“You don’t hold back, do you Dilys?” Matt said, grinning appreciatively.
She shrugged. “No point, don’t you think? I thought he was going to burst a blood vessel, but Chloe intervened, did the softly, softly business – she’s bloody good at that. Apologised for our having to ask personal questions but said that we were dealing with murder here and asked him if he didn’t agree that it was important to find Caradoc Mansell’s killer.”
“Nice.”
“Anyway, the outcome is he admitted that he and Delma had had a relationship, but he told us it ended months ago and there is no way she could have got the tranquiliser from him. We couldn’t budge him on that. But at least we can use this when we go back to interview Delma Mansell.”
“Absolutely, but I don’t think we can challenge her on that today, not at the same time as giving her the news about her brother.”
“Maybe not,” said Dilys, sounding disappointed.
“Dilys!”
“Okay, okay, sir, I’ll behave.”
Chapter 15
Once again, Matt and Dilys drove along the gloomy road that dipped steeply down between high banks of greenery, dark beneath the reaching branches of the trees. Matt had to slow down as they came up behind a pheasant strutting along the middle of the road. It seemed unaware that it was in danger and continued to trot along until Matt sounded his horn.
They arrived at the gateway with the looming dragons. There was no escape now from the task ahead. Matt drove up the driveway and parked beside the two cars he’d seen there before: the ancient Range Rover and the equally decrepit Volvo estate.
“At least the cars mean they might be at home.” He got out and took a deep breath. “Right. Here we go.”
She glanced up at him. Sometimes she thought he was just too sensitive.
It was Mrs Giordano that opened the door. “Oh, it’s you again,” she said. “Who do you want this time?” With a bad grace, she stepped aside and let them into the hall.
“We’d like to speak to Mrs Mansell, please,” Matt said, “and if Mr Mansell is here, perhaps we could see them both.”
“What’s it about?”
“I think it’s best we speak directly to them,” he insisted.
For a moment he thought she was going to argue, but a moment later she said, “Wait here, I’ll fetch them.” She disappeared behind the sweep of stairs and towards the back of the house.
Matt wandered about the hall while they waited, his hands clasped behind his back as he looked up at the dark paintings hanging on the walls. Dilys stood by the fireplace and waited in silence. After about ten minutes, they heard footsteps approaching and turned to see both the Mansells come into the hall, followed by Mrs Giordano.
“Good morning, again, Chief Inspector,” Rodric Mansell said coolly. “How can we help you?” The words were courteous, but the tone wasn’t. His wife just glared at them.
“I’m afraid I have some bad news.”
They all reacted in slightly different ways.
Delma Mansell looked frightened and said, “Oh no. What is it now?”
Her husband frowned and muttered, “When is this going to end?”
And Mrs Giordano took charge, as was her wont. “Why don’t you take them through to the sitting room, Rodi, rather than standing around in the hall,” she said.
He glanced at her then nodded. “This way,” he said to Matt and Dilys and then marched off. They were followed swiftly by the two women.
The large room was cold and little warmth came from the sluggish fire in the enormous grate. Matt wondered why they bothered to light it.
Matt cleared his throat and looked at Delma Mansell. “Mrs Mansell, I’m afraid your brother was involved in a road traffic accident this morning.”
“Where? What happened? Is he alright?”
“No, I’m very sorry to say that he is not. He died at the scene.”
For a moment there was silence in the room, only broken by a gasp from Mrs Giordano and the sound of a log settling in the fireplace. The silence dragged out until suddenly Delma whispered, “I don’t believe you.”
“Delma,” Rodric said, and put his arm round his wife. “I’m sure the chief inspector has no reason to make this up. Come, sit down.”
But she shook him off. “How did it happen?”
“A witness has told us that his car was being driven erratically, then it veered across from the fast lane to the middle one just behind a lorry. We’ll be going over the wreckage carefully in case there was something wrong with the vehicle,” Matt said.
