‘So we have two dead bodies. One male from twenty years ago. And one young female, recent. And the two people who might be able to tell us something about them are both in hospital and unable to speak. They don’t make it easy for us, do they, boss?’
‘Didn’t they teach you that in Hendon?’
‘Everything I learnt as a detective I learnt from you, boss.’
‘God help us all then,’ said Delaney.
‘Exactly.’
Sally swung the wheel and parked outside a medium-sized detached house in Pinner. The driveway and pavement had been cleared. A man in his late forties was making a snowman in the middle of the left-hand lawn.
He raised a hand in greeting as Delaney and Sally Cartwright walked up to his house.
‘Caroline is inside, Detectives,’ he said. ‘But I don’t know why you couldn’t have a meeting at the school.’
‘I’m sorry?’ asked Sally.
The front door opened and a woman in her mid-thirties appeared. She was of medium height with a curvy figure and shiny, coppery hair. She had bright-red lipstick and long eyelashes. She reminded Delaney of somebody but he couldn’t place her.
‘Because the school is closed, darling, you know that.’
‘Well, next term then, you bring enough work home with you as it is.’
The woman smiled at Delaney. ‘Ignore him, Inspector, he’s just a grouch.’
‘I’m only saying …’ said her husband.
‘Well, don’t, just keep at it. I want that snowman built before Natasha comes home!’
‘Yes, darling,’ said her husband, with a dispirited grin and picked up another handful of snow.
Inside the house Delaney and Sally sat in the lounge on a large, white leather sofa. It was a comfortably cluttered room. A boudoir grand piano had a bunch of family photos on top of it. Mainly of a young girl whom Delaney presumed was Caroline Lewis’ daughter. She certainly had the same lustrous hair and easy smile.
Except Caroline Lewis wasn’t smiling now. ‘Are you sure I can’t get you anything — tea, coffee?’ she asked.
‘We’re fine, thanks. And sorry to disturb you on a Sunday evening. But it is urgent. A body has been discovered in the grounds of your old church.’
‘What’s that got to do with me?’
‘We don’t know. Maybe nothing.’
‘It was all so long ago.’
‘Twenty years ago.’
‘Yes.’
‘About the same time, a man was shot in the head and buried in the grounds of the church.’
‘Like I say, that has nothing to do with us. With what happened.’
‘What did happen?’ asked Sally.
‘Does it matter now? No charges were brought. We made a mistake.’
‘Reverend Hunt is an old man now,’ said Sally. ‘He is very ill and in hospital. He can’t hurt you now.’
‘He never did.’
‘Are you saying you made it up? He never touched you or Susan Nixon?’
Caroline Lewis reddened. ‘I never said he actually touched us.’
‘What did happen then, Caroline?’ pressed Sally Cartwright.
‘We were both in a play the church was putting on that Christmas. Part of the celebrations for the week.’
‘Go on.’
‘It was a play he had written. Kind of a religious pantomime, I suppose. The girls were dressed as Herod’s serving women. I played Salome.’
‘And he made you take off your seven veils?’
‘No. Not in the play at least.’
‘But when you were alone.’
‘Not really. It wasn’t like that.’
‘What was it like?’
‘He had put a clothes rail up and hung blankets to make a changing area for us girls. There was a gap and he would peek through when we were changing.’
‘And you reported him.’
‘The other girls didn’t know. But Susan caught him one day. It was just the two of us. He was touching himself.’
‘And your parents put a stop to it?’
‘No. It was all Susan’s idea. She said he could continue but he had to do it in front of us. And pay us. We were fifteen. We thought it was funny. He gave us fifty quid each.’
‘How many times?’
‘Six or seven. Susan’s parents found her money and all hell broke loose. But you can’t tell anyone about this. I’m a school teacher.’
‘He was still to blame, Caroline. You were fifteen years old.’
‘I know. We weren’t exactly virgins, though. But I can’t have my husband knowing. The man was sick. A Peeping Tom. But we shouldn’t have done what we did.’
‘Like I say, he’s guilty under the law. I can’t make you bring charges,’ said Delaney.
‘It’s too late. What good would it do anyway? Susan and I will never say anything in court. You can understand why.’
‘How many others were there, though?’ asked Sally. ‘How many other children did he peep on, abuse, maybe assault?’
‘We were nearly sixteen, Detective Constable. We weren’t children.’
‘Yes, you were,’ said Delaney.
‘You said he was very ill?’
‘He is.’
‘Then maybe he is being punished. Maybe it’s enough.’
‘Maybe somebody didn’t agree with you, Caroline. Maybe somebody at the time wanted to punish him more. Someone whose body we may just have found in his back yard.’
‘I can’t tell you that, Detective. All I can say is that I have forgiven him, and that I have forgiven myself too. ‘Sometimes that’s all you can do.’
Delaney looked at her for a moment. ‘Sometimes,’ he said. Sometimes we can do a little more.’
The woman would have responded, but at that moment her husband came into the room.
‘Darling, you haven’t even offered the officers a cup of tea.’
‘I did do, darling, but they are just leaving.’
‘That was quick. Did you get everything sorted?’
Caroline looked over at him and smiled. ‘Yes, I think we know where we all stand now.’
‘So you’ll be giving a talk to the school next term, Inspector?’ her husband asked.
Caroline looked at Delaney, her eyes pleading with him. Delaney smiled. ‘Something along those lines. Thank you. I think we have all we needed here.’
‘Excellent, excellent. Well why don’t you come along and have a look at Sammy?’
‘Sammy?’ asked DC Cartwright.
‘Sammy the snowman. I just need a carrot to finish him off.’
He hurried out of the room as Sally and Delaney stood up.
‘Let’s just hope it’s for his nose,’ Delaney muttered to Sally.
61
DETECTIVE INSPECTOR EMMA ‘Catwalk’ Halliday wasn’t exactly drunk, but she wasn’t exactly sober either.
She was on her third medium-sized glass of wine. Sauvignon Blanc, after declaring her mulled wine undrinkable. Tony Hamilton was on his second pint of Abbot, but had barely touched it.
‘I don’t know how you can drink that stuff,’ said Emma.
‘It’s natural. Nutritional, no chemicals added, just barley, hops and water.’
‘Still tastes like pond water.’
Hamilton laughed. ‘Maybe it’s an acquired taste. Some things are.’
‘Are you hitting on me, Tony?’
‘No. Sorry — don’t do the work/personal thing. Gets too messy.’
Emma Halliday raised her eyebrows. Not sure if she was relieved or offended. ‘I wasn’t saying I wanted you to, Tony.’
‘That’s okay then.’
‘Yes.’
‘What about you?’
‘What about me?’
‘You ever had a relationship with a fellow officer?’
‘Once.’
‘Didn’t work out?’
‘In some ways I thought it would be easier. At least he’d understand the job. The hours. The stress.’