Mersey Murder Mysteries Collection

Chapter 32

“Inspector Ross? Good morning to you. My name is Ethan Tiffen. The lady on the switchboard tells me you"re seeking some information on Visa applications?”

The voice on the telephone immediately reminded Ross of New York, having spent a holiday there himself a couple of years previously with Maria. It was rare for them both to be able to secure a week away from work at the same time, so their brief time in The Big Apple remained firmly embedded in his mind, as did the unmistakable accent of a native New Yorker.

“Yes, well, something like that, Mr. Tiffen,” said Ross in reply to Tiffen"s cheerful voice.

“Hey, please call me Ethan, Inspector, and tell me exactly how the United States Immigration Service can help the police up there in Liverpool, I think Deirdre said?”

“My name"s Andy, and yes, I"m in Liverpool, with Merseyside Police,” said Ross. “I"m not sure if or how you can help…”

“Try me, Andy,” Tiffen interrupted.

“Okay, here goes. I need to know if a pair of tourist visas issued to two British citizens were ever used in order to gain entry into the USA.”

“Sounds doable,” Tiffen replied. “When exactly were these visas issued, Andy”

Andy Ross paused, took a deep breath, and then allowed the words to pour out.

“That"s the thing, Ethan,” he said. “These visas were originally issued sometime in nineteen sixty-six.”

“Whoa, there, buddy,” a rather shocked-sounding Tiffen responded. “You"re talking about another world, another time, another place, Vietnam, Civil Rights marches, Peter, Paul and Mary protest songs, and long haired hippies. I guess this request of yours is important, but then, I doubt you"d be asking such a question if it wasn"t, am I right?”

“Yes, it"s very important,” Ross said. “I"m investigating a murder that took place in sixty-six, together with the disappearance of a young woman at the same time. The skeleton of the murder victim, a young man, a musician with a local band, a pop group, was only recently discovered by a contractor carrying out an urban redevelopment project, and the missing girl, his girlfriend, hasn"t been seen or heard of since the time of his own disappearance.”

“Hell, that"s a long time to be missing. How old was the girl when she went missing?”

“Nearly twenty-one, and the boyfriend was almost twenty-two.”

“Andy, I have a daughter almost the same age. I can"t imagine losing her like that, not knowing where she is, or what happened to her.”

“Look, I know it"s a very, very long shot, and your records may not go back that far, and I"ll understand if you can"t do anything to help, but anything you can do will be greatly appreciated.”

“Now, just hold up there, Andy, my new friend. I never said I couldn"t help, did I? Just let me think a minute, okay?”

The line fell silent for what seemed an interminably long few seconds and Andy Ross wondered if he"d been cut off, when the sound of the phone being picked up at the other end rattled his eardrum.

“Sorry to be so long,” Tiffen apologised. “Just needed a quick word with one of my people here. Seems we do keep records going back a long, long time, to well before the advent of computers, in fact. Thing is, it might take some time to track down the original issue of the visas and then it"ll need another search to find out if those visas were ever used, or cancelled, or just disappeared.”

“Did that happen often, visas just not being used and disappearing, never to be heard of again?”

“Hell, yes, more than you"d imagine. People would apply for a visa, then change their minds or their holiday plans at the last minute and just throw the darned things in the trash. Still happens today, Andy.”

“But you might be able to help me, is that what you"re saying?”

“That"s what I"m saying, Andy, sure. Now, what I need from you is all the details you can give me. I need the names of your couple, including middle names if they had any, addresses at the time of application, dates of birth, and, if you have them, photographs of each of them. A good written description would be good also. I know this is pushing it, but if you or their families have their passports, then the passport numbers would be a big help too. Probably be a good idea if you can fax them to me so I can get the ball rolling here at my end, and then maybe mail me copies of the documentation as soon as you can.”

“I don"t know what to say, Ethan. I wasn"t expecting such a helpful response to an old case like this. I"m grateful to you, I really am.”

“Hey, better save your thanks until we see if I come up with anything helpful. I can"t give you any guarantees, like I said. Oh, yes, and please be sure and send me an official request so I can reconcile this with our people here at the embassy.”

“Consider it done, Ethan, and thank you. I"ll have all the relevant information with you within the next hour or two, as soon as I can get my collator to pull it all together for you.”

The two men exchanged their direct line telephone numbers and fax numbers as well as, in Ross"s case, the number for the main switchboard at Merseyside Police Headquarters. He gave Tiffen the names of Izzie Drake and D.C. Paul Ferris, telling the Immigration Officer he could be reached through either of them if he wasn"t at his desk if the American needed to speak to him again.

