An Unhallowed Grave (27 page)

Regarding the death of my lord's baby son, the hue and cry was raised and the malefactor found in the house of Thomas de Monte and given over to the custody of the constable.

My lady's maidservant, Christina Tandy, stated that she saw the nursemaid, Alice de Neston, at the door of my lady's chamber with a bolster in her hand and her look was most murderous.

There is no doubt in her mind that the said Alice did kill the innocent babe. Elizabeth Fleecer did see Alice de Neston flee the house before the hue and cry was raised.

The jury found Alice de Neston guilty and ordered her to be hanged by the neck, this sentence to be carried out most swiftly by Adam Derring who is skilled in these matters. Lord have mercy on her soul.

From the Court Rolls of Stokeworthy Manor

Pam Peterson stood in the doorway in her dressing gown, resentful. Michael was still asleep after being awake half the night. Why was it, she wondered, that babies seemed contented with a nocturnal existence ... did parental example count for nothing? Wesley, who had slept blissfully through his son's mistimed mis behaviour kissed his wife on the cheek.

"So what time will you be home?"

"We've got to go over to Lyme Regis to interview a witness. I might be late. Sorry." He shrugged apologetically, hoping that his refusal to go out for a drink with Neil the night before had earned him some merit points. He had been tempted especially when

Neil had phoned to say he had discovered something impoi about the skeleton at the dig but he had played the dutiful husband and spent the evening at home. "Are you all right, love?" he asked. Pam still looked worried and drawn.

"I'll be okay," she replied coolly. "Off you go to Lyme. Wish I was coming with you. Lovely day for the seaside."

He kissed her again. She was right; it certainly had the makings of a lovely day. The sky was clear blue with dribbles of white cloud, and the seagulls circled noisily overhead.

When he'd picked up Gerry Heffernan they took the car ferry that chugged across the River Trad and travelled swiftly down the A roads towards the neighbouring county of Dorset, the car windows open to let in the fresh air. Just before eleven o'clock they arrived at Mrs. Piert's local police station to find out what they could from the people with the local knowledge.

The uniformed sergeant who had spoken to Heffernan over the phone was a large, bearded man with the physique of an all-in wrestler. He greeted them with a wide smile and a cup of tea. "You're not from round these parts, then." He stared at Wesley with thinly veiled curiosity.

"He's from the Met," said Heffernan jovially. "But don't hold that against him."

"You'll find it a bit different down here to what you're used to, then."

Before Wesley could reply, his boss got down to business. "So what have you got for us on this Mrs. Piert?"

"Oh, she's a nice old lady ... my wife's mother knows her from church. She won't give you much trouble." He winked. "Actually, I did get something for you. Hang on." He opened the drawer of his desk and began a search, eventually pulling out a large brown envelope. "I went down to the local paper and they made me copies of these. They're the reports of the case that were in the paper at the time. Here, have a look." He pushed the envelope across to Wesley.

Whoever had been writing for the local paper back in 1969 had probably gone on to make a career for themselves working on one of the more lurid tabloids. The headlines were short and to the point. "Killer nanny." "The monster with the face of an angel." "The slaughter of the innocent." "Nanny bashed baby's head against tree, court told." The story was one of unspeakable horror,

obviously to the editor's delight. A young girl of previous good character, who by all accounts was a quiet, gentle creature, had deliberately and brutally killed a helpless baby for no apparent reason. She had seemed a little nervous and excited before it happened, according to a witness probably Mrs. Piert but had otherwise behaved completely normally that morning. There was no explanation for her act and she continued to deny it throughout the trial. The lie she had told about fetching a drink seemed to have damned her in the eyes of the jury. But she had offered no explanation. Bloodstains had been found on her dress but she could have acquired them when she tried to revive the baby. She had seemed confused, as if she were hiding something. This had been enough to earn her a life sentence.

Wesley recalled the people who had known her in Stokeworthy. They had all spoken of her quietness, her considerate nature ... and her love for children. What had gone wrong on that summer day in 1969? What had made her kill little Peter Wills?

