‘And you’re telling me all this now because—?’

  ‘I’ve been thinking, if the other directors did have some sort of guilty secret, it would give Myrna a hold over them and might explain why they didn’t raise any serious objections to the takeover bid being dropped.’

  ‘You’re suggesting she might have been blackmailing them?’

  ‘Not for money – she was a very wealthy woman – but she might have enjoyed wielding power over them. She wasn’t a particularly nice person.’ For a moment, remembering all the grief that Myrna had caused her, Sukey forgot who she was speaking to.

  ‘We can’t allow personal feelings to cloud our judgement,’ Lord said. His expression was stern, but his tone was surprisingly gentle.

  ‘No, sir. I’m sorry if I’ve wasted your time, but I’ve thought about all this quite a lot and it seemed worth mentioning.’

  ‘You certainly haven’t wasted my time. As it happens, we’re already working on the assumption that there are matters the Maxford directors would prefer not to discuss, and this would appear to confirm it. So, if you should stumble on any other nuggets of information, I’d like you to pass them on to me straight away.’ His eyes searched hers. ‘Is there anything else?’

  Sukey hesitated. Before dropping off to sleep the previous night, she had spent some time figuring out a way of putting the police on to Doug Brown of Glevum Investigations without revealing that she knew of the intimate nature of his relationship with Myrna Maxford. What she had decided on involved a certain economy with the truth; the weak link was the fact that Leonie Filbury had heard the taped message, but on balance Sukey felt it was unlikely that she would say anything that might blacken Myrna’s memory. It was a risk that had to be taken.

  ‘Well?’ Lord prompted with a hint of impatience.

  ‘There is one other thing, sir, although it might not have any bearing at all on the case. My son wanted some books and computer disks he’d left at the Manor, so we went along yesterday afternoon to see if it would be OK for him to pick them up. The guard had been taken off the house and Fergus had a key to the back door that his father gave him some time ago, so there didn’t seem any reason why we shouldn’t go in.’ She waited for a moment, half expecting some word of reproof, but Lord merely waited for her to continue.

  ‘We went up to his room and picked up the things. While we were there, we heard the phone in Mrs Maxford’s office. It stopped after a minute or so, but it occurred to me that no one who knew about her death would be ringing her private number and I thought it might be useful to know who the caller was, so I went along and checked.’ She took a slip of paper from her pocket and handed it to Lord. ‘That’s the caller’s number.’

  ‘Quite the detective, aren’t you?’ Lord commented as he took the paper and put it under a glass paperweight on his desk. ‘As you say, it might be completely irrelevant to our inquiries, but I’ll certainly have someone check it out. Any more titbits?’

  ‘No sir, and I hope you don’t think… I mean, DI Castle warned me not to go poking my nose in—’

  ‘Ah yes, he mentioned he’d had a word with you about your, shall we say, rather too proactive role in the discovery of old Mrs Willow’s body.’

  Sukey gave a rueful smile. ‘He was pretty miffed about that.’

  ‘And things haven’t been so good between you since, have they?’

  ‘Sir?’

  Lord picked up the paperweight and began fiddling with it. His official manner had suddenly deserted him and he seemed almost embarrassed. He cleared his throat and said, ‘Look, maybe I’m the one who’s poking my nose in this time, but Jim Castle and I had a drink yesterday evening and I found he’s still very interested in the Maxford case. Not just from a professional point of view but, to put it bluntly—’ Lord coughed again, and rather than look Sukey in the eye he began a close examination of the paperweight as if fascinated by the floral design embedded in the glass. ‘I believe he’s worried about the concern you’ve been showing for your ex-husband,’ he said after a further moment of hesitation. ‘Thinks perhaps the old flame may not have completely died out.’

  Sukey stared at him with her mouth open. DCI Lord had in the past seemed to her a remote and, despite his faintly comic appearance, slightly forbidding figure, yet here he was adopting an almost pastoral attitude towards one of his inspectors and a lowly SOCO.

  ‘I’m not trying to pry, just thought you should know how Castle seems to be looking at things,’ Lord went on. ‘I don’t like seeing any of my officers under pressure. No offence intended.’

