Fall From Grace Page 17
‘So you were also a member of this movement?’ said Sara.
‘No, I never joined,’ said Leonid. ‘I went to some meetings which is how I met Ed Foster but I never joined. I sympathised to a certain extent but I think that was more to do with my own experiences in the Ukraine, you know, sides had to be taken and the side that I took led me away from my homeland for the rest of my life. I had nothing against anyone from India or Jamaica. I just wanted to protect my own kind, the white man, the Ukrainian whose country had been snatched away by the Soviets. And you see, lying low these past decades meant that I didn’t really want to join anything that might draw attention to myself.’
‘You didn’t marry, Mr. Sulkov?’ Sara enquired.
‘No,’ said Leonid. ‘Oh there were ladies here and there, I was even engaged once. But I just couldn’t get the family I’d left behind in the Ukraine out of my mind.’
‘You must’ve been very lonely,’ said Sara.
‘Well in the intimate sense, yes, I was,’ said Leonid, ‘but I always had good friends around me.’
‘They’re no substitute,’ said Sara.
Something in the way Sara said it made Tim turn and exchange a look with her that spoke of an unspoken tenderness from long ago.
‘What were the experiences that led you away from the Ukraine, Mr. Sulkov?’ asked Tim.
‘Well now,’ said Leonid. ‘You see, everybody talks about the Holocaust as being the event of the Second World War that we’re not allowed to forget. But there were other Holocaust’s, detectives. During the 1930’s Stalin’s actions in the Ukraine led to the deaths of ten million people. Yes, ten million people. The Ukraine was the bread basket of the entire Soviet Union but because we had the courage to want our independence, Stalin punished us. All the wheat we grew was forcibly sent to other parts of the Soviet Union and we were left, literally, to starve. It was known as the Holodomor.’
‘I had no idea,’ said Tim.
‘Me neither,’ said Sara.
‘Not many people do,’ said Leonid. ‘There’s no official recognition internationally and it isn’t taught in schools. But I lost my parents and my older brother and countless members of my extended family. Then when war came I knew that I was on the side of anyone who was fighting Stalin. I ran away and joined the German army. I wasn’t the only one. Many of my compatriots did and none of us were ashamed. We were fighting a system that had wreaked such an evil catastrophe on our brethren. It was an opportunity to fight back and we didn’t care that they were Nazis. They were fighting Stalin and that’s all that mattered to us.’
‘So what happened at the end of the war, sir?’ asked Tim.
‘I couldn’t go back to the Ukraine because my family would all have been murdered by Stalin for my collaboration with the Germans if his secret police had found out,’ Leonid explained. ‘So to protect them I had to stay here and they would assume that I’d been killed in action fighting for the Red army because you see, that’s who I told them I was running away to fight for. However painful it was, it meant that they would be safe, or as safe as they could be living under Stalin.’
‘So,’ said Sara who couldn’t help but have sympathy for Leonid. War was such a fucking complicated business, more complicated than she’d ever thought before and more complicated than any case she’d had to deal with. She was grateful for having been born where she had been and when she had been. She’d known nothing of the struggles Leonid had known. She couldn’t begin to comprehend how lonely life had made him to not be able to go back to his own country. ‘You went to work for Lady Eleanor.’
‘Yes,’ said Leonid. ‘I knew she was sympathetic to the Nazis and naturally, I knew that if I’d made my immediate past well known to most people then I wouldn’t have been too popular. There was a network of fascist thinking people even back then and yet it was so dangerous just after the war.’
‘Understandable, don’t you think?’ said Tim.
‘Yes,’ said Leonid.
‘Sir, bring us up to that night in October 1974 when you lied to police officers about the murder of Ronald Harding,’ said Tim.
‘When Ed and I became friends I was at his house regularly, I knew his wife Mary and when their daughter Denise came along I was honoured when they asked me to be her godfather. Then one night, in a pub near Gatley Hall, Ed and I were drinking when Clarissa Harding came in. They hit it off and fell in love.’
‘How come they hadn’t met before?’ Sara asked. ‘If Lady Eleanor was a member then why hadn’t Ed Foster, who you say was prominent in the organisation, why hadn’t he met Clarissa Harding before?’
‘Because Clarissa was not a fascist,’ said Leonid in a voice like he was the impatient teacher of young dense children. ‘She never had been and so wouldn’t have anything to do with her mother’s activity. Ronald Harding was a right-wing member of the 1922 committee Tory but he wasn’t a fascist and she took after him. She detested fascism. I tended to think that her hatred for her mother was tied up with her abhorrence for fascism but that would’ve been a job for a psychologist. Anyway, what was genuine was the love Clarissa and Ed had for each other. Ed left his wife Mary for her and they set up home in a little flat in Urmston. Because of Clarissa’s distaste for fascism Ed resigned from the movement. He’d have done anything to please her.’
‘Did he ever go back to it?’ asked Tim.
‘No,’ said Leonid. ‘He hasn’t been part of it since then.’
‘Sir?’ said Sara. ‘Why did Ed Foster shoot Ronald Harding?’
