Castle nodded in respectful agreement. ‘It certainly looks that way. There’s that business of the keys – he had access to the house throughout the night, despite claiming otherwise – and the smashed kitchen door seems like a clumsy attempt to make it appear an outside job. And there’s the Filbury woman’s testimony that he’d threatened his wife on more than one occasion and the housekeeper said something to that effect to the local chap. We’ve made a start on interviewing the guests at the party, but there were eight of them so it’ll take time to see them all and sift through their statements—’

  ‘Quite, quite, it’s early days yet and we have to explore every possibility,’ Sladden conceded. ‘I’ll put DCI Lord in charge – you’ll give him a thorough briefing, of course.’

  ‘Of course, sir.’

  ‘Right, that’ll be all for now.’ Castle had just reached the door when the Superintendent cleared his throat and said gruffly, ‘I hope things work out for you and your lady friend, Jim.’

  ‘Oh… thank you, sir.’

  Bemusedly shaking his head at the realisation that the old boy was human after all, Castle returned to his tepid coffee and half-eaten roll. By the time he finished writing his report it was almost nine o’clock. Wearily, he put down his pen, took off his reading glasses and reached for the telephone.

  Fergus answered. His mother, he said, was out, she’d had a phone call that sounded urgent and she hadn’t said when she’d be back. He seemed evasive, which wasn’t like him.

  Castle was curious but didn’t press him, reminding himself that he had no right to insist on knowing Sukey’s every movement except when she was on duty. So he asked Fergus to be sure and tell her when she got back that he’d like a word with her. He tried DCI Lord’s number and received no reply. No doubt Lord, like anyone in his right mind, had gone home hours ago. He’d see him first thing in the morning; at the moment, his priority was to get a drink and something more substantial to eat than a canteen ham roll. He put on his jacket and headed for his favourite watering hole, which also happened to serve hot suppers until ten o’clock.

  The Bear Inn, one of Gloucester’s most historic hostelries, was tucked away in an alley a short distance from the police station. Towards the end of the week it would be noisy and crowded at this time of the evening, but today was Monday and apart from a few regulars it was comparatively quiet. Round one of the tables Castle recognised a small group of off-duty police officers in civilian clothes and he gave them a friendly wave as he passed. Normally, he would have been happy to join them, but tonight he felt the need to be on his own. He felt frustrated at not having been able to talk to Sukey; he had thought of her several times during the day, wondering if she was all right and not suffering too much delayed shock after her gruesome discovery. By the time he returned to the station she had been off duty for over two hours and there had been so much to do that he had not had a spare moment to get in touch with her. He wondered what it was that had been so urgent it couldn’t wait and felt a stab of resentment against the unknown caller. There had been enough pressure on the poor girl for one day; she should have been left in peace to unwind and get an early night. He patted his pocket to make sure he had his mobile phone with him, hoping she’d give him a quick call before turning in.

  He was halfway through his steak and chips when he spotted DS Radcliffe leaning against the bar with a tankard of ale in his hand. Castle caught his eye and beckoned; here was someone whose company was always welcome. The two men had been friends since they joined the Force. Andy Radcliffe was the less ambitious of the two; having been made a sergeant, he had no inclination to seek further promotion while Castle, after a spell of service in London during which he had been married and divorced, had come back to Gloucester with the rank of detective inspector. The difference in rank had done nothing to damage their friendship, although they instinctively observed the formalities whilst on duty or when discussing their work.

  Radcliffe sat down at Castle’s table and a waiter put a generous portion of shepherd’s pie in front of him. ‘Am I ready for this!’ he exclaimed, plunging his fork into the food.

  ‘Have you only just got back from Dearley?’

  Radcliffe nodded with his mouth full. ‘Handed over to DS Jackson an hour ago,’ he said when he was free to speak. ‘Security’s been a bit of a problem at the Manor, as you know. So many places where anyone could sneak in, but I think we’re OK – we’ve got a round-the-clock dog patrol and plenty of lighting.’

  ‘Fine. Any sign of the weapon?’

