Chapter 27: The Darkest Hour Is Just Before the Dawn

0700hrs Sunday 14^th April 2019 West Suffolk General hospital

DAY 14

Squeaking wheels awoke me. A dark-skinned, rather chubby girl with a beaming smile that would brighten up anyone’s spirits, was pushing a trolley into the room loaded with boxes of pills and hypodermic needles and a steaming cup of tea.

“Hi, Sergeant, I’m Auxiliary Nurse Floella Campbell,” she said in a lilting Caribbean accent. “Ward Sister Bolton asked me to bring you a cup of tea, and there are some Welsh cakes made by Menna, whoever Menna is.”

“Menna is the world’s best Welsh cake maker,” I said.

Floella disconnected the two or three tubes/ wires connecting to me the monitor. “You don’t need this anymore, in fact, if you feel up to it you can get out of bed and sit in the armchair by the window.” She indicated a door near the window. “That’s your en suite toilet and shower. This is a private room, but Ward Sister Bolton suggested you be placed here.” She smiled, showing small gleaming white teeth. “Even the chief administrator of the hospital tends to do what Ward Sister Bolton ‘suggests’.”

I sipped the tea and nibbled a Welsh cake while Floella tidied the bedclothes and generally did what nurses do.

“Are you from Jamaica?” I asked.

“Yes, but I’m not from Kingston. Everyone in England thinks there is no town in Jamaica other than Kingston. I’m from May Pen, which is...”

“In the Parish of Clarendon that grows better coffee beans than those in the Blue Mountains,” I finished for her.

She laughed in delight. “How do you know that? But it is true. Blue Mountain coffee only became famous because of Ian Fleming. We sell that at an exorbitant price to Americans and Brits and keep the best, from Clarendon, for ourselves!”

The morning passed slowly with an interval for me to visit the en suite, shower, and then have breakfast. I hardly touched anything, not that it didn’t look appetising but I had no appetite. I just sat in the armchair, gazing out of the window without seeing, feeling as if part of me had been removed – part of me had been removed and there was now a Molly sized hole in my life.

About 10 am Bill Clark entered the room. He sat on a straight-backed chair and looked at me with a sorrowful expression on his face.

“I’m so sorry about Molly, Sarge, but we will get the bastard who done it, you mark my words.”

“Who, and why, Bill?”

He shrugged. “We don’t yet know who or why but we do know where the shooter was posted. He was in the detached house at the end of Castle Road on the corner with Mill Road. The house has been for sale and empty for about three weeks. We’ve got the details of anyone who viewed the place, complete with pictures, as the house agents have CCTV in their office. We are interviewing and examining all those who have been in the house.”

“It could have been someone breaking in.”

“There’s no sign of a forced entry. We believe a prospective purchaser copied the key and let themselves in.”

“It has to be someone who has viewed the property in the last twelve days. I have only been in Bury that long; I was the target, not Molly.”

“That’s what we think, but why you?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “It could be something to do with the raids on Felixstowe and Tilbury docks. It was me handing in the diary to the National Crime Agency (NCA) that sparked the raids.”

“Yes, but who knew that and would hire someone to assassinate you? But the shooter wasn’t a professional. For one thing he didn’t kill you, and for another he left a cartridge case, complete with fingerprints, at the scene.”

“He fired two shots but only picked up one ejected case? Chummy seems to be a bungling amateur.”

“Yeah he does, which will lead us to him.” Bill said with a truculent expression on his face. “There are CCTV cameras on most of the houses in Mill Road, the only road leading to Castle Road.”

“There’s a walkthrough to Mill Road from Mill Road South.”

“And there are just as many CCTVs in that road. We’ve got every man and woman available collecting CCTV evidence from Mill Road North and South; what with that and the estate agents CCTV footage we are bound to get a picture of the fellow.”

“I still can’t think why I was targeted, other than something to do with the Felixstowe and Tilbury raids. Perhaps Vince Cowan will have more of an idea.”

“He is coming to see you tomorrow. In fact, there’s a queue of people eager to speak to you.”

“Did you find out if Deborah Miller has been informed of her mother’s death?”

