Michael Fowler - Secret of the Dead

Within minutes of entering the village, following Grace’s directions, he found the address they were looking for. Drifting towards the kerb, he stopped the car in front of an Edwardian three bedroom house and turned off the engine.

Lethargic after the three hour drive, Hunter yanked himself out of the car and indulged in a wide stretch. A cold snap of wind whipped past his cheeks and ears, bringing about an instant freshness, though it made him shudder. He leaned back into the car, retrieving his clip-folder from the back seat and turned towards the house.

A pebbled path led to a porch covered front door. Hunter pressed the bell.

Amanda Rawlinson received them with a warm smile and words of, “I bet you two could do with a warm cuppa.” She beckoned them inside, into a patterned tiled hallway.

Hunter noted that she had not lost any of her Yorkshire accent.

“It’s DS Kerr and DC Marshall isn’t it?” she said turning away. “Come on in, we’ll go into the kitchen, its warmer in there — the range is on, I’ve been baking.”

It was a well-proportioned kitchen that Hunter and Grace followed her into, fitted out in typical country style fashion and dominated by a large pale green Aga set into a feature fireplace. A solid oak table with four chairs sat in the middle of the room.

Amanda pulled out one of the chairs. It scraped along the tiled flooring. “Please take a seat,” she offered. “I’ll just put the kettle on.” She filled a kettle and set it on one of the Aga hotplates. “I’m so glad to hear you’ve re-opened Lucy’s case.” She dropped some teabags into a Cornish blue teapot. “It’s just been on the one o’clock news by the way,” she continued, as she brought three cups together and poured a drop of milk in each. “There wasn’t much about it on, just the fact that Daniel Weaver had been granted leave to appeal and was being allowed out on bail. I guess there’ll be a longer piece about it on tonight’s news.”

It didn’t take long for the water to boil and Amanda soon brought three steaming cups to the table. She pointed to the sugar bowl in the middle. “Help yourselves,” she said.

Hunter slipped off his padded coat and hung it on the back of the chair. Then he sprang open his folder to reveal a photocopy of Amanda’s witness statement, made twenty-five years earlier.

“Is that my statement?” she asked, pointing and dropping down into a seat, opposite Hunter and Grace. She pulled one of the mugs towards her.

Hunter nodded. “I’m not going to show it you just yet Amanda, because as you’ll appreciate we are speaking with every witness as though it was the first time. I know it was a long time ago now, but I’m sure once we get into it there’ll be a lot you still remember, without me needing to show you your statement.”

“That suits me fine, because if I remember rightly those two detectives who took my statement never put in everything I told them anyway.” She glanced between Hunter and Grace. “There were quite a few times when I’d tell them something, and the sergeant I don’t recall his name now just kept saying that wasn’t relevant because they’d got somebody locked up for it and he’d confessed. Of course, knowing what I know now, with the job and everything, I realise it should have gone in and that I should have said a lot more than I did do in the witness box. But I was so naïve back then — I was only twenty-two. And I’ve thought about this a lot just lately, especially when I heard you were re-opening the case. I can’t make my mind up whether those two detectives were just being lazy or there was more to it. I mean, I was really surprised when they first told me that it was Danny Weaver they’d got for Lucy’s murder.”

“Why do you say that?” asked Grace.

“Well, for the last few months before Lucy disappeared, all she ever talked about was Danny and he didn’t sound like someone who wanted to harm her. Now if it had been Peter well that would be different.”

“Peter her husband?” said Grace.

Amanda nodded and took a sip of her tea.

Hunter made notes. He knew his partner was on a roll with the questioning.

“Mandy, I know I’m not structuring this interview right but that comment you just made about Peter, what do you mean by that?”

“He used to bash her about, didn’t he?” She returned her comment as if it was something they already knew. Amanda’s hazel eyes searched out Grace’s.

Grace gave her a blank look.

“What? Do you mean no one’s told you this before?”

“Lucy’s parents hinted at it.”

“God, he was a right bully towards Lucy. She showed me some of the bruises he used to leave her with. He used to punch her at the top of her arm or in the back near to her kidneys, where it didn’t show. He was a right bastard. In fact, when she told me about Danny I told her to go for it. ‘Good for you girl,’ I said. She seemed so happy.”

Grace held up a finger. “Amanda, I want to stop you there and take you back to your relationship with Lucy when did you meet?”

Amanda seemed to ponder on the question for a few seconds, then answered, “We were school friends. We went to Barnwell Comprehensive together. We hit it off in the first year — sat next to each other. Went through school together. In fact, we went everywhere together.”

“And you were around when she met Peter?”

“Yeah. A gang of us would go up to the Wortley Arms on a Thursday and Friday to meet up once we’d finished school. We were only sixteen, too young to drink but the landlord allowed us in and we’d just have a few Cokes, that’s all. Peter used to be in there with a couple of his mates and after a few weeks he just got round to chatting Lucy up. Next thing, she’d started going out with him. Don’t get me wrong, he was different back then. Or at least seemed it. There were the rumours of course, about his dad, being in prison for killing someone, but that was his dad, not Peter. Anyway, when we first met him, Peter was really nice. And to us it seemed as though he always had lots of money, and he was quite generous with it, ’cos we were always skint. He was a mechanic at a local garage and he told us he made some extra money by buying cars and doing them up.”

“When was this?”

“We were just seventeen. He was slightly older — he’d be about twenty-one, twenty-two.”

“So that would be late seventies?”

Amanda momentarily gazed up to the ceiling, then answered, “Nineteen-seventy-eight it was. Next thing, Lucy told me she was late, you know, thought she was pregnant — she was of course. Then they got married at Barnsley Register Office. I was her chief bridesmaid. Peter had bought them a place in the village. It was a lovely cottage. Lucy was in her element sorting it all out. Then Jessica was born.”

“And everything was okay between her and Peter?”

“Oh yes, really good for a couple of years. I was working for the local council back then, but I’d see her at least three times a week and we’d catch up.” She broke into a smile, revealing beautiful white teeth. “She used to look forward to me going because I knew all the gossip. She’d dropped out of things you see, with having Jessica.” She took another sip at her drink and then licked her lips. “Peter was working really hard and seemed to be making loads of money for them. He’d bought a bigger house — an old farmhouse which required some renovation and she was overseeing the work. He’d also bought an old working man’s club out near Wakefield — the one he still has — though I didn’t know at the time he was turning it into a strip club. When Lucy told me about it and she learned what it was, I could tell from the look on her face she wasn’t happy. I think that was when things started to go wrong with the marriage. Although I can’t remember the date even the year now but it was probably about six months after him opening the club when she first told me he’d hit her.”