They finished their tea and thanked the sergeant. Armed with directions, they drove to the nearby village of Charmouth, set high above its fossil-rich cliffs and fine sandy beach. Mrs. Piert's cottage was easy to find at the end of a farm track next to a campsite, which was starting to fill up nicely with summer visitors.

The old lady herself was tall, straight-backed and capable-looking. She must have been in her late seventies but nature had been kind to her, her only concession to age being a pair of reading glasses on a silver chain around her neck. She wore a brightly flowered shapeless frock with a duster stuffed in the pocket. They had interrupted her housework.

"I thought that business was all finished with," she said as she led them through into a small sitting room crammed with photographs of grandchildren and cheap souvenirs. She ordered them to sit down while she made a cup of tea. She returned with the tea and a plate heaped with home-made fruit cake. "That Pauline," she began, sitting herself down. "She seemed such a lovely girl. Didn't have no family and seemed so fond of the kiddies. It certainly taught me something." She leaned forward and tapped Gerry Heffernan on the knee. "Never judge a book by its cover."

"Can you tell us in your own words what happened that day,

Mrs. Piert?" said Wesley, politely. "I'm sorry to put you through it all again but it could be important."

"You say Pauline was found hanged. Best thing, if you ask me. If they'd had hanging then she might have thought twice before..."

"So you think she did it?"

"She was found guilty, wasn't she ... by twelve good men and true. Anyway, who else would have done it? And she told a lie about fetching that drink. I was in the kitchen and she never came near it."

"What did you think at the time? Did you suspect anyone else? The father, for instance?"

Mrs. Piert sat for a moment, lips pursed in disapproval. "He was a man capable of many things, was Robert Wills ... cheating on his wife mainly. But why would he want to go killing his baby? It's ridiculous."

"Tell us about him," said Wesley quietly.

"Big man, he was ... powerful, attractive to women. I saw her looking at him and I thought, aye-aye, my girl, it won't be long before he has you up against a wall when his wife isn't looking..."

"Saw who looking at him?"

"Why, Pauline, of course. And it's not like she was the first. The nanny they had before her

"So you think Pauline Quillon and Robert Wills were having an affair?" Wesley and Heffernan looked at each other. This was something new.

"Oh, I'm sure of it. I wasn't born yesterday. I could tell from the looks they used to give each other ... the way they'd be talking and stop when I came into the room. You can tell."

"What about Mrs. Wills? Did she know about this?"

Mrs. Piert was getting into her stride. Gossip was one of the few pleasures in life she had left. "I couldn't say whether she knew. She might have done but she didn't let on. I suppose she must have had some idea ... with it going on under the same roof. She was a neurotic woman, that's the only word for it. Always lying down with headaches ... yelling at Pauline. And she never had much to do with that boy."

Timothy?"

"That's right. Little angel he was ... considering. His mother never took much notice of him ... she made more fuss of the baby. And his father was away a lot, and when he was home he spent most of his time running after anything in a skirt."

"What was Timothy's friend like? The boy who lived in the village ... Philip Thewlis?"

"Him! His dad did odd jobs for the Willses. But the lad was bright ... and he liked to be well in with the family at the big house that's why he palled up with Timothy. Always reminded me of that French general... what was his name?"

"Napoleon?"

"That's him. Scruffy little thing, he was ... smelt a bit and all. But he was a lively lad, needed an eye keeping on him. I caught him with the baby once ... throwing it up and catching it, making it laugh. I had to tell him to be careful but he said the baby liked it, that he didn't mean any harm ... and I don't think he did. Always setting up little businesses, he was, even as a kid selling compost from his garden, buying eggs from the local farmers and selling them at a profit outside his house. I've seen him on the telly ... always knew he'd go far. They say he's going to be a lord, soon. When I think of what he was like ..."

"Was he very friendly with Timothy?"

"They were different ages, of course, but they played together in the holidays ... the way kids do when there's no one else. I don't know if the Willses approved I think they thought Philip was a bit... you know, beneath them."

"On the day of baby Peter's death, where were the boys?"