He nodded. “Yes, Megan told me a telex was sent to HMS Queen Elizabeth Saturday night, but I doubt if Deborah will be able to get back to the UK just yet. As far as we know the ship is somewhere in the South Atlantic and could be going down to The Falklands to show the flag.” He got from his chair. “I’ll be off now, Sarge, but will be back sometime tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Bill, and I think we can dispense with formality. I’m Ajay or Josh.”

“OK, Josh. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

After Bill left I sat and thought about the shooting. If I hadn’t told Molly I loved her she probably would not have moved to kiss me and get in the way of the bullet meant for me. I sighed at the bitter irony of it. Then I thought, ‘why did the shooter take the shot with the car up the driveway? His target - me - would have been at quite an acute angle from where he was situated although no more than 300 metres away. If he had waited until the car was driving up Castle Road he would have had an easier, head-on, shot. Then it struck me the shooter must have been waiting many hours for me to appear. He would have known I left for work not long after 6am and assumed I would be working Saturday and leaving at my normal time. He probably got into position early, two or three o’clock on Saturday morning. When there was no show for hours he would have been pissing himself, perhaps literally, because the longer he waited the greater were the chances of him being seen by potential witnesses. At 10 am on a Saturday morning there would be quite a few people and vehicles on Mill Road and Castle Road. He got impatient and took his shot soon after I got into car so he could get from the area before too many people were around to identify him or his car. He hurried his shot, both shots, although he couldn’t have factored in Molly throwing herself on top of me and thus saving my life a second time. He then overlooked, or couldn’t spend the time looking for, the spent cartridge case left at the scene. The shooter was certainly not a professional assassin.

‘Molly, my love ‘I said quietly to myself, ‘you gave your life for me and I hope you know I would have done the same for you. I will always love you and will never forget the week I spent with you - the happiest time of my life. I hope your life force finds a fitting host and that someday our life forces will hook up again.’ I wept quietly for a few minutes and then dried my eyes, blew my nose, and then, channelling Master Sergeant Edwin Kenzo Bruckmayer, vowed I would lead my life as Molly would have wanted me to.

An hour or so after Bill’s departure Janice Rawlins came into the room, her eyes red with weeping. I stood up from the armchair and she clung to me, saying nothing but sobbing her heart out. I let her cry for a few minutes and then gently disengaged her arms from around me. “Now then, Janice, Molly wouldn’t want you blubbing all over me.”

She sniffed back some tears, took a tissue from out of her shoulder bag and blew her nose. I indicated she sit in the armchair which she did. I sat opposite her in the chair recently vacated by Bill Clark.

“I haven’t the words to describe how devastated I feel, Josh,” Janice said. “Molly was like a sister to me and I’ll miss her like crazy, probably as much as you do. Ted is pulling out all the stops to find the scumbag who killed her, but if I get my hands on the bastard before the police there will be nothing left of the gobshite to put in prison.” Janice dabbed at her eyes with another tissue. “Molly loved you. You do know that, don’t you, Josh?”

“Yes I did, and she knew I loved her too.”

Janice forced a weak smile. “Well, I’m glad you told her before she died. Do you know she believed you to be a reincarnation of Dennis Allen? Did she tell you about Denny, and about the life force leaving one host to begin life anew in another just born?”

“Yes, Molly told me everything, and maybe there is something in the theory of life energy recognising a previous partner’s life energy. It is comforting to think that Molly is alive as someone else.” I wondered if I would recognise her life force, and then realised the person would be newly born and I was twenty-six, going on twenty-seven. I sighed; even if I recognised her I would be way too old to ever be her partner. I shrugged, and came back to the present. “No matter what Molly believed I couldn’t have Denny’s life force in me as I was born seven hours after he died. He was killed at eight pm on September the thirtieth, nineteen ninety-two, and I was born at three am on October the first, nineteen ninety- two, so I couldn’t be him reincarnated.”

“But she called out Denny’s name?”

“Yes, before throwing herself on top of me.”

“According to the medics she was killed instantly and couldn’t have...”

“Well, she did, so she must have been alive. I was there and the medics weren’t!”

“So she must have believed you were Denny otherwise she would have called out your name.”

