Bag of Dolls Read online

  Bag of Dolls

  Josie Wells

  Austin Macauley Publishers

  Bag of Dolls

  About the Author

  About the Book

  Dedication

  Copyright Information

  Acknowledgement

  Chapter OneSunday

  Monday

  Tuesday

  Chapter 2Wednesday

  Chapter 3Thursday

  Friday

  Saturday

  Chapter 4Sunday

  Chapter 5Monday

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7Tuesday morning, 5am

  Wednesday

  Thursday

  Friday

  Saturday

  Sunday

  Monday

  Chapter 8

  About the Author

  Josie lives in Sherborne, in the beautiful county of Dorset, with her husband Alan. As well as writing is an artist of oil on canvas. For many years she cared for people who suffered from dementia.

  She is definitely a petrol head and has never owned a car under 2 ltr.

  Her writing assistant is a tortoiseshell Feline, who is the guardian of the pen at all times.

  About the Book

  I hope those of you reading this book who require it will find courage through the strange and sometimes exciting world of Julia Darby, she will lead you to unexpected avenues.

  Dedication

  To Bill, my dad, and in remembrance of Johnny Ackroyd and Joe Croft.

  Copyright Information

  Copyright © Josie Wells (2019)

  The right of Josie Wells to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

  Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

  ISBN 9781528910613 (Paperback)

  ISBN 9781528910620 (Hardback)

  ISBN 9781528959629 (ePub e-book)

  www.austinmacauley.com

  First Published (2019)

  Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd

  25 Canada Square

  Canary Wharf

  London

  E14 5LQ

  Acknowledgement

  My thanks to my daughter, Elaine, for the pen which started my writing journey.

  Thank you to Alan, my husband, for his patience, kindness and understanding, who calmed my moods during the early part of this work, and for endless cups of tea; and finally to Eden Moas and Rebecca Ponting, who were my first contacts at AM and to Conner Browne and his colleagues for their help and guidance; and Pixie the feline assistant.

  Chapter One

  Sunday

  Julia sat on the sofa looking at the cards family and friends had given for her birthday. It had been a lovely weekend of smiles and happiness as those close to her made her feel loved and more than anything else, safe. Flowers surrounded the room—her favourite roses, the sweet perfume wafting in the warm evening air of June. Being thirty wasn’t so bad after all. Julia looked twenty, always taking good care of herself and attention to a simple style of fashion, she is generally a happy person, or so it would appear to the on-looker, always working, intelligent but never had a man in her life for more than a few weeks at a time. The lack of male companionship caused the family to discuss Julia on many occasions. Some of the young men had seemed ideal, right age—education, similar interest, etc. usually very pleasant and clearly fond of her.

  How come such a lovely lady was so often alone? Julia’s work life was very sociable; the family came to the conclusion that if she was happy that was just fine, obviously a career girl in their eyes, own house in Regency Square Brighton, a tall, narrow home with bay windows and very smart black railings outside. Jules was always generous when it came to birthdays and Christmas.

  Christine was the last to be leaving the party, a lovely sister but was prone to meddling, trying to set up blind dates which were always declined with a sharp no. Chris complains yet again that their brother David had not been invited to the family gathering. “I won’t have his sly ways here, now drop it, OK?” Christine was taken aback; her sister had never spoken to her that way before. “Chris, I’m sorry to snap. I just don’t want to hear about him, please don’t let us fall out over him. Can we leave it now, please?” said Julia.

  “OK love, say no more I must get going, work tomorrow and an early start.”

  Julia thanks her sister for coming; they hug, she walks Christine to her car, and they wave goodbye.

  Back inside her cosy home, Jules pours herself a brandy, takes a stroll around her dainty garden, sits on the steps outside her kitchen door and watches dusk slowly draw in. Many thoughts come into her head, the following days were going to be the most difficult to re-live and face up to a task which must be done and carefully planned. A momentous decision was taken some years ago, that when she was thirty years of age, she wanted David in court and to face justice, that was all she wanted now. Jules wasn’t going to rest until it was done, no matter at what cost. Even if it meant to risk her own personal safety. How confident did Julia feel? Very. How strong did she feel? Mentally pretty tough and physically very fit after two years of gym training and beach running on Brighton’s pebbles. She looked and felt very good indeed. Julia went to sleep that night without dreaming, something which occurred most nights, she was so disturbed by the years of torment; she would wake with tears pouring into her ears as she lay.

  Monday

  Julia woke up early, got herself organised. She was pleased with her pre-planning having booked three weeks of vacation well in advance. A much-deserved break was her employer’s reaction, he said, “Go and enjoy yourself, it’s back to the grindstone for me,” the boss joked often but always making sure his staff were well cared for and well paid. Roy being the owner of high-end nightclubs and casinos across the Brighton, Eastbourne and Hasting’s coastline. Jules was sent off with good humour and good heart.

  Working in the club sector as a manager, Julia had the opportunity to hear who the good guys are, so on Monday she spent a few hours phoning around private investigators; she had heard several names bandied about but seeing these chaps messing around in the club didn’t make one feel confident. The only person nobody sees very often is Alan Wells. There were no females available close by, she called Alan Wells investigations and was given an appointment for the following morning. For Julia, Tuesday couldn’t arrive quickly enough.