  ‘None taken, sir. In fact, my son Fergus said something to that effect only a day or so ago. He’s been frantic with worry about his father and it’s partly because he’s been leaning on me so hard that I’ve taken a particular interest in the case. Jim – DI Castle – and I had a bit of a spat because I insisted that Paul was incapable of committing such a vicious murder, and since then… maybe I put the point a little too forcefully, but it seemed to me that he – you – that is—’ Sukey broke off, feeling her cheeks grow hot at the realisation that she was in effect criticising a senior officer’s conduct of an inquiry.

  If Lord was offended, he gave no sign. In fact, Sukey was almost sure there was a hint of a smile lurking beneath the absurd moustache, although his tone was neutral as he observed, ‘You think we’ve all been chasing a decoy duck while the real killer was sitting pretty somewhere else? Well, I hope I’ve reassured you on that point. And bear in mind what I’ve said about – that other matter.’

  ‘Thank you, sir, I will.’

  He put down the paperweight and reached for the telephone. Taking the action as a sign of dismissal, Sukey left the room and headed for the SOCOs office with her brain in a state of confusion which was not improved at the sight of DI Jim Castle standing beside George Barnes’ desk.

  ‘You’re late,’ said Barnes as she entered. ‘Sorry, Sarge, I was with DCI Lord.’

  ‘The hell you were! What was that about?’

  ‘I learned something on the grapevine that I thought might be relevant to the Maxford murder case.’ Out of the corner of her eye she saw Castle stiffen and turn his head in her direction, and she took an impish glee in adding, ‘Mr Lord was very interested in what I told him and asked me to be sure to pass on anything else I happened to pick up that might be relevant.’

  ‘Well, bully for you. Now perhaps you’d like to do some real work?’ George handed Sukey a sheaf of computer print-outs. ‘Ted’s taken an RTA and a burglary at a riding stable and left you with a break-in on the Industrial Estate and a couple of burglaries in Brockworth.’

  ‘That’s handy, I can pop home for lunch.’

  ‘Make sure you keep your mobile switched on so I can reach you. Remember, we’re a body short today.’ The sergeant picked up a file and made for the door. ‘I’ll be back in five minutes if anyone wants me.’

  ‘OK, Sarge.’ Sukey sat down at her desk and began studying the details on the print-outs, aware that Castle’s eyes were on her. He went over to the door, made sure it was closed, came back and stood in front of her.

  ‘I tried to call you yesterday, but you were out,’ he said.

  ‘Really?’ In an effort to hide the sudden glow in her cheeks, she dived to extract her notebook from her bag that lay on the floor beside her. ‘You didn’t leave a message.’

  ‘It didn’t seem appropriate. I wanted to talk to you personally.’

  ‘I thought you didn’t want any personal contact until the Maxford case is closed,’ she said, making scribbled notes and hoping he couldn’t read upside down because what she was writing made no sense.

  ‘I admit I was a bit over-officious,’ he said. There was a slightly awkward pause before he went on, ‘No doubt you’ve heard that Paul Reynolds has been released without charge.’

  ‘Yes. Is that why you were phoning – to tell me?’

  ‘Among other things, but on second thoughts, I imagined you already knew. I mean, I guess he phoned you himself to tell you.’

  ‘As it happens, he didn’t.’ Which isn’t surprising in view of what was said at our last meeting, she thought. Aloud she added, ‘Fergus heard it on the radio.’

  ‘You must be thrilled.’

  ‘Fergus certainly is, and naturally I’m very relieved for his sake. I didn’t have the heart to tell him it doesn’t mean his father’s in the clear.’

  ‘But I take it you still believe he’s innocent?’

  ‘Of killing Myrna, yes. There are plenty of other things I could charge him with, but they’re hardly indictable offences.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Meaning, that as far as I’m concerned, Paul Reynolds is a complete tosser and the only good thing that came out of my relationship with him is Fergus.’ Sukey shoved her notebook back in the bag and stood up. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d better be on my way. If I’m still here when George Barnes gets back he’ll kill me.’

  ‘I’ll call you this evening,’ he said, with a smile that warmed her heart.

  She smiled back at him. ‘Please do.’

