He takes his hand away and resumes eating. ‘I never for a moment thought that was true. I could see right through you, Jessica Fox,’ he says, his mouth full of bread.
‘Well,’ I sit back in my chair, ‘I’ll tell you this for nothing, Jack Renton. You might not want to report your nasty ex for beating you up, but I’ll be watching him. And if he takes one step out of line I’ll be on to him. I can promise you that.’
53
Jess
BRISTOL AND SOMERSET HERALD
Friday, 23 March 2012
TILBY MURDER VICTIMS RESPONSIBLE FOR MORE DEATHS
by Jessica Fox
Police are looking into the possibility that Clive and Deirdre Wilson, who were murdered in their own home earlier this month, are responsible for the deaths of two young women.
The body found in the basement of their Bristol property has been identified as missing teen Stacey King, who disappeared from her home in 1991 when she was seventeen.
Stacey, from Clevedon, lived with foster-parents at the time of her disappearance and was described as ‘troubled and vulnerable’.
A forensic pathologist who conducted an autopsy on Stacey stated that the cause of death was a heroin overdose and hebelieves she died around 1993. She was found buried beneath a false wall in the basement.
Police are now reopening the case of teenager Marianne Walker-Smith, who was found dead on Clapham Common in London last year of a suspected heroin overdose, as they look into claims made by witnesses who saw her with Clive Wilson before she disappeared.
Clive, along with his mother, Deirdre, was shot dead in Deirdre’s Tilby home earlier this month. As yet, the police haven’t charged anybody with their murders.
Clive’s brother, Norman Wilson, has been questioned by police as to his involvement in the kidnapping of Flora Powell and the murders of both Stacey King and Marianne Walker-Smith.
The police have only ‘scraped the surface’ of what they believe is a drug and kidnapping ring in Bristol, with connections in Reading and London.
Norman’s daughter, Lisa, said: ‘There is no way my dad is involved. We didn’t see much of my uncle or my grandmother over the last ten years and we never visited their Bristol home. I’m not saying my dad was always a saint, and he spoke openly of his battle with drugs when he was younger. But he has been clean for years. I believe him when he says he knew nothing about it.’
Dylan Bird, who was Flora Powell’s boyfriend at the time of her disappearance, has also been released without charge.
He told theHerald, ‘Norman Wilson supplied me and my mates with drugs in the early 1990s but we lost touch after that. I cleaned up my act and I’d heard that Norman moved away and settled down with a wife and kids. I don’t believe Norman had any involvement in the abduction of young girls. Unfortunately his brother and his mum used Norman and myself as bait to lure my beautiful girlfriend into their trap. I’ll never understand how Deirdre Wilson could have stood by and allowed it to happen.’
A police spokeswoman confirmed that a man has been arrested and released without charge.
I don’t hear from Margot until the next day.
I’m halfway home when she calls.
She’s crying and her voice is thick through her tears. My stomach tightens. ‘Margot? Are you okay? Is it Flora?’
She’s died. That’s what I’m expecting. But instead Margot says, ‘Flora’s had a stroke.’
I stop in my tracks, gazing out across the river, even though it’s dark and I can’t see much, except the occasional light in a window at the apartments. The river looks black in this light, undulating, stagnant.
A stroke? ‘But isn’t she too young for a stroke?’ It’s a silly thing to say, I know that. But all the people I’ve ever known to have a stroke have been old, like my granddad and Rory’s great-uncle Cian.
‘It’s a result of the many years of drug abuse.’ Margot’s voice sounds so sad that my eyes fill with tears. ‘It’s severe, I’m afraid. She may never recover, fully.’
‘Oh, Margot …’ The unfairness strikes me. This cruel, shit world, I think, and I kick the wooden bench that overlooks the river hard, hurting my foot. Then I slump onto the bench, no longer afraid that I’m being watched. That particular fear is over now that I know it was Finn who’d been following me.
‘Before the stroke, she admitted it all,’ continuesMargot, in that same resigned voice. ‘She hadn’t meant to shoot Heather. Heather had been trying to stop her. Clive and Deirdre had kept her prisoner for years, a prisoner to heroin, and she was pushed to the edge.’
‘Did Flora ever tell you what happened that day?’ I ask, as I light a cigarette.
