Doors Without Numbers (32 page)

“Rachel’s son, did she offer you any information about him at all?”

“None. But I do know that Rachel left home when she discovered she was pregnant. She moved into a hostel near Dartford which is where we eventually met. It is likely that she gave birth in a hospital near there, sometime in summer 1970.”

Dunn gave an encouraging smile. “It should be easy enough to check out.”

Mr Turner ignored her comment and looked at Hammond. “If you find her, tell her I am here. I won’t move house, it’s important she knows that there will always be a home here for her. Everything she left here is untouched, ready for her. I won’t throw anything anyway.”

Hammond stood up and looked at the other man. “You have Rachel’s belongings here?”

Turner nodded. “Of course.”

Hammond looked quickly towards Dunn and caught her eye. She knew what he was thinking, she came away from the door and ventured to her original spot in the living room.

“May I borrow something of Rachel’s?” He hoped Turner wouldn’t question why but was prepared to be truthful if it was necessary.

Turner studied both his visitors hesitantly. “You promise to return them?”

Hammond nodded and told him he would write a receipt for anything Turner could offer. Turner nodded and lead them into a back room. Hammond cast his eyes over the room in a cursory glance. It was evidently Rachel’s former working area. A small mahogany desk was positioned in the far corner of what appeared to be a spare bedroom. A small wardrobe stood facing the window; Turner opened it and gestured to the clothes hanging above rows of shoes lined up at the bottom.

“There is not much in the desk, a notebook and her diary with her appointments. The police looked through it but found nothing that was of any help so it is doubtful that it will help you either. As for her clothes, well, take your pick.

“Do you remember what she wore on the day she... left?” Dunn deliberately used the term Turner had used rather than referring to Rachel’s missing status.

“Yes, a blue short sleeved blouse, grey skirt, matching jacket and navy heeled shoes. A faux pearl necklace and matching earrings, a tortoiseshell hair clip and a silver watch with clasp fastening.”

Dunn’s eyebrows raised with the detailed description, a quick glance in the wardrobe showed her that the clothing he had listed was not in the wardrobe. Hammond moved over to the desk and pulled open a shallow drawer. The diary was on top of a jotter pad; he removed both items and flicked through them. There wasn’t much to see but he asked to borrow them anyway and wrote a receipt for both items.

As they bid Turner a farewell, Hammond shook the other man’s outstretched hand with sincerity. He found himself pitying the man whom he knew would be waiting in vain for his wife to return.

Dunn turned to Hammond as soon as he had settled himself into the passenger seat.

“Well, did you find him convincing?”

“If you mean do I think he is responsible for his wife’s disappearance. No, I don’t. He is innocent, I am sure of it. In fact I think he is deluding himself that Rachel is still alive.”

Dunn nodded as she turned the ignition. “I agree. He couldn’t even refer to his wife having had disappeared, he kept insisting she had left. Although I find that rather strange. One minute he refers to her as being a devoted mother and wife, the next he is convincing himself and us, that she chose to leave him, even though they were a close and loving family? I am willing to bet he knows a lot more than he is saying.”

Hammond looked at her, noting her self-assurance. He was tempted to place a bet but decided against it.

It was almost dark by the time Dunn’s car left him outside his house. She walked him to the front door, offering an arm as he hobbled up the porch steps. He ignored her gesture, he was embarrassed by his disability, and would have preferred she had left him on the pavement. He dismissed her offer to accompany him inside.

“I’m going to look through the diary, you never know there may be something that proves helpful.”

“Phone me if you find anything. I’m in court in the morning, but I’ll get back to you if you leave a message.”

They said their goodbyes and he waved to her with his crutch before letting himself into the house.

From the moment he entered his hallway, Hammond knew something wasn’t right. The house felt different as if something was not as he had left it earlier that day. He paused by the coat rack, listening for any sound that would explain his unease. It was silent. He turned on the light and made his way slowly through the rooms downstairs. The living room and kitchen looked no different than usual yet he felt an inexplicable build up of nervous tension, goose bumps formed on his neck and arms. He started talking to himself out loud, telling himself he was being ridiculous but the feeling didn’t go away. For a moment he considered calling Dunn and asking her to return, but he couldn’t risk appearing a fool, a grown man scared of his own shadow. Eventually he forced himself to venture back into the living room and turned on all the lights and the television hoping the noise would distract him from his anxiety.

