Now She's Dead: A psychological suspense thriller that unwinds in dizzying spirals by Ben Cheetham

Author:Ben Cheetham [Cheetham, Ben]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-04-25T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 30

“What do you think?” Emma asked as they drove away from Brenda’s house.

“I think she’s telling the truth,” said Jack.

“Me too.”

“Do you reckon this ‘Helen’ could be Stacy Cook?”

“Possibly, although an eight years age gap is a bit much for her to have looked the same age as Rhys.”

“OK, so where to now?”

Jack gave Emma the address for Diane’s Beauty Salon in Disley. The Satnav directed them south west along the M60. “Maybe Helen is an old friend of Rhys’s,” suggested Emma. “Could be someone he went to school with. Have a look online. All my old school class photos are on Facebook. I’ll bet it’s the same with Newell Green.”

Jack Googled ‘Newell Green High School 1964-68’. He followed a link to a list of notable alumni, but found nothing of interest. He tried ‘Newell Green High School past pupils’. “You’re right.”

There was a Facebook page with a mixture of black-and-white and colour class photos. He found one listed as taken some time between ‘1965 and 1968’. It had been posted by a ‘Simon Kemp’. The pupils looked about thirteen or fourteen-years-old. They were lined up in four ascending rows. Those at the front were sitting cross-legged on the floor. The next row was sitting on chairs. The third and fourth were standing. The boys were wearing smart blazers, shirts, ties and shorts. The girls were wearing buttoned-up cardigans and knee-length pleated skirts. Several of the pupils had been tagged with their names – Doreen Simmons, Alan Cooper, Janet Mills, Tommy Bishop, Helen Bancroft. Others had been identified in the comments. The boys in the front row were named from left to right as ‘Neil Monk, Graham Thomas and Rhys Devonport’.

Rhys’s wavy hair was swept back in the same style he’d worn it at the time of his disappearance. He was looking into the camera with a lazy-eyed, louche smile. Not the callow grin of an early teenage boy.

The boys in the other rows – including Simon Kemp – were also identified, but no more of the girls. Simon Kemp had commented that he’d tagged all the girls he remembered. Jack could think of someone who might know the names of the other girls, particularly those Rhys was friends with – Brenda.

Jack showed Emma the photo. He pointed out Rhys, then pointed to a pretty girl with big eyes that peered from under a straight blonde fringe in the row behind. “Her name’s Helen Bancroft.”

Emma chuckled as if she couldn’t quite believe they’d got a hit.

Jack flipped open their Toughbook mobile data terminal and searched the PNC databases for Helen Bancroft. It didn’t take long to find a likely candidate. “Helen Bancroft-Harding, born July 1953, deceased November 2005,” he read out. “Helen lived in Wilmslow. Where’s that?”

“It’s a village a few miles south of Wythenshawe.”

“Her widower, a Lawrence Bancroft-Harding, still lives at the same address.”

“Give him a call. But tread lightly. Assuming Helen Bancroft-Harding is the same blonde Brenda saw Rhys with and assuming she was married, there’s a good chance they were having an affair.

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