff!” I laughed, batting his chest playfully. “You silly bugger.”

We walked to the front door, James pushing Grace. “Oh, Lee, did James tell you I won’t be able to work tomorrow? I’ll have to organise childcare.”

“Of course. But by all accounts, you won’t be working for me anyway.”

“I won’t?” I gasped, wide-eyed, wondering what the hell I’d done wrong this time.

“No, you won’t,” James piped up from the garden path. “You’re much too good a detective to waste your time in boring property rentals—no offence, pal.”

“None taken, buddy.” Lee laughed.

“So, does that mean there’s a vacancy?” Lydia said, pointing, not very discreetly, at her sister.

Lee glanced at his wife’s excited face and shrugged. “I guess so. On a trial period, mind.”

Candice screamed and hugged her sister, jumping on the spot.

“Have a great day tomorrow, guys,” I called, as James and I headed up the path.

We could still hear Candice’s squeals as the door closed behind us.

We laughed.

“Hey, you.” I scowled.

“What?”

“How do you know I didn’t want to learn all about the exciting life of property rentals?”

“I—I don’t. But I just thought you’d enjoy working with me. You know, James and Geri—private detectives.”

“How about Geri and James—Private Eyes?”

He laughed. “Still needs a little fine tuning, but yeah, you get the picture.”

I changed Grace into her pyjamas and tucked her into bed without a peep. Then, I called through to the local Indian restaurant for a takeaway and jumped in the shower while awaiting their delivery.

We snuggled on the sofa after eating, both exhausted from the last few days.

“Lydia seemed in great spirits today,” I said. “I’ve never seen her like that before.”

“I know. Lee told me she’s been struggling a bit, but she seems to be getting back to her usual self to me. He actually thanked me for trusting her to look after Grace.”

“Did he?”

“Yeah. He said they’ve both really enjoyed spending time with her, and it’s given Lydia a real spring in her step.”

I thought about the wishy-washy woman Lydia had been just a short time ago, to now. It was true—Lydia glowed from within and her smile, that used to be dead behind the eyes, now lit up her whole face.

“She deserves to be happy. I can’t imagine how she’s coped up to now. But I’m glad if Grace can help her deal with it and get her life back on track.”

“You’re an amazing woman, you know?” James pulled me into his arms and kissed me, hard.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” I groaned, straddling him.

“Hmmm, I quite like this new wanton and aggressive side to you,” he said, teasing my lips with his delicious tongue.

“Get used to it, lover—this is just the beginning.

*

I tossed and turned, unable to get a wink of sleep.

James slept soundly spooned behind me, and he groaned every time I kicked off the duvet, then again when I pulled it back on.

The events of the past few days were going around and around in my mind as though on a loop, but something niggled at me—something just outside of my consciousness.

I woke three hours later with a banging headache as though I’d been out on the town all night.

“You okay, babe?” James asked, placing a cup of tea beside the bed.

“Oh, gosh. I didn’t even hear you get up.”

“That’s okay, you’re obviously exhausted. I would leave you longer, but I need to get to work. I’ve heaps to type up after yesterday, and my star detective has a prior engagement.”

I groaned and pulled the pillow over my face. “Don’t remind me.” I had an appointment to see the nursery manager, but now I thought it would just be easier to go elsewhere.

“Don’t even think about it,” James said, as though reading my mind.

“But...”

“No. If you don’t deal with this head on it could happen again. They are supposed to work on behalf of you—the parent. They were out of order the other day.”

I threw the duvet to one side, jumped out of bed and slipped into my fluffy, pink slippers. “Okay.”

“Grace is downstairs decorating the highchair with marmite and toast as we speak. I’ll leave you to clean her up, shall I?”

“Gee, thanks.” I laughed.

I followed him down the stairs, and moments later Grace and I waved him off from the front step. Lee’s car wasn’t in its usual place so I figured they must have left already.

“Come on, Missie-moo. Let’s get dressed.”

Half an hour later, we strolled around to the nursery.

Wendy flushed crimson as we entered and mumbled something to another member of staff before tipping her head in my direction.

I nodded at them both and turned towards the manager’s office.

Cynthia Gordon answered my knock. We hadn’t met before but she knew who I was. She ushered us inside and made a fuss of Grace.

“Take a seat, Geraldine,” she said, pushing a box of toys towards us then walked around the desk.

I sat Grace in front of the box and she gurgled happily, dragging a large bright orange, wheel-shaped item out and put it straight to her mouth.

I shook my head and raised my eyes to the ceiling.

Cynthia laughed.

“Okay,” I said. “You obviously know what this is about, and I want to start by saying I appreciate the reason Wendy refused to allow my daughter to leave the other day.”