  The rest of the day was spent with a visit to her bank where she drew out £2,000 answering last minute emails and postal correspondence. One last bill to pay. Making a phone call to the central hotel in Gillingham, she booked herself in. She had no idea how long her mission would take or how things would pan out.

  Tuesday

  The office of Alan Wells was down the hill from Brighton railway station. When he answered the door, Jules saw a man of medium stature, well built across the shoulders, a short military style haircut and the most amazing smile.

  “Good morning, Miss Darby,” Alan an ex-soldier was used to investigating the unusual, highly intelligent and not afraid of dealing with the unpleasant characters which appear occasionally, without a doubt very competent. “Please come in, sit down. Good to meet you. May I offer you tea or coffee?”

  “Tea would be nice, thank you, helps keep me calm.”

  Julia sat in the cha
ir facing the window, the sun twinkling through cheered her, she felt safe in the background music of Chopin playing quietly, such gentle sounds for such a tough looking man. Alan passed Jules tea and biscuits.

  “Right, let’s begin, how can I help you? If you don’t mind, I’ll take notes as we speak, that helps me when you’ve gone.”

  “That’s fine,” said Julia.

  She begins while feeling almost too embarrassed to talk to a man about this, “The nearest lady P.I is miles away, and I’m not sure how long this will take. I presume your fees are a flat rate plus expenses?”

  “Yes, £150 per day expenses within reason.”

  “That’s fine, not a problem,” replied Julia.

  She covers her eyes just for a moment, “I must be honest, this is dammed awkward,” Jules then fumbles with her bracelet.

  “Look, Miss Darby, I’ll make it clear. Nothing shocks me anymore, I have seen and heard things which in my wildest dreams I thought I would never see, what is said in here stays in here,” the P.I waved his hands in a gentle manner as to encompass the room and says, “Confidentiality is the key to this job, the only time it becomes difficult, is if the police have to be bought in, and then only if it is absolutely imperative, do you have a problem with that?”

  Jules felt calmer, “Not at all, if that is the correct thing to do, and anyway, Mr Wells, the police will have to be involved in this case, if you are happy to take me on.”

  Taking a deep breath, Jules begins.

  “I plan to eventually bring charges against my adopted brother; I wish to see him in court for child abuse.”

  Alan was surprised; he didn’t expect that. "Was this against yourself, Miss Darby?

  “Yes, now is the time to deal with him. Not one person in the family would believe me because it wasn’t happening to them—they said I was a wicked girl; you don’t lie about something as bad as this.”

  Alan offered Julia a cigarette; he lit it for her as her hands were uncontrollably shaking. She took a couple of drags on it and started to choke as the camel smoke hit her. “What’s the matter with me? I haven’t smoked for over a year,” she passed back the cigarette.

  The green eyes of the P.I stared at her, he said nothing but smoked the cigarette. Alan could taste the flavour of strawberry on the filter left behind from the pale lipstick Julia wore, he savoured this taste for a moment, and suddenly it dawned on him that his thoughts were highly unprofessional and mentally slapped his hand. He pulled himself together, “OK. What would you like me to do for you?”

  Julia stood and went to the window, “I want you to find my brother. From 18 years of age, I have kept track of him. I just needed to know where he was, his whereabouts were important, didn’t want him popping out of the woodwork so to speak, I have a phone number and would call it once a year to check if he was still in Gravesend Kent. But on my last call, he had gone, he has not died, I’ve checked, he’s not in the hospital, not in that area anyway. You see I promised myself that on my 30th birthday, I would track him down, have him arrested and prosecuted for what he has done to me.”

  “I see,” Alan replies and remains quietly listening.

  Julia continues, “It seems this is the only way to deal with him, otherwise I will kill him. The last time I saw him I said, next time I lay eyes on you, I will kill you, all he did was laugh at me. To see him locked up is what I want, being incarcerated will be a living death to him as he likes to be free, not answering to anyone. Mr Wells, do you think we can do this?”

  “Yes,” he replied. “I will do everything I can; I loathe this kind of behaviour, it’s intolerable. Let’s get to work.” Alan makes notes. “Give me the last address you have for him.”

  Julia passed the P.I a handful of paper. “It’s all written down here for you, plus the phone number and the last place he was working, that I know of. For a while he was with the Met River Police, he left, don’t know why, there is a photograph, with his wife, it’s a bit torn I’m afraid.” Alan is impressed with this organisation; most clients are hopeless at what they really want.

  “When I do find him and be sure I will, what are your instructions?”

  “Simple, Mr Wells. His address, phone, place of work, car ownership, if possible, and do you feel you can recommend a good lawyer who might take this on?”

  "Yes, I do, but what about your own lawyer?

  Julia tells the P.I that her man is very old school and elderly now, he’s known the family for years. “I don’t think, with all due respect to him, he wouldn’t even know where to begin, he always thought David was such a nice chap; everybody has always thought, what a lovely guy.”

