by K T Findlay
Peregrin left Algy still deep in thought about other potential suspects and drove down to Pewter Street. Within minutes he was in Betty Morris’s living room having a cup of tea. ‘What’s your own view on the disagreements between your husband and Andrew Holmes Mrs Morris?’ he asked.
‘Well dear, I’ve only heard Alf’s side of the story. He likes to get his own way and he’s pretty determined about it. So chasing Holmes until he knew nothing more would work was just normal behaviour for Alf. And he’s still mad about it, just because he didn’t win. But he’d never actually harm anyone you know.’
‘His, intensity… must make life interesting for you at times.’
She laughed. ‘Oh we have our ups and downs like any couple. I just make sure that he thinks he’s come up with the idea I want him to have and it’s all fine. It’s a waste of time fighting with him. The secret is to find a way to avoid the fight happening in the first place. Biscuit?’ she asked, proffering the tray.
Peregrin took a gingernut. ‘Thank you Mrs Morris. Doesn’t it cause you problems when he’s fighting with others, like shopkeepers?’
She nodded. ‘Sometimes, but as I tend to do all the shopping while he’s at work, it’s not usually a problem. I’ve lost a few friends over the years though, ones who won’t put up with his nonsense.’ She looked at him sideways. ‘Caroline may have lost the odd friend because of it too. Did he tell you?’
‘You mean Tony?’
She nodded.
‘Yes he did, yesterday morning before he came to see you.’
Betty nodded again. ‘Good. He only went out with Caroline for a couple of weeks. Nice boy though.’ she said wistfully. ‘One of her better choices I thought.’
◆◆◆
At the end of the day Peregrin drove home to meet Hilary, Alison and Sally for drinks and dinner at the golf club. Although it was a cold night, the rain had stopped so they walked across the fields to the clubrooms.
‘Well Perry,’ said Alison, ‘have you been giving me good value for money on my taxes? Have you found him yet?’
‘Who?’ asked Peregrin.
She laughed. ‘The Holmes killer of course! Everyone is talking about it. Hell, you’ve had two full days now.’
Peregrin was used to her teasing and smiled softly. ‘It isn’t one hundred percent certain yet that he was murdered. There’s still the possibility that he got himself plastered and then died in the street on his way home.’
‘But you don’t believe that, do you?’ Sally challenged.
He shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter what I believe. It matters what I can demonstrate.
Hilary sighed theatrically. ‘Well dear, tell them what you can demonstrate, or we’ll get no peace for the rest of the evening.’
Peregrin looked into their nodding, grinning faces.
‘All right then. It looks unlikely that he did it himself. We don’t have the bottle or glass he was drinking from, his clothes and shoes are pretty much immaculate. We’ve found his car and it seems he’s the only one who’s been in it.
‘There’s an embargo on everything else we’ve found, as we need it kept quiet for now. We have just one genuine suspect at this point. He had motive, opportunity, and his past behaviour is against him.’
‘Alf Morris by any chance?’ asked Alison.
‘How the devil did you know that?’ asked a startled Peregrin.
‘Andrew was my own solicitor. Very discrete as a rule, but when I asked him about accepting sponsorship from Morris for the cats’ home, he advised me vehemently against it and told me some of the story.’
‘Well, Holmes was found outside Morris’s house.’
‘Oh well then. It wasn’t him.’ said Alison confidently.
‘What makes you say that?’ said Hilary.
‘He’s pigheaded, unpleasant and self obsessed, but he’s not that stupid. And he’s not daft enough to run a double bluff on something like this. It draws unnecessary attention to him. I’ve done my research on the fellow!’
Then a sudden thought struck her, and her face lit up. ‘So, as I’m an informer now, I want to be paid. Another gin and tonic please!’
Three tables away, James removed the “hearing aid” from his left ear. ‘Wonderful little gadget this thing. I could hear every word. They seem to be in agreement that Morris had nothing to do with it.’
