Murder of a Silent Man by Phillip Strang

Author:Phillip Strang [Strang, Phillip]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-06-05T05:00:00+00:00

***

Molly Dempster walked into Challis Street Police Station. She was well dressed and had applied make-up. Isaac and Larry did not recognise her at first, although Wendy did.

‘Miss Dempster, what brings you here?’ Wendy said.

‘I’ve got a confession to make,’ Molly replied, her voice quivering.

Wendy feared for the worst and called over Isaac. ‘It’s not that,’ Molly said. ‘Is there somewhere we can sit?’

An interview room was found along the corridor. It was not intimidating, and it was just the three of them. Isaac felt obliged to follow the correct procedure and to advise the woman that her conversation was being recorded. She acknowledged the fact.

‘You spoke of a confession,’ Wendy said.

‘I’m embarrassed to tell you. It complicates your enquiries.’

Apart from the standard activities, the investigation into the death of Gilbert Lawrence had stalled, and it was causing problems, not only within Homicide and for Detective Chief Superintendent Goddard but with Commissioner Alwyn Davies, the head of the London Met. Neither Isaac nor Goddard had any time for Davies, with both regarding him as the worst head of that august organisation in living memory, but he couldn’t be ignored.

‘Take it nice and slow,’ Wendy said. In another situation, she would have gone and sat with the woman, but in the interview room, she sat alongside her DCI.

The two police officers waited while the woman composed herself.

‘Ralph is my son,’ Molly said. Wendy almost fell off her seat, Isaac’s mouth opened with a gasp.

‘This comes as a great surprise,’ Isaac said.

‘It’s something I’ve lived with for many years. Nobody knew except for Gilbert and Dorothy, and now they’re both dead, the secret could have gone to my grave.’

‘You’d better take your time,’ Wendy said. She felt a flush of emotions come over her: horror, disgust, love, confusion. She didn’t know which one was prevalent, although she had always regarded the housekeeper as one of life’s gentle souls, a person who never sought attention or fame or wealth but completed her daily tasks and went home to watch the television or to read a book. And in one sentence, the woman had changed totally, no longer the innocent, but a woman with a history.

‘I had been with Gilbert and Dorothy for a year, and Caroline was there, a lovely little girl, similar in so many ways to her father, but she had her mother’s looks. I never wanted much out of life, just somewhere to live. My father had been a good man, hard-working, but with a reckless streak. That explains Ralph’s impulsive behaviour. My mother was the same as me, a stay-at-home mother who always ensured we were clothed, and there was a meal on the table when my father came in. It was a good life, but when I was seventeen, they both died suddenly. My father from too many years down the coal mine, my mother from grief. I was distraught and had nowhere to go. I thought to go into service, work in a grand house somewhere, a domestic.

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