It Is A Mystery
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I was driving home from work when my phone rang. It was a number I didn’t recognize, but I answered it anyway. “Hello?”
“Mr. Tregear,” said the voice on the other end of the line with an American accent. My heart jumped in response to his tone and I suddenly had trouble breathing. “We have a case for you.”
I immediately thought about what Mr. Vaz had told me yesterday: “The law is a strange beast, Alton. You can do whatever you want as long as you’re not doing anything that might get someone hurt or killed… but if you find yourself caught between two different laws—or even one set of conflicting laws—you’ll probably need help.”
The idea that Mr. Vaz could tell the police anything he wanted was quite unsettling. But at the same time, I knew that he couldn’t stop them from talking to him so it was likely they’d be calling him soon enough. And now they had called me first. So maybe I’d best make this quick. “Okay, who’s asking?”
“My name is Detective Lieutenant Thomas Wilson, and we need your help finding a missing girl.”
“Where did she go? What happened?”
“It’s her mother we’re worried about, Mr. Tregear. Her name is Alison Tate.”
Alison Tate. That made sense. She’d been in the news recently. The story had been all over the internet. She had gone missing weeks ago—in fact, she had been reported missing by her husband just last week. I hadn’t known Alison personally, but we’d seen each other at parties several times.
My wife and I had spoken briefly once or twice before she disappeared. I remembered seeing her at the local pub on Friday night, but that was all.
“What kind of case are you looking into?” I asked.
“She’s been missing for six months, sir. We’ve got no leads. No witnesses. Nothing.”
“How old is Alison Tate?”
“Twenty-three years old,” replied Lieutenant Wilson.
“And where did you hear about us?” I asked.
“A friend recommended you.”
“Who was that?”
“James Walker.”
I looked at my watch. It was past seven o’clock and I was hungry. “Well, why don’t you come over to my house tonight, then? We can talk there instead of wasting our time on the phone. Tell me more about this case.”
Lieutenant Wilson sounded relieved. He thanked me and hung up. I drove home, thinking about James Walker.
***
When I arrived home Alison wasn’t there. Mrs. Tregear greeted me with a warm smile. I asked her if she’d seen my wife, but she shook her head.
“She went out shopping earlier. Said she needed some food for dinner. She’s going to call me later when she gets back.”
Alison’s car was still in the garage, which meant she hadn’t driven off anywhere else. So far, so good.
Mrs. Tregear led me upstairs and showed me into the spare bedroom. Alison’s stuff was scattered around the room, but there wasn’t much of it. I turned on the computer monitor and checked my emails, hoping she would return soon. I’d never met anyone like Alison.
She was bright, beautiful, and brilliant. If she had children they must be very lucky indeed to have such a wonderful mother. I looked through the drawers in her dresser, but they were empty. There weren’t any photos or mementos. Just clothes.
“Can you show me where you found the body, please?” I asked.
Mrs. Tregear nodded and walked outside to the back garden. There was a brick wall surrounding the grass, then further away from the wall was a large hedge. I followed Mrs. Tregear down to the bottom of the steps onto the lawn, where she pointed to a spot near a tree. “There’s a path here,” she said. “You can see where Alison fell.”
“Is this the part of the garden where you found the body?”
“Yes, Mr. Tregear. You can take a look.”
Alison lay on the grass, curled up into a ball. She wore a short blue skirt and a white shirt. Her arms were tucked underneath her body, and her legs were crossed. I took a deep breath and walked closer. “Was she wearing shoes?” I asked.
“No, Mr. Tregear. She was barefoot.”
“Did she say anything before she died?”
“Nothing except the usual. ‘Take care of yourself,’ or something like that. Then she started crying.”
“But not after she’d fallen?”
“Not at first. Not until she hit the ground.”
The grass was damp from the recent rain, making it easier for me to slide my hand over the wet earth. Alison’s blood was everywhere. A small pool of it formed beneath her head, mixing with mud. I scooped it up with my hand and smeared it across the grass.
The soil was saturated and oozing red, but only a little bit seeped out. I put my fingers inside the hole left by the bullet and felt the warm flesh. Alison Tate had been shot twice at close range. It didn’t make sense. Why was she killed? And who could have done it?
***
I called Inspector Edmonds. He came over to meet me as soon as he could, arriving thirty minutes later. When I opened the door he was already standing downstairs, waiting patiently for me to turn on the lights.
He seemed surprised to find Alison lying dead right in front of him. I explained that we’d just finished our meeting and invited Inspector Edmonds into the living room.
“Well, Mr. Tregear,” said the inspector, “you’re pretty handy with computers. Can you tell me what you know about the girl on your screen?”
I checked my email again. “It seems that Alison had an affair with another woman. But she wouldn’t give me her name.”
“So you don’t know her?”
“That’s right.”
“Where did you hear about Alison?”
“We’ve been friends for a long time. We go way back – we were in school together.”
“Do you think this other woman knows Alison’s secret?”
“Maybe,” I replied. “But I’m not sure. Alison told me she liked to keep things private.”
“How are you connected to Alison?”
“I married her.”
Edmonds sat down next to the computer desk and leaned forward. “Could she have been murdered?”
“Yes, but I don’t understand why. Why would someone kill Alison?”
“Why do you think she was killed?”
“I haven’t got the slightest idea. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Would she have known that this other woman would be upset if she knew about Alison?”
“It’s possible. Alison had a tendency to hold things back. That’s why I’m worried about the video footage.”
