He checked the central heating boiler. The timer had been playing up. The system had closed down a good couple of hours earlier than it should have done. Cursing some more, Kelly switched it on again, made himself a mug of tea and wandered upstairs to check his answering machine.
There was a message from Margaret Slade. Brief and to the point.
‘Neil Connelly has just phoned. Whatever you said to him worked. He’s come round in a big way. I think he’s going to join the campaign. Call me.’
Kelly smiled. At least this would give him something else to think about. Still marvelling at the change in the woman, he returned Margaret Slade’s call at once.
‘I told him all I knew and I reckon he’s prepared to go all the way with us,’ she said. ‘He’s a solid sort of man, too, I think. It’s just journalists he doesn’t like.’
‘I’m not a journalist.’
‘Yes, well that’s the sort of prevarication that puts him off ’em, I should say.’
Kelly chuckled.
‘You’ve got an answer for everything, all of a sudden, Margaret. And, by God, you’re going to need to have, taking on the military. You should know that the police, although aware of a big question mark hanging over these deaths at Hangridge, are not going to be investigating. Not at the moment, anyway. The official view is that these deaths have already been properly investigated by the SIB.’ Kelly paused. ‘Even though we now have four deaths to consider. I’ve found out about the squaddie called Trevor. And what you were told has turned out to be absolutely right. His death was another alleged suicide, very similar to your Jossy’s, as it happens. His full name was Trevor Parsons and I have his last civilian address.’
‘That is progress, John.’
‘Yeah. Look, you should know that I do have a very good long-time police contact, Margaret.’ Kelly paused again. The thought continued to lurk in the back of his mind that Karen Meadows might no longer be quite such a good contact. Not after what had happened that night. But he certainly had no intention of discussing any of that with Margaret Slade.
‘I’m not going to tell you who it is, but, suffice to say, we are talking about a senior police officer who has basically been refused permission to pursue matters with the army, and that this officer is actually angry enough about that to be prepared to pass on information to me.’
‘Wow! You are good, John, aren’t you?’
‘Umm. We’ll see. But what about you? I think I’m only just beginning to get the hang of you. No doubt, you’ve got your next move planned?’
‘Well, sort of. We’re going to call for a public inquiry. You have to be focused, don’t you, and it’s no good making a lot of noise without knowing what you’re aiming for. We thought we might march on the House of Commons, or something like that, but I’d like more ammunition.’
She broke off. ‘If that isn’t an unfortunate choice of words under the circumstances,’ she said.
Kelly smiled again. Black humour. All the best fighters, in any kind of battle, were inclined to indulge in black humour, he reckoned.
‘Anyway, I don’t think we’ve got enough to throw at Parliament yet, do you, John?’
‘Probably not. We need to co-ordinate everything, find out all we can and then make our move. The march sounds great. And I’ll handle the press side, when you decide to do it. I’d like to have a proper story ready to drop simultaneously. I do already have something to go on.’
He told her then, in some detail, about the inquest reports, and the various anomalies. ‘I also have an address for a young man who was called as a witness at the inquest into Jossy’s death. The other sentry. James Gates. Didn’t you go to the inquest, Margaret?’
‘I did, yes. But I was drinking then, wasn’t I. I hardly remember anything about it. Don’t forget, it never occurred to me to query that Jossy had killed herself.’
‘So you don’t remember Gates’ evidence.’
‘Vaguely. Now you mention it. Very vaguely.’
‘Well, it seems the coroner was more than a little vague too.’ Kelly gave Margaret Slade a summary of James Gates’ evidence. ‘It should have rung extremely loud warning bells. But the coroner challenged nothing and passed a suicide verdict, almost as directed by the army. Fucking disgrace, actually.’
‘Ah. So your next move is to talk to Gates?’
‘Absolutely. Him, and Trevor Parsons’ family, of course. I may find you some more campaigners there, Margaret. James Gates could be trickier, though. It’ll be a question of whether or not I can get to him, I reckon. He’s probably still a serving soldier. If he really thinks there was anything dodgy about those deaths, he’s likely to be pretty nervous about speaking to me or anyone else.’
Kelly thought for a moment.
‘I will tell you something I want from you, Margaret. A signed letter authorising me to act on behalf of the families. I’ll certainly need something like that if I’m going to get anywhere with the army, and it could be useful to show to all kinds of people. I suggest you list the other families involved so far, mentioning briefly what happened to their sons, and, of course, include your own details. Can you do that?’
‘Of course. I’m a drunk, not an idiot.’
‘A permanently sober drunk, I hope.’
‘So do I.’
‘Indeed. So can you fax it to me? Have you got a fax machine?’
‘No. But there’s one I can use at an office equipment shop just down the road. I’ll send it as soon as they open in the morning, at eight, I think.’
‘Good.’
‘John, reassure me, we’re not just imagining some kind of conspiracy, are we?’
‘No, Margaret, I’m damned sure of it. Actually, I get more and more sure with every step we take. And, for what it’s worth, my police contact, who is someone with very well-developed intuition in these matters, is damned sure of it too. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be getting anything like this level of cooperation. Something’s going on, and it’s very nasty indeed.’
‘It’s pretty hard to get your head around, isn’t it? I mean, I keep going over and over in my mind what we are talking about here. If it really is murder, who on earth would want to kill a load of young soldiers? And why?’
‘I don’t know, Margaret. And, if I’m honest, I don’t know if we’ll ever know. But there is no doubt that the army has successfully covered everything up so far, and one thing we can do is blow that cover-up wide open.’
‘You’ve said it, John. And how!’
Kelly found he was smiling broadly again as he ended the call. Margaret Slade was turning out to be some woman. He liked feisty, intelligent women who were not afraid of a fight. And that thought led him back to Karen Meadows and the somewhat disastrous end to their evening together, which caused him to stopped smiling at once.
Karen had been right. He was on an emotional roller coaster. He just couldn’t sort his feelings out at all.
Margaret Slade was as good as her word. The fax came through shortly after eight. Kelly folded it and tucked it into the top pocket of his suede bomber jacket. He had been waiting for it. He was all ready to leave the house and drive to Exeter to visit the last civilian address listed for Trevor Parsons. Once he was involved in an investigation, Kelly didn’t waste any time.
The drive to Exeter took little more than forty-five minutes, and it was still only just nine when Kelly pulled up outside a big, rambling, old house on the outskirts of the town. Two small boys, scruffily dressed but somehow well-scrubbed-looking, rosy-cheeked and apparently brimming with good health, were squabbling over a broken tricycle on the pavement right outside.
As Kelly stepped out of his MG, a large woman, in her early fifties, opened the front door.
‘Inside, you two, before you have an accident out there in that street,’ she ordered.