"Playing in the garden ... in the trees at the back. The police asked me all this at the time."

"Where was Mr. Wills?"

"He said he was in the rose garden."

"And Mrs. Wills?"

"Upstairs ... lying down. She'd just been speaking to Timothy. He started crying when she told him. Then she had one of her tantrums ... said she couldn't stand children, wished she'd never had any. And this was all in front of the boy," Mrs. Piert added disapprovingly.

"What did she tell Timothy, Mrs. Piert?" asked Gerry Heffernan.

"That he was going off to boarding school. I didn't think he'd like the idea at first... but he seemed to come round after a few tears. He was off playing with young Philip soon after."

"Where was he when the baby died?"

"With Philip, like I said. The police asked all this at the time." "So both Mr. and Mrs. Wills were alone when it happened?" "I suppose so, yes. I was busy in the kitchen getting the lunch ready. There wasn't time for me to go spying on people. I had work to do."

"I'm sure you did, Mrs. Piert. Just how unstable was Mrs. Wills?" "She was stark raving mad if you ask me. Mind you, it was all her money, you know ... I reckon that's why he married her.

Have another piece of cake."

Wesley accepted gratefully. "What did you think of Pauline,

Mrs. Piert? Forget about her conviction ... what did you think of her at the time?"

Mrs. Piert thought for a moment. "She was a good, sweet natured girl. Not too bright... easily led. I must admit I liked her,

and if I didn't know what she'd done I'd have said she was a lovely girl."

"Can you see her covering up for someone... for the real killer?" Mrs. Piert frowned. This was something she hadn't thought of before. She looked Wesley straight in the eye. "Do you know, I

think I can. That's just the sort of thing she would have done. Yes.

You could be right."

Wesley bit into the rich, moist fruitcake, his mind working overtime.

"Would you spend fifteen years of your life in jail for something you knew someone else had done, Wcs?"

"It's a matter of evidence, isn't it. You might know you're innocent but without new evidence how do you set about proving it?"

Gerry Heffernan sat back in the passenger seat, deep in thought.

"Remember what she said to Gloria Bilford. I think she had new evidence ... and threatened to expose whoever really killed Peter Wills."

"No, Wcs. What new evidence could she have had? We didn't find anything in her cottage no papers, no correspondence from new witnesses. And she hadn't contacted Mrs. Piert. No, I reckon it was revenge. The dad did it, 'cause she'd killed his son ... or the mother and the dad helped her deal with the body."

"Would Timothy, the brother, want revenge?"

Heffernan shrugged. "Can't see it, can you? He's in the middle of a political campaign. Anyway, Mrs. Piert said he didn't take too much interest in his baby brother. No. He hardly strikes me as the type who'd brood about something like that. He'd be more concerned with how the election was going. I think we can count him out."

"So who killed Lee Telford?"

"Robert Wills again ... Telford saw him."

"It doesn't fit, sir. I don't think she killed the baby, in which case ..."

"She knew who did and tried to blackmail them?"

"Or tried to get them to tell the truth. I don't think blackmail was her style."

"And what good would that have done her?"

"It would clear her name."

"She was living quite comfortably under a new identity. Why should she want to change things? Anyway, I reckon if anyone killed that kid it was the neurotic mother. It happens ... any psychiatrist'll tell you. And Mrs. Piert thought she was off her rocker. I can just see her going down and throwing the kid around, especially ..." The inspector's eyes lit up. He sat forward in his seat. "Especially if she'd just caught her husband in the rose garden having it off with the nanny. It fits, Wcs. Pauline didn't fetch a drink ... she wasn't with the baby because she was getting up to hanky-panky with its dad. The neurotic wife discovers them and hits out at the baby ... his son."

Wesley smiled. He had been thinking along the same lines. "I think you could be right, sir. But it still doesn't get us much further with Pauline's murder ... apart from hitting the revenge theory on the head. Unless Pauline threatened to accuse Mrs. Wills..."

"And they closed ranks and her husband disposed of Pauline. I think we've cracked it, Wcs." Heffernan grinned with satisfaction.