“What about it?”
“The CCTV camera records everything, including sound. The last thing Alison filmed was a conversation between the two of us. In it she tells me how she’s going to leave her husband for the other woman. So it’s obvious that she wants to keep it quiet.”
“But you need evidence to prove she was killed because of her affair.”
“Sure. What else can you tell me about Alison’s death?”
“She was lying face-down when I found her. She’d been shot twice. One bullet passed straight through her neck, killing her instantly, while the second went down her body and ended up lodged in her left lung. She probably died within seconds of being shot.”
“Does Alison have any enemies?”
“None that I know of.”
“There must be some reason why she was killed.”
“I agree.”
“And you think you might be able to solve it?”
“Of course. Maybe I’ll even catch them before they hurt anyone else.”
“Great.”
“I’m guessing we should talk to the people Alison met around town,” I said. “They may know something that will help us.”
Edmonds nodded and stood up. I watched as he collected his briefcase and walked toward the stairs. His shoulders were hunched, and there was a big frown on his forehead. He looked frustrated, which wasn’t surprising given that Alison’s killer hadn’t been discovered yet.
As I continued to scroll through the list of messages Alison had sent me, I thought about Alison. I remembered her smile, the way she used to laugh at jokes. There was a lot of good about Alison, but the bad outweighed it.
Alison’s husband had been so angry when Alison told him she wanted to leave him. Now I understood why. If Alison had told him about her affair, he would have divorced her. And she would have lost her job. It was a terrible decision, and Alison paid the price for it.
If only Alison had confided in me. We could have talked about it, and maybe Alison would still be alive today.
***
The next morning I drove to the station to ask Sergeant Farrow if she had any news on Alison’s case. She was busy in the office, helping out with the funeral arrangements, so I decided to call her instead.
“You remember Alison, don’t you?” I asked.
“I do,” she said. “Didn’t you say she was a friend from school? I hope she’s okay.”
“Yeah, I suppose she is. She was getting on my nerves, but I guess that’s no different to everyone else in life.”
Farrow laughed. “Okay, let’s get down to business. You want to know what’s happening with Alison?”
“Yes, please.”
“There isn’t much to tell. Her killer hasn’t been caught yet.”
“Any new information that might help crack the case?”
“Not really. Detective Edmonds has been working the murder like crazy, but we haven’t made any progress.”
“I see. Has there been anything that might indicate who killed Alison?”
“A few things, but nothing solid enough to put a name to it.”
“Anything that might point towards Alison being killed because of her affair?”
“No.”
“Can you tell me more about the people Alison mentioned in her messages?”
“The one that sticks out most in my mind is Billie. I didn’t know Alison well until after she came into town. After that, I saw her quite a bit, and I became friendly with her. She lived near where I grew up, and we often met at the shops or in the city center.”
“So the two of you were friends?”
“We weren’t close, but we kept in touch occasionally. I also spoke to Alison whenever I bumped into her. I’m sure you’ve noticed that she likes to talk. When someone asks her a question, she’s never short of an answer.”
“Who are the others?”
“Oh, there’s Emma. She was a friend of Alison’s from college, and she lives in Brighton. Then there was Penny – another old college friend. They all worked together at a local firm.”
“Is Emma’s maiden name Campbell?”
“Yes.”
“Then you’ve got the right person.”
“Have you spoken to Emma?”
“A couple of times. We exchanged emails once too. But she hasn’t come forward since the funeral.”
“Are you sure about this?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“She’s not a suspect, right? Or have you heard something that makes you think otherwise?”
“That depends on how you define a suspect. I can’t say that I think she did it, but there’s nothing that suggests she didn’t either.”
“What do you mean?”
“Alison mentioned in her messages that she was seeing someone else. Do you think she was telling the truth?”
“It sounded like a lie,” Farrow replied. “But it doesn’t make sense. Why would Alison leave her husband if she had a boyfriend?”
“Maybe she wasn’t happy with him. Maybe she couldn’t wait to move on.”
“And how would you feel if you were in her position?”
I glanced over at Farrow. The way she’d phrased that made me think that maybe she hadn’t been thinking straight. “What do you mean?”
“When someone says they’re leaving their partner for someone else, what kind of reaction do you expect?”
“Well, I would think she loved her husband. What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing, except that Alison said she didn’t love him. She said she was just using him. I can’t imagine anyone doing that.”
“I’m not sure she meant it like that,” I said. “I’m pretty sure she was having an affair. And I know for a fact that Alison was unhappy with her husband. So if she found someone who made her happier, then I don’t blame her.”
“How sure are you about that?”
“As sure as I can be.”
“But that’s just speculation. Are you going to call Emma and ask her?”
“Of course I am.”
“Good. That’s your first step. Call her, and get everything off your chest. Because if she had anything to do with Alison’s death, you won’t find proof unless you go through her.”
“Thanks, I’ll give it some thought.”
“And your second step? Give me something positive to work on. Otherwise, we might as well pack up now. I’m sure you’re aware of the saying ‘The best-laid plans …”
I left the station feeling deflated. First I’d been told that Alison’s lover was her murderer, and now my investigation suggested that her husband could have been responsible. It seemed unlikely that Alison’s husband was capable of killing his wife, but I was starting to wonder whether she might have known something he didn’t want her to tell me.
I decided to check with the police to see if I could find out which of Alison’s lovers was married. Then I could start asking questions, and hopefully get myself closer to the truth.
The End