Glover then gave an outline of the bare facts of the case: Garrison’s family background, the death of his aunt Nora Tilden, his journey to the UK, her burial, his disappearance. He then described the uncovering of the bones. He sat while he read in a dull monotone, but the room remained silent, watchful. Shaw indulged in a childhood fantasy — the idea that he could read people’s thoughts in bubbles which hung over their heads. He wondered what he would have read now. It was particularly difficult in Lizzie Murray’s case because she gave so few hints of an interior life behind her brittle exterior.
‘Before we get to the events of 1982,’ said Shute when Glover had finished, ‘I’d like to ask briefly whether anyone has information regarding an attempt, in June this year the police believe, to reopen the grave in which the remains of this young man were discovered. This was on the night of the eighteenth. We have already a statement from a resident of Gladstone Street who says she saw lights in the cemetery that evening and called the police. They attended but found the cemetery empty.’
Four of the six witnesses who had already contacted the coroner’s office then gave evidence. They all reported that the cemetery was used by young people, late at night, for the purchase of drugs. One witness was a council workman from South Lynn who said that syringes and other detritus were often found, especially in the area down by the riverside, close to two breaks in the iron fencing and the part of the cemetery most distant from local housing. While that corner of the graveyard was also closest to the riverside path, all the witnesses pointed out that the walkway was rarely used after dark, and that the council lighting was often vandalized. Shaw noted the timings of the witness accounts of sightings in the cemetery — all before midnight — whereas the woman who had seen lights from her window that night in June had reported them to the police at 3.15 a.m.
Shute moved on to the night of Nora Tilden’s wake. He said that anyone who had already given evidence to the police did not need to repeat it here. They had two further witnesses listed: the first, a woman who lived less than fifty yards from the pub, said that noise from the wake had continued until well into the small hours. She said it was a regular problem, and had been since she’d moved to the area in 1975. She said she had reported the nuisance to both the police and the local council and they had failed to take action. Dr Shute thanked her for her time.
The second witness was a man who said he had seen Pat Garrison on the night of the wake walking away from the Flask towards the cemetery. The man, now in his sixties, was a night-shift worker at the old jam- processing factory in West Lynn and always went to the pub in the evening during his break — which was supposed to be between 10.30 p.m. and 11.30 p.m. but which he always ‘stretched’ by a quarter of an hour each side. The man said he knew Pat Garrison, though only by sight. The only things he noticed, or could remember, were that the time was 10.15 or just before, because he usually heard All Saints chime the quarter-past before he went into the pub, and that Garrison was carrying two glasses in one hand, the rims held together between thumb and forefinger.
Shaw nodded to DC Birley to intercept the witness as he left the stand and fix an interview at St James’s.
Dr Shute then asked for new witnesses to come forward. Seven merely added detail to the picture Shaw and his team had so far constructed of the evening of the wake. Three had been at the graveside for the funeral and recalled Pat Garrison standing with the family. Prompted, they also confirmed the presence of the two black men from the Free, Jesse and Emmanuel Rogers, standing with a group of the Elect, including the pastor. Shaw caught the young reporter’s eye and she pulled a face, then gave in to the urge to yawn.
The eighth and last witness to come forward was a woman in her mid-fifties, Shaw judged, wearing cleaner’s overalls. She gave her name as Jayne Flowers of West Lynn, her age as fifty-nine and her occupation as hospital cleaner. She said that at the time of Patrice Garrison’s disappearance she had a part-time job as a caretaker at a block of private flats in Snettisham Road. Mrs Bea Garrison, the victim’s mother, paid a weekly rent, she recalled, of?25 for a bedsit in the block for her son — the deceased.
‘What can you tell us?’ asked Shute, leaning back, and Shaw noted — not for the first time — the coroner’s skill at setting an informal tone in the court.
