Chapter 8

Reg and two of the other girls agreed, while the Sergeant’s mind flashed back to the store security man. He had said that Mrs Flanders used to be Mary Fitzgerald! But previously the Robertsons had told him they only knew him as Jim. Why the change? He asked them, and got an answer.

Reg explained, “At the suggestion of the girls, I put out feelers among the students about his full name, but apparently he had threatened to hurt anyone who told us his name. I got an anonymous email which told me that his surname was Fitzgerald, so that is what we are going on. I am sure the University will be able to identify him formally for you, if our mystery informant was accurate, and I don’t see why not.”

Sergeant Phillips munched on more French Toast, and washed it down from the mug of coffee that had earlier been thrust into his hand. He was finally able to speak once more.

“We can make enquiries at the university, but if his surname is indeed Fitzgerald, I think we shall find that he is related to one of the managers at the Tesco store. Her maiden name was Fitzgerald, according to another member of staff. She probably does not know that we are aware of it. I have asked for her to view the footage to see if she recognises the man. If she says she doesn’t, and he actually is a relative, then she is complicit in his crimes. If she admits who it is, she may merely get away with a caution.

Thank you for your help, Mr and Mrs Robertsons. Please leave it to the police to proceed further with this information, if you don’t mind.”

They accepted this constraint very readily, and he left for home, satisfied with this little episode.

He enjoyed his next trip to the store. Mrs Flanders was not on duty, but the current security man in charge told him that she had viewed the images last night and made no identification of the male walking away from the car. The Sergeant nodded, and said, “Thank you. Do you mind writing this down for me, as a witness statement?”

“Already done it, Sergeant. I did a spell in the police, so I know what you need.” He produced a sheet of paper with his hand-written statement and his signature.

Sergeant Phillips thanked him. “This is excellent. You should have stayed in the force.”

The other shook his head. “This job is better paid, and a lot less intensive work.”

“I suppose you are right. Our employers have to stick to the national pay scales, unfortunately. Thanks all the same.”

“No bother, Sergeant. Is Mrs Flanders in trouble?”

“We are not clear about that. At the least, she is a witness who may have to be called to court. It is up to her where it goes from there. Well, I must be off.” He paused, and turned back. “Do you have any idea if there is a family connection between the Fitzgerald family and the Aitchisons?”

The security man pursed his lips as he thought.

“There might be a connection. I have seen her chatting with the Squadron Leader’s daughter-in-law, and they seemed to know each other well. I can’t say more, unfortunately.”

“You know who she is, then?”

“Mrs Flanders mentioned her being her sister one day, so that we would not be suspicious of her, if she seemed to being too familiar with Mrs Flanders.”

“Ah, I see. Thanks anyway for the info. It is another avenue for us to explore.”

Sergeant Phillips thought he should get another confirmation of the relationship, so he phoned Canon Ross Findlay, rector of St. Jude’s, the parish church.

“Canon Findlay, this is Sergeant Phillips of the local police force. Am I right in thinking that Squadron Leader Aitchison’s family are part of your flock?”

“Why, yes, Sergeant, they are. Why do you ask? I hope none of them have run foul of the law.”

“Not as far as I know, Canon. It is more a matter of establishing witnesses and their relationship to each other. Mrs Aitchison, junior – the Squadron Leader’s daughter in law – is she related to Mrs Flanders at the Tesco store?””Now, that I can confirm for you, Sergeant. They are sisters. I often see them at church together. Their husbands are not good attenders, but I see the ladies quite often.”

“Thank you, sir. It is good to be aware of these links, in advance of any interviews we might have to do. Thank you again.”

“You are very welcome, Sergeant. Can I hope to see you there occasionally, and not just the rest of your family? I know you are a busy man, but what our congregation needs to see more of, is busy men who are still able to show their love of the Lord Jesus.”

“I shall do what I can to be there with my family, Canon Findlay. Goodbye for now.”

“Damn!” declared the Sergeant to himself. He decided he had better put in a few appearances for appearances sake, but if he looked too eager, he’d be persuaded to help look after the church.

He later assessed the evidence he had collected.

1. The black Range Rover driver appeared to be university student Jim Fitzgerald.

2. Jim Fitzgerald was the bully who got his comeuppance a few months before, at the hands of one of the Robertson women, and the car sideswipe was probably intended to be a revenge attack on the Robertsons, but hit the wrong car. NOTE: not easily provable, so tricky evidence.

3. Eric Aitchison’s mother was a Fitzgerald, and was the wife of Squadron Leader Aitchison’s son.

4. Her sister was one of the night managers at the Tesco store where the vehicle had been hidden, and she was aware of the blind spot in the security cameras. No-one else appeared to be aware of this blind spot, so she probably had told Jim Fitzgerald of its existence, and he made use of it.

