The Lazarus Secrets by Beryl Coverdale

unpleasant to say about anyone. She’s a right nice girl.” Jessie was thinking what a disappointment that must be for Annie as Annie went on with her story.
    â€œThe Petersens were married for a long time, and then she died suddenly, which was a surprise really because she was a good few years younger than him. That must’ve been just before you came to live here. Ruby and I went to the funeral, of course, us having a connection with the family,” she said importantly, “and my arthritis wasn’t so bad then and I could get about a bit easier. The Reverend did a lovely service for his mother and she’s buried there in the churchyard. It was very upsetting though and I always think Mr Petersen has had a sadness about him since he lost her.”
    Jessie sat back digesting all the information gleaned from her neighbour and then said casually, “Mind you Annie, I still say I’m surprised they let that Max Darrington into the police force after him having been in a mental hospital.”
    Annie scowled at her, “Well, he got better. During the war, lots of people had difficulties like that and he’d suffered more than most for such a young man. He’s a fine policeman now, everyone says so.” Her tone was angry. She didn’t like Jessie, a newcomer to the village, having the nerve to pass an opinion about people she knew well. “The sun’s gone in now so if you don’t mind giving me a hand I’d like to go inside now.”

Chapter Four
    New Year’s Eve 1967
    The interview was unusually brief. Calway was guilty and aware that Detective Chief Inspector Max Darrington knew he was, having carried his burden for twelve months he was more than ready to lay it down. After a caution and a few preliminary questions, Darrington asked him formally, “Ivor James Calway did you rape and murder Sally Wilson?”
    The young man sat forward on his chair, parted his lips and looked forlornly from the female sergeant scribbling in a shorthand notepad to the impassive chief inspector as if they should provide the words, then he slumped back, “Yes.”
    â€œWill you tell me about it?” Darrington asked calmly.
    After a brief pause, Calway sat up rigidly and detailed his horrendous crime, while Sergeant Jean Morrison took notes. “On the 26th December last year I was walking across Benchley Common when I saw a young girl about ten years old riding a red bicycle along the pathway. She was crying and calling out the name Ben. She asked if I’d seen a small, white dog. She said she’d put him in the basket on the front of the bicycle to take him for a ride but he’d seen a rabbit and jumped out and run after it. She said she’d been looking for him for a long time. There’s a wooded area on the common and she thought he might have gone in there and couldn’t find his way out so I said I’d go with her and look for the dog. I had absolutely no intention of harming her, I really didn’t.” Calway stopped.
    â€œGo on,” Darrington said quietly but insistently.
    â€œI swear I never intended to hurt her in any way,” Calway begged for understanding but Darrington’s face was impassive and the sergeant looked up and glared at him. “I really didn’t,” he protested, “but we couldn’t find the dog and she started crying again. I knelt down and put my arm around her, to comfort her and I promised to keep on looking; she put her arms around my neck and hugged me. She was smiling. She was so very beautiful, so pure and innocent, there in the woods, it was like a dream. I don’t know what happened. We seemed to be in another world. I’ve always been so lonely and her warm little hands touched my neck it was so sort of wonderful. I don’t know what happened,” he repeated.
    â€œPerhaps everything just went black,” sneered the sergeant then nodded an apology to the scowling