‘Because he’d upset Clarissa so much.’
‘Enough to shoot him?’
‘Well by then it wasn’t just about their love for each other,’ said Leonid, ‘which Clarissa’s parents wouldn’t entertain at any price. Both Clarissa and Ed really saw red when Clarissa’s parents wouldn’t accept their grandchild.’
‘You mean Clarissa and Ed Foster had a baby?’ asked Sara, incredulously. This investigation was turning into something like one of those Russian dolls. As soon as you lift one there’s another underneath. She could usually get a feel for investigations but this one was losing her. She had no idea where the hell it was going to go.
‘Oh yes,’ said Leonid, ‘he was a great little chap but the Harding’s just would not accept him. Clarissa flew into a rage as I remember. She was dreadfully upset. Ronald Harding was particularly adamant that they would never accept what he called her ‘bastard’ child. That’s when Ed, I’m afraid, lost it. He took one of the Harding’s guns from the cupboard and shot Ronald. The baby was there and drops of Ronald’s blood were spilt over him.’
‘So what did you do then?’ asked Tim.
‘I dragged Ed out of the room,’ said Leonid. ‘He was in a state of utter shock and bewilderment at what he’d done but somehow he was in a trance-like state. It was as if something else had taken him over. He loved Clarissa more than life itself and he so desperately wanted to make her happy. But he had no defence against her family. He went back into the room. I followed him. Clarissa and her mother were fighting to get control of the gun Ed had used to shoot Ronald. There was a lot of shouting and screaming. Ed rushed over to help Clarissa but in the struggle that followed the gun went off and Clarissa was dead. Ed was beside himself. He’d shot the woman he loved and even though it was an accident he was inconsolable. I had to negotiate with Lady Eleanor on his behalf. We agreed that she would not tell the police that Ed had been there if he agreed to take the child and never have anything to do with them again. Ed had all the power, you see, because he knew that Wilfred Jenkins was not the murderer of his own son, Peter Jenkins, in 1940.’
‘But who was the murderer of Peter Jenkins?’ asked Sara.
‘It was Lady Eleanor herself,’ said Leonid, ‘he let it slip one night to both Ed and myself and we didn’t know then that it would give us a bargaining chip so many years later. That’s the knowledge we used to keep Ed out of trouble.’
‘A case of mutually assured destruction,’ sai
d Tim.
‘You can put it that way, yes.’
‘So you and Ed took the baby and went where?’
‘We took him back to the house he’d shared with Mary and he begged her to take him back and to bring up his son as her own and she agreed.’
‘Does the son know anything about this?’ said Tim.
‘Paul?’ said Leonid. ‘No, he doesn’t. Ed has written him a letter to be opened once he’s dead. Ed Foster had always wanted to make peace with it all before he passed on and when Gerald Edwards real identity as Dieter Naumann was revealed, he saw it as a sign that the time had come. He’d been wondering how he could do it. He hasn’t much time left.’
‘Mr. Sulkov?’ said Sara. ‘Are you prepared to make a statement about all of this?’
‘Yes, I am,’ said Leonid.
‘So you’ve remained friends with Ed Foster for all these years?’ said Tim.
‘Oh yes,’ said Leonid, ‘very good friends.’
‘Even though he did things as a member of the fascist movement that you might not have approved of?’
‘I think it would be very boring if we concurred with everything our friends did,’ said Leonid.
‘And your friend Ed Foster is willing to take the consequences now?’ said Sara.
‘Yes, he is,’ said Leonid, ‘but don’t forget he’s bedridden and in terrible pain. We’re talking days, not even weeks.’
‘And what about his son? How do you think he’ll react to all this?’
‘Paul loves his father very much,’ said Leonid. ‘He idolises him, always has done. I worry about his reaction to tell you the truth. I worry about what he’ll think when he sees his father fall from grace.’
‘What does his son Paul do for a living?’ asked Sara after a penny had dropped inside her head.
‘He’s a social worker,’ said Leonid. ‘He manages the centre over at Broughton.’
*
Anita looked up at the two men standing in front of her at the social services centre reception desk and knew instantly that they were coppers. She’s seen so many of that sort on the Tatton estate but something had changed about her reaction to them that went with her general change in her attitude to life.
‘So what can I help you with?’ she asked.
‘We want to see Paul Foster,’ said Steve Osborne. ‘Is he here?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well then we’d like to see him, sweetheart,’ said Steve who liked the look of this Anita. True, she was young but she was so pretty and for some reason he got the feeling that she’d know what to do to please a man. She might appreciate having an experienced man in her bed rather the boys she’s no doubt used to. ‘Can you show us the way?’
All that Paul had been able to think about these past few days was where Jake had fled to. He’d tried to call him but each time it had gone to voicemail and despite leaving eight messages that had grown more frantic in tone, Jake hadn’t called him back. He didn’t know what else he could do. He’d lied to the police about what had happened. What else could he do to protect him?
‘Paul?’ said Anita after she’d knocked on the door of his office and then opened it. ‘There are two police officers here to see you.’
