Death at Dearley Manor, page 9
part #2 of Sukey Reynolds Mystery Series
‘Paul, where’s all this leading?’ Sukey interrupted.
‘Don’t you see – they think I hid them, that I was only pretending I couldn’t get into the house. I was giving myself an alibi—’
‘You mustn’t read too much into it.’ She did her best to sound reassuring. ‘Husbands and lovers are always suspect at the start of an investigation, but it doesn’t mean the police don’t look any further. ‘If you didn’t kill Myrna—’
‘I didn’t kill her! You mean, you think I could have—?’ His voice quavered and faded, the voice of a man at the end of his tether.
‘I didn’t say that, I simply meant that if you know you’re innocent you’ve nothing to worry about.’
‘How can you be so sure? People do get convicted for things they don’t do, you read about it all the time—’
‘Not very often and I’m sure it won’t happen this time, so why don’t we sit down and talk about it over some coffee? I’ve brought milk and a jar of instant, and I picked up a few other provisions on the way.’ She handed him the plastic supermarket carrier she had brought with her and he accepted it mechanically, dumbly staring as if it were some strange object. They were standing in a comfortably furnished sitting room with windows overlooking the courtyard. ‘Isn’t this cosy!’ she went on, wondering if Myrna had personally supervised the furnishings, which were of good quality and obviously chosen by someone with flair.
‘You should have seen it earlier, after your people had been through it,’ Paul said, with a grimace. ‘They didn’t find anything, of course – apart from those wretched keys – but they took my fingerprints,’ he added resentfully. He put the shopping on a chair and closed the curtains before switching on the light. She had the impression that he did not want to be seen by anyone outside, that he had been surreptitiously looking out for her.
‘That was for elimination purposes,’ she told him. ‘You live in the house where the body was found, so your prints must be all over the place.’
‘That’s what they told me.’
‘There you are, then. Now, where’s the kitchen?’
‘Through there.’ He pointed to a glazed door at the far end of the room.
‘Right. Let’s get the kettle on.’
After Paul had drunk two mugs of hot coffee and wolfed down a quantity of cheese and ham sandwiches – he had eaten nothing, having failed to locate a tin-opener for the baked beans – Sukey said, ‘Now, what’s this urgent matter that couldn’t be discussed on the phone? And please, Paul, don’t take too long over it. I know you’ve had a stressful day, but it’s been pretty gruelling for me as well. I was the one who found her, remember?’
‘Yes, of course, that must have been rotten for you. But I had to go to the mortuary and identify her,’ he pointed out, ‘and after all, she is… was… my wife.’
‘Yes, I know.’ Sukey leaned back in her chair and shut her eyes for a moment at the thought of that once lovely body, cold and still on the mortuary slab. At least, she would have been cleaned and tidied up before Paul saw her; he would not have to live with that awful scene in the bedroom. She opened her eyes again. ‘Right, what’s this about?’
Paul stared into his empty mug as if reluctant to look at her. ‘It’s a bit embarrassing,’ he mumbled, ‘but the fact is, like I told you, I stayed here last night. I left the party before it ended – I couldn’t bear being around to watch Myrna spring her nasty little surprise on everyone and have them think I was a party to her schemes.’
‘Who’s “everyone”?’
Paul began ticking names off on his fingers. ‘She’d invited three executives of Maxford Domestic Fittings and their wives, plus Ezra Hampton, Pussy Willow and Leonie Filbury, for drinks. She’d led them on to believe that it was a kind of celebration of the takeover by a big company called Headwaters – maybe you’ve heard about that?’
‘Yes, it’s been in the local paper.’
‘Well, they were all excited, talking about the goodies it would mean for them and swopping plans for spending the extra moolah.’
‘All of them? What were Ezra and the others expecting to get out of it?’
‘I’ve no idea what their expectations were, if any. Maybe they just assumed it was a social invitation. But they – especially Pussy, at any rate – were going to be affected by the change of plan, and that was why she’d invited them. She knew how upset they were going to be and she wanted to enjoy their reaction. She was a spiteful, sadistic bitch.’
