Michael Fowler - Secret of the Dead

“This edition of the Sheffield Telegraph and Star is dated fifth October nineteen-seventy-four, and outlines the story of the murders of Frank and Cynthia Pendlebury. They ran their own small family jewellery business in Attercliffe. On the morning of the fifth they were found dead by an officer, doing his rounds, checking premises on the High Street. He found the front door open. Frank’s body was found just behind the counter, in the front of the shop, and his wife Cynthia was found at the top of the stairs just inside the entrance to their flat. Both had been stabbed several times. At the bottom of the article there is a quote from a DCI Burrows, who was leading the enquiry, to the effect that the case was being treated as murder, and that it was believed that Frank and Cynthia had disturbed robbers at their premises.” Hunter tapped a hand across the top of the pile of papers where the broadsheet had come from. “These papers here all contain follow-up articles relating to the murders. They contain articles which reveal that the safe in the Pendlebury’s shop had been blown open and a large quantity of jewellery had been stolen. A few of them describe the search for the robbers and have the usual stuff the papers put out about any manhunt. But this one,” he said, putting down the broadsheet he was holding and then picking up another from the top of the pile, “Contains the story of the arrest of three men for the murders.” He showed to the team another copy of the same named newspaper. It bore the headline ‘MURDER SUSPECTS DETAINED.’ “This edition is dated a week later, and describes the raids on two homes, the discovery of items of jewellery and the arrest of three men. The names of the suspect are not revealed as per protocol. However, down the side of the article, written in pen, are three names.” Hunter tapped the edge of the newssheet. “From other samples of handwriting we have found in Guy Armstrong’s house, I believe this is his writing. He has entered the names of George Blake, Peter Blake and Ronald Bishop.” He tapped down on the pile of papers again. “Later editions outline that a George Blake, thirty-nine years old, from Sheffield, was charged with the murders of Frank and Cynthia Pendlebury, and on twentieth January nineteen-seventy-five, he pleaded guilty at Sheffield Crown Court and was given a life sentence.”

Detective Superintendent Robshaw interrupted Hunter’s speech with a loud clearing of his throat. He held up his hand. “I’ll just stop you there for now Hunter, because I want to bring in Tony.” He switched his gaze to DC Bullars. “Tony, I think you know why I’ve brought you in at this point. You went to see Lucy’s parents, over in Bakewell this afternoon. Tell the team what you found out.”

Tony Bullars, pushed back his chair and met his colleagues’ stares. He explained what Richard and Margaret Hall had told Carol Ragen and himself earlier that day and finished by saying “They told us that Peter Blake-Hall is in fact plain old Peter Blake. He changed his name by deed poll after his marriage to Lucy.”

The SIO said.’“I’m going to stop you there as well Tony, because I think everyone has got the message.” His eyes travelled around the room. “Today’s enquiries have turned up some very interesting information. It doesn’t solve who murdered Jeffery Howson, Jodie Jenkinson, Guy Armstrong and Lucy Blake-Hall, but I think it takes us down another avenue regarding the suspects. And for me it also provides the answers as to why Guy Armstrong had so much of a fixation with the Lucy Blake-Hall enquiry, and why he’d given so much of his time carrying out his own investigation into her disappearance and Daniel Weaver’s trial. He knew from the outset that something wasn’t right. And we now know that as well. The finding of that statement in Jeffery Howson’s safe confirms it. Now all we’ve got to do is determine who actually killed these four. And although we now have Lucy’s husband in the frame, for the first time, we mustn’t lose sight of who our prime suspect still is — Alan Darbyshire.”

* * * * *

The evening briefing ran out of steam at 9pm. It had taken two hours. Detective Superintendent Robshaw had rattled off a long list of enquiries for the next day, drawn them up on each of the dry-wipe boards and then checked back with everyone.

One of the key tasks identified was to see if DCI Burrows, who was in charge of the Pendlebury murders, was still around, so that they could get the police version of the case. Barry Newstead had volunteered for that job. He told the room that ‘Ted’ Burrows had been his DCI when he had been attached to Headquarters Serious Crime Squad in the 1980s and that although he knew he had retired in the early nineties, he believed he was still living somewhere in Sheffield.

The personal backgrounds of Jodie Marie Jenkinson and Guy Armstrong still needed doing. And there was the forensic evidence to chase up.

Detective Superintendent Robshaw closed the session by saying “Team, we have two new names now, which although not suspects at this stage, we need to know a lot more about. Especially Peter Blake. We know Peter has links with our main suspect Alan Darbyshire, and as Lucy’s husband he has to be looked at more carefully now, especially given this latest information about him beating her. Although let’s be guarded by this. It’s come from Lucy’s parents and it’s not corroborated so far. We also have the name of Peter Blake listed by Guy Armstrong on the newspaper article in relation to the Pendlebury murders. Is this the same Peter Blake? If it is, then I also want to know who Ronald Fisher is.” The SIO pursed his lips. “I don’t think I need to remind everyone about the pressure we are under to get a result. We have three fresh murders and one old one, which could bring about an enquiry regarding a miscarriage of justice, and so far we have very little evidence to bring anyone in. We need to change all that, and soon.”

* * * * *

Hunter sat in his car with the engine running. He turned down the music and fished out his mobile. Scrolling down his contacts list, he tapped ‘Home’. Beth picked up on the fourth ring.

“Hi Love. Just got done. Everything okay?”

Jonathan and Daniel were in bed. “Daniel’s got the face on,” she said, “They had a penalty shoot-out competition at football training tonight and Jonathan won it. He’s got a baseball cap and wanted to show it you. On the other hand Daniel, because he didn’t win anything, has a face as long as a fiddle, so don’t forget to praise him will you?”

A pang of guilt stung him. “Sorry I wasn’t there. It’s been one of those days, loads happening. Are they still awake?”

“No they were shattered. Went straight off. You can see them tomorrow morning.”

“Everyone’s just finishing off with a drink. Do you mind if I have a swift one before I come home?”

“No, you go. To be honest Hunter, I’m whacked myself. I’m going to make a warm drink and go up. See you later.”

Hunter ended the call with a smile. He was so blessed to have met Beth. She was one in a million, he thought to himself, as he engaged gear. She understood the pressures he was under when a job was running and was always there to offer support, even if that was letting him wind down with a beer and without complaint, despite the fact that he had hardly given her or the boys any attention for days.

* * * * *

Hunter got in a few minutes before eleven pm. The house was in darkness. He toe-heeled off his shoes, kicked them under the hallway radiator and tip-toed upstairs. He sneaked into the boys’ room. In the darkness he could just make out their forms, tucked up beneath their duvets in their single beds. He leant in and kissed each of their foreheads, mouthed silently, ‘good night, sleep tight,’ and crept back out onto the landing where he began to undress, lazily draping his clothing over the balcony rail. He felt drained.