The Hidey Holeby David Price |
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| part VI |
We learned that the victim’s name was Tammy Gates, and that the exercise book had become her personal diary. The following is a transcript of what we found in those decaying pages.
* * *
Tammy’s Diary
Friday, 27th of March, 1987
New life, new home. Hate it, no friends. Mam says we’ll settle in. It’s over a year since dad passed away, so we moved because of mam’s job. She keeps going on about how she has to earn money to keep a roof over our heads now that he’s gone. I miss my old friends.
Note — Mother’s Day on Sunday, find somewhere to buy her a card.
Saturday, 28th of March
Passed a building site today, a Town Hall is being built. Didn’t like the way one of the workers looked at me. He got all mad when I stuck my tongue out at him, but I don’t care. He was mean.
A local shop had a few Mother’s Day cards left over, so pleased about that.
Sunday, 29th of March
I gave mum her card and a box of After Eight mints, and then took a walk along Gardner’s Lane. It’s quiet here, like there’s no life anywhere near.
Came to an old bridge. Steam trains must have gone over it at some time. Explored it for a while, then got bored and walked on.
It will be my 14th birthday soon. I could do with making a few friends. Even one would do.
Oh well, see what school brings.
Monday, 30th of March
First day of school not too horrible, girls ok. I think I can settle in.
A girl called Michelle told me that they all hang out in a coffee shop called ‘Ingrid’s’ at the weekend. I said that I would join them.
Work on Town Hall nearly finished, thank Heavens. That horrible brick-layer keeps on eyeing me up, the perv! I just ignore him.
He told one of his mates that I was a toffee-nosed little bitch, just loud enough for me to hear. Ought to report him, but he won’t be around much longer. I’ll keep my mouth shut for now, but he’d better watch his step!
Tuesday, 7th of April
One of the girls had a scary experience walking home last night. Said she was sure some creep was peeping tomming her from the bushes in Gardner’s Lane. I’m sure I know who it was, but I can’t just accuse him. The Headmaster has warned us to avoid that route. He won’t need to tell us twice. I still think the police should have been told.
Fri, 10th of April
My Birthday, yay!!!
When I was halfway to school, Michelle caught up with me. That wolf-whistling pervert wasn’t there when we passed the Town Hall, I think we were both relieved about that.
Michelle gave me a card and wished me a happy birthday. I was touched that she had remembered. Later that day they gave me ‘the bumps’ in the school playground. I’m sure there are bruises all over my b.t.m!
Saturday, 11th of April
That horrible brick-layer was in the coffee shop, so we avoided it. There was a film called Stand by Me showing at the local cinema, so a group of us went to see it. It’s coming to something when you have to go out of your way to avoid someone in your own home town. I’ll be glad when the building work is done.
Liked the film, but someone should give that scumbag a piece of their mind.
Tuesday, 14th of April
Work on Town Hall finished, it’s an impressive looking building. They’ll be furnishing it soon. At least that creepy brick-layer won’t be around much longer.
Went shopping with Michelle. She was looking at dresses that I wouldn’t dream of wearing... well, not yet, anyway.
She said she wanted something to show off her décolleté (Good word that; just looked it up in the dictionary).
But they were too expensive. Pity, she would have looked good in some of them.
Easter will be here soon. We’re already planning what we’re going to do on those extra days off.
Well... Michelle has a few ideas; I’ll just follow her around.
Friday, 17th of April
Scary day, bumped into the brick-layer as he was putting his tools away.
“Well hello, pretty girl.” That’s what he said to me. I turned and walked in the opposite direction, ignoring him.
He shouted after me, asked if I was going to be a stuck up c— all my life. Horrible man! I should have said something, or thrown a stone at him. But I was scared, and when I got back to my bedroom I was shaking. If he speaks to me again I’ll go to the police and make out a complaint. I can’t spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, wondering if he’s going to be there.
Hate him! HATE HIM!
Saturday, 2nd of May
Happy now, no sign of the brick-layer for over a fortnight. Michelle and a couple of girls will be having a picnic beside that old railway bridge. I’ll be joining them.
Haven’t walked along Gardner’s Lane for a few weeks. Looking forward to it already.
Should be fun.
* * *
That was the last entry.
Had this bricklayer accosted her in Gardner’s Lane?