Delma said no more but stood staring at them, her eyes wide in her pale face, almost as if she was in a trance. There was no sign of tears.
“There will obviously be a post-mortem,” Matt went on, watching them carefully as he spoke. “We took some blood tests and they show he’d taken a large dose of sleeping pills which, together with alcohol, could have had a profound effect on his driving.”
“But that’s ridiculous, Mike never would have taken something like that,” she protested. “It must have been his car. He took it to the garage only last week.”
For the first time since they’d arrived, Rhiannon Giordano intervened. “That’s true. I remember him saying he thought there was a problem with the brakes.”
“I’m sure our accident investigation team will be able to check on that. In the meantime, could we have a look at his room? Perhaps he did have some sleeping tablets in his possession.”
“Is that really necessary?” Rodric Mansell asked, glancing anxiously at his wife.
“I’m afraid so, sir.”
“Oh, very well, Nonna, would you–?”
“Of course.” She went to the door and stood waiting for Matt and Dilys to follow her, then preceded them up the stairs. As she went, she said quietly, “This is yet another tragedy for us to cope with, but I’m afraid it doesn’t surprise me – Mike was a very reckless driver. I’m sure you’ll find that was the cause of the accident.”
“But that doesn’t explain the drug, does it?” Matt said.
“I suppose not, but it wouldn’t entirely surprise me if he was taking drugs. He had some very dubious associates.” She said no more, simply opened the door of a room on the landing and closed it behind them.
Matt and Dilys found nothing different to what had been found in the search made of the room a few days before, until they opened a drawer in the bedside table. Here they found a packet marked Alodorm; there was one tablet left in the blister pack.
“Were these missed in the first search or have they been put there since?” Matt asked.
“I don’t know,” Dilys said. “I’ll check.”
Matt put the packet into an evidence bag and fifteen minutes later they decided to call it a day and went back downstairs, to be greeted in the hall by Rodric Mansell.
“It will be necessary for a member of the family to identify the body,” Matt told him. “It’s a formality but it has to be done. Would your wife–?”
“No, no,” Mansell said. “I’ll do that.”
“Thank you. I’ll let you know when, sir. We’ll send a car for you.”
Mansell nodded and said, “If you wouldn’t mind, I think you should leave us now.”
“Very well, but I’m afraid this cannot influence our investigation into your father’s death. We will have to continue with the interviews and searches we still have to do. Perhaps you could both make yourself available tomorrow?”
There was a blaze of anger in Mansell’s eyes, but he masked it quickly. “I’m sure we all understand that you have to continue with your investigations. Obviously, we won’t stand in your way. I’ll see you out.”
* * *
Early on Thursday morning, Chloe Daniels knocked on the door of Matt’s office.
“Sir? Have you got a minute?”
“Sure, how’re the team getting on with the inventory?”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I think we’ve got a pretty g
ood idea of what’s missing now, although this one doesn’t include any jewellery. We haven’t found one for that yet.”
“We’ll have to ask Rodric Mansell. Is this one dated? Sod it, I should have checked that, but I didn’t.”
Chloe glanced at him. “Yes, it is,” she said, “it was up-dated at the end of last year, probably something to do with a change to the insurance premiums.”
“I expect you’re right. So, what’s missing?”
She handed over a piece of paper containing a neatly typed list. “I thought I’d print it out in hard copy, Dilys says you prefer that.”
“She’s right, I do. Must be something to do with my age.”
“I doubt it,” Chloe blurted out. Matt raised an eyebrow at her, and a blush rose under her dark skin. “And this one,” she said hastily, “is a copy of the insurance company’s inventory.”
He pulled the two lists towards him and ran a finger down one and then the other. “All of this is easily disposed of, small pieces, nothing overly valuable, although it looks as if these two silver bowls could fetch a pretty penny at auction, I think they’re under-valued by the insurance company. My father used to collect silver, so I know a bit about it. Have you checked their present value online?”
