Cambridge Blue - Alison Bruce [123]
‘And you all knew about this?’
‘We knew he made all these notes, but we had no idea of the contents,’ Alice said. ‘He kept it entirely to himself until near his own death, and it was only then that he told us what he had suspected.’
‘And you both thought it best to keep that secret from this investigation?’
‘Our father wanted it kept in the family.’
‘Even if there was another murder?’
Alice stiffened. ‘You misunderstand us. We think our father’s suspicions were wrong. He was a complex and intelligent man, but not infallible. He was devastated when David died and, for some reason that we’ll never know, he directed the blame on to our sister. He was obsessed with his notes, but why would we connect those to Lorna’s murder?’
Goodhew ignored the question. ‘In his notes he also mentions Joanne Reed. Did you both know her?’
Alice shook her head, but Richard nodded, and Goodhew found the sight of them responding independently of one another slightly startling.
‘I met her,’ Richard said, ‘through Jackie. I saw her twice, or maybe three times, I don’t remember now for sure. Dad knew, only because I’d told him, and after she disappeared he asked me about her and Jackie, and what they’d done together.’
Goodhew spoke without realizing he’d planned to, and his voice sounded sharp. ‘What did he mean by that?’
‘How do I know? Joanne was uncomfortable about Jackie hanging round at the stables, and Dad asked me if I’d seen Joanne the weekend she disappeared.’ Goodhew studied Richard closely, though he didn’t seem to enjoy the attention, and quickly added, ‘But I hadn’t, I swear.’
‘Then why not tell us all of this before?’
‘We told you, we promised our father that we’d look after her.’ There was an audible trembling in his voice.
‘Yes, and Alice has just told me that you both considered your father’s suspicions unfounded. Do you share that opinion with her or not?’
Richard wavered, then replied, ‘Yes.’
Perhaps he realized that it was the wrong answer, or maybe he’d been distracted by an unexpected thought but, as Goodhew waited, Richard simply stared at him, his eyes unnaturally focused on the bridge of Goodhew’s nose. When he spoke again, his voice was low and ponderous, as though he was articulating unfamiliar thoughts. ‘But now I think about it, my life was perfect until she arrived.’
‘DC Goodhew?’ It was Alice who’d cut in, sounding calmer than ever, thus supporting Goodhew’s theory of osmosis. ‘What can we do to help Jackie?’
His initial response to Alice’s interruption was relief; her simple question had redirected her brother into a calmer state, possibly saving them all from another emotional eruption.
Then Goodhew rethought his strategy and decided to move Alice to another room.
By the time he returned, PC Wilkes was waiting for him in the corridor again.
‘This is becoming a habit,’ she announced, and handed him a single sheet of paper. ‘That’s all we’ve come up with so far. I’ve got a mate in the County Records Office and she scanned it for me. Lucky we got anything at all, I guess.’
The copy was pale and Goodhew had to turn it to the light before he saw it was the death certificate for David Joseph Moran. He glanced at the dates: born in August, just after Goodhew’s first birthday, and dead before Goodhew’s second. The verdict: ‘natural causes’.
It was the mention of the County Records Office, housed on the site of the former jail, which reminded Goodhew – that, and the word justice . . .
He had left Richard Moran alone for, what he hoped was, enough time to make him wonder whether he’d been abandoned. He folded the copy of baby David’s death certificate in half and returned to the interview room with it tucked in his inside pocket. He sat back down, this time pulling his chair much closer.
‘We were talking about Joanne Reed. Where did you actually meet her?’
Richard slid one hand under each thigh, which reminded Goodhew of school teachers yelling, ‘If you can’t