Scamper's Find Page 4

  “What? That is amazing news! Tell me more. We’ve been searching for that guy for years. Where is he and what’s he saying?”

  “He’s not saying a word now.”

  Cameron went on to relate the grim discovery of Wysoki in the disused pit and the subsequent discovery of a second body.

  “We fully expect DNA to show the second body to be your other guy, Barry Jones, known to you guys there as Barclay Ellis-Jones, who also went by the name of Barclay Jones. Our forensic tests are almost complete.”

  The two officials continued to converse at length, and questioned how the two fugitives got to the UK without detection.

  “They went off the radar after the tragic airplane crash and we heard they had gone underground in Mexico but we had no definite sightings of them. No one knew if they were together or not,” explained the Chicago chief.

  “Hey, but this is big, big news. We’ve been at our wit’s end trying to trace those villains. Even offering a huge reward didn’t flush them out. Your guys are great.” Superintendent Harvey agreed to liaise with DI McKenzie in a few hours when he had time to impart the news to his colleagues. His first call was to the mayor.

  “Tony,” the mayor said, “I knew you’d be the man for the job. I just knew you would bring this sorry tale to a conclusion. Now tell me all.”

  Harvey’s squad was occupied in various offices scattered around HQ, busy with their own particular tasks, when an excited rookie officer sent to fetch them and hardly able to draw breath, announced with some pride at having been chosen for the important task:

  “The Super wants you in the incident room, ASAP or even sooner. He says you have to drop what you’re doing and get your asses over here. His words, not mine,” he added quickly when he saw the face of one particularly stern detective who looked as if he could turn him to stone with one crushing glance in his direction.

  The assembled squad waited patiently for the arrival of their boss.

  “This better be important,” muttered one. “I’ve got a caseload that’s gonna keep me here for hours.”

  “And me. I’m in court tomorrow and have to prepare for it.”

  “It must be something big. I hope he doesn’t take too long. When did the Super gather us together like this before? All of us and not just the big boys in the squad?” said another whose comments were cut short at the entrance of the imposing figure of the Superintendent.

  Harvey commanded immediate attention and silence as his curious team waited to hear the cause of such unusual activity. Never one to procrastinate, Harvey got to the point of the meeting.

  “Many of you worked with me on the case of Lucy Mears. I have to inform you of the death of Alfred Wysoki, one of our most wanted criminals from that incident.”

  Several people in the room with him had been involved in the lengthy case of the abduction of Lucy Mears and were keen to learn details of the fugitives they had been trying to bring to justice for several years. There was muttering from the assembled gathering, ranging from relief that the man had been located, to curiosity as to where the information had come from.

  “What happened, sir?” asked an impatient officer. “Can we have details?”

  “We have been chasing this suspect now for four years and built up a profile of the guy. His folks came over here from Poland, from Krakow, for a better life and settled in Chicago. From what we know, they were hard-working, good people. How they came to have a son like him is beyond me. He probably got in with the wrong crowd, and then ended up in prison where he teamed up with Barclay Ellis-Jones, who used the names Barry Jones and Barclay Jones.”

  Several of the squad nodded as they remembered the various names used by the fugitive.

  “Our missing man, Wysoki, has been found dead, murdered, and dumped in an old mine shaft, thousands of miles from here, in Scotland, UK. We’re waiting for confirmation that the second guy to be pulled out of another mine shaft there is our old friend, Jones. The forensic guys are working flat out to finalise a result.”

  The team was astounded at the news; voices rose, reaching a crescendo as they debated and questioned the unfolding news. They were brought to heel by their boss calling for silence.

  “What we have to figure out is how the heck they got to the UK, to Scotland, when every force in our country was on the lookout for them. How did they slip by? I’m taking a team with me to the UK to work alongside our Scottish buddies. Together we’ll get this mystery solved. At last we may be able to put the Lucy Mears case to bed, but there’s some work yet to be done before that happens. Now I have to visit Brenda Mears to detail her on these developments, not that it will bring her kid back, but it might help with closure when she hears the criminals will no longer harm anyone else ever again. I’ve called a press meeting for five o’clock. No one has to breathe a word before then. We want no more Kip O’Rourke’s in this department.”

