'Were they on the school roll?'
'Not at that time. They had a history of expulsion and transfer to different schools but I don't know where they were registered in 1970 ... if at all, frankly. I believe social services tried various supervision orders but it was an intractable problem. They should have been sent to approved schools to break the links with home-but there were too few specialist units left after the Government cut the funding.' She fell silent while she marshaled her thoughts. 'I don't remember Micky's or Colley's circumstances, but Roy's father remarried and wouldn't have anything to do with him. It was a cruel way to treat a child ... did the poor boy no good at all.'
'We've been told that one of them had ginger hair,' said George.
'Colley Hurst,' she agreed.
'Where did he live?'
Miss Brett closed her eyes briefly as if looking back down a passage of time. 'I believe all three boys were in Colliton Way. It was a dumping ground for difficult families. Most of our underachievers came from there.'
George glanced at Jonathan. 'I hope that rings some bells.'
He gave a doubtful shake of his head. 'Should it?'
'It's in your book,' she said mischievously, 'and it's another example of synchronicity. Wynne and Howard lived at 48 Colliton Way.'
Miss Brett was as intrigued by the coincidences as George was. 'One wonders why the police settled so quickly on Howard Stamp,' she said. 'As I remember it, he was taken in for questioning almost immediately.'
'Several witnesses saw him running from Grace's house,' said George. 'He was a regular visitor, so everyone knew who he was, and when he confessed the police didn't need to look for anyone else.'
'But you don't accept the confession?'
'No. Dr. Hughes and I believe it was coerced and that the story he gave in his defense fits the facts rather better. Do you remember it?'
'Only that he said his grandmother was already dead when he found her.'
George took a copy of
'May I keep it?'
'Please. You have our cards and phone numbers. We'd be interested in any ideas you might have.'
Miss Brett reached for some spectacles. 'I remember Howard was a redhead,' she said, examining the cover, 'and if hair evidence was involved, that presumably explains your interest in Louise and Colley Hurst? You think one of them was the murderer?'
'It's a possibility. Colley fits the psychological profile, and Louise was living in the same road as Grace.'
'Mm.' She lowered the book to her lap and folded her hands over it.
'You're not even tempted by the idea?' asked Jonathan with a smile.
The old woman studied him over the rims of her tortoiseshell half-moons. 'I won't know until I've read it,' she said, 'but I fear you're clutching at straws ... certainly where Louise is concerned. She would never have done something like that on her own-she was far too frightened-and if she had any knowledge of it she'd have spilled the beans immediately; that was her nature. She was a tale-teller.'
'Perhaps she wasn't asked?'
Miss Brett shook her head. 'She'd have found a way. Her favorite trick was to do what she did with Priscilla: needle away at whoever had annoyed her until they lost their temper, then plead innocence. I assume the aim was to get her own back on Priscilla for publicly breaking their friendship ... but I never doubted that she was genuinely shocked by the poor child's disappearance.' She shrugged. 'You need to understand Louise's personality. She was a beastly little girl whose sole aim in life was to be the center of attention-and telling tales on others was the only way she knew how.'
Priscilla Fletcher gave a frightened start as she slammed her boot and turned round to find a tall, well-built man in a baseball cap behind her. 'My God!' she snapped angrily. 'What the hell do you think you're doing?'
Billy removed the cap and smoothed his balding scalp. 'Hello, sis,' he said. 'I was about to ask you the same thing.'
*14*
Close up, Billy could see the tail end of bruising under Louise's left eye, a yellow crescent, masked with makeup. He put a hand under her chin and lifted her face. 'Who's been hitting you?' he asked.
She pushed his arm away and pulled down a pair of dark glasses that had been holding back her hair. 'No one,' she snapped.
'I thought you'd done with all that, Lou. Never again, you said, the last time I saw you.'
She spun on her heel and marched purposefully toward the front door. 'You've got the wrong woman,' she called over her shoulder. 'My name's Priscilla Fletcher and I don't have a brother. I want you to leave.'
Billy followed her. 'And if I don't?'
