Chapter Five – A Piece of the Puzzle

"I see," Alf said wearily into the phone as he rubbed his tired eyes. He was long overdue for his fag and tea by now.

DI Shiner stood behind the old copper, his critical eyes boring into the back of the older man as he awaited the information from the other end of the phone.

"Well?" the DI demanded sternly.

Alf shook his head in exasperation. "Nothing I'm afraid, sir," he drawled as he heaved himself out of the chair. "The information has been the same from every police station in the North Riding area. They haven't seen the man or anyone that's even close in resemblance. No one reported missing seem to fit the description of our John Doe."

Shiner harrumphed unhappily as the old copper excused himself and went outside, meeting the sergeant at the door.

"Dennis," Shiner called hopefully as the sergeant walked through to the duty room.

"I think we can leave square one," he said cryptically as he placed a folder on the desk in front of the DI. "His name is Jeremy Watson. He's been residing in Liverpool for the last ten years – give or take some, and lately worked as a junior doctor at the General Hospital there."

Shiner looked up at Merton, pausing his skimming through the folder. "Then we know the who but there's still the why, the how and his connections to this area," he said in a clear voice.

OOOOOO

Oscar Blaketon glanced out through the door at the back of the pub in search for his younger colleague. A concerned frown was displayed on his forehead as he spotted her on the last step of the stair leading to the shed in the garden.

Without a word he silently walked up to her and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "Gina," he said kindly. "Are you all right?"

The barmaid nodded as a sob escaped her lips. She carefully ran her fingers under her eyes in an attempt to quick fix the ruined makeup. "I'm fine, Oscar," she said and managed a small smile. "I just thought I was stronger than this."

The former police sergeant slowly eased himself down on the step next to her. "Gina, you have to give it time," he said softly. "You and Bellamy lost a child. It's not supposed to be fine with that only a month afterwards."

"It's just that when I think about what we had, it comes crashing down on me," she said, her voice a hoarse cry as she turned to look at him. "The little fingers curling around mine. The way he smiled when I held him. My beautiful baby, Oscar, and I couldn't keep him."

"It will get better, Gina. I promise. I think you've come a long way," he said softly yet in an assuring way. "But maybe you shouldn't pretend Bellamy doesn't exist. It doesn't help any of you. He lost the child too and Daniel was his just as much as he was yours. He still loves you, you know."

"It hurts too much. Phil reminds me of what we had and it suffocates me. I can't let him touch me. It can never go back to what it once was between us," Gina replied. "I don't want to talk about it. I can talk about many things but…I'm not ready for that yet."

"You need to sort out those things before it can be better Gina, and you know that at heart, don't you?" Oscar asked carefully.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," she whispered sadly.

"Good, now come inside and help me serve some beer to those lunatics in there," Oscar returned with twinkle in his eye.

Gina let herself be led away from the place she'd taken refuge at and let her spirit rise. Only it lasted only minutes because the moment she went behind the counter Phil Bellamy walked through the door.

Oscar gave her a sidelong glance, silently wondering if she would be all right and she found herself nodding.

Phil acknowledged Gina with a careful nod and she turned to fully face him, to lock eyes with him.

To the onlooker it didn't mean much but to Phil and Gina it meant a world of hurt, despair and pain just by looking at each other. It reminded both of them what they had lost, what would never be returned to them. Their common hopes for a family of their own had been shattered. For every day that went by it got a little easier and they'd reached the point where they could talk to each other again without it hurting too much.

Oscar, sensing they both could use a bit of distraction harrumphed and crossed his arms over his chest sturdily as he fixed his eyes on Phil.

"So, Bellamy. Since you're here I take you've made some kind of progress back at the station?" He asked curiously, his voice as sharp and commanding as ever.

Phil sighed as he let his hand run through his unruly hair. "Yeah, I suppose you could call it that," he said wearily. "His name is Jeremy Watson…"

Oscar looked thoughtful for a moment before turning around to look for the few days old Gazette. Satisfied at finding it folded neatly beneath the counter, on a shelf, next to the spare beer drum, he retrieved it just as Steve walked up to his colleague and sat down next to him.

"Hello, Steve," Gina said with a faint smile.

"Gina, Oscar," the Aidensfield bobby returned politely.

"Jeremy Watson," Blaketon echoed smugly as he unfolded the newspaper and turned up the front page where a picture of the deceased man could be seen. "Thought he looked familiar."

"With all due respect, Oscar," Steve began. "Our John Doe namely Jeremy Watson is an inmate, a junior doctor, training down in Liverpool."

Blaketon looked up from the Gazette and focused on Crane. "This man was born and - well maybe not entirely but partly - raised here," he said sternly.

"Are you quite sure?" Steve asked carefully.

"I am absolutely sure. I thought I recognized him from somewhere when I first saw the picture but I couldn't place him," the former police sergeant mused.