  Murmurs of agreement filled the room and as the team filed out all thoughts of their own workload were temporarily forgotten as they discussed the astonishing news.

  CHAPTER 7

  A difficult task lay ahead for Harvey in speaking with Brenda Mears whose daughter’s abduction led to a tragic end for Lucy and the others travelling with her in the airplane. He asked Carole Carr to accompany him to the mansion. As they drove up the long drive that curved around an ornate water feature, Carole said, “All this wealth and so much tragedy. Guess she’d trade every cent to turn the clock back. What’s the point of wealth if there’s no happiness? The garden looks unkempt now. It was never like that, ever. There are signs of neglect all around and look at the paint peeling off that door.”

  “Yeah, Carole, a lot of water has gone under the bridge since we first set eyes on this monstrous place. It was a difficult time for us all, one of the most stressful cases I’ve worked on in my entire career. Let’s hope we can have it rubber-stamped soon, as done and dusted.”

  They sat in the car for a few moments, neither of them relishing the thought of what lay behind those giant oak doors. It was as if they were reluctant to reawaken the deep sorrow felt when young Lucy was lost to them forever. They were not looking forward to an encounter with Brenda Mears. Without speaking, the two detectives nodded to each other, signalling that it was time to move.

  Brenda Mears, sitting in semi-darkness listening to music, was alerted to the detectives’ visit by a young housemaid who, in awe of her employer and fearful of her mood changes, knocked gently and waited with bated breath for a response. She was nervous and unsure of what to expect. She announced the arrival of the two people whom Brenda Mears had hoped she need never encounter again.

  Brenda received the news from Superintendent Harvey with quiet resignation. The past years had been extremely harrowing for her. She had to come to terms not only with the loss of her daughter, but with the knowledge that her own aunt, her own flesh and blood had perpetrated a heinous crime in order to seek revenge, and for what? She firmly believed Anna had been mad, a madness that drove her to inflict terror and consequent death on her own young relative.

  Brenda had to adjust to life without Lucy. The guilt she felt over her daughter’s apparent feelings of being unloved by her, her own mother, cut her to the quick. She spent many hours in her darkened room and mulled over where she had gone wrong in the child’s upbringing, blaming herself for being too immersed in business matters, resulting in the emotional neglect of her child. Her life had now turned upside down. She had aged considerably. Gone was the confident, formidable, sophisticated businesswoman, once a force to be reckoned with, to be replaced by a broken shell of a woman who had all but given up on life. Her casual clothes, lank hair and lack of make-up spoke of a neglect brought on by tiredness and a certain amount of apathy. Her business empire continued to flourish as her loyal executive team kept it on track, albeit with a little less enthusiasm. They continued to run Mears
Empire almost on autopilot. The business prospered, but the same commitment was no longer there. They, too, felt the loss of the child they had known well. They knew their employer had lost interest in any development of Mears Empire and that she trusted them implicitly to keep the firm progressing and competitive, hoping that she would emerge some day from her dark cocoon into the light.

  “Thank you both for bringing me the news personally. I have little reaction to it. I’m numb.”

  She shook her head and continued: “Nothing will shake off my despair and I live with the consequences of my past life. So many people have suffered because of me. Molly will never recover from Lucy’s death, nor will Nora; all those innocent victims. And you, yourselves. How could I ever think you were involved with that corrupt cop, Kip O’Rourke and his unscrupulous reporter friend? You were truly, totally professional throughout the investigation. My mind was in such turmoil then, I knew I wasn’t thinking straight, but to turn on you two good people was unacceptable.”

  She was assured that they harboured no ill feelings towards her.