Freddy nodded and removed his own device. ‘Not surprising. I’ve read the reports and Morris lacks the sophistication and subtlety to play this kind of game.’ He took another bite of his excellent Beef Wellington and continued his covert observation of the McEwan party. ‘Perhaps I’m being influenced by your never ending suspicions about Sally Mellors, but there’s something not quite right about her body language when they’re talking about Holmes.’
James stopped in mid chew, twitched his eyebrows and whispered. ‘Perhaps we’ll make an agent of you yet!’
12 People of interest
Tuesday dawned grey and wet, the wind sleeting the rain against the windows as Sally set up the camera. The machine’s autofocus locked onto the window itself and stayed there, but she quickly decided that if all she got was the rain running down the glass, then that’s what she’d paint.
The drive across the moor was a bit fraught as the wind buffeted the car and the puddles snatched at its tiny wheels, flicking it from side to side. The constant effort and concentration required to keep it on the road meant that she arrived at Helen’s house tired and very much in need of a cup of tea, but Helen herself was in a far worse state. Profoundly upset by Holmes’s death, she’d hardly slept a wink.
‘Let’s talk about it at the studio.’ she insisted, deferring Selina’s attempts at comfort. ‘We’ve got Jemima at ten and I promised I’d have something special set out for her before she arrived.’
Much to their relief, the wind had settled a little as they walked along the sea front to the village shops. Peeking out underneath her umbrella, Helen recognised the two ramblers walking towards them, determinedly taking their morning walk despite the weather. A sudden gust slammed into the women from behind, forcing Selina to flick her umbrella over her head and down her back to point directly into the wind. The fabric flattened and twisted the delicate structure, but it held firm, even as it knocked her forward a couple of steps.
‘Nicely done.’ complemented James, as he stepped off the footpath to give them room.
‘Thank you.’ she replied, and carried right on walking. The last thing she wanted at that particular moment was someone chatting her up.
‘You know who that was?’ asked James a minute later.
‘Helen, the dominatrix from across the road wasn’t it?’ replied Freddy, answering a question with a question.
‘Not her, the other one.’ sighed James.
‘Never seen her before.’
‘Oh yes you have my lad, oh yes you have. Think!’
Freddy blinked the rain out of his eyes and thought. ‘Nope, still no idea.’
‘That was Sally Mellors.’
Freddy halted abruptly. ‘What? No way! You’re imagining things again, surely?’
James shook his head. ‘It’s a good disguise, wig perfect, makeup just right to mask her usual appearance, voice tweaked just enough to be natural but different, but it’s her alright. I could tell by the lines around her eyes.’
‘But why?’ asked Freddy.
‘I haven’t had a chance to tell you yet, but this morning’s phone report said Holmes’s body was badly beaten…’ he paused for effect, ‘but only on his arse.’
Freddy looked back towards the shops and pointed to the two women turning the corner into Clipper Street. ‘You mean…’
‘It’s one hell of a coincidence if it’s not.’ smiled James. ‘Now, the question is, do we stay in our digs and watch those two from across the road, or do we try and pick up the lease on the house next to Emma Nixon so we can keep an eye on her as well as Sally?’
‘I didn’t notice it was up for ren
t.’ said Freddy.
James sighed. ‘You Freddy, have Doctor Watson’s problem. You see, but you do not observe. There was a sign outside the place yesterday.’
‘Then it’s a no brainer.’ sniffed Freddy, miffed at the rebuke. ‘The only room in the BnB with a good view across the road is Mrs Hinchcliffe’s bedroom.’
‘So? She likes you. Where’s the problem?’ smiled James.
Freddy glowered at him. ‘I don’t think so. In any case, she’s always flitting about the place. We’d be rumbled in a day. You’d better take up that lease. We’re going to be here for a bit whatever happens. Come on, let’s walk up the street they came out of and see if we can spot her car.’
◆◆◆
In the studio, Helen was in tears. Selina had expected her to be a bit upset, but not the full on grief unfolding before her.
‘I didn’t know how much I cared about him.’ said Helen through her tears. ‘He was a kind and gentle man, straight up, honest and decent. Everybody’s saying he drank himself to death. I can’t believe it. He never touched a drop, not even on Thursday nights.’
