Read A Question of Identity Online
Authors: Susan Hill
A Question of Identity
Contents
How do you find a killer who doesn’t exist?
Duchess of Cornwall Close: sheltered accommodation, a mix of bungalows and flats, newly built and not quite finished. Despite the bitterly cold weather, elderly residents are moving in. They don’t notice the figure in the shadows. Someone who doesn’t mind the cold.
Then, one snowy night, an old lady is murdered – dragged from her bed and strangled with a length of flex.
DCS Simon Serrailler and his team desperately search for a match, aware that the killer will strike again. But when they track down a name – Alan Keyes – they can find no birth certificate, no address, no job, no family, no passport, no dental records. Nothing. Alan Keyes does not exist.
Susan Hill is the author of over fifty books, including the six previous Serrailler crime novels:
The Various Haunts of Men
,
The Pure in Heart
,
The Risk of Darkness
,
The Vows of Silence
,
The Shadows in the Street
and
The Betrayal of Trust
. The play of her famous ghost story,
The Woman in Black
, has been running in the West End since 1989 and is now a major film starring Daniel Radcliffe.
The Simon Serrailler Crime Novels
THE VARIOUS HAUNTS OF MEN
THE PURE IN HEART
THE RISK OF DARKNESS
THE VOWS OF SILENCE
THE SHADOWS IN THE STREET
THE BETRAYAL OF TRUST
Fiction
GENTLEMAN AND LADIES
A CHANGE FOR THE BETTER
I’M THE KING OF THE CASTLE
THE ALBATROSS AND OTHER STORIES
STRANGE MEETING
THE BIRD OF NIGHT
A BIT OF SINGING AND DANCING
IN THE SPRINGTIME OF THE YEAR
THE WOMAN IN BLACK
MRS DE WINTER
THE MIST IN THE MIRROR
AIR AND ANGELS
THE SERVICE OF CLOUDS
THE BOY WHO TAUGHT THE BEEKEEPER TO READ
THE MAN IN THE PICTURE
THE BEACON
THE SMALL HAND
A KIND MAN
Non-Fiction
THE MAGIC APPLE TREE
FAMILY
HOWARDS END IS ON THE LANDING
For Children
THE BATTLE FOR GULLYWITH
THE GLASS ANGELS
CAN IT BE TRUE?
For LGHR
30 May 2012
A Simon Serrailler Crime Novel
Susan Hill
PART ONE
YORKSHIRE, 2002
It’s like your brain’s bursting. It doesn’t happen all at once, it builds up. And then your brain’s going to burst until you do something about it. You do it. You have to do it. Then it’s all right again for a bit, ’til it starts again.
20 MAY, 2002
‘
MEMBERS OF THE
jury, the defendant has answered an indictment containing three counts. On count one he is charged with murder. The particulars of the offence are that on or before the seventeenth day of July 2001, he murdered Carrie Millicent Gage. On count two he is charged with murder. The particulars of the offence are that on or before the thirtieth of July 2001, he murdered Sarah Pearce. On count three he is charged with murder. The particulars of the offence are that on the fourth of August 2001 he murdered Angela Daphne Kavanagh.
‘To each count he has pleaded “Not guilty”, and it is your duty, having heard the evidence, to say, in respect of each count, whether he is guilty or not.
‘Would the defendant please stand?’
Alan Frederick Keyes, thirty-two, a self-employed builder of 33 Westway Road, Crofton – wearing dark trousers and a blue open-necked shirt – stood.
23 MAY, 2002
‘Would the next witness please take the stand?’
A small woman. Brown coat, beige felt hat. She looked frail, walked slowly, as if in some pain, eyes huge in a bony little face darting about the court, skin the colour of an old candle.
‘Will you please state your name?’
She leaned on the wooden ledge of the witness box, eyes still fearful, catching her breath.
‘When you’re ready.’
Silence. She looked down in panic at the clerk.
‘Are you feeling unwell?’
His Honour Judge Malcolm Palmer, notoriously kind to witnesses, relatives, court attendants, women and babies. Notoriously harsh to prosecution or defence not on top of their game, cocky police officers, unprepared expert witnesses and members of the press.
But she pulled herself up. Shook her head, looking anxiously at the judge, who gave her his best encouraging smile. Satisfied that she was ready to attest, he nodded at the clerk.
‘Will you please state your name?’
‘Gwendolyn Violet Phipps. Mrs.’
‘You must speak up a little so that the jury can hear you. Would you mind saying it again?’
‘I’m sorry, I’m . . .’
‘That’s quite all right. Just once again, please.’
Pause. She cleared her throat. Spoke up loudly. ‘My name is Gwendolyn Violet Phipps. Mrs.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Phipps, that was perfect.’
Mr Anthony Elrod, for the Prosecution: ‘Mrs Phipps, would you tell the court please where you were on the night of 17 July last year – 2001?’
‘Well, I was at home . . .’
‘And your home is?’