  “It was a stressful time for us all,” replied Carole, attempting to defuse the situation, “and emotions sometimes got in the way of clear thinking. We were able to find the source of the leak fairly quickly and dealt promptly with the culprits. Please don’t let it prey on your mind; we have long forgotten it.”

  They spoke at length about life after the tragedy. Sensing that the wistful lady wished to be alone, they declined her offer of coffee, thinking it was a gesture made out of politeness. They were aware of her relief when they stood up to leave.

  “I have to let Molly know of these developments. She has suffered so much and I look at her now and no longer see my vibrant fun-loving friend. I’m quite concerned about her health.”

  Brenda showed the detectives out before returning to her morose existence.

  She asked Molly, her housekeeper and life-long friend and mentor, to bring some coffee and sit with her awhile as she related the reason for the detectives’ visit. The two had become extremely close, finding comfort in each other’s understanding of loss. They often sat in silence while Molly knitted furiously to keep herself occupied, dropping stitches and venting her anger on her work. “Damn cheap wool,” she would mutter, her fingers gnarled from years of hard work and unable to hold the knitting needles as firmly as she thought she should. Her mind moved from scene to scene over past events and always, always finished with the tragic airplane crash. She, with others, had watched as the plane exploded in a ball of flames that lit up the evening sky and ended their hopes of any reunion with Lucy.

  Brenda could not put her mind to anything constructive and sat in guilty silence.

  Inevitably, sobbing from one would rise up and engulf both women. Molly had all but retired from household duties. Two ‘town girls’, as they referred to their cleaning helpers, kept the place reasonably respectable. Neither Brenda nor Molly cared much about the state of things. The once pristine mansion showed signs of neglect; layers of dust lay on the once highly polished furniture, which at one time was Molly’s pride and joy. ‘Get a shine on that surface, Nora,’ she would say if the sheen did not meet her high standards. ‘I want to see my face in it. Get to it gal.’

  Now, Lucy’s rooms were locked and strictly out of bounds to all but the two inconsolable women. Brenda found solace in sitting among her daughter’s possessions where she felt a sense of connection with her lost child. She had not altered anything in the girl’s suite of rooms. Only when she fingered Lucy’s baby grand piano and thought of the times her child had played so beautifully, and cast her eye over the empty cello stand, did the enormity of her loss overwhelm her.

  Oh, why could I not see how passionate she felt about music instead of insisting that she follow a business career?

  Many changes had taken place in the last four years. Nora, Molly’s daughter, unable to come to terms with either the loss of Lucy or her beloved fiancé, George, no longer lived with her mother. She had moved to the Florida Keys and obtained employment in the hotel business. She kept in regular touch with Molly, but felt unable to visit the place where so much sadness engulfed its occupants and memories lingered in every corner, like ghostly apparitions lurking to reawaken terror and sadness in tortured souls. Molly missed the presence of her daughter with a pain manifesting almost like another bereavement, but she would not stand in the way of Nora’s future.

  “I hate to leave you, Mom, I truly do. We’ve never been apart, ever. Will you re-consider? Please come with me to Florida; we can start afresh and try to forget this horrid place. I hate it here now.”

  “Honey, I’m too old to be uprooted. I’ll miss you too, but, hey, we can call each day and keep in touch. No, you go, make a new life for yourself while you are still young. I’ll be fine here with Brenda. We’ve gotten kind of closer now, and she needs me with her. I fear for her mental state at times and would rather be near her.”

  ***

  Others too, shared a deep loss at the demise of young Lucy. Ken Farmer, Lucy’s rather eccentric music tutor, no longer taught music. He also found it difficult to sing in his choir as certain pieces moved him to tears, tears for the loss of his talented pupil, tears for her lost promising career, tears for a world deprived of a gifted cellist. He became a recluse, spending his days in restoration of his beloved musical instruments. He seldom visited the library now, preferring to purchase books online. His librarian friend who adored the kindly man had long retired and moved from the area.