I supposed Janice’s logic was irrefutable, but the plain fact was Molly had saved my life whether she believed me to be Denny or Joshua.

Janice’s forehead was creased in a contemplative frown. “The life force is transferred at the moment of death of one person and at the same time as the birth of the other person...”

“And there were seven hours between Denny’s death and my birth, “ I reminded her.

Janice nodded glumly, but then her face suddenly lit up. “But you were born in the UK and Denny died in Canada. There’s a time difference. Do you know whereabouts in Canada Denny was killed?”

“No idea, other than at some Canadian military training area. Why?”

“Well, if the training area was in British Columbia the time difference between there and the UK is eight hours during summer. I have cousins in Vancouver and have to make sure I don’t ring them too early in our day as it would be very early over there.”

“Well, there you go. There’s an hour difference...”

“Yes, but was the training area where the accident took place in British Columbia? There’s a lot of Canada, and the training ground where Denny died could be in a time zone where the difference in summer is seven hours.”

My head hurt with all this calculating, and Janice saw I was tiring. “I’m sorry, Josh. You don’t need me yammering on about time differences. The thing is Molly saved your life, or at least you believe she did, and that is all that matters. Let’s change the subject.”

“Suits me, Janice. So what’s new at Thurston Hall?”

“I’m glad you asked,” She said. “There are big changes on the way, not so much for us at Thurston Hall but for the East Anglian Constabulary’s top brass. Ted let a few gems of information drop.” She gave a small grin, “I have ways of making him talk. There are going to be some forced resignations.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Who is getting the elbow?”

“I haven’t got any names. Ted was tight-lipped no matter what I did to him, or promised to do to him. It will be known tomorrow when there are a series of high-level meetings at the Dreaming Tower of Pissants.”

“And the crimes committed by these unknowns?”

“Misconduct in Public Office, fraud, falsifying expenses, concealing evidence, corruption. The usual crimes committed by men in power.”

“Is Ted’s job secure?”

“Of course it is! My Ted is as honest as the day is long. Unlike most of the top brass these days Ted is an old-time copper. He walked the beat and felt many a villain’s collar, getting promotion by getting results rather than being promoted because of having some poxy degree in criminology.” Janice was as loyal to her man as any wife. She got from the armchair and started for the door before pausing. “Oh, I nearly forgot. I rang your parents on Saturday and they are driving up tomorrow to...”

“You rang my parents?”

“Yes, they are your nominated next-of-kin. I spoke to your mother and assured her you were...”

“You spoke to my mother?”

“Yes, Is there something wrong with your hearing, Josh?”

“I’ve had no dealings with my family for nearly two years. Are you sure it was my mother you spoke to and not my sister Sara?”

“It was your mother. She is obviously someone used to official calls and answered by giving her name, ‘Julianna Dolihaye’, an unusual first name for an Englishwoman.”

“It’s a name handed down the female side of the Chamberlain family. I believe there was a Dutch lady with that name who married a Chamberlain back in the day.” I came back to the present. “And my mother said she would be visiting tomorrow?”

“Yes, and she was naturally shocked to hear you’d been shot and was worried sick...”

“Are you sure she was concerned?”

“I can recognise concern from a mother when I hear it, Josh. Why are you asking all these questions? Your parents are coming to see you tomorrow. They are pleased you are not as badly injured as we first thought but need to see you for themselves.”

“I haven’t talked to my parents for nearly two years, and can’t believe my mother will come here to see me. The last time I saw her she said she never wanted to hear from me or see me ever again.”

“Well, she sounded anxious but relieved that you had only suffered slight wounds but still worried enough to want to see you for herself. She’s a mother, Josh, and mothers love their children even if from time to time there may be a falling out in the family.” Janice sighed, “I know I had plenty of trouble with my parents, and sometimes they didn’t want anything to do with me, but when I needed them they rallied round and supported me through my dark days, as did Molly, love her.” Tears welled in her eyes and she dabbed at them with a tissue and then composed herself. “I have to go now. Ted will be home and I need his love and comfort.” She hugged and kissed me before leaving.