When Steve Osborne and Joe Alexander marched themselves in it was clear to Paul that they weren’t there on exactly friendly business.
‘Thanks, Anita,’ said Paul.
They waited until the door had closed and then they launched their attack.
‘Why didn’t you tell us that you and Jake Thornton had been lovers for the last four years?’ Steve demanded.
‘Because it wasn’t any of your business,’ Paul retorted.
‘None of our business? This is a murder investigation, Mr. Foster. Every detail is our business like the fact that Jake Thornton called you a dozen times on the day of your disappearance and physical assault. Care to enlighten us there?’
‘I think he was trying to warn me,’ said Paul who’d love to know who’d dropped him in it.
‘Oh you do?’ said Steve, ‘so you lied to us, Mr. Foster.’
‘Alright!’ said Paul as he stood up. ‘I admit it. I lied to you. No point in denying it if someone has tipped you off, which I suspect they have?’
‘We received a tip-off, yes,’ said Joe, ‘but we’d also pulled your mobile phone records by then which told us that you’d been less than honest.’
‘Do you know the penalties for deliberately withholding information from police in a murder inquiry?’ Steve demanded.
‘Yes, I do,’ said Paul who was struggling to hide his shame. ‘I’m sorry, detectives.’
‘So was it Jake Thornton whose voice you heard the night you were held?’ asked Joe.
Paul sat back down and nodded his head. ‘Yes, it was.’
‘And it was him who fired the shots that killed Glenn Barber?’
‘As far as I know,’ said Paul who then held his face in his hands.
‘You’ve not done him any favours, Mr. Foster,’ said Joe.
‘Yes, I know that but surely you can see how I was fixed?’ Paul pleaded. .
‘Do you always chase married men, Mr. Foster?’ Steve asked.
Paul looked up at him with utter disdain. ‘He wasn’t married when I met him.’
‘Oh, so that’s a recent development then, is it?’
‘A few months ago.’
‘What was the problem? He wanted to go back to the real thing? He’d had enough of the alternative lifestyle?’
‘You’re a homophobic bigot, Detective!’
‘Now that’s enough, Mr. Foster,’ Joe warned.
‘No it isn’t when he stands there insulting me like that!’ Paul retorted angrily. ‘It’s not nearly enough.’
‘It isn’t my fault you involve yourself in sordid affairs,’ said Steve.
‘My relationship with Jake is anything but sordid! I love the man and I wanted to give him a chance.’
‘To escape justice?’ said Steve.
‘Look, Jake is one of the soldiers who risked his life to protect you. He was sent out to a country that’s never been brought under control by anyone except dark forces like the Taliban. He was nearly killed on two occasions and when he came back there was no help for him. He needed psychological help but there was none for him.’
‘Isn’t that because he was dishonourably discharged after stealing weapons from his unit?’ said Joe. ‘Did he really deserve any help after doing that?’
‘Yes, he bloody well did!’ Paul raged.
‘Calm down, Paul,’ said Joe.
‘Ah shut up and listen! Any fool could see that stealing those weapons was a symptom of the problem. Or is everyone still stuck in a time when we shot deserters and conscientious objectors? We’ll treat you if your limbs have been blown off because that makes good telly but if your mind is broken then you’re on your own.’
‘Spare us the angry sermon, sir,’ said Steve.
‘Oh, I’m sorry, am I making it uncomfortable for you? The truth has a habit of doing that to people who haven’t got the ability to think.’
‘Mr. Foster, you lied to police in a murder investigation and you’re lucky we’re not charging you,’ said Steve. ‘That’s something you really should think about.’
As soon as a distraught Paul got home he went straight next door to Kelly and Lydia’s house.
‘What’s wrong with you?’ asked Lydia.
‘What’s wrong? What is fucking wrong? Somebody dropped me in it to the police and I’m lucky I’m not on a fucking charge!’
‘Hang on, hang on,’ said Lydia, ‘I don’t follow. How could anyone drop you in it to the police?’
‘Because I didn’t tell them that it was Jake who was there the other night.’
‘The night when you could’ve been killed?’ said Kelly.
‘Yes, the night I could’ve been killed but I wasn’t,’ said Paul. ‘I’m still here.’
‘Someone else isn’t though, Paul,’ said Kelly.
‘Of course I’m not asking you to do that,’ said Kelly. ‘But I am asking you to think of the help that Jake needs.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well if they catch up with Jake then he’ll get the help that you yourself have been saying that he so needs,’ said Kelly. ‘You did say that.’
Paul looked into his friend’s eyes and then he knew. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before. Who else would know all the intimate details of his relationship with Jake? Some of his friends knew bits and pieces but only Kelly and Lydia knew it all.
‘It was you, wasn’t it?’ said Paul.
Kelly swallowed hard. ‘Yes, it was,’ she admitted.
‘Kelly!’ said Lydia. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Of course it had to be you,’ said Paul who was not just hurt about Kelly’s betrayal but he was also very fucking angry. ‘Only you and Lydia know what Jake means to me.’