Fall From Grace (23 page)

‘In short,’ said Tim who then delivered the briefing. ‘Leonid Sulkov is willing to testify that Lady Eleanor Harding was the real killer of Peter Jenkins in June, 1940.’

‘According to what he was told,’ said Steve.

‘That’s right,’ said Tim, ‘but the source was her ladyship herself so although it comes down to his word against hers, Leonid Sulkov has no reason to lie about it. We’re going to bring her ladyship in for questioning and, hopefully, we’ll be able to get a confession out of her. If an innocent man did go to the gallows because of her then it’s time that justice was done.’

‘Absolutely, DI Norris,’ said Hargreaves. ‘It’s long overdue.’

‘Sir,’ said Tim, ‘but that’s not the only matter she can help us with. Moving up the years to the night in October 1974 when Ronald Harding was murdered, Lady Eleanor gave evidence at the time that it was her daughter who’d killed Ronald before disappearing, apparently into thin air. But there were two more people present who nobody knew about, as well as Dieter Naumann. Leonid Sulkov is one and Edward James Foster is the other. Foster was the boyfriend of Clarissa Harding and according to Sulkov he’s now ready to come clean about that and about the struggle for a gun between Foster, Clarissa, and Lady Eleanor. Sulkov says the gun went off and Clarissa Harding was dead.’

‘Sulkov says the reason for the scene that night at the Hall was because Clarissa was angry at her parents for not accepting their grandchild. After the deaths of Ronald and Clarissa, a deal was made that Ed Foster would walk away with his son and promise never to contact Lady Eleanor again in return for her concocting the story about her daughter having shot Ronald and disappearing.’

‘And they’ve all kept to that deal,’ said Hargreaves.

‘So why has Sulkov broken with it now?’ Joe wanted to know.

‘He’s going along with the wishes of his friend, Ed Foster,’ said Tim. ‘Foster is close to death with cancer and he thinks the time is right to cleanse his soul. Sulkov is supporting him like he has done all the way through.’

‘Are we going to charge him?’ asked Steve. ‘I mean, he not only withheld evidence but he didn’t confess to being a murderer for nearly thirty years’

‘That’s true,’ said Sara, ‘but I’m not certain there’s any value in charging him, Steve.’

‘He broke the law, ma’am,’ stated Steve. ‘That’s the value, surely?’

‘We’re going to caution him in exchange for his evidence,’ said Sara. ‘We have the chance to settle three murder cases, Steve, and to be able to clear the name of an innocent man. I think that’s enough given the sensitive nature of what’s going on here.’

‘There are no traces of him anywhere, sir,’ said Tim. ‘He hasn’t been back to his family home in Burnley, he hasn’t used a debit or credit card, and he hasn’t used his mobile.’

‘Well he’s somewhere, Tim,’ said Hargreaves, ‘and he has to be found.’

FOURTEEN

Sara immediately took control when she sat down with Tim in the interview room across the table from Lady Eleanor and her lawyer. She switched on the tape recorder and went through the necessary preambles. Then it was down to business.

‘And I wonder what he was feeling the moment that trap door was opened and his body dropped through. His neck probably broke within seconds and then he wasn’t able to feel or think about anything anymore.’

‘You thought at one time that it was my darling Dieter who’d committed the crime and that I was protecting him,’ Eleanor sneered.

‘And now we know different,’ said Sara.

‘You’ll be trying to blame someone else next week,’ said Eleanor. ‘Your incompetence is boundless. No wonder there’s a problem with crime in this country.’

‘The only problem with crime, Lady Eleanor,’ said Sara, ‘is when the wrong people are convicted and the guilty go free for seventy years.’

‘And how long did it take you to think that one up? You really must be stretching your intellectual limits.’

‘That’s enough!’ Tim shouted. ‘Lady Eleanor, we’ve shown you every respect and courtesy and all you’ve done in return is either hide the truth from us or tell us downright lies. We want the truth Lady Eleanor, and we want it now.’

There was a momentary pause during which Tim and Sara noticed the capitulation written all across Eleanor’s face. It was as if she’d regressed to her childhood and was being scolded by her father. Her eyes took on that wounded innocence of a little girl who couldn’t understand why Daddy was shouting at her. Daddy had come back to tell her off. She could see his face all over the Detective’s. The only man she’d ever listened to in her life was telling her it was time to finally tell the truth.

‘I killed Peter Jenkins,’ said Eleanor, softly. Her lawyer intervened to tell her to be quiet but she dismissed his entreaties. ‘I killed him because his antics were going to get in the way of the agreement I was brokering for the British government with Hitler. I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t let his immature recklessness damage our chances. Then when Wilfred came into the room I knew he could provide me with my get out clause.’