Only when he reached for the television remote control did he notice the twelve shot glasses he had left on the coffee table had been moved. Each glass had been left in their individual groups, yet the glasses he had used to represent the thoughts of Thomas and Graham Roberts had been moved across to the corner he had used to represent Lloyd and Kathleen Harris. He had no doubts. Someone had been in the house whilst he had been away, and whoever had been there had been looking for something. He moved towards where he had left the file. It was gone. His mind was racing, did it matter that the file had gone? He could remember everything that was in it but the idea that someone had entered his home and gone rooting through his belongings made him nervous. Whomever had broken into the house had known he would be away which meant he had been watched. He forced himself to think calmly. It was possible that the intruder had left, that they had got what they had wanted and had no reason to stick around, yet he wanted to make sure.

When they had moved into the house over ten years ago, Paul used to play in what he had called the ‘secret chamber’. In reality it was the old larder next to the kitchen that backed onto the wall of the old outside toilet. In time, the plaster and the brick work had disintegrated leaving a small gap between the walls. The forty-four year old Hammond had promised to re-plaster the walls to stop the draughts but he had never got around to doing it so Lyn had resorted to blocking it with the pine dresser that she had filled with Portmerion and Wedgewood collector pieces. Lyn’s china collection had since left with her so the dresser was easier to move. Hammond discarded his crutches and pushed himself against the dresser edging it away from the wall until he made a space to crawl behind. He cursed aloud at putting himself in such a pathetic situation as he made his way through the gap until he was in the old toilet room. The air was damp and heavy, his throat and nostrils filled with dust causing him to choke. Using one hand to cover his mouth, he crawled on his knees until he could raise himself to his full height. He was surprised to find Paul’s long-forgotten plastic Indian figures lined up on the wooden board that covered the old toilet bowl but refused to allow himself to be distracted by sentimentality as he concentrated on loosening the nailed boards that blocked the exterior door. It was an easy job and reminded him of his earlier half hearted attempts at D.I.Y. From his position, he could see into the back garden but was far enough away from the back door so he couldn’t be seen if the back of the house was under surveillance. He studied the footpath that lead around the back of the houses. He couldn’t see or hear anyone.

It would have been possible to have simply looked out the front window to have seen anyone watching the house from the main road at the front but it wasn’t dark enough to be unseen and he wanted to be discreet. The side passage that ran alongside the house would exit further down the road. He shuffled his way out of the outside toilet and edged his way along the side passage, confident he wouldn’t be seen in the shadows. At the end of the alley way he kneeled down and peered around the corner of the next house. The car was parked two houses away. The engine wasn’t running and the lights were turned off but Hammond distinguished it as being alien to his neighbours cars, someone was seated in the driver’s seat. From his position it was difficult to tell if the driver was male or female. He stayed in the shadows for several moments wondering what to do. Then he made up his mind. He scrolled down his mobile’s contact list.

“Edwards, are you free?”

Hammond was whispering, it was unlikely he would be heard from where he stood but he wasn’t going to take any chances.

“Yeah, what’s going on?”

“I need you. Do you think you could drive to my place? When you arrive, don’t stop, keep on driving slowly until you see a car parked on the right with the driver inside. Check to see if anyone else is in the car and take a note of the registration number.”

There was a hesitation on the other end of the line. Hammond guessed that Edwards was confused as to why he was being asked to drive there when all Hammond had to do was walk down the road.

“Can you do that for me Edwards?”

“Sure. I’m on my way. You want me to phone you when I am there?”

“No, drive past, and then wait when you are out of sight and I will call you.”

Edwards muttered a response and the call ended.

Hammond’s ankle was throbbing but he resisted the temptation to move. He wanted the person watching to think Hammond was still in the house, ignorant of the fact that he was the subject of scrutiny.

