Because he hadn’t told the prison in advance that he intended to visit, he had to wait at the gatehouse while they found someone to take him to the library. There was a tiny room which he shared with a nervous young solicitor, who farted loudly then blushed. The walls were posted with mission statements about racism and bullying. They weren’t as colourful as those in the hospital but they had the same improving tone.
He’d led the officer on the gate to believe that Hannah was expecting him. ‘No. Don’t disturb her. Just get an escort to take me over.’
The escort was a stocky young woman who seemed new to the job. They walked past a group of inmates who were weeding a huge circular bed, planted with geraniums in the shape of an anchor. The inmates whistled and shouted and the officer turned scarlet. Porteous didn’t think she’d stick it long.
The library was closed and the officer had to unlock it. Inside, an orderly sat at a desk, covering books with transparent plastic.
‘Mrs Morton about?’
‘In the office. Hannah, there’s someone to see you.’
She came out carrying a pile of new books. She seemed so shocked to see him that he thought she might drop them, but she recovered her composure well. She ignored him and spoke to the officer. ‘That’s all right, Karen. You can leave us to it. I’ll see Mr Porteous back to the gate.’
The officer went reluctantly, obviously curious about what he was doing there.
‘Do you want to go out for a smoke, Marty? Just give us a few minutes.’
When they were on their own she turned on him with a ferocity which surprised him.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing here?’
‘I had another appointment on the coast and I thought I’d call in, see if you could spare a few minutes.’ I’m playing hookey. Hiding from my team.
‘You don’t get it, do you? In a prison a visit from the police means arrest, guilt, trouble. It’ll be around the place in minutes that you’ve been to see me. There’ll be rumours, stories. It’s hard enough to work here as it is.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘What do you want?’
‘Really just a few questions. Would you like Mr Lee with you?’ He would quite have liked to talk to the psychologist, get some informal advice about what might be going on with the Gillespies.
‘Arthur can’t be here. He’s taking a class. If you’d phoned in advance we could have arranged it.’
‘Really, it’s no big deal.’
‘Yes, Inspector. It is a big deal. Two murders nearly thirty years apart are linked by the same weapon. I knew both victims. I’m not stupid. I know how it looks.’
‘I talked to your daughter yesterday.’
‘She told me.’
‘They’re nice kids. Her and Joseph.’
‘What is this about, Inspector? Marty and I have work to do. The library opens in twenty minutes.’
‘Did Theo mention anyone called Alec Reeves?’
There was moment before she reacted. He saw that she still wasn’t used to the boy’s new name. Then she shook her head. He was disappointed. If she had met him, he thought, she’d have remembered. She remembered everything else. But he persisted.
‘He was a friend of the Brices. You might have met him at their home.’
‘I didn’t meet anyone else there. They were content with their own company.’
‘He was sitting with the Brices for the final production of Macbeth. In the front row. You told me you chatted to the Brices in the interval. You would have seen him then.’
She sat with her eyes shut and he knew she was trying to re-create the scene. He had heard of photographic memory but he’d never before met anyone with such vivid recall.
‘A little man,’ she said. ‘Nondescript. Grey.’
‘Yes.’ He tried to keep the voice measured but she picked up his excitement.
‘Did he kill Michael?’
‘We want to talk to him.’
‘So you’re looking at someone else? Not just me.’
He smiled. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Not just you.’
‘You’re right. He was staying with the Brices. He had been a member of the church but he’d been working away. There was a special service on the Sunday – a confirmation, I think. He’d come back for that and they’d persuaded him to stay the whole weekend.’
‘What did Theo think of him?’
‘He said he was boring. Boring but worthy.’
‘He wasn’t frightened of him? You said Theo phoned you on the Sunday to say he was scared and he needed to talk to you. Could he have been frightened of Alec Reeves?’
‘I don’t know. If he was, he didn’t say.’
‘Mr Reeves worked at a place called Redwood. Did Theo ever mention that to you?’
‘Wasn’t that the name of his school in Yorkshire?’
‘No,’ Porteous said gently. He didn’t want to do anything to stifle her memory. ‘I don’t think it was.’
‘Yes. I’m almost certain. Isn’t it strange? I’d been trying so hard to remember if he ever told me the name and couldn’t come up with a thing. Then you mentioned Redwood and the conversation’s come back to me almost word for word.’
‘Could you tell me? It is important.’
‘It was the George Eliot essay.’ She looked at him. She’d told him so many details of her time with Michael that she thought he knew it all. ‘He was a George Eliot fan. As was I. There was a teacher who inspired him. When I reran the conversation in my head first he talked about “someone in the old place”. But that wasn’t what he said. Not at first. He corrected himself straight away but what he first said was “someone in Redwood”.’
She beamed at him, delighted to have got it right. He could see why the fat psychologist fancied her.
So, Porteous thought, after the fire and Emily’s death, Theo was sent to Redwood. He’d attended Marwood Grange as a day boy. That’s why Hillier the housemaster hadn’t remembered him. He must have lived at Redwood for years, until he moved to live with the Brices. Why? Because it was a place of safety and Randle had thought he was in danger from his stepmother? Or because he was so traumatized by the death of his sister, that he needed long-term help? If they could establish that Melanie had been there too, they’d have their link between both teenagers and Alec Reeves.
Hannah walked with him back to the gate. Marty was sitting outside on the grass. As they walked past him the orderly gave her a look which was almost protective.
Chapter Thirty
When he returned to the station Stout wasn’t there. Claire Wright had sent him home to get a bite to eat.
‘He was bushed,’ she said. ‘He was here most of the night again and then he went over to the old folks’ bungalow to talk to Charlie Luke. And spent the rest of the morning mooching around town.’
‘Looking out for Reeves?’
‘What do you think?’
Porteous thought Stout was driven, losing it, but he didn’t answer.
‘Ray Scully’s been on the phone.’
‘And?’
‘He’s here. At the coast. He came up last night to stay at his mum’s.’
‘Can you go to see him? Check out his alibi of course, but let him talk. Anything Melanie might have told him. Did she write? Has he kept the letters? Find out if there’s any possible connection between him and the Randles. Any gossip on the Gillespies would be useful too.’
‘Sure.’
From his office Porteous phoned Carver. The pathologist was out and nobody else seemed willing to tell him if the report on Melanie Gillespie had been sent. He sat at his desk for a moment then felt the old restlessness creeping up on him and went out.
He found Eddie Stout asleep in his garden. Bet opened the door to him. She’d been washing up and had on big yellow gloves like motorcycle gauntlets.