“I had a look on a couple of auction house websites and on e-bay,” Chloe said. “I think they could fetch about a thousand each, but probably not that much if they were being sold to a fence.”
“Yes, I think you’re right.”
There was silence for a moment while Matt went on studying the lists, then he looked up, his finger resting on one point. “This painting, it says it’s a Huw Wystan Jones; that’s a whole different ball game. Fabia Havard mentioned him the other day and I did a bit of research. You see here, on their inventory they’ve got one marked as being in the study, and they also have one of his listed for what’s called the small sitting room. But that’s not on our inventory. All we’ve got for that room at the back is a couple of paintings of bowls of fruit and dead pheasants – ghastly things. I suppose whoever took it away thought the family wouldn’t notice since it was stashed away in a room that’s hardly used.”
“Could be.”
“Well, that’s very useful, Chloe, thank you. Could you ask Dilys to come in?”
“Will do, sir.”
Dilys appeared five minutes later. “You know we found those sleeping tablets in Mike Cotter’s room yesterday?” she asked before Matt could say anything.
“Yes.”
“Well, there’s no record of them being there in the first search; interesting, don’t you think?”
“It could mean nothing, maybe someone just put them back there having borrowed them or something.”
“I don’t know, sir, seems odd to me.”
“I see what you mean. Anyway, have a look at this list of stuff missing from the Abbey. Chloe and her team have done a damn good job. We definitely need to go through this with the Mansells, particularly Delma, but before that I want to follow up on this phone call from the neighbour, Marsden. What exactly did he say?”
“Dave took the call, let me give him a shout.” She left his office but came back a moment later, followed by Dave Parry.
“Ted Marsden, Dave, what was he after?” Matt asked.
“He’d heard that foul play, as he put it, was involved in Caradoc Mansell’s death and believes he has some information that might help our enquiries. When I asked what that information was, he said he wasn’t about to give any details over the phone. He asked for you by name. I think he’s one of those that prefers to talk to the organ grinder and not the monkey.”
“I don’t know, you don’t look much like a monkey to me.”
“Thank you, sir,” Dave said with a grin. “Anyway, he wants you to go and see him at Manor Farm. An authoritative bloke, he sounded like. I got the impression he’s used to having his commands obeyed without question.”
“I think he’s ex-army, that’s probably why,” said Dilys, “I checked on his regiment. It was the Royal Corps of Transport, at least, that’s what it was called back in the day. They were in charge of getting people and materials from place to place, supplies and all that – not what one would call glamorous.”
“Ah, not exactly the Welsh Guards,” Matt said, grinning. “That was probably another source of friction between him and Caradoc Mansell, I bet there was a bit of snobbery involved. Thanks, Dave.”
Matt turned back to Dilys. “Ready?”
“Yes, but before we get going,” Dilys said, “I thought you ought to know the tech blokes have turned up some interesting points already.”
“Have they now? What, specifically?”
“Let me go and get my laptop.”
She was back within seconds. Not one to waste time, our Dilys, Matt thought.
Pulling up a chair beside Matt, Dilys put the laptop on the desk. “Right,” she said, “this bit here, not specifically technical information, but relevant. The keyboard from the computer in Caradoc Mansell’s study, it’s been wiped clean, not a trace of a fingerprint anywhere; same with the screen and the computer case itself.”
“Could that just be someone being conscientious about the dusting?”
“I wouldn’t have thought so. All the others have plenty of evidence of who’s been using them, and when I was in that study, I noticed how dusty the room was.”
Matt smiled – cleanliness was something Dilys was always aware of.
Dilys glanced at him, gave a rueful smile, “I hate dust and dirt, that’s all. It looked as if the place hadn’t been cleaned for days. It was only the computer that’d been given the treatment, which I find odd.”
“So do I. Anything else?”