“
Life must always be a great adventure, with risks on every hand.”
Henry Havelock Ellis. The Dance of Life. 1923

The twenty minutes that passed as Hammond waited for his colleague felt like an age. Hammond was uncomfortable, he wished he had brought his crutches to lean on, but he couldn’t risk leaving his hiding place so resorted to gritting his teeth and accepting his discomfort like the man he wanted to be. He leaned against the wall of the next house and kept checking to see if the car was there. The driver hadn’t moved from their position. Occasionally car lights would sweep past and cause Hammond to step further back into the passage once he had checked it wasn’t Edwards.

Eventually Hammond heard heavy breathing accompanied by rapid footsteps as a man hidden under a hooded top and scarf jogged past with a bull dog on a leash. The man didn’t seem at ease with running, he lifted his knees too high with each stride as if he were attempting dressage. Hammond watched them and caught his breath as the man stopped by the car with the driver inside. He saw him bend down to the pavement and heard muffled words before the jogger continued with his awkward practise. More minutes past and then Hammond recognised Edwards’ car crawl past slowly and continue down the road. Hammond waited five minutes then called Edward’s mobile.

“It was just the one person in the car. We’ve got the registration. You want us to check it?”

“If you can. Anything else?”

Hammond heard a voice in the background. “Yep. We’ve got a full description of the driver. Caucasian Male, mid fifties, heavy build. Dark hair with a small bald patch. Does that sound familiar?”

Hammond thought hard. “No, not at all. How did you manage to get that good a look?”

There were muffled noises coming from the other end of the line before Hammond recognised Galvin’s voice. “Sir? There’s two things I am bad at, one is cooking and the other is running. But I am good at dog training sir, so when I say ‘pee’ my old boy cocks his leg and does the job on cue.”

Despite his predicament, Hammond smiled and congratulated the men on their observation, Edwards returned to the line. “Are you going to tell us what this is all about? Do you want us to make an arrest?”

“There’s no need. My house has been broken into and is being watched. I want whoever it is to think I haven’t noticed them and am still inside. But I want to know who they are.”

Edwards promised to get back with the information as soon as he could. Hammond thanked them and arranged to talk in the morning.

When he returned indoors, he pushed the dresser back into position and checked the locks on the doors. He knew it was pointless since the intruder had managed to get into the house undetected before, it was likely they would again. He wondered why the car had remained there. It must be that they are waiting for me to go to bed, to be unprepared. For the first time, Hammond acknowledged that he was scared. He resolved to staying awake all night, maybe even wait for whoever it was to enter the house and surprise them.

The night passed peacefully and without disturbance. Occasionally Hammond would peep through a gap in the upstairs curtains to check that the car was still there. He had made a performance of turning on alternate lights around the house, giving the impression he was blissfully unaware of being watched until all lights were turned off at 11pm. Since then he had waited but nothing had happened. At 3.30am he checked again. The car had left.

Hammond woke himself up by snorting loudly. He sat up in the armchair and checked the room. Nothing had moved. The clock told him it was 6am. Since his voyeur had left, He had tried to occupy his mind by looking at Rachel Turner’s diary and jotter pad but found the pages full of meaningless squiggles he couldn’t decipher. Occasionally he would find stars on the top right of several dates suggesting some significance but there was no star added on the day of her disappearance which he deduced if a meeting had taken place, it was probably unexpected.

The rest of the time had been spent dozing, although his mind wouldn’t allow him to rest. Any sound or movement caused him to over-react. He kept a hold of his crutches at all times, it was the only weapon he was prepared to use if the need warranted it. He updated his log book, and made descriptive notes of everything that had happened during his investigation so far. From time to time he would stop and mutter to himself that doing such a thing was pointless, no conclusion could be reached with what he had uncovered so far. A family of foster children had grown up to become reclusive and withdrawn from society until they eventually killed themselves. The only evidence he had that any criminal activity had taken place was that someone had taken the file by forcibly entering his house. But as Hammond wrote down the facts, he knew that someone was getting nervous and wanted to stop him investigating further, even if it meant harming him. It caused him to feel apprehensive yet at the same time, he felt a glimmer of excitement for it meant he was getting closer to finding out the truth.