  ***

  Some time after the tragedy, a memorial service attended by those closest to Lucy and her family had been held in her school. Fellow students from the school orchestra played poignant music which included some of Lucy’s favourite pieces. Many of Lucy’s fellow students who had finished school and had moved on with their lives returned to attend the service. Gina and her daughter Abigail, Lucy’s best friend, held each other closely, human contact helping in some way to ease their grief. Quiet sobbing was extensive, muted, private and personal. Brenda’s executive staff, as well as workers from all branches of Mears Empire gave their support both emotionally and by their presence. Representatives from CPD were also in attendance.

  As the service concluded with a rendering of Taube’s gentle nocturne for cello, Brenda, overcome with such emotion, held onto Molly and whispered through tears, “Don’t ever leave me Molly, please don’t ever leave me.”

  A scholarship had been established in Lucy’s memory, to encourage young people to study music and help fund the purchase of instruments and to provide expert tutors. Funding also helped furnish a state-of-the-art music studio, adding to the already flourishing music department, and helped too, with cost of travel to various venues for the school orchestra. It was a fitting tribute to a talented student. A seraphic painting of Lucy adorned the wall of the music department. It had been commissioned by her mother, the artist being Lucy’s friend Abigail who had captured the spirit of the well-loved student with a talent and professionalism well beyond her years.

  “A stunning portrayal of my daughter. Thank you, Abigail. It is precious. You have such talent, just like Lucy. Follow your dream, and don’t let anyone stand in your way.”

  Brenda’s voice trailed off as she studied the image captured by the young artist and wished, oh how she wished, her daughter was alive to follow her own dream.

  CHAPTER 8

  Such was the gravity of the macabre finds and the positive identification of his country’s most wanted evildoers, that the newly appointed Superintendent Tony Harvey gathered an experienced team of trusted detectives and headed for Scotland. Before leaving, he told the rest of his squad: “I can’t sit here engrossed in paper work while there is a gruesome mystery to solve. Those of you who worked with me and Detective Carr during the time of young Lucy’s disappearance have, as of now, been relieved of all other duties to concentrate on
figuring out how the two scumbags got themselves killed in Scotland. Your specific tasks will be given to you before I leave for the UK. Other cops will take over your routine work until such times as we bring this mess to a close. Regardless of our feelings towards Barclay Ellis-Jones and Alfred Wysoki, a crime has been committed resulting in their deaths and we have a duty to bring the perps to justice.”

  During the long flight, Tony and Carole mused over events of the past few years that had taken over their lives.

  “Was there anything else we could have done to save young Lucy?” Carole pondered, more to herself. The question never really left her mind, as she often privately mulled over the case, questioning her own and her colleague’s skills in tracing the elusive abductors.

  “Carole, seldom does a day go by that I don’t ask myself that question. We did all we humanly could, and truly have nothing to beat ourselves up about. Fate led us too late to figure out that Anna Leci was the kidnapper. She didn’t enter the equation until it was impossible for us to act. Those two, whose deaths we are travelling to the UK to attempt to shed light on, are the real villains. We have to put aside our opinion of them, and however ironic it might seem, we need to bring their killers to justice.

  “Anna Leci wanted her niece returned home safely, but those two criminals who wanted to settle a score with their former buddy, Les Soubry, thwarted the plan. Why the hell didn’t they just deal with him without taking those poor people with him? That will probably never be known now. Heck, Carole, we could mull over this forever and never find answers. Let’s get some shut-eye or we’ll arrive in Scotland looking like two wet rags. The rest of our team seems to have nodded off.”

  A squad from Police Scotland greeted him and his team warmly, drove them to their hotel and after a reasonable rest met to tackle the investigation that had drawn them together. Barry Jones, who as they all now knew, used the alias of Barclay Ellis-Jones and Barclay Jones had, like his fellow criminal, died from cardiac arrest in another murky pit shaft. Harvey told his opposite number in rank that US intelligence had traced the two to Mexico shortly after the airplane deaths, but they had lost track of the villains after that.