Chapter 76
Now, we can do this one of two ways,” says Elizabeth. “You can kick up a fuss and curse us to the heavens, and we can all waste a lot of time. Or you can just accept what has happened and we can enjoy our sherry and get on with this. Your choice.”
Chris cannot speak for a moment. He looks at the four of them, then to the air, then to the floor. Looking for words that don’t come. He holds the flat of a palm in the air in front of him, in an effort to pause reality for the briefest of moments. But no luck.
“You . . .” he begins slowly, “you . . . dug up a body?”
“Well, technically we didn’t dig it up,” says Ibrahim.
“But a body was dug up, yes?” says Chris.
Elizabeth and Joyce nod. Elizabeth takes a sip of her sherry.
“That’s the long and short of it,” confirms Joyce.
“And you then performed a forensic analysis on the bones?”
“Well, again, not us personally. And only on some of them,” says Ibrahim.
“Oh, that’s fine, then. Just a few?” Chris’s voice is raised, and Donna realizes it’s the first time she’s experienced this. “Then I wish you all a good evening. Nothing to see here.”
“I knew you’d get melodramatic,” says Elizabeth. “Can we just get this over with, and move on to business?”
Donna steps in. “Melodramatic?” she addresses Elizabeth directly. “Elizabeth, you just dug up a human body and failed to report it to the police. This isn’t pretending to be a nun who’s had her bag stolen.”
“What nun?” asks Chris.
“Nothing,” says Donna quickly. “This is a serious crime. Elizabeth, you could all go to jail for this.”
“Nonsense,” says Elizabeth.
“Far from nonsense,” says Chris. “What on earth are you doing? I need you to think very carefully about what you say next. Why did you dig up a body? Let’s take this step by step.”
“Well, as I stated previously, we didn’t dig up the body. But our attention was drawn to the fact that a body had been dug up,” says Ibrahim.
“And we were curious, naturally,” says Ron.
“Our attention was grabbed,” agrees Ibrahim.
“What with the murder of Ian Ventham,” adds Joyce. “It seemed it might be important.”
“You didn’t think Donna and me might have been interested at this point?” asks Chris.
“Firstly, Chris, it’s ‘Donna and I,’” says Elizabeth. “And secondly, who knew what the bones were? We didn’t want to waste your time until we knew for sure what we were dealing with. What if we’d called you out and they were nothing but cow bones? Wouldn’t we have looked silly old fools then?”
“We wouldn’t have wanted to waste your time,” agrees Ibrahim. “We know you are busy with two murders already.”
“But off they went for analysis,” continues Elizabeth.
“And back it comes, human bones, good to have it confirmed, no cost to the taxpayer. Male, died sometime in the nineteen seventies, a gunshot wound to the leg, but no way of telling if that’s what killed him.
Now to invite Chris and Donna to take a look, and to lead things from here.
Get the professionals in. It really feels like you might be thanking us. ”
Chris is trying to compose a response. Donna decides that this one might be her responsibility.
“Christ, Elizabeth, just give it a rest for one second. You can drop the act with us. The second you dug up that body, you knew they were human bones, because I think you can tell the difference. Joyce, you were a nurse for forty years, do you know the difference between human bones and cow bones?”
“Well, yes,” admits Joyce.
“The second you did that Elizabeth, you, and your whole gang—”
“We are not Elizabeth’s gang,” interrupts Ibrahim.
Donna raises her eyebrow at Ibrahim, who holds up a hand in concession.
She continues. “The lot of you, from that moment, were in deep, deep trouble. This is not a neat little trick. You might fool the rest of the world, but you don’t fool me.
You’re not plucky underdogs, or helpful amateurs.
This is a serious crime. This is bigger than a serious crime.
And this doesn’t end with us all giggling over a glass of sherry.
It ends in a courtroom. How could you be so stupid?
The four of you? We’re friends, and you treat me like this. ”
Elizabeth sighs. “Well, this is exactly what I meant, Donna. I knew you’d both make a fuss.”
“A fuss!” says Donna incredulously.
“Yes, a fuss,” says Elizabeth. “And I do understand, in the circumstances.”
“Just doing your job,” agrees Ron.
“Admirable, if you want my opinion,” adds Ibrahim.
“But the fuss ends here,” says Elizabeth. “If you’re going to arrest us, arrest us. Take the four of us to the station, question us all night. Get the same answer all night.”
“No comment,” says Ron.
“No comment,” says Ibrahim.
“Like on 24 Hours in Police Custody,” says Joyce.
“You don’t know who dug the body up, and you won’t hear the answer from any of us,” continues Elizabeth.
“You don’t know who took the bones away for analysis, and you won’t hear that from us either.
At the end of the evening you might try and explain to the CPS that four people in their seventies and eighties have failed to report digging up a body.
For what reason? With what evidence, other than the inadmissible confession you’ve taken from us this evening?
And with four suspects all of whom are quite happy to go to court, smile happily, and pretend to mistake the judge for their granddaughter, and ask why she doesn’t visit often enough.
The whole process is difficult, costly, time-consuming, and achieves nothing.
No one is going to prison, no one is getting a fine, no one’s even going to be picking litter by the roadside. ”
“Not with my back,” says Ron.
“Or,” continues Elizabeth, “you can forgive us, and believe us when we say we were trying to help. You can let us apologize for our overenthusiasm, because we did know what we were doing was wrong, but we did it anyway. We know you’ve spent the last twenty-four hours in the dark, and we know we are in your debt.