"Why did he leave?" the Aidensfield bobby asked curiously.

"Tragedy," Oscar said in low tunes. "Jeremy was the name of the oldest son in a large goat farming family. Back then times where tough – even tougher than they are now around here. You can't know about them since you're not from here, Crane."

Steve nodded thoughtfully as Oscar turned to Phil.

"The family was poor and, especially one year, the pastures was bad and the sheep hadn't enough food. They didn't produce enough milk for the Watsons to sell and they lost several contracts with dealers and shops around North Yorkshire. The father, Joshua, refused to give up. He worked around the clock trying to bring order out of chaos and care for the animals. When he wasn't in the sheep stable he was at the gambling machines in town. The boys' mother tried to care for them the best way she could but seeing to eight children and care for the house, cook dinner, clean, take care of the shillings and see to it that her husband didn't get into trouble from gambling wore her out," Oscar explained.

"Amy Watson-Clover," Phil mused. "I remember, when I was fresh from the academy, a suspected murder case."

Blaketon nodded gravely. "Yes, she was found by one of the smaller children lying dead in the stable. At first we thought Joshua had something to do with it. We brought him to custody, it became a long process in which the children got sided. Social service took care of them temporarily and divided them," he said.

"Joshua Watson was cleared of all suspicions but not before months of prosecution and evidence gathering," Phil recalled vaguely. "The autopsy showed a weakened heart – did it not?"

"She died of natural causes and the husband was let out. However, the bank took the farm and the social service deemed him unfit to care for his children," Blaketon filled in.

Steve shook his head.

"Jeremy took it the hardest since he was oldest and therefore old enough to understand what was going on around him. He insisted on staying with his uncle, Jack Lane, until he was finished with school," Blaketon explained further.

"Jack Lane?" Steve questioned in disbelief. "That old and gruff, drunk man that seems to be friend with nobody? He doesn't strike me as the type who should take care of children."

"Jack's life hasn't been a walk in the park, Steve," Oscar cautioned. "I'd tell you about it sometime. Anyway the boy graduated with top grades and got a scholarship. He left the area fifteen years ago and no one's seen him since – until now."

Steve shook his head at the story. "I wonder what brought him back here after all these years," he said.

They all seemed lost in their own thoughts as Vernon Scripps barged through the door with David in tow. The red haired, overweighed man looked bushed as he slowly made his way up to the counter with one hand placed at his lower back.

"My goodness," Vernon exclaimed. "This fertilizing business is killing me."

David looked attentively at him with a concerned look on his face.

"What's the matter, Vernon?" Gina asked with a frown.

Oscar Blaketon leaned forward over the counter, looking smug. "He's been working, like the rest of us," he said.

Scripps snorted as he gingerly sat down on a chair next to the two police officers. "There is no need to be smart, Oscar," he returned with an indignant glare at the former sergeant.

David, looking dumbfounded, took off his hat and remained standing at the counter, his eyes finally landing on the Gazette. "Is that John Doe?" He asked curiously.

Gina couldn't help but soften a bit at the look on the harmless and sensitive yet slow man. "Yes, David, that's John Doe," she let on.

Vernon rolled his eyes. "How many times do I have to tell you; his name is not John Doe?" He said, his words clipped as he was unable to keep the frustration out of his voice.

David looked around turning in turn to Oscar, Gina, Phil and Steve. "When I was picking up old Mrs. Williams at the railway station earlier this week there was this man, almost pushing the sweet lady over," he began hesitantly.

Oscar folded his arms across his chest.

"I…I didn't get a good look at him but he looked a lot like John Doe," he said. "He kept looking over his shoulder, like he was hunted by someone."

Phil and Steve looked seriously at each other, both straightening in their chairs at David's information.

"So, he was really coming by the train," Steve said darkly.

Phil nodded, looking down at his empty orange juice. "The question is – whom was he chased by?"

"And why?" Steve returned.

"Who would hunt a doctor down and kill him in cold blood?" Gina asked suddenly, shuddering just by asking such a question.

"What was he practicing?" Steve mused. "Did he kill someone at the hospital – a patient?"

Phil nodded. "You think it's a relative bent on revenge?" he asked. "I remember Kate Rowan being a victim to such a thing several years ago."

Oscar looked around the bar casually and, seeing Berta Livingston look their way from a nearby table, he carefully leaned toward Phil and Steve. "I don't think we shall continue this discussion here, you better head back to the station," he said in low voice. "See that gossiping woman over there?"

Carefully the two officers cast a glance to their right.

"If she's picked up on anything, the word would be out within minutes," Oscar said.

"Lovely," Steve muttered as he rose and patted Phil on the back. "Are you coming?"

OOOOOO

To be continued

/Another chapter for you – I love your feedback ;)