Empty Vessels (20 page)

Chapter Fifteen

The owner of the feet appeared in his entirety. It was Norman Richards. He was startled to see Bartlett and Boase. As Gloria stepped forward into the light cast by the single oil lamp, Norman looked horrified. He screamed and ran to the ladder as fast as he could. Boase lunged forward to grab his ankles but Norman was too agile. He scrambled his way to the top and out through the hatch. Boase ran after him. The two men were now on deck. Norman backed away.

ʻWhatʼs she doing ʼere? That woman – where did she come from? Back from the dead?ʼ Gloria had now appeared through the hatch and she walked towards Norman. He was sobbing now.

ʻKeep away or Iʼll kill you. Stand back, Iʼve got a gun.ʼ He pulled the weapon from his pocket and pointed it at her. Boase had crawled across the deck while all this was happening and was now standing behind Norman.

ʻPut the gun down, Norman. Youʼre going to get yourself into a lot trouble otherwise. Bartlett was watching now from the hatch.

ʻIʼll shoot, I will.ʼ

As Boase suddenly lurched forward towards Norman, in an attempt to knock the gun from his hand, Norman stepped back, his foot getting caught in a rope which was laying across the deck. He tripped, dropped the gun, and fell over the side into the water. Boase looked into the sea; it was dark but he thought he could just about see Norman being taken on the tide. He wasnʼt moving or shouting. Boase dived in; the icy water made him gasp. He started to swim but he could hardly breathe, so cold was the water. He could hear Bartlett shouting to him from the boat.

ʻBoase, heʼs just in front of you – youʼre almost there.ʼ

Boase carried on swimming. He could see Normanʼs head now. One final stroke and he had him. He grabbed him and began to swim towards the boat. As he almost reached the rocks, a strong arm grabbed the boy from him; it was Frank Wilson. He pulled Norman up on to the rocks then gave Boase his hand. Frank, unaided, and with one motion, dragged Norman and Boase up onto the boat. Bartlett had never seen a man exhibit such strength. Boase was shivering. Gloria had found two old blankets below deck and she wrapped Boase in the first one then Norman in the second; Norman was unconscious.

ʻHe must have hit his head on a rock,ʼ observed Bartlett to Frank. ʻYou must be frozen, Archie; here, take my coat.ʼ

ʻNo, really, Iʼm all right but I think we should get Norman to hospital.ʼ

Bartlett, Boase, Gloria Hesketh, and Frank Wilson, carrying the unconscious boy between them, made their way up the cliff path and back to the car. The car was, fortunately, large enough to accommodate all five of them and they shortly arrived at the Falmouth Hospital which was situated at the top of Killigrew Road. The hospital was open for emergencies even at this late hour and soon Norman Richards was in the capable hands of the doctor and nurses.

Frank Wilson looked at Bartlett. ʻCan I go now – if thatʼs all right with you?ʼ

ʻYes, itʼs all right, but donʼt you try running off – do you hear me? I need a lot of questions answering. Try running away and Iʼll catch up with you.ʼ

Bartlett had a strange feeling that they might have been wrong about Frank Wilson. He looked at Boase who still seemed to be shivering.

ʻYou should be out of those clothes. Come on, Iʼll just tell the matron weʼre leaving and Iʼll get you home. Iʼll come back and see the boy here tomorrow. You sure youʼre all right, Boase?ʼ

ʻIʼm fine, sir, just incredibly cold.ʼ

ʻTell you what, you come back to the house with me – you can stay the night. I know Caroline wonʼt mind.ʼ

ʻThank you very much, sir.ʼ Boase was feeling so cold and unwell that he didnʼt really care where he went. The freezing sea had taken it out of him. Bartlett bundled his assistant into the car and they drove the short distance to Penmere Hill. They were soon in Bartlettʼs kitchen and the older man had brought some spare pyjamas from upstairs.

ʻHere, put these on, Iʼll put your clothes on the range. You can sleep in the small room – but not before youʼve had a nip of something. You sort yourself out and Iʼll go into the parlour and get us a drop. Itʼs almost two oʼclock, weʼll be abed shortly.ʼ

The two men sat and had a warming drink.

ʻDo you think Wilsonʼll stick around, sir?ʼ

ʻI know he will, Boase. Heʼs got a lot to tell us, I think. You were very brave tonight, my boy; Iʼm proud of you. Now come on, youʼre all in. Letʼs get some sleep.ʼ

By the time Boase woke up in a strange bed, Caroline and Irene Bartlett had already cooked breakfast and as he came down the stairs a welcoming smell pervaded the house.