We saved the data, and then pulled out our laptops. It was time to see what happened when we typed Tammy’s name into a search engine.
“We might even get to see what she looked like,” JoJo said.
At first nothing, so we tried the website of a local newspaper. According to the by-line, it had first gone to press in September of 1984, which seemed hopeful, as the disappearance of a local girl would surely have made the headlines.
The top of the page had a little oblong box marked ‘search’, so I typed in ‘news stories of 1987’. There was plenty of info-dump about the Town Hall, but no mention of Tammy Gates.
I tried ‘missing schoolgirls between 1986 and 1989’, but there was nothing to be gleaned from that. After an hour we gave up. A quarter of a century-old story about a possible abduction had obviously not been considered newsworthy enough to keep a record of.
Frustrated, we closed our laptops.
“That’s it then,” Jo-Jo said.
“Looks that way.”
“So there’s nothing we can do, except inform the police?”
I sat back in my chair. “Yes. After all this time, I doubt anyone would remember the name of that bricklayer, even if they knew it in the first place.”
But I couldn’t leave it at that. Tammy needed to rest in peace, and it would probably help her to pass over if her remains were properly interred.
But what of her killer?
Building work on the Town Hall had finished years ago, yet he could still be alive and, I thought, still a threat to young girls.
“Shall I make tea?” Jo-Jo asked.
It was a tempting offer, but...
“No, get your coat. We’re going to the Town Hall.”
* * *
Half an hour later we were standing before the impressive glass facade of the building, looking in. The place still looked quite new; it had probably been refurbished just recently.
“Well, here goes.”
We walked into the foyer and looked around. A few people were milling about, but most of the workers were probably in their offices.
I tried to shake off an I really shouldn’t be in here feeling, as I was somewhat under-dressed in jeans, trainers, denim jacket and Kaiser Chiefs tee-shirt. It was all too easy to imagine disdainful glances being thrown my way.
Jo-Jo nudged me and pointed to a bored-looking receptionist.
“She looks as if she wouldn’t mind having a chat,” she said. “Let’s go and see her.”
The woman was about 40, with henna-dyed hair and trendy-looking glasses. She greeted us with an economical “Help you?” when we approached her.
“Maybe. We are trying to find out a little of the history of this place,” I said.
“I only work here.”
“Do you remember it being built?”
“That’s going back a while.”
“I know.”
“I was a schoolgirl at the time. So yes, I do remember.”
“Ah, good.”
She talked for a while, in between taking phone calls, and she certainly remembered that bricklayer. “Always undressing us with his eyes, the dirty old sod!”
She described him as being lean, about six feet tall, mid-thirties and with thinning sandy hair. “The language he’d use in front of us, it’d make your hair curl!” she said, rolling her eyes.
“I don’t suppose anyone knows where he is now?” Jo-Jo asked.
“I doubt it. We were just glad to see the back of him.”
“Of course.”
Then I decided to ask her about our ghost.
“I don’t suppose you remember a Tammy Gates?”
“Oh yes, lovely girl. You know her?”
“Know? Yes... sort of.”
“Over there.”
She pointed across the room to where a rather striking-looking woman was pinning notices on a message board. About the same age as the receptionist, I could see, but with long and very shapely legs, flowing auburn hair, and the kind of flawless complexion a teenager would love. One of Tammy Gates’ friends, I assumed. Michelle, maybe?
I didn’t know if she could help, but I certainly did want a chat.
We thanked the receptionist and walked over to her. A beautiful woman, certainly, and it’s as well Jo-Jo spoke, for I was well and truly tongue-tied.
“Excuse me.”
She turned around, greeting us with a beaming smile.
“Yes?”
“We’ve been told you were acquainted with a girl called Tammy Gates.”
Were acquainted with? JoJo didn’t usually talk this posh.
The woman regarded us curiously, her head on one side.
“Well yes, I certainly did know her. Very well, as it happens.”
“Oh good, we were hoping to find out a bit more about her. I’m Jo-Jo Barr and this is my friend, Jason.”
“Jason Oakleigh,” I added, finally finding my voice. “I’m very pleased to meet you miss...?”
“Crowhurst. Tamara Crowhurst.”
“Tamara?”
I glanced at Jo-Jo, then back at Tamara.