Query: what is the family relationship between Jim Fitzgerald and Mrs Flanders? (To be found) Question arising: what to do about it all? The student could probably be charged with taking the vehicle (if his prints or DNA are inside the vehicle: Facts to be ascertained). Could he be charged with dangerous and reckless driving, and attempted murder as well as the theft of the Range Rover, assuming forensics proved it?

Was there any discernible link between Jim Fitzgerald the university student and Eric Aitchison the burglar, apart from a probable family connection? How could he find out? He would need sight of some physical evidence, such as a birth certificate. He wondered what information the university records had on students.

Ringing the Academic Services division at the university, he explained who he was. He then made inquiries as the parentage of individual students. The staff were cautious.

“I am afraid we cannot give such information out over the phone. You will have to attend in person with official identification as to your position in the police force and authorisation by the Chief Constable to request such confidential data. We will have you met by a senior university official to confirm everything. Is that acceptable?”

The Sergeant agreed. “I completely understand your position under the Data Protection Acts. I shall phone you prior to appearing in person, and bring the documentation you asked for.”

He rang his superior and asked for a letter from the Chief Constable, authorising him to view the file on an individual student. His boss wavered, demanding more information as the reason, but listened to what the Sergeant had to say.

“Very well. I shall seek that letter for you. It will come through me, so that I can record its issue to you. You will have to return it to me after you have viewed the file, so that I can mark it as securely returned.”

Two days later, Sergeant Phillips was at the Admissions Office where the official examined his authority from the Chief Constable. Accepting it, he escorted the Sergeant to Academic Services and waited while the asked for file was produced and laid on a table to be viewed.

Sergeant Philips went through the records, noting from the copy of the student’s birth certificate who his parents were, and the student’s discipline record, as well as his academic results. He had a couple of questions.

“Are these academic results good, bad, or indifferent?”

The official looked them over, and commented, “Mediocre, I would say. Enough to get by.”

“And his discipline record? There appear to have been some obscure notes made.”

“Oh, yes. They are in Latin, by choice. It appears that Mr Fitzgerald has been bullying other students, and an eye is being kept on his activities in case of future action. Nothing so far has enabled him to be accused, reprimanded, and punished, through lack of witness evidence. I am sure you understand that, Sergeant.”

“Oh, yes, indeed. It is always a problem, I agree. This is useful background to an ongoing case. Should we need to formally interview the gentleman, we shall make sure to contact yourselves first.”

“Thank you, Sergeant. It will be appreciated. We endeavour to avoid having the good name of the university besmirched.”

“Don’t worry. The evidence will be pretty clear before we take any action, sir. Nothing precipitate, I assure you.”

“Thank you again. Will that be all?”

“Only one thing. May I have the Chief Constable’s letter back? I have been told to return it to my boss on my return. It is proof that it has only been used once.”

“An admirable precaution. I shall annotate it that the only file viewed was that of James Fitzgerald in year 2. That should be satisfactory, I think.”

“Indeed so. Thank you. I shall be on my way.”

On his way home, he reflected on what he had found. Jim Fitzgerald was the illegitimate son of Mrs Flanders. There was no father’s name on his birth certificate, and Jim had obviously not offered a name for his father. However, the name Jim had offered as a character reference was Squadron Leader Aitchison. Sergeant Phillips found that interesting, in that at the date of Jim’s birth, the Squadron Leader was a widower, and it was a number of years prior to his son marrying the younger Fitzgerald sister. The Sergeant had a suspicion of a closer liaison, even although she had married a Mr Flanders later. Unfortunately, it could only be a suspicion; nothing more.

At least now he had evidence that Jim was the son of Mrs Flanders. Would she admit to knowing who he was? He would have to get the image expanded so that she could not pretend that the picture was too vague to recognise him.

As he had the CCTV extract at the station, he looked out the home phone number for Mrs Flanders and rang her.

“Mrs Flanders? Police Sergeant Phillips here. Would you mind coning down to the police station to have another look at the CCTV images you were shown earlier? Wee were able to blow the image up a bit, and the picture of the young man is a bit clearer, and may jog your memory. Can you do that for me?”

“Certainly, Sergeant. When would you like me to come in? I have an hour free this afternoon, between three and four, before I have to get ready to go on duty.”

“That sounds fine. Could you make it around three thirty, then? Just ask for Sergeant Phillips at the counter.”

As arranged, she turned up and was show through to the Sergeant, who was looking at some papers with a female constable. He put away the papers he had been working on and switched on the computer, motioning the constable to a seat at the rear of the room. He now spoke to his visitor.

“Please sit down, Mrs Flanders. I’ll have the images in a jiffy. Ah, here we are. Oh, I should mention that we do audio recordings of all interviews in the station, for your own protection. There have been some reprehensible instances in the past that I don’t want to go into, but you will understand.”

She nodded, having no idea what he was talking about, but the bit about her protection got her approval.