He almost spat out the final words and the flash of hatred in his eyes was frightening, but Sukey managed to keep her voice cool and level as she replied, ‘So I’ve gathered. This change of plan – I take it you’re speaking of her decision to sell Dearley’s Acres?’
‘That’s right.’ Paul looked at Sukey with a strange, almost guarded expression. ‘How did you know about that?’
‘Mrs Willow told me. She was in the village shop when I went to buy a can of Coke and she had a lot of heavy shopping so I offered her a lift.’
‘What did she say?’
‘Part of the time she was babbling a lot of stuff about seeing restless spirits wandering around carrying shrouds and how there was more evil yet to come.’
‘You didn’t take any notice of that, did you? She’s been off her rocker since her husband died, poor old thing.’
‘So Ezra Hampton told me, but in between she seemed rational enough. She told me about Myrna’s plans to sell the land and she was upset, to put it mildly.’
Paul ran restless fingers through his thinning hair. ‘I don’t understand… how come you met Ezra as well? What did he—?’
‘Never mind that now.’ Sukey was beginning to feel impatient. ‘Get on with what you were saying. You stayed here last night – I assume you told the police that?’
‘Of course. Inspector Castle immediately asked if I was on my own and I said I was.’
‘And were you?’
‘Yes.’ He began fidgeting with the mug, his eyes once more avoiding hers. ‘That’s the trouble, you see. I’ve no alibi, no one to back up my story. They said Myrna was killed around two o’clock in the morning and I knew they were thinking I could easily have sneaked back to the Manor once everyone had gone home… but if someone had been with me all night and could say I’d been here until eight o’clock, when I left for the office—’ At last, he lifted his eyes and looked at her with a pleading, hang-dog expression that sickened her. ‘I couldn’t ask anyone else, you’re the only one I can trust—’
‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this!’ Sukey exploded. ‘Are you asking me to perjure myself and put my job on the line just to get you out of a hole?’ To say nothing of destroying my relationship with Jim Castle, she added mentally.
‘Please, Susan, just think about it, don’t say no straight away—’
‘I am saying no and I don’t have to think about it. Who’s going to believe it anyway? And if I spent the night here with you, how are we going to explain how I was at home having breakfast with Fergus soon after seven this morning? And don’t tell me that you expect your son to lie for you as well?’
‘We could say your car wouldn’t start, the battery was flat and I charged it up for you so that you could get away at first light.’
‘And what am I supposed to have been doing here in the first place?’
‘Everyone knows my marriage to Myrna was on the rocks – we could say I was going to ask her for a divorce, that you and I were talking about making a fresh start. I could say I didn’t tell the police at the time that you were with me because I didn’t want to compromise you.’
He leaned forward, reaching out to take her hand, but she snatched it out of his reach. ‘I’m sure they’d think that was very gallant of you,’ she said coldly. ‘Now, if that’s all you have to say to me—’
‘You won’t do it, then?’
A whining note crept into his voice. He looked abject, defeated, a shadow of the confident, handsome, talented man she had once loved. Was this what marriage to a ruthless, manipulative woman had done to him? Pity took the hard edge off her anger and she said gently, ‘No, Paul, I won’t. It wouldn’t work anyway, it’s a crazy idea.’
His sigh of despair was almost a groan. ‘I suppose so. I feel so desperate, so helpless. I know everyone will think I killed Myrna because of the way things were between us.’
‘You’re not the only one with a motive and everyone will be thoroughly investigated, I promise you.’
‘You won’t say anything to Fergus about this?’
‘Certainly not. I’d hate for him to know that his father could even think of such a half-baked idea – and speaking of Fergus,’ she went on, suddenly remembering the stricken look in the boy’s eyes as he stood with the telephone receiver in his hand, ‘he was really upset that you hung up on him like that with hardly a word. You could at least have talked to him for a couple of minutes, given him some reassurance.’