‘Number 8 Meadow View Close – the bungalows. I was in bed, only then . . . I heard something . . . and I got up.’
‘Can you explain to the court where exactly your bungalow, number 8, Meadow View Close is, in relation to the bungalow in which Mrs Carrie Gage lived?’
‘Opposite. Right opposite, across the grass.’
‘So you have an unobstructed view of number 20?’
‘Oh yes. Very clear. I could see Carrie – Mrs Gage – when she was alive . . . I could see her going in and out or if she was at her front window . . . and she could see me. The same.’
‘Quite. Now, on the night of 17 July, you say you were awakened by a noise?’
‘No, I didn’t say that. No. I said I heard something . . . I didn’t say it was a noise, or that I was asleep.’
‘Well, whatever it was, what did you do?’
‘I got up. I knew it wouldn’t do any good just lying there. I got up to make a cup of tea.’
‘Did you put a light on straight away?’
‘No, I went to my bedroom window and looked out.’
‘Why was that? Wouldn’t the first thing anyone would do would be to switch –’
Mr Jeremy Brockyear, for the Defence, getting to his feet: ‘Your Honour –’
Judge Palmer: ‘Yes. Mr Elrod, this is very elementary you know, you are trying to ascertain what the witness and only the witness would do, she cannot know what “anyone” else would have done.’
‘I beg your pardon, Your Honour. Mrs Phipps, why didn’t you put a light on immediately?’
‘I must have wondered what had disturbed me and gone to look out first . . . if there had been someone out there, I always think it’s safer to see and not be seen, if you follow. If I’d switched on a light whoever it was could have seen me and then what?’
‘So you were disturbed by a person making some sort of noise?’
‘I must have been. Well, obviously, after I saw him, I realised that, didn’t I?’
‘“After I saw him”? Who or what was it you did see, Mrs Phipps?’
‘The man.’
‘One man?’
‘Yes, one. Only one.’
‘Will you describe the man for us please?’
‘Well, it was the man I saw in that line of them, the one I pointed to.’
‘That would be in the identification parade at the police station?’
Judge Palmer: ‘A step too far ahead, Mr Elrod.’
‘Yes, Your Honour. Mrs Phipps, just let’s go back to the night on which you say you saw a man outside number 20 Meadow View Close . . . Was it a dark night? Was there a moon?’
‘It was dark, but there’s a security light, that came on. They come on when anyone moves, only sometimes it’s a nuisance, a stray cat or those bloomin’ foxes run past and it goes on.’
‘Did you see a cat or a fox?’
‘No.’
‘But you saw a man.’
‘Yes, I definitely did.’
‘Did you recognise him?’
‘Well, I said before, it was the one I –’
‘We’ll come to that in a moment, Mrs Phipps. Did you recognise him when you looked out of the window that night and saw him? Was it someone you knew?’
‘I don’t think I knew him. No, I didn’t.’
‘Are you quite sure?’
‘I think I am, yes. Only it was dark of course.’
‘Except for the security light that came on, and in which you could see the figure of a man?’
‘Yes.’
‘Thank you. So now let us move on to the afternoon of 14 October when you attended Crofton Central Police Station. You were shown photographs of a number of men.’
‘A lot of photographs. It was quite confusing actually.’
‘Did you recognise any of them as being the man you saw that night, outside Mrs Gage’s bungalow?’
‘Not really. They were photographs of faces close up and I didn’t see him like that.’
‘Quite. You saw him across the grass from your own window. Let us now move on to 4 November, when you went to Crofton Central Police Station again, and this time you looked at an identity line-up of eight men. You saw them standing, not just their faces. Now did you recognise any of them as being the man you saw on that night from your window?’
‘Oh yes. I recognised him.’
‘You recognised the defendant?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’re quite sure about that?’
‘I was . . . I thought it was him. The others weren’t anything like him. Well, not much anyway. No, it must have been him.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Phipps. No more questions, Your Honour.’
Mr Jeremy Brockyear, for the Defence: ‘Mrs Phipps, do you wear glasses?’
‘Yes. For reading and sewing.’
‘So, you’re long-sighted. You have no problems with distance vision?’
‘No. I’m very fortunate in that regard.’
‘How far can you see clearly without any blurring of vision? Ten yards? Twenty-five yards? One hundred –’
Mr Anthony Elrod: ‘Objection, Your Honour – the witness can hardly be expected to know the exact measurements of how far she can see.’
Judge Palmer: ‘Point taken but most people have a general idea of their visual extent.’
Mr Jeremy Brockyear: ‘Do you drive a car, Mrs Phipps?’
‘I did, only I gave it up when I moved into Meadow View.’
‘Because you could no longer see clearly?’
‘No, because I could no longer afford the running of it.’
‘Well, the distance it is necessary to read a number plate clearly, in order to pass the driving test is 25 yards, with glasses if worn. How long is it exactly since you last possessed a driving licence?’