Lunch came and went. I was dimly aware that Floella brought in a tray and later when she removed it with nothing eaten, I heard her ‘tsk tsk’ of disapproval but she didn’t try and make me eat anything. By four o’clock I was feeling more awake and actually got from my bed, had a swift swill in the en-suite and then sat in the armchair by the window overlooking a greensward at the rear of the hospital main building. I was watching a trio of magpies having a barney with a pair of jackdaws when the door opened and my parents walked into the room behind Floella. She smiled broadly when she saw me sitting in the armchair.

“There you are, Mister and Missus Dolihaye. I told you your son is well enough to get from the bed by himself.”

My mother rushed across the room and clasped me to her. She kissed me on my lips, on my cheek and on my forehead. I tried not to wince as she hugged me and my side complained.

“Oh, Joshua, I’m so ashamed of how I behaved the last time we met. Please forgive me. I said the most terrible things but they were untrue. I love you, and always have, but you know how uptight I am and I never told you. You must hate me and I don’t blame you for that.”

I was gobsmacked. My family is not demonstrative; rarely hugged or kissed each other, and my mother never apologised or used the L-word.

My father shook my hand. “It’s bloody marvellous to see you again, Josh. We have all missed you so much and...”

My mother interrupted him, nothing much changed there then. “And I am to blame for that. I can’t believe I said those hurtful and shocking words to you Joshua. I tried contacting you later but the Met refused to give me details of where you were.”

“I’ll get some tea,” Floella said, and hurried from the room, clearly uncomfortable at witnessing this outpouring of emotions from the normally reticent and buttoned-up English.

“They said there was a girl in the car with you when you were shot,” my father said. “Was it Rebecca?”

“Rebecca ditched me six months ago. My landlady, Molly Miller, was in the car with me and now she is dead. The bullets were meant for me and Molly died saving my life!” I burst into tears and my mother hugged me and I hugged her back, clinging to her like a child who had been lost but had miraculously found his mother. We both wept, and even my father, the stiffest upper lipped of men, had tears in his eyes. By the time Floella returned with the tea we had recovered most of our composure, although my mother still had both her arms wrapped around me. It felt good.

The reason the Met had not given my parents any information about me was I had not only served in SO6 but also had been undercover in Wimbledon. Information concerning members of the Metropolitan Police who were in special operational units or working undercover is restricted. My parents hadn’t known I had been promoted to sergeant or that I had transferred to the East Anglian Constabulary.

“I thought you weren’t coming here until tomorrow,” I said to my father after I had brought my parents up to speed with my life.

He nodded. “That was the plan when we learned you weren’t in a serious condition, but then your mother insisted we came up and saw you as soon as possible. I was able to change my shift and had Sunday free. Dev would have come with us but his watch was on a shout and Sara was already on shift. They both send their love. We hope you will be allowed to travel back to Barking with us tonight?”

“I doubt that, Dad. I have to be interviewed tomorrow, and I don’t know if the hospital will allow me out until the doc has given me a check-up. And I want to be in Bury when Deborah, Molly’s daughter, gets here.” I wasn’t sure if Debs would be able to fly back from wherever she was immediately, but I was uneasy about going home. I hadn’t lived with my parents since I joined the police, and I was emotionally attached to 27 Castle Road, although the thought of being there without Molly was something I hadn’t really contemplated.

My parents decided to travel back to Barking that evening. Dad would have a shift to supervise at Barking Fire Station, and mum her school secretary job to attend, on Monday morning. My mother and I kissed goodbye. She was still apologising for what she had said the last time we met and was clearly upset about it.

“It was in the heat of the moment stuff, Mum. I know you didn’t really mean what you said. Marlene had wound you up into such a state...”

“She had that,” my mother interrupted.” I have always given her the benefit of the doubt, and it was only later when Lionel and her stood trial that I realised what nasty pieces of work they both were. I know one should always stand by the family but it was you I should have supported and not those two scrotes. I hope you can forgive...”

I kissed her again –probably as many kisses today than I would normally give her in a year. “All in the past, Mum. It’s the start of a new era.” One without my beloved Molly, I thought sorrowfully to myself.