He ran the recording, and slowed it to almost a stop until he had the best shot of the young man. “Now we can blow it up to see his face better. There, that does it. Now, have you seen this face before, perhaps around the store, or with other people?”

She peered at the image, and shook her head. “No, I don’t think I know him. Of course, If I had seen him some years ago, I wouldn’t remember. Do you know if his hair was different before this shot? Or does he normally wear glasses? That might make him look different.”

“Not that we know, madam. So, you don’t know who this person is?”

“No.”

“Interesting. He is a university student, and some fellow students recognised him as being James Fitzgerald. It is good that someone recognised him, eh?”

“That is so, Sergeant.”

“Pardon me a moment.” He looked over to the constable. “Constable, please note that Mrs Flanders does not recognise Jim Fitzgerald, whereas other students recognised him.”

Mrs Flanders brows furrowed as she heard this, and asked, “Pardon? What are you on about, Sergeant?”

He looked back at her and said, mildly, “I was just surprised that you failed to recognise your own son, Mrs Flanders.”

Shock showed on her face as she started at this revelation. Her mouth worked but nothing came out. The Sergeant spoke again. “Can you tell me, Mrs Flanders, why you do not seem to know your own son, when he is easily recognised by other students who have viewed this footage?”

She was thinking fast. “What makes you say that he is my son?”

“His birth certificate, which is on record at the university.”

“Oh. But why do you think she and I are the same person, sergeant? The coincidence of names must have confused you.”

“What names, Mrs Flanders?”

“Fitzgerald.”

“Oh, is that your maiden surname? The same as Mrs Fitzgerald, his mother?”

She looked triumphant.

“Mrs Fitzgerald? I am afraid you must have your facts wrong, sergeant, or the university records are wrong. There is no Mrs Fitzgerald on the birth certificate.”

“Really? And how would you know that, Mrs Flanders?”

Her face went white when she realised she had given away knowledge of the birth certificate’s details.

The sergeant went on, “Who is your son’s father, Mrs Flanders? Would it be Squadron Leader Aitchison?”

If her face could get any whiter, it would be like paper. She clearly was admitting through her reactions that this was the truth. “You can’t know that!” she exclaimed.

He wagged his finger at her, saying, “Knowing something and being able to prove it are two different things, Mrs Flanders. I know it and you know it, is quite enough for me. I have no intention of doing anything about it. Does your sister, the Squadron Leader’s daughter-in-law, know these facts?”

“Yes”, she admitted. “I introduced these two a few years later. How did you know about her?”

“You have been seen chatting in the store, and she was recognised.”

He paused, and went on, “So, do you recognise your son in the car park?”

“Yes, damn you! So what?”

“You were trying to avoid recognising him. Were you aware that he was hiding that Range Rover in the blind spot?”

“I didn’t know it at the time. He knew of the blind spot, as I had mentioned it to him once. He must have remembered it. I presume he must have done something wrong with it, or he wouldn’t need to hide it.”

“Mrs Flanders, at this moment I do not have sufficient evidence to charge you with being complicit in a crime, but that may change. What you have to say now, or any time before such a charge, will help your defence, but should you not volunteer pertinent information, that will be assumed to be prejudicial to your case should it come to court. I leave you to think that over, so goodbye for now.”

For a number of days, Reginald and his girls went through the natural dread of receiving their core assessments for first year, despite Reginald’s assurances that they would do well. He had reminded them, “You only need to get a minimum of 40 per cent to pass in first year and I am certain you will all be well over the 50 per cent level, if not more.”

He was proved right. Their work was rated high enough to give them satisfactory reports, and a likely good outcome by the end of the academic year next summer.

Frances was now in family organisation mode.

“Reg, it is time we decided which families we visit when, over the Christmas break.”

“Oh?” He had a slight apprehension about this. “Will they expect us to invade them so soon after we had them at our Commitment Ceremony? We are mostly still strangers to them.”

“Darling, that is all the more reason for them to get to know us all, and recognise us in their homes as a family group. We are no longer individual girls. We are your wives, and so they have to get used to us that way; get it, husband?”

Reg smiled wryly at Frances’ assumption of the position of lead wife. “All of you agree with this, so you?”

He was startled to find them all nodding, and Prudence added, “Even me, darling. Frances is quite correct; we girls are in charge of social situations. You agreed to have it this way, and our determination is that this visiting has to happen. They have to see their daughter no longer as a singleton, but as part of a loving group. We will tell them we are coming; it is just a matter of getting the timing right to suit each family’s personal circumstances.”

Reg knew he had to abide by their decision. “Yes, girls. I accept your reasoning.”

Frances was not finished.

“Reg, when we visit each set of parents, they can afford to host us. We know this, just as we know your mother is not in such a position. So, when we go to stay with her, we will cover all the costs of hosting us. You must inform your mother that this is already decided, and she is expected to accept us as a fait accomplis without any rancour. It is being done through love, you can assure her.”