‘I didn’t mean to upset the kid. Give him my love and tell him I’m sorry… and please, tell him his father isn’t a murderer.’
‘I don’t have to say that – he believes in you completely. He still looks up to you in spite of everything and I just hope he isn’t going to be let down. My advice to you is, stop hiding in your bolt-hole like a guilty man, carry on with your job and go out and about as normally as possible. Oh, one thing more. This Leonie woman – was there a lesbian relationship with Myrna, do you think?’
Wearily, Paul shook his head. ‘I’ve no idea what went on between them when I wasn’t around. It’s obvious that Leo was besotted with Myrna, and Myrna seemed to play along with her when I was around, but that could just have been to get up my nose.’
‘I see. Well, one way or the other, there would seem to be plenty of people who won’t be sorry Myrna’s out of the way.’ Sukey stood up and went over to the door. ‘I’m going home now, I need some sleep and so do you. There’s no need to come down, I can see myself out.’
It was nearly nine o’clock, her head ached, she was almost dropping with fatigue and her one thought was to get indoors, have a bath and crawl into bed. Fergus would be waiting, anxious to hear what was happening. She would have to think up some story to satisfy him, but for the moment she had to concentrate on her driving, on reaching home safely. She backed the car slowly across the courtyard and turned out into the lane, where a man out walking his dog stood on the verge to let her pass. The drive back to the junction took longer than she expected, but she reached it at last, thankful that she had not had to cope with the added stress of manoeuvring past another vehicle in the narrow lane, and sat waiting until it was clear for her to turn onto the main road. There was no traffic approaching from the left; to the right, a single car began to signal and slow down, preparing to turn towards Dearley. She was momentarily caught in its headlights as she pulled out and headed for home.
The minute Sukey’s car was out of sight, Paul put on a dark jacket and rubber-soled shoes, found a torch and left the flat. As he closed the door softly behind him, he lingered for a moment in the shadows to make sure there was no one about, that he could slip unobserved out of the courtyard and into the darkness of the lane. All was quiet; nothing stirred. In the cottages, lights glowed through curtained windows. He imagined the occupants, relaxing after a day of fine weather, probably congratulating themselves on having chosen such a good week for their late summer break in the country. He wondered if any of them knew of the drama that had occurred so close to their idyllic rural retreat. It was possible they had not; many people preferred to detach themselves from everyday affairs while they were on vacation and they might not have seen a newspaper or bothered to turn on the radio or watch the television news. In either event, it was unlikely that they knew who he was or that he was the chief suspect in a murder inquiry. Still, he preferred not to come face to face with any of them.
His mind slipped back to carefree holidays with Susan and Fergus, before he met Myrna and fell under her destructive spell. A wave of anger was building up inside him, as much at the thought of what he had thrown away as for the disillusionment and humiliation he had – after the first euphoric months of their marriage – endured at her hands. He had no regrets over her death, only that he had let her get away with making his life a misery for so long. She was an evil bitch and she’d got what she deserved. But he was still not free of her malign influence; in death even more than in life she cast a blight over his future, taunting him with the prospect of arrest and imprisonment.
Satisfied there was no one about, he walked along the lane until he came to a stile, climbed over and followed the public footpath running along the edge of a patch of woodland towards the village. A short distance further on, he came to another stile where a second path led through the wood towards Dearley’s Acres Lane.
The moon was up and almost full. The trees cast black shadows across a landscape bleached to a pale silvery grey. After the warmth of the day, the temperature had dropped sharply and Paul turned up his collar before clambering over the stile. As he landed on the other side his foot slipped on a stone and he almost fell. Trembling, he stopped for a moment to steady himself before plunging onward. The dense foliage overhead almost blacked out the moon; he listened, holding his breath, before switching on the torch. The heavy metal case felt suddenly icy cold in his hand and he fumbled in his pocket for a pair of gloves, holding the torch under one arm while he put them on.