Bartlett had been up earlier and brought the dry clothes into the bedroom. Boase entered the parlour.

ʻGood morning, Archie – we didnʼt expect to see you here this morning,ʼ said Irene smiling and handing him a cup of tea. ʻDad told us what happened – youʼre so brave, jumping in the water like that. Bacon and eggs?ʼ

ʻThat would be very nice, thank you, I am quite hungry actually.ʼ

Bartlett and Boase tucked into two large breakfasts before leaving for the station. As the two men walked up Penmere Hill the rain began to fall steadily.

ʻYou feeling better now, Boase? I thought weʼd be better off walking – youʼre still looking a bit pale, the fresh air will do you good.ʼ

ʻYes thank you, sir. That breakfast helped.ʼ

ʻGood. Now since weʼre going past the hospital, I donʼt think it would do any harm to look in on that young Norman – find out what was going on last night.ʼ

They arrived at the hospital about ten minutes later and asked to see Norman. The matron said that they could spend five minutes with him, but no more as he had not long since regained consciousness. They went into a small room where he was lying in a bed. He looked up at them.

ʻHello. Thanks for cominʼ to see me. I really must talk to you.ʼ

Bartlett and Boase couldnʼt believe how ill the boy looked.

ʻThereʼs something you should know; please listen, itʼs important. I killed Ivy Williams.ʼ

Bartlett sat on the edge of Normanʼs bed.

ʻNow, now, young man, you donʼt know what youʼre saying – you had a nasty bang on the head last night – wouldʼve drowned too, if it wasnʼt for this man here. You try and get some rest and Iʼll come and see you tomorrow.ʼ

ʻNo, please donʼt go, please. I did kill ʼer. I didnʼt like ʼer. You ask Frank Wilson – ʼeʼs my friend anʼ I bin stayinʼ with ʼim for a long time. I tell ʼim evʼrything – always ʼave done. ʼEʼs bin looking after me since I was about six years old; there isnʼt nothinʼ ʼe donʼt know about me anʼ ʼe knows I done it. Youʼve got to believe me, I …'

Norman Richardsʼs body suddenly went rigid, he clenched his fists and tried to breathe but he couldnʼt. Bartlett leapt to his feet.

ʻNorman,
Norman
 – Boase, quickly fetch the matron. Quick!ʼ

The matron and a doctor came and ushered Bartlett and Boase out of the room. They were in there for quite some time. Presently they emerged. The doctor came over to Bartlett.

ʻIʼm very sorry, sir. Thereʼs no more we can do to help him. It didnʼt look very good for him last night but we still held out some hope. Iʼm sorry.ʼ

Bartlett sat down on a chair under a window. He felt warm suddenly. He pulled out his handkerchief and mopped his brow.

ʻYou all right, sir? That was a bit of a shock wasnʼt it? Poor kid. Come on now, sir. You need some fresh air.

Boase led the older man outside and into the garden. A fine rain was still falling and Bartlett began to feel refreshed. He hated to see anyone die – especially a young man.

ʻIʼm sorry, Boase. A few memories came back to me then and things went round in my mind all at once. I just thought about my boy John for a minute.ʼ

Boase never heard Bartlett speak about his son – this had really shocked him.

ʻCome on, sir. Letʼs take a walk down the station and Iʼll make you a nice cup of tea. We canʼt do any more here now.ʼ

The two walked down Killigrew Street to the police station. Bartlett sat down in his office. Boase brought him a strong, sweet cup of tea and the two men sat in silence. A knock at the door made them both jump. Constable Penhaligon came in carrying something in a bag.

ʻSorry to bother you both. A message that Frank Wilson is coming in to see you at eleven and, also, one of our men picked this up from the
St Piran
this morning.ʼ

ʻThank you, Penhaligon, that will be all.ʼ

Penhaligon handed the bag over to Bartlett and left the room.

Bartlett put down his cup, opened the bag and, throwing it down on his desk in despair, looked across at Boase.

ʻI feel like crying, Boase, I really do.ʼ

Boase came across the room and picked up the bag.

ʻOh, no!'

Inside the bag was a small, toy gun, the sort one might find in a boyʼs Cowboys and Indians game.

ʻHe died for nothing, sir. And itʼs all my fault.ʼ

ʻNo itʼs not, Boase. How could you tell that it was a toy in the dark – and how could you know he would hit his head? Put it all out of your mind for now. Perhaps Frank Wilsonʼll have some answers for us.ʼ

At five minutes to eleven, Frank Wilson was shown into the office of Bartlett and Boase. He sat down and lit a cigarette.