  ‘Nothing definite. Forensics took some knives from the kitchen for a routine check, although there was nothing immediately suspicious about them. We’ll have to wait for a detailed report and meanwhile carry on with the fingertip search in the morning. We’ll press ahead with the witness statements, of course, although everything points to the husband. Needless to say, he’s still denying it and there’s no evidence so far.’

  Castle laid down his knife and fork and said, ‘The Super’s taken me off the case.’

  Radcliffe’s bushy eyebrows lifted, but all he said was, ‘Who’s he putting in charge?’

  ‘DCI Lord.’ Castle hesitated for a moment before adding, ‘I imagine people will be asking themselves why.’

  Radcliffe thought for a moment and drank deeply from his tankard before replying, ‘Prominent local businesswoman… lot of influential friends… case calls for a senior investigating officer. I wouldn’t have been surprised if Mr Sladden had taken personal command.’ He set the tankard down, carefully placing it on one of the cork mats bearing the name of a local brand of ale before adding, ‘I wouldn’t think it was personal, Jim, and I hope no one else will jump to that sort of conclusion.’

  Castle had a feeling it was an oblique reference to his relationship with Sukey. Although he was pretty certain Andy had guessed how things were between them – not that he had ever made the slightest allusion to it – he liked to believe it wasn’t generally known. The two of them had always been careful to appear strictly professional during working hours and keep their private life exactly that, but one could never be sure. People weren’t slow to pick up the odd, inadvertent word or glance that might give the game away.

  Radcliffe’s next remark took him by surprise. ‘I was surprised to hear that Sukey Reynolds was back on the case – I understood you’d taken her off it,’ he said.

  ‘I did. What makes you think she’s back?’

  ‘Jackson says she was turning out of the lane to Dearley as he was on his way to the Manor to relieve me.’

  Castle frowned. ‘She wasn’t on official business, that’s for sure.’

  ‘Ah… maybe she’s got a friend living somewhere near there.’

  ‘She’s never mentioned it. Maybe Jackson was mistaken.’

  Radcliffe shrugged. ‘Possibly, but he seemed pretty sure it was her.’ He finished his drink, pushed back his empty plate, yawned and stood up. ‘I’m going home to get some sleep, it’s been quite a day,’ he said. ‘If you don’t mind my saying so, Guv, you look as if you need some as well.’ Imperceptibly, the relationship had ceased to be between old friends and become professional again.

  ‘You’re right.’ Castle pushed back his chair and stood up. The two men made their way back to the station car park without speaking, except to exchange goodnights.

  Sukey had left a message on the answering machine at Castle’s flat in the Tewkesbury Road. She sounded exhausted. ‘It’s nine forty-five and I’m off to bed, I’m bushed,’ her recorded voice informed him. ‘I’ve swapped shifts with Nigel Warren so I won’t be on till four tomorrow. Give me a call when you’ve got a moment – but not tonight.’ There was a pause before she said, in a warmer tone that made him long to be able to reach out and touch her, ‘Sleep well, Jim.’

  He glanced at his watch. Almost ten thirty; she was probably already asleep. He’d have to wait till tomorrow to find out what she had been doing in the neighbourhood of Dearley Manor earlier. Not, he reminded himself, that he had any right to question her about where she went in her free time. Their relationship hadn’t reached that stage yet. Still, it was an odd coincidence. As he told Andy, she’d never mentioned knowing anyone in that neck of the woods – apart from her ex, of course, but she’d hardly have been paying him a social visit, especially in the present circumstances.

  He reset the machine and began to get ready for bed. He felt pretty bushed himself.

  Eleven

  DI Castle slept soundly, awoke at his usual time without the aid of an alarm, showered, breakfasted and was at his desk by eight o’clock the following morning. Almost immediately, his telephone rang: DCI Philip Lord, arriving a few minutes earlier, had been greeted with the news that he was to take over the inquiry into the death at Dearley Manor.

  ‘Any idea what’s behind the switch?’ asked Lord.