I shook hands with my father. I knew he was ashamed he hadn’t stood up for me against my mother, but although he was a commanding presence in the London Fire Brigade, at home he was an adjunct of my mother. He knew it, but that didn’t make him a wimp or a wuss. He knew the best way to keep the woman he loved happy and did it.

They left and I had some tea and then, emotionally drained and also physically tired, I retired to my bed and fell into a dreamless sleep.

0700hrs Monday 15^th April 2019. West Suffolk General Hospital,

DAY 15

Hospitals never sleep, and mine was curtailed by a bright and breezy nurse who was either on uppers or was one of those infuriating people who are at their best in the early morning.

“Good morning, Sergeant. First, have a wash, then I have to take you to the X-ray department then back here for breakfast, and then it’s Doctors’ Rounds. The surgeon who removed the bullet from your side and sewed you up wants to see how you are progressing.” She spoke in a staccato style reminiscent of a machine gun. I could see she was not someone to upset, so I got from my bed and had a quick swill. Bernice, the staccato one, was ready to wheel me down the corridor to the X-ray department.

“I can walk,” I protested as she whizzed me along the deserted corridor.

“Doctor’s orders,” she said. And that was that.

I smiled for the X-ray camera when having the pictures taken and saw the operator and Bernice exchange wry looks. ‘There’s always one,’ I heard the operator say.

My breakfast was ready for me when I arrived back in my room, but before I could get stuck in Bernice replaced my dressing.

“This will come off again when Doctor Kilmore sees you,” she said before taking her leave.

Kilmore! Was there ever a more inappropriate name for a doctor? Anyone joining the medical profession with a name like that either had a sense of humour or an unshakable confidence in their ability – possibly both?

I had regained my appetite and cleared the breakfast plate, and emptied the teapot. Replete, I contemplated my future. I would need some rehabilitation and sick leave and somewhere to stay after being discharged from the hospital. I had the keys to #27 and intended staying there, at least until Deborah returned, and after that, who knows. Did I want to remain in the East Anglian Constabulary now that there was no Molly to come home to? On the other hand, I didn’t want to leave until the shitehawk who killed her was apprehended, and the reason why I was a target brought into the open. I was still turning scenarios over in my head when Bernice arrived and whisked the breakfast things away minutes before a posse of people crowded into my room.

“This was a gunshot wound to the side of the body,” a tall, red-headed man said, pointing to my wound. “The bullet ended up perilously close to the liver and actually touching the intestines. Had the projectile a smidgen more velocity when burrowing through his flesh the patient would have been in dire straits. The problem was removing said projectile without damaging the extremely adjacent organs, requiring a good eye, a steady hand and unbounded confidence in one’s ability. Fortunately, I have a superabundance of all three.”

“Doctor Kilmore, I presume?” I said. The red-haired man was wearing a white coat and had a stethoscope around his neck. They didn’t make me a detective for nothing!

He grinned at me. “I have to admit you look a lot better than when I last saw you sparked out on the operating table. Let’s have a butcher’s at the wound.”

I assumed Kilmore was using rhyming slang (butcher’s hook = look) to make me feel more at home. It didn’t, as at home we use dekko for ‘look’. A nurse, not Bernice but a thin-faced dark-haired piece that looked as if she had been on the night shift, nimbly removed the bandages. Several young kids, who I later learned were second-year medical students, peered at my stitches. Kilmore prodded and pressed around the wound and I winced. His hands were ice cold and he had exceedingly bony fingers.

“The wound is healing up nicely, with no sign of gangrene or septicaemia. The stitches can come out in a fortnight and Sergeant Dolihaye here will have nothing but the memory and a scar to remind him of his shooting.” Doctor Kilmore clapped me on the shoulder. “Says it myself as shouldn’t, I did a damn fine job. You’ll be as right as rain in two weeks and back on duty in three.” He swept out of the room followed by his entourage, leaving Bernice to reapply the dressing.

“There you are, Sergeant. Doctor Kilmore says you are OK, so have no fear, he is the best.” She left me and I debated going back to bed but thought better of it as I knew there would be more interested parties coming to interview me. I sat in the armchair and waited.

Fliss Warren arrived at 10 a.m. She actually kissed me. A chaste touch of her lips on my cheek, but it was the first time I had ever been kissed by a superior officer.

