Michael Fowler - Secret of the Dead

“How did she tell you?”

“I can’t remember exactly how she told me, but she said that she’d suspected he was seeing someone and thought it was one of the girls. She said that they’d rowed one night and that’s when he’d hit her. I didn’t see the marks but she told me he’d blacked her eye and she’d had to stay indoors for almost a week. I think that was the start of it. I wanted her to go to the police but she wouldn’t. She said she daren’t. She told me that even if he was locked up she still wouldn’t be safe ’cos he would set Ronnie on to her.”

“Ronnie?”

“Ronnie Fisher. He was Peter’s best mate. They went everywhere together. I never liked Ronnie. There was just something about him. Have you not come across him?”

“He’s just featured in our enquiry,” said Hunter. He rubbed his bottom lip with the side of his hand. It bought back a painful memory.

“Now if they’d have told me Ronnie had killed Lucy, and not Danny, then I could have believed that.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I can’t put my finger on it, just intuition I guess, but there was just something about him. The way he acted. The way he looked.” She shuddered.

Grace continued, “But you never saw Ronnie being violent?”

“No. I didn’t, to be honest. But someone did tell me that he had stabbed someone once. Over a girl I think. I was always wary of him. We all were.”

“Okay, just moving on. When did you first learn about her seeing Danny Weaver?”

“Again I can’t remember an exact date or anything. It was roughly six months before the night she disappeared, so I suppose it would be around March time of nineteen-eighty-three. I suddenly saw a change in Lucy’s mood — really upbeat, the way she used to be. She didn’t tell me at first, but a woman’s intuition an’ all that and she spilled the beans. I did know of Daniel, had met him before, because he had been doing some of the work on Peter and Lucy’s house and I think he did a bit of driving work for Peter. Peter used to bring cars in from Germany, some tax fiddle and Danny was one of the drivers.” Amanda stopped and gave them both an enquiring look.

“We didn’t know about where Danny fitted into all this, but we did know about Peter importing the cars,” said Grace.

Registering Grace’s response with a nod, she continued. “I think that’s when I said ‘Go for it girl,’ after all, there was no doubt she was happier in herself and Danny was a real good looker. And a nice personality. If I’m honest I was a bit jealous at the time. Now I look back and feel a bit sad about things. I mean I used to think she was so lucky. She had the big house, loads of money, but I now know I was the lucky one. I was the one never covered in bruises.”

Grace gave her an understanding look and continued with her questioning. “Did Lucy tell you any details of her relationship with Danny?”

“Not as such. I did know that when she met up with Danny she was leaving Jessica with her mum and dad on the pretence of doing some shopping. And I have to confess that a couple of times I looked after Jessica for her.”

“Did she ever mention if she thought Peter knew about the relationship?”

Amanda shook her head. “Nope, though she did once tell me that Danny had asked her to run away with him. Start afresh.”

“When was that? Can you remember?”

“You mean date wise?” she shook her head again. “Sorry. Though it was pretty close to the time she disappeared.”

Hunter looked up from his notes. “Amanda, a couple of times now you’ve used the word disappeared instead of murdered or killed. Is there something you know about Lucy going missing?”

She returned a thoughtful look. “No. I guess I’ve said it subconsciously, that’s all. I’m not hiding anything, if that’s what you mean. It’s only because I guess they’ve never found her, have they? I mean, she was last seen at the market place that Friday night and I know people saw her arguing with Danny. But that was it. She just simply disappeared off the face of the earth that night. Those detectives back then told me that Danny had confessed to killing her, but now there’s a question-mark over his guilt and it’s just got me to thinking what really has happened to her.”

“Do you think she’s dead?” Hunter continued.

She bit down on her bottom lip. “I think deep down, I do. Especially after all this time. We were such close friends that if she were still alive I’m convinced she would have contacted me before now. And she absolutely doted on Jessica. Jessica was her world. No, I’m sure she’s dead.”

“And who would you put money on killing her?”

“I don’t want to point the finger, and I don’t know what you’ve found out already, or what evidence you’ve got but knowing what I know now, I think I’d be looking at Peter and his mate Ronnie.” She switched her gaze between Hunter and Grace again. “And that’s what I told those two detectives all those years back, especially after she told me that she was going to tell Peter about the pregnancy.”

“About the pregnancy?”

She frowned. “Yes, isn’t that down anywhere?

Hunter returned the frown.

“Lucy was pregnant with Danny’s baby. That’s why she went into town to meet him on that Bank Holiday Friday. She was going to tell him.”

DAY THIRTEEN: 6th December.

Hunter stifled a yawn and stared out across the MIT office. Although he hadn’t slept well overnight — his head filled with everything they had learned the previous day — he felt in buoyant mood and was eagerly awaiting the 8am conference.

He and Grace had not managed to get back for the previous evening’s de-brief. Driving conditions on the roads home had been atrocious, especially on the trail across Cumbria and into North Yorkshire. They had encountered gale-force winds and sheets of snow right up until the border with South Yorkshire, and then, surprisingly, the weather had eased up — the snow had given way to a mix of rain and sleet. It had been nine-thirty before they had got back to Barnwell. A three hour journey had taken almost five hours of driving time, and knowing that the incident room had been shut down for the night, Hunter decided not to bother driving to the station. Instead, he dropped Grace off at her place and then had taken the unmarked car home and parked it up on the drive.

Beth was on the phone to one of her friends when he had got in, and he knew from the way she had greeted him, with a waggle of her fingers and a flash of her sparkling blue eyes, before returning to her conversation, that she was in for the long haul with her chat. So he had poured himself a whisky and ran a hot bath. Then, mulling over the day’s events, he had languished until the water had got too cold to lie any longer, before drifting back downstairs to join Beth, where he had poured himself another dram and watched the news before re-climbing the stairs to bed. He hadn’t dropped off immediately he had found himself replaying the day’s findings over and over again, until he had finally drifted to sleep. At six am, he had awoken with a start, realised he wasn’t going to get any more sleep, thrown aside the duvet, had a quick shower, made tea and toast and then driven into work. As usual, he was first in, and he used the quiet time to write-up his daily journal, and prepare himself for the morning’s briefing. By seven-thirty the team were beginning to drift in. He greeted them swiftly, but chose not to engage in conversation as he still had overdue paperwork and e-mails to attend to.

He caught sight of Grace coming into the office and he watched her make a path to the kettle. He acknowledged her with a raised hand as he clicked open his e-mail list. He had one waiting for him from Duncan Wroe, with the bold title of ‘Prints identified.’ Hurriedly he opened it up and scanned the short text. His face lit up as Grace was delivering his Sheffield United mug full of tea. “They’ve identified some of the prints found at Jodie’s flat.”