“Crowhurst, née Gates. Now... why are you two stalking me?”
Thankfully, she said this last bit with a wink and a smile.
And not knowing what else to do, I handed her the plastic bag containing her textbook and pencil tin.
“We’ve come to return your property,” I said.
* * *
We made our way to the restaurant, where I bought three cups of over-priced coffee. Tammy was still looking a little shell-shocked when I placed the tray on the table.
“Thanks,” she said, and reached for a cube of brown sugar.
For over a minute she had stared at that bag, her mouth open as though waiting for the words to drift out.
Finally, she managed to say, “I think we should talk.”
It was a good ten minutes before she uttered her next sentence.
“Alright, now where did you find this?”
I sat back and sipped my coffee while Jo-Jo told her the story. Tammy Crowhurst was certainly an attentive listener, but then, this was an attention-grabbing story.
“And so we finally decided to come here. Meeting you in the flesh was a bit of a shocker, it has to be said.”
“I can imagine.”
“So...”
“How did my property end up next to a corpse?” She leaned back in her seat and sighed.
“Yes, I think I can answer that. I believe that you have found the remains of a girl called Lucy Sullivan.”
“I don’t remember seeing her name,” Jo-Jo said.
“She came from a broken home. Always running away, that girl. One day she never came back. We always thought that something bad had happened to her. Sadly, it looks like we were right.”
“And your satchel?”
“The last time I saw it was just before the Easter Bank Holiday. I left it in class when I went for a gym lesson. I managed to twist my ankle, jumping over a wooden horse. Would you believe? They had to take me to hospital in case I’d broken a bone. Knowing Lucy, she was bringing it to my house.”
“She was never seen again after that?”
“The police assumed that she’d run away for good. They searched for a week or so, then just gave it up, said she’d fled to London or somewhere to live on the streets, or work as a prostitute, or whatever it was that runaway teenage girls did. Maybe she’d turn up again, they said. Ah, fat chance! In the end they just closed the case.”
She was bitter and she had every right to be. Lucy was a young girl who had been forgotten about. Meanwhile, her killer had been at large for years.
How many more girls had he attacked in that time?
And there was still the matter of that leering bricklayer. I asked her if she remembered him.
“Oh, yes. A horrible man with beady eyes. We all hated him. He was a real creep.”
“Then you think he could have abducted her?”
“You say she had been bricked up, and she vanished just after building work had been completed. Do the math.”
Yes, our nameless bricklayer certainly looked good for the killing. Modern day forensics might turn something up, but unless our man had done some prison time, or been arrested for something or other, we’d have no one to point a finger at. However, I was reasonably certain that time and the elements would have taken care of any evidence he may have left behind.
That was a really depressing thought.
I excused myself from the table and made my way to the bathroom.
In that sterile, green and cream-tiled room, I poured a glass of water, took a couple of pills out of my wallet and swallowed them.
I looked in the mirror, where the too-bright light seemed to highlight the dark circles under my eyes. It was yet another reminder that I was still in recovery.
“You can’t afford to obsess over this, Jace,” I told myself.
But I was starting to. My pile of bones now had a name. Lucy Sullivan was more than just a creepy childhood memory now.
I splashed some water on my face and then went back to the restaurant. Jo-Jo gave me one of her Are you okay? looks.
“So what now?” Tammy asked.
“Go to the police. See that Lucy gets a proper burial,” I said.
“And re-open the case?”
“They may, for a while. But there’s not much chance of finding the killer now, unless they get lucky.”
Tammy was touching the satchel, obviously reliving her past.
“If that bricklayer is still alive, he’ll be in his sixties,” she said. “It’s not unreasonable to think that he’s still out there.”
“Assuming he’s guilty,” I added. “We don’t know for sure that he is responsible for Lucy’s death.”
“I know it in my heart, Jason. But as you say, it all happened a long time ago.”
Which was true. But I could see that the memory was still raw.
“Still, there is one thing I can do.” And saying this, Tammy produced a mobile phone and located a number. After a few seconds, she got an answer. “Michelle, come on over to the Town Hall. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” Then she disconnected and smiled at us. “Sergeant Michelle Broomfield,” she said. “My best friend in school. It’s always useful to have a friend on the police force, don’t you think?”
Copyright © 2010 by David Price
