It occurred tohim then that Peter Coldrick’s death would have featured in this week’s paperand might make for interesting reading. If the collection of headlineshe’d just sifted through were anything to go by, then Peter’s apparent shotgunsuicide would have dominated at least the first twenty pages.
An hour later, Morton was re-threading astring loop around the December newspapers when his mobile rang: the ultimatesin in such a hallowed place. The walls were adorned with laminatedpictures of mobiles with bold red lines struck through them, so it was of nosurprise to him when the grumpy old men at the adjoining tables tutted and threwdisgusted scowls at him, followed by disbelieving looks to one another.
A withheldnumber.
The glaresworsened when Morton dared to press the green button and take the call. ‘Hello?’ he whispered.
‘Hi, Morton,’an upset voice said. Whoever it was had been crying. ‘Can you comeround at all? I’ve just had the coroner’s report on Peter’s death.’ It was Soraya.
Morton headedinto the Chillax Zone where ‘Quiet Talking is Permitted’ and mouthed the words‘large latte’ to the woman behind the Costa Coffee counter. ‘What does itsay?’ he asked Soraya. He heard her draw in a lengthy breath.
‘I’d ratherjust show it you,’ she sniffled. ‘Can you pop round?’
‘Yeah,sure. I’m busy for the moment, but I’ll be round as soon as I can.’
‘Thanks,Morton. See you in a bit.’
He saidgoodbye, ended the call and paid for his coffee. He sagged down onto abean bag and sipped his drink, as he stared up vacuously through a largeskylight just as fat, swollen droplets of rain began to explode above him,gradually more and more until the skylight came alive with dancing water. He was fleetingly mesmerised until his thoughts turned back to Soraya. Hetook the fact that she was upset to mean that the coroner had taken the policeview that Peter had topped himself. It still seemed like the mostunlikely thing in the world to Morton.
He finished hisdrink, switched his mobile to silent and returned to his desk, where heunstitched the November pile of papers and began skim-reading more stories thatwere blown out of all proportion by the local newspaper. He had reachedpage six of the Friday 27th November 1987 edition of the TenterdenTimes when he located the single-paragraph story.
Neville Road Fire
Police have confirmed that a woman’s deathin a fire at her Neville Road home last week is not being treated assuspicious. Mrs Mary Coldrick, 41 is believed to have been asleep in anupstairs bedroom when a cigarette started a severe fire which engulfed her homelast Thursday. Mrs Coldrick’s husband and son, who were not home at thetime of the accident, are being comforted by friends. Fire fightersremoved Mrs Coldrick’s body from the burnt-out building after a man describedby police officers as ‘a local hero’ failed to battle the flames to save her.
Morton read the story three times. Just twelve days after Mary Coldrick’s death, the admission register at StGeorge’s was removed. Definitely not a coincidence. But why? Something happened before Mary’s death that prompted William Dunk to remove thevery file which would reveal the identity of James Coldrick’s parents. Yet it was still only circumstantial evidence. He imagined PC GlenJones and WPC Alison Hawk’s reaction if he barged into the police station toreport the crime. He’d probably end up being arrested for wastingpolice time.
He pushed thenewspaper to one side and turned to the newspaper for the previous week, whichhad as its headline story, ‘Woman Missing in Fire’ and a large, full pagephotograph of the burning building. Morton stared at the picture. It seemed somehow barbaric and cruel to show what was essentially Mary Coldrickbeing cremated. She was in there, burning alive as the firemen hosed ongallons of water and the Tenterden Times photographer eagerly snappedaway, knowing his pictures would make the front page. The sheer size ofthe photo pushed the actual report of the blaze to page two.
Fire
A severe fire swept through a house inNeville Road yesterday, leaving a local woman unaccounted for. More thanforty firefighters were called to tackle the blaze shortly before 14.00BST. Mrs Mary Coldrick remains unaccounted for. It is not yet knownif she was in the house at the time. A neighbour, who was evacuated fromher home due to the intensity of the blaze, described how a passer-by respondedto her pleas for help, “I was shouting out that there was a fire and this mantried to get into the back of the house but it was too fierce and he came backout with his cheek all cut up and bleeding.” Police are waiting for thehouse to be declared safe so that they can conduct an investigation. Anyone with any information should contact Detective Olivia Walker.
Morton imagined the local hero staggeringfrom the flames, his face cut and bleeding, devastated at not being able tosave Mary Coldrick. He wondered why the man hadn’t stepped forward toaccept the hero’s praise and possible front page of the Tenterden Times.
Then an imagesmashed into his mind. The Brighton Scar Face. Anothercoincidence? If the feeling in his gut was anything to go by, thenthis ‘local hero’ had actually gone inside the house to make sure that MaryColdrick would not escape the blaze. Had she given him the facial injury,as she struggled to flee the inferno? He felt nauseous as he looked backat the photo of the burning building. Perhaps it was a good thing thatPeter Coldrick was dead. How on earth would he have told him that? By the way, Peter, your mum didn’t painlessly lapse into unconsciousnessfrom smoke inhalation, she was probably thrown into a wall of flames by apsychopathic madman who inexplicably wants your whole family dead.
Morton took thetwo newspapers over to a self-service