“I am so sorry for your loss, AJ. Molly was a lovely person, and all at Thurston Hall are stunned by what happened. We are making some progress in our search for her killer. Bill Clark will be coming in later and will give you the latest information we have.” I could see she had something more to say and indicated the armchair for her to sit but she chose the straight-backed chair.

“There are some developments on-going at the senior level of the EAC,” she began. So, Janice was right and first with the news, but Fliss would fill in the details. I arranged my features into a ‘not knowing anything’ expression and listened as she continued. “Police and Crime Commissioner Mark Druxford has resigned due to health problems,” she paused and then grinned, “his very recently discovered health problems. His deputy, William Vaughan, who is not an elected official but was appointed by Druxford, has taken his place, and Assistant Chief Constable Edward Barnaby has been appointed by the new Police Commissioner as his deputy. In a few months’ time Vaughan will resign, also for health reasons. Police Commissioners have a very stressful job. All those functions and golf tournaments they have to attend, being wined and dined by the –” She stopped. “You get the picture, AJ?”

I nodded; corruption can be very debilitating on the physique but never on the conscience. Fliss continued. “After Vaughan resigns Ted Barnaby will become interim Police Commissioner before elections are held in two years’ time. By then Ted will have got some shape to the Commissioner’s Office and might stand for the position himself at the next election. There will need to be some horse-trading between the political parties so that they don’t field any candidates against him but as Druxford, who was the Labour party sponsored candidate, is lucky not to be charged with Misconduct in Public Office I think the Labour party will keep a low profile.”

“Is that all the developments?”

“No, Fuller’s disappearance has stirred up the waters and consequently Detective Inspector (DI) Randall has been transferred to Constabulary HQ at Peel House and will be putting in his papers in a few months.”

“What has he been up to?”

“Randall was Fuller’s lackey and did what Fuller told him to do whether legal or not. Fuller used Randall and his teams of detectives as private contractors. They spent more man-hours protecting racehorses and training stables in Newmarket than they did for the general public, for which Fuller received remuneration; money, insider information concerning horse racing, and female companionship. Randall’s two Detective Sergeants (DS), Squires and Penny, are viewed with some suspicion and will probably take early retirement although they are not known to have committed any criminal act themselves. They should have reported Randall to higher authority...”

“Which would have been Fuller! Come on, Fliss, they were snookered. Did nobody higher up the rank chain suspect what was going on? Surely Brownlow would have had some inkling, or even Ted Barnaby.”

She shook her head. “Randall’s worksheets were falsified and Fuller rubber-stamped them, so there was no indication of the number of hours spent working for the racehorse owners.”

! recalled what Bruno Beddoes had said about Frank Randall and his teams. “Bruno had more than just an inkling of what was going on in Newmarket. He told me Randall did more work for the Jockey Club than he did for the general public.”

Fliss sighed. “Yes, but Bruno was a Detective Sergeant who has had several disciplinary issues with senior officers, including Fuller. No one would believe Bruno if he made a formal complaint against him so he didn’t bother. But that is all water over the weir, and Randall and Fuller are now out of the picture. A new DI has been appointed to take Randall’s place.” She then gave such a huge smile it alerted me as to who the new man might be. “Bruno is the new DI. One of his teams will remain at Newmarket under DS Penny and the other will be based at Stowmarket under DS Squires. Bruno will have an office in Thurston Hall.”

“That’s great news, Fliss, Bruno should have been promoted years ago,” I said, and then grinned at her. “No more secret assignations in summer houses in the grounds of Thurston Hall. You can snog him in public now.” She blushed a pretty pink and then smiled.

“I will be moving in with Bruno in a few days’ time. My divorce is proceeding apace, and I hope that Bruno and I will be married by this time next year.” She paused. “That’s just between you and me at present AJ, OK?”

I nodded, and then looked aghast. “Haven’t you told Bruno yet?”

“Don’t extract the micturate from a superior officer, Sergeant,” she said in mock severity and then smiled. “And I have even more news.”

‘Bloody hell,’ I thought, ‘she’s up the duff!’ Fortunately, I didn’t voice my thoughts.