  Nineteen

  The proprietor of Brockworth Agricultural Supplies was a small, wizened individual wearing half-glasses on the end of a reddened, beaky nose. When Sukey arrived, a uniformed constable was patiently trying to curb his querulous complaints about the length of time it had taken the police to attend the break-in and extract from him a list of missing items. A second officer was examining the door, which had been smashed open and lay in a heap of bent metal and broken glass around the entrance.

  ‘Ram-raid,’ said Sukey, surveying the damage.

  ‘Looks like it.’ The officer glanced over his shoulder at the racks of steel shelving behind him. ‘Only certain items missing, according to Whining Willie over there,’ he added, lowering his voice. ‘They knew exactly what they were after: lightweight machinery mostly, chainsaws, strimmers, that sort of thing. And some special protective overalls he’s particularly exercised about. Imported, exclusive new line, worth a lot of money, so he says.’

  ‘Maybe the villains wanted them for some future jobs,’ Sukey commented with a grin as she set down her bag and began examining the debris on the ground. ‘Looks as if the vehicle had an oil leak,’ she added, squatting on her haunches to take a closer look. ‘It was probably fitted with bull bars – with a bit of luck I might find some traces of paint on the remains of the frame. Not that it’d help much, it was probably nicked anyway.’

  ‘Probably. OK, I’ll leave you to it.’

  The officer rejoined his companion, who was putting away his notebook and preparing to leave. ‘We’ll circulate descriptions of all these items,’ he assured the disgruntled proprietor. ‘The missing machinery is easily identifiable, it’s a pity you can’t give us a better description of the protective overalls.’

  ‘I told you, they’re a brand-new line, I only ordered a few to start with because they’re quite pricey, but they went well so I ordered more. They’re easy to recognise, they’ve got a special logo on the front – a sort of spider-shaped thing, blue, I think, or was it green—?’

  ‘Yes, sir, I’ve got that noted, but it would help if you had a sample to show us.’

  ‘I’m afraid the thieves didn’t have the consideration to leave you one,’ the man said waspishly.

  ‘Do you happen to remember who you sold the other ones to?’ said the constable in a flash of inspiration. ‘Maybe one of your customers would allow our Scene of Crime Examiner to photograph the logo.’

  ‘I’ll have to look up my records.’ The man appeared to be partially mollified at the suggestion.

  ‘Right, sir. Let us know if you think of anything else. We’ll keep you informed, of course.’

  The officers departed and the proprietor came over to where Sukey was transferring fragments of broken glass into plastic envelopes. ‘You reckon that’ll help you catch them?’ he asked cynically.

  ‘You never know.’ She stood up and went over to the denuded shelves. ‘How many people work here?’ she asked as she prepared to dust them for fingerprints.

  ‘Just me and my assistant. He won’t be in until later, he’s gone to the dentist. You’re wasting your time there, I reckon,’ he added, moving closer to watch what she was doing. His breath was unpleasant. ‘They’re sure to have worn gloves.’

  ‘Probably, but we have to try. We’ll get you both to let us take your prints for elimination purposes. Now, what about that list the officer asked you to prepare?’

  ‘Ah yes, I’d forgotten.’ To her relief, he withdrew behind a glass partition and sat down at a desk. He came out with a scrap of paper in his hand as she was repacking her bag. ‘I’ve jotted down a few names, but I can’t remember them all; some were cash sales, you see,’ he explained.

  ‘That’ll do to go on with. All we need is one purchaser to agree to let us take a photo of the logo.’

  ‘Going so soon?’ His manner had subtly changed; he was breathing more heavily and there was an unmistakable gleam in his beady eyes. He moved closer to give her the paper. ‘Can I make you a coffee? I could use one myself.’

  ‘That’s very kind of you, but I have to get to my next job,’ she said briskly, picking up her bag. She took the paper and stuffed it into her pocket without looking at it.

  Without warning, he reached out and grabbed her by the wrist. ‘You’ve not taken my fingerprints yet.’ His voice had a nasal whine; his hand was calloused and none too clean.

  Sukey yanked herself free. ‘If you wouldn’t mind calling at the station they’ll do it there – and your assistant too, of course,’ she added and made her escape.