Selina tried again to comfort her. ‘The way the police are all over it, perhaps they think there’s some other explanation.’
Helen looked up sharply. ‘Oh that would be just great!’
Selina blinked. ‘What do you mean?’
Helen scowled. ‘They’ll take one look at his arse and sooner or later they’ll come knocking.’
‘But we don’t break the law!’ stuttered Selina.
‘No we don’t, but sometimes they don’t want to believe that. If they get a bee in their bonnet, they keep pushing until they find something. But that’s not what I’m worried about.’
Selina looked at her quizzically.
‘They’ll want to start going through my client lists. I can’t afford that! A huge part of this business is confidentiality. My reputation’s going to be shattered if I start giving out names and numbers. And if I don’t, they’ll do me for obstruction, or make my life hell in some other way. And I haven’t even got to the press yet! Ye gods! When those bastards get a sniff of a kinky lawyer, dead in mysterious circumstances, there won’t be an empty car park in the entire village! I won’t be able to leave my house and won’t have any business for months!’ she shouted.
Selina hung her head in dismay. ‘I’m sorry. I had no idea. I hadn’t thought it through.’
Helen shot her a look. ‘Don’t think you’re going to get off scot free young lady. You’re the one who carved up his arse so badly. You’re the one who scratched a game of noughts and crosses into his bum. You’ll be known across the country as Selina The Cross and Noughty Lady or whatever ridiculous catch cry they’ll come up with. This is serious for us!’
Helen’s tears dried rapidly, as her instincts for self preservation pushed aside her grief. ‘Well, for now, it’s business as usual. If we shut up shop, it’ll look really fishy. We haven’t done anything wrong and I don’t want to give the cops any reason to think that we did. So, we’ve Jemima at ten for a two hour session and that’s it for today. We’ll do her as normal, then story will be that we’re closing early because my regular client is dead and I haven’t had the time to find another one. That way we’re still open for business.’
Selina had a thought. ‘If you’re seriously worried, do you have an alibi for Saturday night?’
Helen nodded. ‘Yes thank goodness. I was with my mother in Bristol, and even stayed the night. We went out to dinner before going to the cinema. Loads of evidence to place me there. And you?’
‘Yep. I was partying with friends in Ipington. Loads of witnesses.’ Selina lied.
Helen looked out at the rain dancing in the street. ‘Well that’s at least something.’
◆◆◆
Back at the station, progress was slow. The Intelligence Cell hadn’t managed to identify a liquor outlet that remembered selling multiple bottles of Laphroaig whisky, and nor had they managed to reduce the list of possible suspects. So it was somewhat of a relief to Peregrin when he got a call from Jenny Wills, suggesting he check out Violet Penda, Ursula Sidcot, and Peter York.
A few phone calls later and Peregrin found himself sipping tea in Violet Penda’s conservatory on the west side of Little Throcking, looking down a grassy valley to Helen’s house and out to sea. Violet told him that Holmes had done an excellent job for her husband during their divorce and had cost her an estimated twenty thousand pounds a year in lost alimony. Caught up in the rage of the divorce she’d expressed a view that should bad things happen to her husband’s champion, it would be no more than he deserved. Now, a decade later and very comfortably off herself, she could laugh at it all and no longer felt any animosity towards either husband or lawyer.
She had a strong alibi for Saturday, four friends all vouching that they’d been at her place for dinner until midnight. She did have a car though, a Vauxhall Astra.
In the early afternoon he was again sitting in a conservatory, but this time his view of the sea was severely impeded by the back wall of a two story house. He was back in Throcking, just a couple of blocks uphill from the police station.
‘The bloody thing’s been there for nine years now.’ said Ursula Sidcot, pointing to the house next door. ‘It absolutely ruined my view. The bastard who built it, sold the thing a year later and pocketed the profit. He only did it for the money.’
Peregrin watched her in silence.
