Murder in a Lane

Chapter 1

I was on my way through customs at Oliver Tambo airport in Johannesburg, and my mind was racing. I was concerned as to how my daughter, Sammy, was doing, and I was sad as I thought about that. We boarded. The airplane was full, and I sat and considered the child and what had they told her since her mother was dead.

We were delayed, as usual, because it was not an SAA flight, I should have remembered this when I booked the flight. I could wwonly hope we had a good pilot and he could make up time. After a half-hour delay, we took off. This was the worst part for me; I hate take-offs and landings. Once we reached cruising altitude, I was ok and they started to serve drinks; I was grateful for that.

I had a lot to think about, how we had met and how we had fallen in love and oh boy, the sex had been good too. We had married young, and along had come Samantha, and there had been little changes, and the little things had become big ones, and we had stuck it out for five years but had to end the marriage. Stephanie went back to Britain after one of the break-ups, and I followed from South Africa. Had it really been three years since the final break up? She had met lord of the manor, Thomas, and they married about a year ago.

I had not seen Sammy since, and now I had to go tell her that her mother had been murdered. It seemed from the telephone conversation that no one else had the guts to do it, as they were too upset. I settled down and tried to sleep, that’s something I never manage to do on a plane, so I dozed on and off. We landed at Heathrow, and it took forever to get off the plane. It seemed to taxi around the entire building. It probably didn’t, but that was how it felt before we were allowed off.

Going through customs was a mission, as usual; they seem to think everyone of a certain age coming into the country from South Africa is smuggling cannabis. I remember the first time I was searched and told that it was people like me coming to the UK that brought cannabis. I had to ask what that was, because we call it marijuana. When they finished searching me and my luggage and my stuff got thrown back into the case, I looked at it and thought everything would need re-ironing, but to hell with it, I was here, and that was the most important thing.

Then they started to question me as to why I was here. I explained that my ex-wife had been murdered and that I was here to inform my daughter who was living in Herefordshire. I nearly laughed, he was treating me like a criminal, and I was here to sort out the fallout from a murder. He stared at me and said, Sorry, sir.

I made my way out of the airport maze, and there was Sybil. Oh boy! What was she doing here? We hated each other. She was Stephanie’s little sister. She had turned out nice not a beauty, but she had nice, long, mousy hair and nice features. She walked up to me and said. You cannot take her away. We will go to court, just so you know!

I laughed in her face and told her, Hello to you too.

She looked taken aback and said, Hello. I’ve come to fetch you. I told her ‘Thanks.’ Then I wanted to know what was going on. Why did you not tell Sammy about Stephanie?

She didn’t answer. She started moving through all the people and I had to hurry to catch up to her; she was in a hurry. I was amazed that someone so small could move so fast in this crowd. We reached the car park and found her car. She had a new Land Rover, not bad. I was impressed at her taste. I smiled and thought the motoring world would have had something to say about this petrol guzzler. I remembered someone saying it was safe. I smiled to myself at that thought.

As we drove through the traffic, I was thinking about the Johannesburg peak traffic and comparing it to this. I didn’t think I would like to drive here again, but then, like everything else, we get used to change.

We had traffic and some horrible accidents, but after this I was not going to complain; even the roads out of London were very busy, with loads of traffic. Fortunately, the express stops were great, but way out in the country the roads were like lanes so narrow they took getting used to again.

We arrived at the manor which looked like a miniature palace, and Sammy came out running. She opened my door and had me in a hug. Hey, girl. Good to see you. Now can I get out? She giggled. Sorry, Daddy. Oh, Mommy’s away. she said, and I saw Thomas coming down the stairs to greet me. Sammy was bubbling, and we could not get a word in edgeways even if we wanted to. One of the servants came and took my case. Tom suggested we go have tea in the drawing room. I was grateful, as I was tired and thirsty. Sybil followed us in. I personally hoped the bitch would leave, but no, here she was. We sat in the drawing room, and tea was served. Nobody said a word except Sammy, who continued to babble on about her friends and her new pony and school. I was amazed how someone could get all that out in such a small space of time, but she managed it. Sybil put her cup down and asked Sammy to go with her to the kitchen and organize lunch. I was shocked to realize that she cared for Sammy. That left Tom and I time to talk. I asked if he had seen the body and identified it, and he said No. Apparently he did not have the guts, so I suggested we contact the police and go to the morgue. He was grateful and looked relieved, so he went and called the Inspector and made arrangements for 2 p.m. When I finished, he turned to me and said, Paul, please talk to Sammy and tell her what’s happened. Sybil and I feel we cannot do it; we love her too much. Please tell her? What the hell was he suggesting that I did not love my daughter? I frowned, and he said quickly, Don’t get me wrong, Paul, I know you love her. You’re her father, and I think you should tell her. I took a breath and said, "OK, I get it, but I need the facts first. I will talk to her when we’re finished with the Inspector.

Children ask a lot of questions, and I want and need all the facts first. So I suggest you talk to me and tell me what you know about it. Tom sniffled into a large hankie. Then he said, Well, she went to the hairdresser in the afternoon after she dropped Sammy home from school. Sammy had insisted she wanted to ride the new pony. Stephanie left and never came back. By dinner time, Sammy asked for her mother, and I told her Stephanie was running late, that’s what I thought. I phoned Sybil, and she came round and we called the police. Paul, you know what its like. They told me to come to their office in the morning if she had not returned home. Sybil helped, but Sammy did not understand where she was, and we eventually got her to go to bed, but only after we told her Stephanie had phoned to say she was at friends. At about midnight, the Inspector phoned me to say he was coming to see me, and then alarm bells started to ring. He sighed. Paul, they found her dead in her car in a lane, and she had been shot in the head. He started to cry. Tom, what else? I needed to know. He looked at me, confused. What the hell else, Paul?" I had been in the force and now I was a Private Investigator, so I knew there had to be more to this, and someone was not talking.

Chapter 2

My head was buzzing with possibilities. It did not add up. OK, Tom let’s have lunch and go to the police. I want to see the body. Now Tom was really upset. Oh God, Paul. Do we have to? He really was a softy.

Well, it had to be done. We drove to the village and saw the Inspector. He said the body was at the morgue in some other town, so we told him we wanted to go there. He tried to delay us, but I told him he was coming with us and I wanted him there so no one would turn us away. He was going on about the post mortem, and I did not care. He complained a bit but gave in. We drove to the morgue, and he phoned ahead so we would not have a problem. Tom was now really in a state, and as the Inspector was with us, they took us through and opened the drawer.

Wow! Who the hell was this blonde woman? Tom almost fainted, and I told the Inspector he had got the wrong body. He said, No! I started to examine this woman. No mole on the breast, and there was no birthmark that looked like a fish