‘Even though he paid with his life?’ said Sara, shaking he head in disbelief at Lady Eleanor’s abominable selfishness.

‘I had to do it for the greater good of what I was trying to achieve in the negotiations,’ said Eleanor, ‘you could call Wilfred one of those unexpected casualties of war.’

Sara scoffed. ‘One that needn’t have been, Lady Eleanor. The hanging of an innocent man was just a means of escaping justice for you.’

Eleanor tried to smile but she couldn’t quite get there. She did however straighten herself up in preparation for the next confession.

‘I suppose you want to know what really happened the night Ronald died too?’

‘That’s one of the reasons why you’re here,’ said Sara.

Eleanor then gave them an account of the October 1974 night and it was the first time in her life that she’d spoken the truth about it to anyone who hadn’t been there. What she told them chimed perfectly with what Leonid Sulkov had told them.

‘And what about your grandson, Paul Foster, Lady Eleanor?’ asked Sara as she moved in for the final round of questions. This was going to be the most satisfying arrest she’d ever made.

‘What about him?’ said Eleanor, her earlier defiance returning.

‘What are you going to tell him about the mother he was never allowed to know?’

*

Marius Van Urk was nursing the hangover from hell. He’d been out the previous night with his workmates at the website office on King Street. Samantha and Dave were both about the same age as him and like him, they were both single. The three of them spent regular nights out on the town together but they were just mates. There was no romantic spark between Samantha and Dave or between Samantha and Marius. And as both of the boys were heterosexual nothing was going to go on between the two of them either. Marius hadn’t always been single since he arrived in Manchester. He’d seen one or two girls but the last one he’d gone out with had turned out to be a complete control freak and he couldn’t stand that. She’d tried to tell him what to do, what to wear, what time to be somewhere, all to fall in with the arrangements she’d made for the two of them and if he resisted she’d get all upset and start calling him a bastard. She was a pretty girl and when she wasn’t trying to control his every move she could be really good company. But then he came home one day to find that she’d moved all the furniture around in his flat whilst he’d been out, she said that he had to admit that it all looked better the way she’d arranged it. That was enough. He’d told her it was over. There were tears, hysteria, she screamed obscenities at him but he really didn’t need anyone to organise him. He could quite happily do his own laundry, cook for himself, keep the flat tidy and do the shopping. He wanted a girlfriend, not a mother. He had a mother who he loved very much but he didn’t want another version of her.

Splitting up from his fiancé Yvette back in South Africa had been a painful experience and one which had affected both their families, but his new start in London hadn’t ever felt permanent, even though he’d stayed there for three years. The people in Manchester reminded him of his mother’s family in Nottingham. Their accents, to his ear, were similar and, mostly, they had the same no-nonsense way of looking at life. He’d always felt closer to his mother’s British side of his family. Since he’d been living in the UK he saw them regularly, especially his grandparents. His father’s Afrikaner heritage didn’t mean much to him at all. But one thing the two respective sides of his family did have in common was a fondness for alcohol. And Marius had inherited it.

‘Yeah, and I seem to be reaching that particular point with alarming regularity,’ said Marius who then slumped over his desk. ‘Let me die, please!’

Paul was shown in to see Marius and they shook hands. Despite his mood Paul couldn’t help noticing Marius in the way that men who like men do. He was a dead ringer for the footballer Jamie Redknapp with his short brown hair at the sides, gelled up at the front, dressed in a suit with an open necked shirt. He was probably straight though. Gay men rarely have that same glint in their eye that straight men do. Besides, pulling was the last thing on Paul’s mind.

‘So what can I do for you, Mr. Foster?’

‘I want to tell you about what happens to a soldier when he’s sent to fight a war against values instead of borders,’ said Paul who then went on to explain everything about Jake. ‘You can use his story as the centre of a piece about how we’ve failed these brave young men and women. We’re not giving them what they need when they come back, Marius, and it’s so wrong.’

‘You’re talking about the Jake Thornton who’s wanted for questioning about the murder of Glenn Barber?’

‘Yes,’ said Paul, ‘and I’m making the point that if he’d received proper help when he came back from Afghanistan then we might not be in this position now. Several other papers have speculated about Jake and his life but they’ve got it all wrong. Jake is a good man who was turned bad by his experiences in Afghanistan. I’m not making excuses for anything he’s done. I’m just trying to explain the circumstances behind his actions. He’s been damaged. He didn’t come back in a body bag but he may as well be dead inside. He needs help and he has to get it.’