  ‘Dirty old bugger,’ she muttered as she drove to her next assignment. It was not until she had dealt with the burglaries George Barnes had given her and was in her own kitchen preparing a cup of coffee to drink with her lunchtime sandwich that she remembered the list of purchasers of the special protective overalls. Of the half-dozen names and addresses scrawled on the grubby sheet of paper, one was especially familiar: Ezra Hampton of Dearley Manor Estates.

  At about the time Sukey was warding off unwelcome advances, Detective Sergeant Andy Radcliffe was being shown into the Barton Street office of ex-DS Douglas Brown, formerly of Gloucester CID and now offering his services as a private investigator under the style Glevum Investigations. A flamboyant character with a slightly gypsyish appearance and a much-enjoyed reputation as a ladies’ man, Brown had left the Force some five years previously under a vague cloud; the precise circumstances were never made public, but it was generally accepted that a woman was involved and that he had been lucky to be allowed to resign rather than be dismissed. Despite his dubious reputation, he had been popular with most of his colleagues and kept in touch with one or two of them who occasionally fed him with scraps of information. This time, the boot was on the other foot.

  ‘So, Andy, how can I help you?’ he asked. He offered Radcliffe a cigarette, which the older man declined, lit one himself and leaned back in his chair.

  ‘It’s about the Maxford murder,’ said Radcliffe.

  Brown composed his swarthy features into a momentarily sorrowful expression. ‘Yeah, dreadful business that. I was in the States at the time, chasing a runaway husband for one of my rich lady clients – only found out about it when I read last night’s Gazette. Came as quite a shock, I can tell you.’

  ‘I’m sure it did.’ Radcliffe’s tone was neutral, but Brown shot him a keen look as if suspecting a hint of sarcasm. ‘I believe you called her private telephone number at approximately five thirty yesterday.’

  ‘That’s right. Had no idea then that she’d been topped. Left a rather hot message on her answering machine.’ Brown gave a suggestive wink. ‘Guess your lads enjoyed listening to that.’

  ‘I’m not aware that anyone listened to it,’ said Radcliffe stiffly. ‘Our informant happened to be in the house at the time, heard the phone ringing and went later to check on the caller. What I’m here to find out is whether you did any professional work for her, or learned anything during your dealings with her that might help us catch her killer.’

  ‘Can I take it you’ve eliminated the husband?’

  ‘He’s been released pending further inquiries, but we haven’t written him out of the frame as yet. Now, if you wouldn’t mind answering my question—’

  ‘Not at all. To tell you the truth, I’m not surprised Myrna got her comeuppance. She was a gorgeous woman, great in the sack – but an out and out bitch; loved manipulating people, watching them squirm.’

  ‘She told you this?’

  ‘Not directly. Just the odd remark now and again that gave a clue to her motives, particularly her motive in employing my services.’

  ‘Which was?’

  ‘She wanted dirt on one of her directors. She already had some, but she suspected there was more.’

  ‘What sort of dirt?’

  ‘Run-of-the-mill stuff, really. She knew he’d been carrying on with some floozie for several years and she used that to keep him in his place. Then she got the idea that he had more than one iron in the fire—’

  ‘You mean he was cheating on the mistress as well?’

  ‘That’s what Myrna thought.’

  ‘And was he?’

  ‘Oh, yeah – and the new bird turned out to be a right little fire-eater who’d have cut off his balls if she knew about the first one.’ Brown gave a wheezy laugh and stubbed out his cigarette. ‘She’s prepared to accept that he’s got a wife and kid, but she’d never go along with being part of a harem. Myrna enjoyed that.’

  ‘Would you be talking about Bradley Ashton, by any chance?’

  Brown’s heavy black brows lifted in surprise. ‘That’s right. How’d you know?’

  ‘Our information suggests that the wife knew about the first affair, had suspected all along, but had her own reasons for keeping quiet.’

  ‘Well, bugger me!’ Another wheezy laugh ended in a fit of coughing which lasted several seconds. When he recovered, Brown said reflectively, ‘Maybe Myrna had tumbled to that, or suspected it. Maybe that’s why she needed extra dirt on him… to keep him well and truly screwed down.’ He fiddled with the cigarette packet for a few seconds, took out another and lit it before saying, ‘Mind you, I have a feeling that all this was chicken-feed compared to what she had on the others.’

 

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