“Yes,” said Dilys. “There are several e-mails back and forth between Caradoc Mansell and Anjali Kishtoo, they go back quite a few months. Aidan Rogers says Mansell didn’t use a password. It was just a case of turn it on and straight in, so anyone could have accessed his e-mails. What’s more, the pin number for his iPad and mobile are about as obvious as they could be: just his date of birth in digits.”
“So, anyone the least bit computer literate could work it out.”
“Exactly.”
“Anything else from the other devices, laptops, phones?” Matt asked.
“They’re still working on them, although they do have some stuff on this one here,” she scrolled to a particular section. “Whoever uses this laptop is pretty savvy when it comes to the net, some complex searches here, which is interesting.”
“Whose is it?”
She told him.
Matt frowned. “Not what I would have expected. Ask them to go into more detail on that one, and on the mobile phone that goes with it.”
“Will do.” She closed the laptop and got up. “Ready, sir?”
“Yup. Let’s get going.”
* * *
Manor Farm was a neat building, much more recent and a good deal tidier than White Monk Abbey. The house, whitewashed and square, had a front door flanked by two windows either side on the ground floor and five lined up above. It stood at right angles to other farm buildings, which were all in good repair. Immediately in front of the house neat flower beds contained rose bushes, still with the occasional bloom struggling against the approach of winter.
Dilys parked the car and she and Matt approached the glossy green front door and rang the bell. It was answered almost immediately by a short, well-built man in his late sixties. His greying hair was neatly cropped, and he was wearing a checked shirt, blazer, corduroy trousers and a cravat at his neck. At his side stood a black Labrador with a greying muzzle. His voice, when he spoke, was that of a lifelong smoker, deep and gravelly, and showed no trace of a Welsh accent.
“Chief Inspector Lambert? Thank you for responding to my request for a meeting. Please come in.”
“Thank you. This is Detective Sergeant Bevan,” Matt said, indicating Dilys as they followed him into the hall. Marsden gave Dilys a curt nod, but then t
urned back to Matt.
“A sad business, old Caradoc dying like that. Anything I can do to help, I will.”
He strode ahead of them, followed by the dog, its claws clicking on the tiled floor, and they went into a room at the back of the house. It looked comfortable enough, although rather sparsely furnished, with dark panelling and leather armchairs. French windows looked out on to a formal lawn with neat flower beds and, beyond that, the hills rose into the distance. The room smelt of furniture polish and tobacco smoke.
“Have a seat,” Marsden said, waving a hand at two armchairs.
He sat down opposite them, and the dog settled itself at his feet. Leaning forward, he put his hands on his knees. There was a sense of suppressed energy about the man and Matt got the impression that, any moment now, he’d leap up and start to pace about the room.
“When you phoned, sir, you told one of my team that you’d heard Caradoc Mansell’s death was down to, er, foul play, have I got that right?”
“You have.”
“Who did you hear it from?”
“My gamekeeper. He was in the Mynach Arms and heard some talk, came and told me.”
“I see. Well, he was right. We’ve now confirmed that we’re dealing with murder,” Matt said. “The pathologist’s report was very clear. Mansell was injected with a strong animal tranquiliser.”
“Ah,” Marsden said, and nodded.
Matt was curious. “That doesn’t surprise you, sir?”
“No. It matches up with what I wanted to speak to you about.” He didn’t go on immediately and Matt wondered what was coming next, but he didn’t say anything, just waited.
Finally, Marsden went on. “Perhaps it would be a good idea if I filled in some of the background. As you obviously know, our two estates run alongside each other. As far as I’m concerned, the border between the two is clear enough, but Caradoc Mansell did not agree. He searched out some ancient deeds, in Welsh, that placed the border in a different place to the deeds I have, which are in English.”
The slight contempt in his voice when he mentioned the older deeds wasn’t lost on Matt. He got the distinct impression Marsden thought the English ones would be more reliable. He let it pass, although he noticed Dilys stiffen slightly.
Murder at the Old Abbey Page 16