He had never before walked in the woods at night and only seldom in daylight. The air seemed to be full of strange stirrings and rustlings; he had an uneasy sensation of being observed by invisible, hostile creatures. He was tempted to turn back; he began trying to convince himself that there was no need for this, that it was unlikely that old Pussy Willow had really seen anything, that even if she had, no one would believe her. But he had to be sure. A man in his situation couldn’t afford to leave anything to chance.
Ten
After the forensic pathologist had examined Myrna’s body and authorised its removal to the morgue, Castle organised the setting up of an incident room, ordered an intensive search of the house and grounds and gave instructions for the preliminary interviewing of witnesses. In the midst of the activity, the media – having somehow got wind of the murder – turned up in force and pressed for a statement, which he delivered on the front steps of the Manor to waving microphones and clicking cameras. At about six o’clock he left DS Radcliffe in charge of operations on the ground and returned to headquarters to make his initial report, physically and mentally drained and conscious that he had eaten nothing all day but a sandwich from a pub in the village.
A police cadet brought him a cup of coffee and a ham roll from the canteen. He had just taken the first bite when he received a telephone call to say that he was wanted in the Superintendent’s office. ‘Immediately,’ the secretary added, prompted by an impatient voice in the background. Muttering under his breath, he swallowed a mouthful of coffee, covered the cup with a saucer and wrapped the remains of the roll in a paper tissue before obeying the summons.
Superintendent Sladden was a portly man with a high, balding crown, plump white hands and a well-fed appearance that made Castle more than ever conscious of his own neglected stomach. He appeared to be in a benevolent mood; he gave a gracious smile and waved his Inspector to a chair.
‘Right, Jim, tell me all about the Dearley Manor killing. It sounds nasty,’ he added with a certain relish.
‘Nasty is the word, sir.’ Castle quickly outlined the circumstances of the discovery of Myrna’s body, the cause of death and the action taken so far. The Superintendent listened intently until the end of the formal report, then sat without speaking for several moments as if digesting what he had just heard, never taking his eyes from Castle’s face. At last he said, ‘Something else you want to tell me, I think?’
‘Er, yes there is, sir. I’m glad to have this opportunity of speaking to you about it personally, because I have a bit of a problem with this one.’
‘I rather thought as much. I hear from Sergeant Barnes that it was one of his SOCOs who found the body and that you’ve taken her off the case. He didn’t seem to know why.’
‘She happens to be the ex-wife of the victim’s husband and it seemed advisable in the circumstances—’
‘Absolutely,’ the Superintendent interposed. He showed no surprise, merely reinforcing his approval with a grave nod. ‘You did exactly the right thing. Is that all?’
‘No, sir. It isn’t generally known, or at least, I hope it isn’t, that Sukey – Mrs Reynolds – and I are, well—’ Castle found himself floundering like an embarrassed schoolboy.
‘An item?’
Castle looked at his senior officer in surprise, partly at hearing such a colloquial expression from a man not noted for his informality and partly at the unfamiliar twinkle in the prominent eyes.
‘Yes, in a manner of speaking,’ he admitted. ‘It’s early days yet, but if things turn out the way I, that is, we hope—’
‘I see. Well, I’m sure you understand that I’ll have to assign another officer to the case from now on?’
‘Naturally, sir – it’s what I expected you to say. There mustn’t be any suggestion of personal involvement on anyone’s part in a case like this.’
‘Quite so. We can’t be too careful.’ Sladden resumed his normal air of ponderous gravity. ‘We bring what looks like a watertight case to court, defence counsel gets wind of the fact that some of the evidence has been collected by someone who might have an axe to grind and before we know where we are it all goes pear-shaped and the jury acquits another villain.’
‘Exactly, sir.’
‘From what you’ve told me, I think we can be reasonably sure the husband’s the killer; it usually is in these cases,’ Sladden went on. It was a favourite theme of his: in ninety per cent of murders, the partner turns out to be the guilty party. His satisfaction when he was proved correct, especially when expensive police time had been spent examining strong but ultimately misleading evidence to the contrary, could be almost insufferable.