  “John Kinman is a good man. We served together. When we have something positive to go on I’ll book you an appointment, if you don’t want to see him alone, I shall be happy to come with you.”

  “That’s very kind, Mr Wells, thank you, now; do you need payment up front?”

  “No, thank you. I’ll give you a detailed invoice on completion.”

  “OK, I’ll wait to hear from you; good luck and thanks. Here’s my card; call when you’re ready.” Julia turned to leave; they shook hands, “Wonderful music by the way; goodbye.”

  “Goodbye, Miss Darby. We shall meet soon.”

  The quiet P.I lit another cigarette and watched Julia cross the street and elegantly placed herself into the confines of the leather seats surrounded by the cherry red of a Jaguar, wire wheels, the whole shebang. When Julia was at work in the club, she would tape the inspector Morse series, and one day promised herself a red Jaguar, to her, a fabulous machine and beautiful engineering.

  Alan smiled, “What a woman! She’s got a lot of bottle if she’s going to pull this off, she is one tough cookie,” he muttered to himself.

  Straight away P.I Wells started telephone enquiries about Dave Darby; however, nothing was coming up. He went through all the papers Julia had left with him twice but nothing tallying up. He booked himself into a bed and breakfast in Gravesend for three days with the hope that would be long enough to get a good start, made arrangements with his parents to come and look after his beloved cats. Knowing his folks would enjoy living in his home for a break they said yes without hesitation.

  During the course of the day, Alan received two more requests for his services which he declined for the moment; he felt Julia’s case was more important.

  Late afternoon, Alan shopped making sure there was plenty of food and tasty treats for his parents’ stay; a box of chocolates of his mother’s favourite type on the coffee table.

  Plenty of food for Basil and Sybil who make such a fuss if placed into a cattery, they would sulk for days on their return.

  He ordered his Chinese meal earlier, and at 7 pm it arrived promptly. Alan had TV news on; it wasn’t good viewing. Iraq was a dreadful war zone, being an ex-soldier, he had at one time been tempted to offer his services in the Green Zone; however, he had concerns for his parents, plus the fact his agency was doing very well. The news then followed with an article whereby a man had attacked two young girls, Alan’s revolution was clear and out loud to his cats, said, “Lock him up and throw away the key.” Alan made his home tidy, made his parents’ room ready and packed a hold-all enough for three days. At 10 pm he went to bed and slept soundly, cats at feet.

  Julia had been phoning family and pals to say she was going to have a short holiday, for a week or two. All were surprised as there had been no mention of a vacation on Sunday, at her birthday party.

  Chapter 2

  Wednesday

  Julia bright and early went to the gym, and after a short beach run, she felt good. Alan sorted himself out, fed the cats, collected documents, keys and hold-all. His parents arrived as he was leaving. He got a huge hug from them both. His journey should be about 1 ½ hours on the A23 and M25 Brighton to Gravesend in Kent. A short break is planned for halfway, a coffee and cigarette, the pride and joy will always be Alan’s Porsche 911 where on no account does he allow himself to smoke, it was a
s pristine as the day he took delivery and was hard earned, paid out of his army pension pot.

  At 11 am Alan books into the B&B as arranged the previous day. It is clean and comfortable; the landlady was pleasant and advised about the best place for lunch and evening meals. Having a stroll around the local area to get his bearings, Alan finished up at the Cricketers Inn, which was starting to get busy for lunch. Alan was served by a pleasant member of staff with a gorgeous smile; he ordered a light meal and a coca cola. “Where will you be sitting, sir?”

  “Over there in the corner.”

  “I’ll bring your order over shortly, sir.”

  “Thanks,” Alan replied with the charming smile which captivates most ladies. Whilst waiting, Alan took another good look at the photograph Julia had given him. When the meal was brought over, he asked the server, “Have you seen this man?” showing her David’s picture. “He’s an old navy pal. Has he been around here?”

  “I haven’t seen him. Bill at the bar might know him; he has been in the navy.”

  Glenda is the name on the badge pinned on the uniform of a very well-endowed bosom, where is a chap meant to look?

  “Glenda, would you take this to Bill, please?” She did as requested. Alan, being able to lip read very well, could tell Bill was saying, “Yes, but he left here ages ago.” Alan was nearly jumping, how lucky so soon.

  Bill made his way across to Alan, “Ya looking for this bloke then guv?”

  “Yes,” said Al, “Please sit down, what can I get you?” He signalled to Glenda, “Whatever Bill wants please,” Glenda takes a Guinness and finds the two men in deep conversation.

  “I don’t know him well, there were rumours about him, that he was a pretty tough sort of a fella and not very pleasant by all accounts, he lived in these parts for several years then there was a bit of scandal, and he wasn’t seen again.” Bill took a breath, “Something to do with a young woman. He got his face in the paper must be two years ago now, but I would recognise him anywhere. He has scars on his face where a dog bit him as a kid that’s what I heard anyway; he served in Malta at the same time as me, he had a reputation of being a bloody nutter, bomb disposal and clearing mines from around the Med. He was on the Glasaton when he left the navy, talk is he joined the Met. River Police that must be ten years ago.”