ʻI suppose youʼve both heard about poor Norman? Iʼve just been to the hospital on my way here. Iʼm devastated, I can tell you.ʼ

Bartlett nodded and listened.

ʻYou were quite close I gather?ʼ

ʻYes, he was like a kid brother to me.ʼ

ʻCan you tell us everything you know? Going right back to the beginning?

ʻYes, Iʼve known Norman Richards for about twelve years. He was a bit backward, due to something that went wrong with him and his mother when he was born. The odds were already stacked against him, as far as I knew – his mother was about fifty when he was born and the doctors had advised her not to have any more children, but, well, I suppose itʼs one of those things. It happened and Norman paid the price. Anyway, my parents knew his parents and when Norman was about six the family moved near where we were living. Norman used to follow me around all over the place and I used to give him sweets. He was such a kind kid.ʼ

Frank Wilson looked upset. He lit another cigarette.

ʻWhen Norman got older, the other kids used to take advantage of him. They used to make
him steal from shops – even a collection box in a church once. They never gave him anything. He used to want to be in their gangs but they just used to laugh at him. He would always try to buy things for them – or steal things to give them, just to be in with them. I can tell you it used to really upset me. Anyway when Norman turned fourteen he left school. His parents had both died the year before and my mother took him in just until he could fend for himself, so to speak. I managed to get him a job in Mrs Williamsʼs tobacco shop – she owed me a favour and he was a very good worker. Of course, when he got his own money every week he used to spend it on daft comics and going to the pictures – he loved films. He was quite literally a simple boy, Mr Bartlett, and I shall miss him terribly.

‘Well, what about his older siblings?'

‘I think he lost touch with them – they were never really interested in him. I think the previous child must be getting on a bit now. Norman was born much later on.'

ʻCan you tell us more about Ivy?ʼ Bartlett didnʼt tell Frank about the confession he had just heard from Norman before he died.

Frank stood up and walked over to the window and looked out onto the street below.

‘I was very fond of Ivy Williams – in love with her I suppose you might say. Weʼd been knocking around together for a few months. I just felt sorry for her at the beginning but then I began to see the real Ivy. She was actually a very sweet girl. No one liked her – they always said mean things about her and she was really quite sad. Weʼd planned to go away together, start a new life. I didnʼt really have anything to keep me here and I was a bit lonely, if Iʼm honest. Anyway, you may know that Ivy had been asking the Hattons for money after having found out that one of them was her father?ʼ

ʻYes, we know, go on,ʼ urged Bartlett.

ʻWell, Iʼd been with them in France during the war and I suppose they thought theyʼd done me a favour. I was implicated in a murder and Algernon Hatton helped me through it. I didnʼt have anything to do with it anyway, but he convinced everyone that I didnʼt and luckily nothing more happened. Anyway, Hatton came to me, saying I owed him a favour and that he wanted Ivy got rid of – if I didnʼt do it they would drag up the whole murder case and everything, just when I was starting to make plans to expand my business and to get on in life for a change. She was starting to cost too much – mind you, it was the least they could do after the way they treated her mother and then put her in the workhouse to die. Well, on the night Ivy was killed, I arranged to see a slip of a girl called Ruby Pengelly – she was sweet on me and I thought that I could use her as an alibi for what I was about to do. Norman was very friendly with her – with all the Pengellys, in fact, and he saw her waiting for me. She was very upset because I didnʼt turn up. He later saw me with Ivy. He told me after what he did.'

Frank sat down again.

ʻDo you think I could have a glass of water?ʼ

Boase fetched him one.

ʻApparently, Norman saw me on the beach with Ivy. I knew I couldnʼt kill her. I had taken her there and then, all of a sudden, I couldnʼt believe what I had actually agreed to do. Naturally I didnʼt tell her about any of that but I told her I had just remembered that I was supposed to be somewhere else and that I couldnʼt stay. I arranged to meet her the next day and then I just ran off and left her. I didnʼt want to hang round in case the Hattons had someone watching me. Norman told me later that he had been following us and when he saw her alone on the beach he hit her on the head with a rock. His mother had always told him that prostitutes werenʼt nice women and that they broke up families. He hit her – to please Ruby Pengelly, can you believe? Then he couldnʼt stop. He didnʼt want anyone to recognise her.ʼ He was a strange young thing – very protective of the girls. He often followed them around, especially at night because he had some mad idea that they might be in danger. Sometimes he was just looking out for them, other times he could be quite wicked, well, mischievous; he'd actually follow a girl just to frighten her – he thought it was funny, they never did. Sometimes he'd call out their name or jump out at them from behind a bush. There was never any harm intended, I know. Norman was the most likeable kid I ever knew.'