She grinned maliciously. ‘Didn’t do him much good though. He got himself killed three days after the sale. Crashed his car off Hector’s Bluff on the way to Ipington where he’d bought another property to ruin.’
‘So do you still blame Andrew Holmes for the fact the house is there in front of you? Do you still think it was his fault you couldn’t stop it?’ asked Peregrin.
She shook her head. ‘Up until the moment you told me he was dead, I’d have said yes. But I guess now I feel a little guilty harrying him like I did. Perhaps he didn’t have all that much he could fight with. It pissed me off so much that I guess I had to blame someone and the shit who actually built it wasn’t around anymore.’
‘Do you have a car?’
‘Yes. I have a new Ford Escort, but it’s been away being mended since last Friday. I had a little parking incident in Dalton, tiny amount of damage but apparently it’s quite difficult and time consuming to fix. The supermarket’s just a stroll down the hill as you know, so I don’t really need it this week.’
‘You were cautioned five years ago about threats you’d made towards Mr Holmes. Can you explain that?’
She laughed. ‘They had a big party in that house. Loud music, dancing, late into the night. He was a guest and came out about 2 AM and I was watching. I’d been kept awake all night to that point and was bloody furious. When I saw him I just lost it, marched outside in my dressing gown and let him have it. He reported me to the police, I got a warning, and that was the end of it.’
‘And last Sunday night?’
She picked up a huge yellow paperback copy of Tolkien’s Lord of The Rings. ‘I was happily in bed with Aragorn.’ and gave him a huge wink.
Lastly, Peregrin drove the fifty minutes to Ipington to see Peter York. He pulled up outside a small two bedroom cottage at the bottom of a hill facing north. The sun was already off it.
‘I’m not interested in talking about that wretched man.’ York growled and began to shut the door.
‘With respect sir, this is a possible murder investigation and you are a person of strong interest, given your past relationship with Mr Holmes. Your current fit of temper isn’t particularly helpful to your cause.’ said Peregrin forcefully.
The door opened again.
‘Holmes is dead?’ asked York.
‘Very.’ replied Peregrin emphatically. ‘Can I come in?’
Reluctantly, York opened the door, turned his back on Peregrin and waved a finger over his shoulder that could have indicated “Follow me.” or possibly some other meaning.
Peregrin choose to assume the former.
‘So,’ said York, ‘my wife’s pet Doberman is dead. I can’t say I’m sorry. How’d the bastard snuff it?’
‘An excess of whisky.’ replied Peregrin.
York looked at him, disbelief in his eyes. ‘You’re joking! The bastard even died happy! Well, there’s justice for you. I live in penury and he goes out in a flood of expensive drink.’
‘What exactly do you think Holmes did to you Mr York?’
‘There’s no think about it, I know Inspector. He was my wife’s solicitor for our divorce. It’s thanks to him that I lost my home and my business, while my cow of a wife is living it up like a queen. I’ve only just managed to get the business up and running again after seven years, and even now the bitch gets half the profits while I freeze my arse off in this dump. Trust me, I know exactly what he did. I’m reminded of it every single day of my life.’
He scowled at Peregrin. ‘Anyway, so he had a bit too much to drink. Why do you think it might be murder?’
‘We’ve good reason to think he didn’t end up where he did on his own. It very much looks like someone delivered him there.’
York shrugged his shoulders. ‘So? Maybe he had a drinking session with a mate, snuffed it and his mate panicked. Did you think of that?’
Peregrin nodded. ‘It’s possible, but there’s no evidence to indicate that. We do have evidence that he didn’t drink it willingly.’
‘You think someone poisoned him?’
‘It’s possible.’ said Peregrin.
‘Well good luck to them, that’s all I can say. I imagine they had good grounds to do it!’
‘So you think they’d be justified?’
York paused, suddenly aware that his hostility still wasn’t doing him any favours. ‘Under the law, no. The law wouldn’t accept any reason as justification for taking matters into your own hands. Natural justice though? Well I might have a bit of sympathy for the man who gave into temptation. But me officer? “I never dun nuffink!”’ he said, mimicking the stereotypical dumb criminal.
