‘Probably worth a few quid,’ Bryant observed. Property in Stourton did not come cheap.
‘Not as much as you’d think,’ Kim said. From what she could see, the small back garden was overlooked by a good number of the new houses.
‘How old is this guy?’ Bryant asked as they walked up the driveway.
‘He retired from Cornheath primary about fifteen years ago so…’ she said, pressing on the bell. She heard no sound so she tapped on the glass.
The door was swung open by a woman in her mid-forties wearing a navy overall. Her hair was cut short and showed some colourful costume jewellery in her ears.
‘Thank you but we don’t want…’
The door was beginning to close.
‘Police,’ Kim explained, quickly realising the woman had taken them for salespeople or canvassers.
The door stopped.
‘Identification?’ she said, frowning and looking to each of them.
Both she and Bryant showed their ID. Kim had a feeling they were not getting in otherwise. The name Vera was embroidered into her overall.
Still the door did not move backwards. ‘What do you want? Mr Jackson tires very easily and…’
‘We need to speak to Mr Jackson regarding an investigation, and we will discuss the matter with him directly,’ Kim said, pushing firmly against the door.
The woman got the message and began to back away.
‘The door to the left,’ she said, closing the door behind them. ‘He’s just had his evening meal, and he tends to get sleepy afterwards…’
‘You come in and care for him?’ Kim asked, pausing.
She nodded. ‘His son comes every morning before going to work, and I pop in twice a day.’
Kim’s heart began to sink. This man needed a great deal of assistance.
‘Alzheimer’s,’ Vera clarified.
Kim knew enough about the disease to understand why it was called ‘the long goodbye’. The cause was poorly understood, and she had read once that it was something to do with plaques and tangles in the brain.
She also knew that there was no treatment to stop or reverse the disease’s progression.
‘How is he with remembering things?’ Kim asked.
‘He’s gradually spending more time in the past than the present. Sometimes he believes a memory has already happened when it hasn’t. Other times he thinks an old memory is a new one. When his son comes he tends to combine two totally separate recollections and other times he confuses the people so…’ She shrugged.
‘Thank you,’ Kim said with a smile.
She turned left into a room that was built for comfort and not style. An array of dark furniture that had obviously accrued over the years now jostled for space. Ornaments and trinkets adorned every surface.
Mr Jackson sat in a reclining armchair. His eyes were closed and his mouth slightly parted.
His face looked peaceful beneath a full head of white hair.
Bryant offered a gentle cough.
The eyes fluttered open and looked in their direction. For a second there was confusion before his eyes lit up and sparkled. It couldn’t be because of her. No one was ever that pleased to see her.
Mr Jackson’s gaze travelled past her to Bryant.
‘My boy, come closer. How are you?’
Bryant looked her way as Vera entered, carrying a mug of something hot.
She stopped alongside Kim. ‘He thinks your man there is Mr Simmons, an English teacher he mentored at Cornheath. Every man under the age of fifty is Mr Simmons, who actually died five years ago. We just don’t remind him any more.’
Vera expertly placed the mug in the only space available on the cluttered table.
‘Should we correct…?’
‘He wouldn’t believe you if you did,’ Vera offered matter-of-factly.
Mr Jackson beckoned again and Bryant moved forwards cautiously.
Kim took a step. ‘Mr Jackson, we’re here—’
‘Oh and this must be your lovely wife. How nice to meet you, my dear,’ he said, nodding enthusiastically.
Bryant’s expression held amusement that she would surely punish him for later.
‘Yes, isn’t she?’ Bryant said, turning away from her. ‘I was just telling my… er… wife the other day about our years at Cornheath, Mr Jackson.’
His face lit up. ‘Best years of my life, son. We had some times, didn’t we?’
‘We did that, Mr Jackson,’ Bryant said, lowering himself into the nearest seat. ‘In fact, I was trying to recall the detail about that unfortunate incident with Jemima Lowe. Do you remember?’
Kim held her breath. She was normally the one for the long shot. Bryant was really throwing the net out this time.
His face saddened. ‘Oh yes, I remember. Terrible business. Children can be so cruel.’
Bryant glanced her way. His look said ‘back off, I’ve got this’ and he had.
Kim retreated to the doorway. Somehow this subterfuge felt wrong. Although she had to wonder if the information would be accessible to them any other way.
Vera appeared in the doorway and Kim asked the question with her eyes. Vera nodded and leaned against the door frame.
‘My memory isn’t what it used to be, Mr Jackson. I can’t quite remember what happened now.’
‘Oh, it’s your age, my boy. Happens to us all. It was those girls, if you remember. A group of them. Pinned that child down in the gym hall and lifted her dress up and held her there for everyone to come and see her privates. Awful business.’
‘I don’t recall how many girls there were, Mr Jackson,’ Bryant said gently.
‘There were four or five to start with I think. One little girl came running to the staff room to get us. Funny little thing, she was.’
Bryant continued. ‘Of course, I remember now. Little Louise was there as well, wasn’t she?’
Mr Jackson started to nod, but as he did so his expression began to change. His face crumpled into confusion. He looked from one to the other and then beyond them to the doorway.
‘Vera…?’
The carer appeared instantly. Her smile was warm and comforting.
‘It’s okay, Mr Jackson. These nice people just called to see if you wanted double glazing fitted, but they’re going now.’
She turned to Kim as Bryant stepped backwards. She looked towards the door. It was not an unkind gesture, but it was clearly time for them to leave.
Kim nodded her thanks and turned away, saddened.
‘He’ll be okay,’ Vera said, appearing beside her. ‘Coronation Street will be on in a minute. It’s his favourite.’
Kim swallowed the emotion in her throat and continued to the door.
‘Wait a minute,’ Mr Jackson called. ‘I remember now. That funny little thing that fetched us. She had a limp. A terrible limp. And I think… I think her name was Tracy.’
Sixty
‘Guv… you don’t think…?’
‘Bryant, I’m willing to bet your house on it,’ she said as they reached the end of the drive. She shook her head as a couple of things began to make sense. ‘Those bloody stupid heels. Ring Stacey and get an address,’ she said, scrolling through her list of incoming calls. She found the one she had received a few days ago around midnight. She hit the button to recall.
The phone rang and rang and finally ended with a brief message from Tracy Frost. Kim could hear Bryant talking to Stacey as she called again.
Same thing happened. It rang all the way to the message.
She tried once more. This time it went straight to voicemail without ringing.
Damn it. The phone had been switched off, and she had no way of knowing by whom.
Bryant ended his call and walked towards her. ‘I’ve asked Stacey to check and see if Tracy Frost went to Cornheath and if she was there at the same time as Jemima.’
Kim nodded. She knew it was almost half past seven and her team had been at it all day. She also knew if she tried to send any one of them home they would refuse to go. Leads didn’t always present themselves at nine in the morning.
‘Have you got Tracy’s address?’ she asked.
Bryant nodded as he unlocked the driver’s door. He hesitated. ‘You do know we could be completely wrong?’
Kim had no such hesitation as she plonked herself in the passenger seat.
‘Yeah. But what if we’re completely right?’
Sixty-One