Ross knew he"d just played a very unlikely long shot, but even a negative response to his inquiry might serve useful in terms of eliminating other theories, no matter how improbable or outlandish they might seem. As he explained to Paul Ferris while outlining the information and documentation he needed collating and sending to Tiffen, the whole frustrating part of investigating a mystery was in not knowing what information may or may not bear relevance to the case. Every avenue, no matter how vague, had to be investigated and followed to its conclusion, with the majority of such investigations almost inevitably leading to dead ends. What he fervently hoped of course, was that by following each and every blind alley, they would eventually hit on the one course of action that would suddenly unlock the whole case and lead him to its eventual solution.

Leaving Paul Ferris to do what he did best; Ross went looking for Izzie Drake, wondering how she"d got on in her attempts to track down marriage records from Gretna Green. He found her in the canteen, doing her best to look as if she was enjoying a limp-looking cheese and ham sandwich and a cup of something that he thought vaguely resembled coffee.

“Looks almost edible,” Ross quipped as he pulled up a chair and seated himself opposite his sergeant.

“Almost, being the operative word,” Drake replied, a wry smile on her face. “They ought to make it a criminal offence you know, trying to slowly poison police officers through the administering of noxious sandwiches.”

“Couldn"t agree more,” Ross agreed. “Give me a bag of nice, greasy chips, liberally doused with salt and vinegar from Rothwell"s Fish Bar over the road, any day. Any luck with Gretna Green?”

Swallowing a chunk of plastic-looking cheese, almost choking in the process, Drake cleared her throat before replying. “Well, we can forget any romantic runaway wedding for a start, sir. Just didn"t happen. A nice, kind old lady, well, she sounded old, up at the Gretna Register office kindly looked it up for me. No Brendan Kane, and no Marie Doyle, at any time in sixty-six. She was very thorough, old Mrs. Burns, checked every month that year. She also informed me that there was a fifteen day residency rule, before anyone could get married at Gretna so, with the timeline we have, our couple just couldn"t have done it anyway, unless they"d gone after leaving Liverpool, which, with Brendan lying dead in the water was impossible. Dead end, I"m afraid, sir.”

“That"s alright, Izzie. I really didn"t expect there would be any marriage in Gretna, but we had to check. It"s all adding up to something less than we might have expected, and as much as someone might want us to think the answer lies in some transatlantic musical dream, I think we"ll find our answers much closer to home.”

“You do, sir? Want to share your thinking with me?”

“Sure. Look, we have lots of conjecture surrounding the fact that Brendan and Marie wanted to go to America. Phil Oxley did his best to help Brendan in his quest for a means of entry to the States. I"ve got a U.S Immigration Service official checking, even now, to see if the visas issued to the couple were ever used. I doubt he"ll find anything. We have no real evidence to link anyone with the murder of Brendan Kane, but a few of the people we"ve come across in recent days could have had a vague motive for wanting him dead.”

“Okay, sir, I"m hooked. Go on, please.”

“We know there was bad blood between the group members and Brendan when he decided to go solo, so any one, or combination of two or three of the band members might have felt aggrieved enough to take out a form of revenge, especially if they thought Kane was going to America and stood a chance of real stardom, after they"d all struggled along on the local circuit for years. Then, there"s Marie"s father. James Doyle would have gone mad if he knew his daughter planned to run off with a protestant lad. Mickey and Ronnie Doyle told us they broke the news to their parents about Brendan and Marie just before going to the police station to report her missing. That puts their father in the clear, on paper, but what if he already knew about the couple?”

“How, sir?”

“I don"t know. I"m just brainstorming, speculating. You"ll just have to humour me, Izzie, okay?”

“Okay,” Drake replied. “So, that makes four potential suspects. Any more to add to the list?”

“Ah, that"s just it, isn"t it? We"re assuming this is all to do with the group in some way. We know so little about the lives of both Kane and Marie. If this was a fresh murder case, we"d be interviewing families, friends, everyone who knew the couple. Because it took place so long ago, we"re denied that luxury, so we are kind of left with a very narrow track to follow, hoping it"ll lead us somewhere.”

“And is it, sir? Leading anywhere, I mean?”

“I have a feeling it"s about to, Izzie. For now, I want you to drive me over to James Doyle"s house. I really want to meet, and talk to this cantankerous old bastard myself. A real charmer, according to you and Dodds, and also it would seem, in the memory of Clemmy Oxley.”

“You want to go now, sir? I can"t take any more of this bloody sandwich anyway.”

Ross laughed as he and Drake rose and left the canteen, casting mock salutes at poor old Doris, the canteen supervisor who stood behind the servery, a look of confusion on her face.