  ‘Yes, but I’d rather not talk about it here,’ said Castle. ‘You’ll want a thorough briefing, of course. Why don’t I meet you there, say in an hour’s time?’

  ‘Fine.’

  Castle put down the phone, picked it up again and called Sukey’s number. It rang several times before she answered and when at last she came on the line her voice was heavy with sleep. ‘Oh, Jim,’ she said, yawning. ‘Sorry I couldn’t stay up to talk to you last night, I was out on my feet when I got home.’

  ‘I can imagine. It can’t have been much fun, having to go out again, after such a gruelling day.’ He waited, half expecting her to tell him where she had been, but all he heard was her quiet breathing. After a moment, he said, ‘I’m sorry if I woke you. Are you feeling rested?’

  ‘Yes, I’m fine, thanks.’ A series of soft grunts and a rustling sound came over the wire, as if she was shifting her position in bed. She would be sitting up, or maybe propped on one elbow, her short dark curls ruffled and her sharp features relaxed and rosy from sleep, the covers sliding from her shoulders, the pillow dented where her head had been resting. He could almost feel the warmth of her body, inhale its scent, touch her smooth flesh…

  ‘What time is it?’ she asked and the picture faded as he glanced at the clock on his office wall.

  ‘Ten past eight. I wanted a word with you, to find out how you are, and I don’t know what the score’s going to be today.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’m handing over the Dearley Manor inquiry to DCI Lord on the Super’s instructions. I have to go there to brief him and I’m not sure what time I’ll be back. It depends what the day brings, but I hope to be around when you come on duty at four.’

  ‘Right.’ There was a pause before she said, ‘I take it you had to let Mr Sladden know about us – is that why he’s taken you off the case?’

  ‘Of course. It’s in both our interests – yours and mine, I mean. You know how lawyers pounce on these things, twist them around to suit their arguments—’

  ‘Yes, we’ve already agreed on that.’

  This wasn’t getting them anywhere. He had the feeling that she was holding something back; normally, if she was out when he phoned, she would tell him where she had been without being asked. She hadn’t asked any questions about how the inquiry was progressing either, although he knew how concerned she was on Reynolds’ behalf. He was tempted to tackle her about it, but decided not to. Not now, not over the telephone, not when it might lead to misunderstandings. And he had to leave in five minutes to keep his appointment with DCI Lord. It would have to wait.

  ‘Well, take care. See you later,’ he said and rang off.

  ‘It certainly looks as if Reynolds is our man,’ said Lord, sitting back in his chair and clasping his hands behind his head. He was a short, dapper man in his fifties, stockily built with dark hair and a small moustache that gave him a slightly Chaplinesque appearance.

  ‘It does look that way,’ said Castle. ‘Sladden agrees,’ he added wryly, and the two men exchanged amused glances at this restatement of the Superintendent’s many times expressed views. They were sitting at a table in the first-floor sitting room of Dearley Rectory, a rambling Victorian mansion on the edge of the village. The incumbent, a widower who on the recent death of his wife had retreated to a small suite of rooms on the ground floor, had placed the rest of the house at the disposal of the police for use as an incident room. At the Manor, the search of the grounds was continuing, while further afield officers were pursuing house-to-house inquiries.

  ‘There doesn’t seem to have been much love lost between him and his wife,’ Lord went on, tapping the file containing Castle’s report, ‘and he had plenty of opportunity – all he had to do was wait till everyone had gone home after the party and sneak back into the house. That yarn about not having the keys sounds pretty thin to me.’

  ‘And to me,’ agreed Castle. ‘I have to say, though, he put up a very convincing show at being shocked and horrified at his wife’s death – and he stuck to his story even after the Filbury woman went for him, although he was obviously shaken. Up to then, he’d been insisting that his relationship with his wife was perfectly normal.’

  ‘All well-rehearsed, no doubt. It won’t surprise me if he offers to appear on the box, pleading for help in finding the killer while knowing bloody well he’s done it himself.’

  Castle nodded. ‘It wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened, either.’

  ‘He must have been heavily bloodstained after the attack, though no sign of the clothes so far, I see?’