Cynthia nodded. “She had Grace’s best interests at heart.”

“Of course. I understand her concerns, and her need to make sure I was aware of Lydia’s conviction before releasing Grace into her care. However, once she spoke to me and I confirmed I did know, she should have backed off and let Lydia take my daughter home.”

“I know. You’re right. It’s just that Wendy was a friend of your neighbour’s sister when the little boy died, and it affected her badly. In actual fact, she was on the phone to her friend when she found him in the bath. His death played an active part in why Wendy chose a career with children.”

“If you understand how the child’s death might have affected Wendy, could you please try to understand the effect it had on Lydia? She made a terrible mistake and subsequently, her son lost his life. She’s going to pay for that every day for the rest of her life without people rubbing her nose in it every two minutes.”

Cynthia opened her mouth as though to say something, paused, then sighed. “I agree. It’s unforgivable. I’m sorry.” She held her hands up. “So, what can we do to make it right?”

“I dunno. I don’t even know if I want to bring Grace here anymore.”

“That would be a shame. Grace loves it here and Wendy, although misguided, had Grace’s best interests at heart.”

I had to agree, Grace did enjoy it there. When we’d arrived earlier she did her excited leg shaking dance in her pushchair.

“Well, maybe a written apology to Lydia. She’s such a lovely woman and this could have set her back months.”

“Consider it done.”

“From Wendy—not you.”

“Of course. And, if you like, you can leave Grace with us today. I’m sure you’ve got lots of things you could be getting on with.”

I shrugged. “I s’pose.” Wanting to play hard to get, but thinking I could do with a bit of me time after the night I’d had.

Back home, I had just got the key in the lock when Candice appeared at the adjoining hedge.

“So you forgave them, then?”

“They apologised, and Wendy will be writing a letter to Lydia. I guess I couldn’t ask for more. I made my point and let them know I wasn’t happy.”

“So the bitch gets away with treating my sister like a piece of shit?”

“I wouldn’t say that! She’s sufficiently embarrassed by her actions.”

Candice stomped back to her front door.

“Oh, Candy?”

She bobbed her head back out.

“Is it true you were on the phone to Wendy when Joseph drowned?”

Her expression changed to one of intense horror, and her cheeks instantly flushed. “I—I can’t remember. Probably.”

“Oh, I thought you two didn’t get on. You told me she used to bully you.”

“We were typical bitchy girls—friends one minute and enemies the next.”

She shut the door with a bang.

Inside, I began cleaning up from breakfast. Grace’s highchair was smeared with Marmite, and I had no choice but to dismantle it and put the cover, straps and all, in the washing machine.

Something still niggled me. Why couldn’t I get it?

As I loaded the dishwasher, my mind wandered to Monica and Harold, and whether or not they had been arrested yet. I couldn’t see the police getting very far with Monica, or even if her ramblings would be admissible, considering her state of mind. But the dress and the gun were more than enough to convict them with, surely.

Suddenly, a thought struck me. I stood bolt upright and threw the dishwasher powder back on the bench, before running outside.

The house on the unattached side of us looked as neglected and abandoned as it always did. I shuddered as I approached the green, faded and cracked front door.

Trembling, I lifted the metal knocker and tapped lightly. My knees threatened to give way on me as I heard a shuffling sound from within, followed by the fiddling of several chains.

The door opened and Mad Thomas peered out around it, his petrified expression was replaced by confusion, as he looked me up and down.

“Hi Thomas. Do you remember me? I’m Geri, from next door.” My words were slow and loud.

“Not deaf.” He motioned for me to step inside and walked away leaving the door to swing freely.

I hesitated, glancing about me, wishing I’d waited until James was home, before following him inside the jumbled, yet surprisingly tidy house.

I sidestepped a huge pile of newspaper and magazines in the hallway and marvelled at the neat tower of cardboard food packaging, wondering how it hadn’t toppled over before now.

I found Thomas sitting beside a drop leaf table in the kitchen, rolling a cigarette. He shoved the tobacco tin towards me.

“No thanks. I don’t smoke.” I smiled, taking this as some sort of acceptance of me—which was a far cry from the first time our paths crossed.

I perched on the edge of the only other chair and glanced around, taking in his stained grey T-shirt and what appeared to be dried egg on his bearded chin. More neat piles of cardboard and rubbish filled the room, making me think he must be the tidiest hoarder in the world. On top of the cooker was one misshapen pan and an old-fashioned steam kettle. The sink had a pile of clean dishes stacked on the draining board. A fruit bowl held a couple of borderline-rotten plums and half a banana. I turned back to face Thomas, at a complete loss as to what to say to him.