‘I went to the funeral because I knew Nora, and I wanted to pay my respects.’ Shaw realized that giving evidence for this woman was an ordeal, because her voice buzzed, vibrating with a stress she didn’t show in her face. ‘But I couldn’t go back to the wake. I had to work that afternoon, at the hospital, then get back to the flats to cook tea. We had the bottom flat, you see — that was part of the deal. And when I’d done — the tea, I mean — I had to start cleaning. All the stairs, and do the rubbish.’
She looked at her hands. ‘I heard Pat come home — but late, about one o’clock.’
Shute stopped her there, trying to make sure of the time. Did she wait up for tenants to come home? No, never. But she was a light sleeper and she heard the door open, and Pat’s flat was above theirs. So she heard his door open and close. And because she was a light sleeper she always had a clock — right there — that she could see without moving her head. And she knew for certain that it was one o’clock.
But how did she know it was Garrison? Shute asked.
‘Well I didn’t, not then. But I was sure, because I heard him typing. It’s showing my age, isn’t it? These days it’d be a computer and you wouldn’t hear it, but back then everyone used a typewriter. It was portable, but you still needed a sledge hammer to hit the keys. We often heard him typing — he was at the college, doing journalism, and he did bits for the paper even then. Sport and stuff. But this — he’d never done this, not at that time. I couldn’t sleep. I just lay there. Then — after about an hour, he stopped. I knew something was up because I heard his door open again. I thought he was off out so I got up to get my dressing gown because I was going to have words. ’Cos it wasn’t right.’
Out of the corner of his eye Shaw saw Lizzie sidling across the room to the far wall, to stand beside one of the red velvet curtains. Her hand played with the gold buttons on her black formal jacket, then touched the single diamond pin in her ear lobe.
‘And I’d had problems before,’ she said, hesitating. ‘With girls — Pat brought girls back, and that was a problem. Not that I’d mind, but the landlords said if people wanted a flat for two the rent was higher. So no double occupancy. I should have said something earlier, but I let it drag. He was just a kid, and I didn’t hear the girls complain. Quite the opposite.’
There was nervous laughter. Shute was nodding and Shaw guessed he was trying to work out what he should ask next. As coroner he had certain duties — to fix the time and place of death, for example. But he also had a duty to probe the cause and circumstances of that death.
‘Girls?’ he said. He checked the file. ‘The deceased was only in Lynn for a few months before his disappearance — but in that time he had several girlfriends?’
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘I see. I expect the police will want to ask you more questions about that, Mrs Flowers.’
Shaw watched as Lizzie took a seat.
‘But back to that night — so you went to the door?’
‘Yes. But I couldn’t put the light on because that wakes Frank up, so it took me a minute to get my things. I heard him come down the stairs and go out the door. I followed — right out in the street. It was a cold night, but there was a moon, and so I could see that he’d gone. He must have cut down Jenkyns Street to the river. But I tell you what I heard — one of those suitcase things on wheels, like a trolley. That’s what I heard. So I thought, he’s done a moonlight flit, even though that didn’t make any sense because his mother paid the rent and it was paid a month in advance. So I didn’t call out or anything. I just let him go.’
‘But you didn’t see anyone — how can you be sure it was Pat Garrison?’
‘He left me a note — typed. I saw it when I went back in our flat by the hall light, under our door. Just saying he was leaving, and thanking us for being kind. And that’s what really made me remember it — Frank laughed when he saw it — because we hadn’t been kind. Frank doesn’t like ’em …’ She shrugged, looked around. ‘You know, the blacks.’
There was a brittle silence.
Shute thanked her for her evidence, asked for any more witnesses to step forward and, when none did so, adjourned the inquest.
DC Birley waylaid Jayne Flowers, taking her to a table to fix a time for a formal statement. The room emptied quickly, many people staying out in the bar. Ian Murray appeared, helping two waitresses quickly set out the tables for lunch.
Shaw took a chair and walked over to Lizzie. ‘A quick word,’ he said, and sat beside her. She shook out her