  ‘No, and speaking of blood, there’s one odd feature,’ said Castle. ‘You’ve probably already noticed from the SOCOs’ reports that there was no trace of it outside the room where the killing took place, and no shoeprints. You’d expect him to have trodden some of it about, but—’

  ‘Yes, that had occurred to me. Of course, the two were husband and wife, weren’t they? Maybe he wasn’t wearing any clothes – there’s no reference to any prints of bare feet either, but he could have kept his socks on and then taken them off straight away and disposed of them. They’d be easy to hide, or simply wash out and dry before the body was discovered.’ Lord made a note on a pad. ‘I’ll have a check made in the bathroom – both up in the main house and the cottage where he’s holed up.’

  ‘They didn’t share a room,’ Castle pointed out. ‘They hadn’t for some time, according to the housekeeper and the Filbury woman.’

  ‘Nothing to stop him stripping off in his own room and sneaking along to hers,’ Lord pointed out. ‘He could have pretended he was there for a bit of the other and then—’ He made slashing movements through the air with his pen. ‘Which suggests a certain degree of premeditation. Made a thorough job of it, didn’t he?’ he went on, gesturing at the photographs lying on the table. ‘Not a nice thing for Sukey to find.’

  ‘She was pretty shaken.’

  ‘I can imagine.’ Lord sat for a moment with his mouth bunched up as if he was sucking a non-existent sweet, a habit he had when thinking. Then he said, ‘You took her off the case more or less right away. Ex-wife of the suspect, I understand?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘And you and she—?’

  ‘We do have – a relationship,’ Castle admitted. ‘We don’t want it trumpeted around, though.’

  ‘Sure, no problem. The official line is that the remaining directors of the deceased’s company have demanded a senior officer to handle the inquiry. The Super’s instructions.’

  ‘That’s decent of him. He did seem quite sympathetic – it’s nice to know he has a human side.’

  ‘Oh, he has his good points. Now, back to business. Let’s see where we are with witness statements.’ Lord picked up another file and began reading the list of contents. ‘I see Radcliffe has been to the Maxford head office and talked to the company secretary.’

  ‘Eric Dennison. That’s right,’ said Castle. ‘He already knew about the murder – Reynolds got on to him as soon as I’d finished with him. Radcliffe says he appeared very shocked, which is only natural. He expressed concern for the future of the company without Mrs Maxford’s hand at the helm, paid tribute to her business acumen and so on. He confirmed the names of the people present at the party as given by Reynolds, admitted to some disappointment at the outcome, but claimed everyone accepted their MD’s reasons for her decision and the evening ended amicably about midnight.’

  ‘What about the others – do they tell the same story?’

  ‘Radcliffe wasn’t able to see anyone else from the company yesterday – the other two directors were out so he’s going back today. And there’s the wives to see and the estate manager – Hampton – to catch up with as well, and that old lady who lives on the estate, Mrs Willow.’

  Lord nodded, still studying the list. ‘Who’s Mr Ernest Clark of Turner and Clark?’

  ‘The senior partner of Reynolds’ firm of chartered accountants. Radcliffe says he was very upset to hear of the trouble Reynolds is in. He’s a fatherly old boy who thinks highly of him, both professionally and personally. He seems to have tried to act as a kind of counsellor when the first marriage broke up – even warned Reynolds against Myrna Maxford, said he knew her by reputation as a man-eater – but Reynolds was quite besotted and refused to hear a word against her. I gather relations between the two men were pretty frosty for quite a while after the divorce.’

  ‘Has Mr Clark noticed any recent change in Reynolds’ behaviour?’

  ‘He did say that he’s shown signs of being under stress and wondered if the marriage was in trouble. He thought of tackling him about it, but decided against it… said something about “making his bed and having to lie on it”.’

  Lord put the file aside. ‘OK, I’ll go over Radcliffe’s reports in detail later. What about the housekeeper – Mrs Little?’

  ‘We took a preliminary statement about how she found the supposed break-in and then sent her home. My intention was to send a WPC round to see her today.’

 

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