And if you forgive us, then tomorrow morning, on a wild hunch, you can order a search of the Garden of Eternal Rest. You can dig up the body, you can send it to your own forensics team, who will tell you it’s a male who was almost certainly buried in the early nineteen seventies, and then we’ll all happily be on the same page. ”
There is a moment’s silence.
So,” asks Chris very slowly, “you’ve reburied the bones?”
“We thought it was best,” says Joyce. “To give you the glory.”
“I’d leave the grave in the top right-hand corner till about fourth or fifth, if I were you,” says Ron. “Don’t want to make it too obvious.”
“And in the meantime,” continues Elizabeth, “we can all have a nice evening, and no more shouting. We can tell you everything we know. So you can really hit the ground running in the morning.”
“You could even share a bit of information with us if you thought that was appropriate,” adds Ibrahim.
“How about some information about the custodial sentences you can get for perverting the cause of justice? Or disturbing a grave?” says Chris. “Up to ten years, if you’re interested.”
“Oh, we just went through all this, Chris,” sighs Elizabeth. “Stop grandstanding, and swallow your pride. And besides, we’re not hampering, we’re helping.”
“I didn’t notice either of you digging up a body,” adds Ron to Chris and Donna.
“We have certainly done an awful lot of the work so far,” says Ibrahim.
“So this is how I see it,” confirms Elizabeth. “Either you arrest us, which we would all understand, and Joyce, in fact, I think would actually enjoy.”
“No comment,” says Joyce, nodding happily.
“Or you don’t arrest us, and we can spend the rest of the evening talking about exactly why someone buried a body on this hillside sometime in the nineteen seventies.”
Chris looks at Donna.
“And we can also discuss whether that same person has just murdered Ian Ventham to keep it secret,” says Elizabeth.
Donna looks at Chris. He has a question.
“So you think the same person might have committed two murders? But nearly fifty years apart?”
“It’s an interesting question, isn’t it?” asks Elizabeth.
“It’s an interesting question we could have been asking last night,” says Chris.
“It might have been useful to know we could be looking out for someone who was right here in the nineteen seventies, and is still right here now,” adds Donna.
“We really are sorry,” says Joyce. “But Elizabeth was adamant, and you know Elizabeth.”
“Let’s move on,” says Elizabeth. “Put this behind us?”
“Do we have a choice, Elizabeth?” asks Chris.
“Choice is overrated; you’ll learn that as the years fly by,” says Elizabeth. “Now, to business. What do you make of the priest, I wonder? Father Mackie? Might he have been around when this place was a convent?”
“I take it from that question that you haven’t been able to find out anything about Father Mackie?” says Chris. “Shame to see a chink in your armor.”
“My inquiries are ongoing,” says Elizabeth.
“No need, Elizabeth; we’ve cracked that one for you,” says Donna. “It’s Dr. Mackie. Not a priest, never has been, never will be. A doctor in Ireland, moved over here in the nineties.”
“That’s very curious,” says Elizabeth. “Why pretend to be a priest?”
“Told you he was a wrong ’un,” says Ron to Ibrahim.
“So, he might have killed Ian Ventham,” says Donna. “And he’s certainly up to something. But I doubt it’s because of your bones.”
“Is it worth my pointing out anymore that this is all confidential?” says Chris.
“You are quite safe with us. You know that, don’t you? Nothing ever leaves this room,” says Elizabeth. “Shall we just forget this ever happened, the business with the bones and what have you, and pool our knowledge?”
“I think we’ve pooled quite enough for one day, Elizabeth,” says Donna.
“Oh, really?” says Elizabeth. “And yet, you haven’t even told us about the Tony Curran photograph yet. We had to find that out for ourselves.”
Donna and Chris both look at Elizabeth. Chris lets out a theatrical sigh.
“By way of a peace offering,” says Ibrahim, “perhaps you would like to know who took the photograph?”
Chris looks up to the heavens. Or Joyce’s Artex ceiling. “I would actually like to know that, yes.”
“Lad named Turkish Johnny,” says Ron.
“Although he’s not Turkish,” adds Joyce.
“You’ve seen the photo, Ron?” asks Donna.
Ron nods.
“Nice one of Jason, eh?”
“You want my view, for what it’s worth,” says Ron. “You find Turkish Johnny or Bobby Tanner, you find Tony Curran’s killer.”
“Well then, if we’re laying all our cards on the table,” says Chris, “has Jason explained away his phone calls to Tony Curran on the morning of the murder? And has he explained away the presence of his car in the area at the exact moment that Tony Curran was murdered?”
“Yes,” says Elizabeth. “To our satisfaction.”
“Anything you’d like to share?” asks Donna.
“Listen, I’ll get him to give you a bell and explain, don’t worry,” says Ron. “But shall we get on and find this Johnny fella and Bobby Tanner?”
“Just leave that with us, please,” says Chris.
“I think we’re unlikely to just leave that with you, Chris,” says Elizabeth. “I’m ever so sorry.”
“Would you like some sherry?” asks Joyce. “It’s only Sainsbury’s, but it’s Taste the Difference.”
Chris sinks back into his chair and submits. “If any of this ever gets back to Kent Police, I will personally arrest you and march you into court myself. I swear, on my life.”
“Chris, no one will ever find out,” says Elizabeth. “You know how I used to make my living?”
“Well, not really, if I’m honest.”
“Exactly.”
As a complicit silence falls over the room, it seems the evening’s drinking can now begin in earnest.
“I am very proud of how we all work together as a team,” says Ibrahim. “Cheers.”