a church in his
seventies? He felt happier that he was now, at least, headed
somewhere that the Foreign Office hadn’t blacklisted as a travel
destination. He needed to stop being so damned morose and think about
something more positive. Like Juliette. She’d be home watching television,
waiting for him. Maybe they could do something nice together.
‘Hiya,’ he
called into the lounge when he got home. The television was off and there
was no sign of Juliette. Her car was still on the drive but he couldn’t
see a note or any clue as to where she might have gone. Ordinarily he
wouldn’t have paid it any heed, but after all that had occurred, visions of her
being bundled into the back of a blacked-out van sprang into his mind. He
chided himself for being so melodramatic. He picked up his mobile and called
her. She answered. Thank God.
‘Are you
alright?’ he asked, trying to conceal his concern. She sounded
breathless.
‘Fine, I’m just
out for a jog. What’s up?’
‘Nothing, I’m
home and just wondered where you were,’ Morton replied. Jogging?
In this heat? Was she mad?
‘You sound
weird,’ Juliette puffed.
‘No I’m fine;
I’ll see you in a bit.’
‘Okay. Bye.’
Morton hung up,
relieved. Since she was out frying herself in the heat, he had a moment
to switch on her laptop and run a search in the Ancestry online death indexes
for a William Dunk, born circa 1917, give or take ten years. The
results flashed up on screen.
William Dunk, 1 May 1913 – May 1993,
Havering, Essex
William Dunk, 7 Mar 1902 – Mar 1999, North
Somerset, Somerset
William Charles Dunk, 1 Apr 1913 – Jul
2002, Hastings and Rother, East Sussex
William Edwin Dunk, 21 Dec 1911 – Nov
1986, Hackney, London
William George Dunk, 6 Aug 1910 – Sep
1993, Shrewsbury, Shropshire
William Isaac Dunk, 12 Mar 1911 – Jan
1998, Leeds, Yorkshire
William Joseph Dunk, 1 Jun 1912 – Mar
1997, Poole, Dorset
William Roy Dunk, 11 Oct 1934 – Nov 1989,
Grimsby, Lincolnshire
William Thomas C. Dunk, 21 Jan 1915 – Jul
1985, Chorley, Lancashire
He looked at the list in front of
him. Several of the men’s ages ruled them out. One would have been
way too old and one too young to pass for a man in his seventies in 1987 and
two of the men were dead by that time. That left five men to choose
from. Dorset, Yorkshire and Shropshire as places of death were possible,
yet seemed unlikely, somehow. That left William Charles Dunk, who died in
East Sussex in 2002 as the most probable candidate.
Morton
jotted down the details, opened up a new tab in his web browser and went to www.gro.gov.uk to order Dunk’s death certificate.
Ordinarily, he would have selected the £9.25 standard option but decided that
it was worth spending £23.40 to receive the certificate on the priority
service, since Dunk was a potentially significant window into whomever was
hiding the Coldrick past. A few simple clicks later and the certificate
was ordered.
He opened the Coldrick
Case file. It was now starting to bulge under the weight of paperwork
that he had generated. Never before had he produced so much paperwork
with so few answers. The first page contained the scribbled notes made at
Coldrick’s house five days ago. Five days – was that really all it had
been? He re-read the notes and was suddenly struck by Mary Coldrick’s
date of death: 1987. He had never been a great believer in coincidences
before but if this case had taught him anything, then it was that a coincidence
was simply a connection waiting to be made. Peter had told him that his
mother had started looking into the Coldrick family tree just before she died
which just happened to be the same year that the 1944 admissions
register disappeared. Coincidence ? He didn’t think so.
Morton dialled
Soraya Benton’s mobile. She picked up straight away.
‘Hi, it’s
Morton Farrier here.’
‘Oh hi,
Morton. How are
seventies? He felt happier that he was now, at least, headed
somewhere that the Foreign Office hadn’t blacklisted as a travel
destination. He needed to stop being so damned morose and think about
something more positive. Like Juliette. She’d be home watching television,
waiting for him. Maybe they could do something nice together.
‘Hiya,’ he
called into the lounge when he got home. The television was off and there
was no sign of Juliette. Her car was still on the drive but he couldn’t
see a note or any clue as to where she might have gone. Ordinarily he
wouldn’t have paid it any heed, but after all that had occurred, visions of her
being bundled into the back of a blacked-out van sprang into his mind. He
chided himself for being so melodramatic. He picked up his mobile and called
her. She answered. Thank God.
‘Are you
alright?’ he asked, trying to conceal his concern. She sounded
breathless.
‘Fine, I’m just
out for a jog. What’s up?’
‘Nothing, I’m
home and just wondered where you were,’ Morton replied. Jogging?
In this heat? Was she mad?
‘You sound
weird,’ Juliette puffed.
‘No I’m fine;
I’ll see you in a bit.’
‘Okay. Bye.’
Morton hung up,
relieved. Since she was out frying herself in the heat, he had a moment
to switch on her laptop and run a search in the Ancestry online death indexes
for a William Dunk, born circa 1917, give or take ten years. The
results flashed up on screen.
William Dunk, 1 May 1913 – May 1993,
Havering, Essex
William Dunk, 7 Mar 1902 – Mar 1999, North
Somerset, Somerset
William Charles Dunk, 1 Apr 1913 – Jul
2002, Hastings and Rother, East Sussex
William Edwin Dunk, 21 Dec 1911 – Nov
1986, Hackney, London
William George Dunk, 6 Aug 1910 – Sep
1993, Shrewsbury, Shropshire
William Isaac Dunk, 12 Mar 1911 – Jan
1998, Leeds, Yorkshire
William Joseph Dunk, 1 Jun 1912 – Mar
1997, Poole, Dorset
William Roy Dunk, 11 Oct 1934 – Nov 1989,
Grimsby, Lincolnshire
William Thomas C. Dunk, 21 Jan 1915 – Jul
1985, Chorley, Lancashire
He looked at the list in front of
him. Several of the men’s ages ruled them out. One would have been
way too old and one too young to pass for a man in his seventies in 1987 and
two of the men were dead by that time. That left five men to choose
from. Dorset, Yorkshire and Shropshire as places of death were possible,
yet seemed unlikely, somehow. That left William Charles Dunk, who died in
East Sussex in 2002 as the most probable candidate.
Morton
jotted down the details, opened up a new tab in his web browser and went to www.gro.gov.uk to order Dunk’s death certificate.
Ordinarily, he would have selected the £9.25 standard option but decided that
it was worth spending £23.40 to receive the certificate on the priority
service, since Dunk was a potentially significant window into whomever was
hiding the Coldrick past. A few simple clicks later and the certificate
was ordered.
He opened the Coldrick
Case file. It was now starting to bulge under the weight of paperwork
that he had generated. Never before had he produced so much paperwork
with so few answers. The first page contained the scribbled notes made at
Coldrick’s house five days ago. Five days – was that really all it had
been? He re-read the notes and was suddenly struck by Mary Coldrick’s
date of death: 1987. He had never been a great believer in coincidences
before but if this case had taught him anything, then it was that a coincidence
was simply a connection waiting to be made. Peter had told him that his
mother had started looking into the Coldrick family tree just before she died
which just happened to be the same year that the 1944 admissions
register disappeared. Coincidence ? He didn’t think so.
Morton dialled
Soraya Benton’s mobile. She picked up straight away.
‘Hi, it’s
Morton Farrier here.’
‘Oh hi,
Morton. How are
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