A Dreadful Past Read Free Page A

I mean they would not have carried on with the burglary after my parents and sister had been murdered. I think it much, much more likely that what happened is that once the robbery was complete and the felons were ready to quit the house, just at that point they were disturbed. They then attacked my parents and sister, probably not intending to kill them, but kill them they did. Even then they didn’t panic; rather, instead they calmly picked up the loot, popped it into the vase and made good their escape, ensuring they left no trail or tracks for the police to follow. They simply vanished into the night.’
    â€˜Very professional,’ Ventnor offered. ‘Very cold and detached and professional.’
    â€˜Which is a gross misuse of the word,’ Middleton replied coldly. ‘There is nothing particularly professional about what they did, nothing at all, but I know what you mean. The burglars were evidently neither inexperienced nor were they opportunistic.’
    It was Tuesday, 17.35 hours.
Wednesday, 4 May, 09.15 hours.
    George Hennessey sat in a relaxed and a casual manner behind his desk and glanced quickly to his left out of the small window of his office at the ancient walls of the city of York at Micklegate Bar. He saw at that moment just two tourists, a man and a woman who were strolling calmly and contentedly, arm in arm, under the blue, near cloudless early May sky. Hennessey then turned back to face his assembled team who sat patiently in front of his desk and sipped from his mug of hot, steaming tea. He smiled briefly at his team of detectives who had, as usual, arranged themselves in a neat semicircle, and all of whom, like Hennessey, clutched a mug of hot tea. ‘There were,’ Hennessey began in a quiet voice, ‘developments late yesterday afternoon, so I believe, Thompson?’
    â€˜Indeed, yes, sir. A very interesting development, it would seem.’ Thompson Ventnor sat forward and consulted a new, recently opened file which he held on his lap and reported, ‘Mr Noel Middleton presented at the enquiry desk carrying an antique Wedgwood vase.’ Thompson went on to further report the story Noel Middleton had related to him the previous afternoon. Ventnor then continued: ‘I have obtained the original file from the archives, as you can see.’ He patted an older second file which he had also placed on his lap and which all present privately thought was an embarrassingly thin file for a case of multiple murder. ‘And it seems,’ continued Ventnor, ‘that it was just as Mr Middleton stated: a burglary of a wealthy solicitor’s home some twenty years ago escalated into the murder of said solicitor and the murder of his wife and daughter. They were all, it is reported, murdered in what seemed to have been a sudden frenzy of violence. Quite extreme violence, in fact. The post-mortem reports speak of multiple blows causing contusions and fractures. Each victim apparently sustained severe head injuries as well as other injuries, but according to the pathologist’s reports here in the file, it was the head injuries in all cases which proved fatal. The murders appeared to have made quite a splash in the media.’ Ventnor opened the original file at the back and revealed many faded newspaper cuttings about the incident. ‘There were the usual appeals for witnesses and a substantial reward offered for information leading to a conviction,’ he added.
    â€˜You know, I do remember that investigation – I remember it well.’ Hennessey ran a meaty, liver-spotted hand through his silver hair. ‘I was a youngish copper then – I seem to recall that I had just been promoted out of uniform. I was a detective constable, and although I was not part of the original investigating team still I recall the murders very well … a solicitor and his wife and daughter. Yes, I recall the case vividly. It’s all coming back to me. I