‘Oh, my God!’ croaked Nick, propping himself up on one elbow. ‘Gordana!’
‘Get the knife!’ yelled Gordana, grabbing a handful of Caroline’s hair to hold her opponent steady, and causing a yell of pain and fury from Caroline.
The knife, yes, the knife, where was it? He saw it lying a couple of feet away and scrabbled for it. ‘Got it!’ he gasped. He rolled over, sat up and saw that Caroline was now prone on the kitchen floor, with a triumphant Gordana sitting on top of her.
‘Call police!’ ordered Gordana, breathlessly.
‘No need, we’re here!’ came a sharp, authoritative voice from behind them.
To his astonishment, Nick saw the red-haired woman inspector, Campbell, and another officer he didn’t know.
‘All right, we’ll take it from here. Phil! Arrest Mrs Malone, would you?’
Morton hastened forward. Gordana reluctantly released her prey and got up.
There was another scuffle, during which Caroline managed to spit at Nick and hit the target. Phil Morton eventually managed to manoeuvre Mrs Malone outside, but with great difficulty. During the process, Caroline continued to pour an amazing choice of insults at him, at Nick, at Gordana and at Inspector Campbell. Some were targeted individually and some a general denunciation of their personal characters and intellectual abilities.
Once she’d been dragged outside the house, the unfortunate sergeant bore the full force of her rage.
‘This is my house, you lout! Let me go! How dare you drag me out of my own property? I’m going to sue the boots off every bloody copper in the sodding force!’ were just some of the words they could distinguish.
Jess Campbell was apparently unfazed. Nick supposed in her line of work she was used to this kind of scene. Now that Caroline was safely secured and out of the way, he was beginning to feel deeply embarrassed. How on earth was he going to tell Cassie about all this?
Campbell turned her attention back to him and to Gordana. ‘Neither of you is injured?’
Both shook their heads. Nick wiped spittle from his cheek. ‘What are you doing here, Gordana?’ he gasped. ‘I mean, thanks and everything. But why are you here?’
‘Yes, Gordana,’ said Jess. ‘I’d like to know that, too.’
‘I follow him!’ said the still panting Gordana, nodding at Nick. ‘Today I follow him first to Gloucester, then here. I know he was coming to see her! I knew it was very dangerous for him.’
‘Why?’ asked Jess. It seemed an obvious question.
Nick, too, chimed in with, ‘How did you know?’
‘Ah,’ said Gordana, wisely, and addressing Jess. ‘I knew, when I first see them together, that Mr Ellsworth and this woman have a secret.’
‘Oy! Hold on!’ yelped Nick.
‘It is not love, no!’ Gordana shook her head and frowned, supporting the dismissal of this idea with a scornful wave of her hand. ‘People who have been lovers look at one another in a different way. The way Nick and Caroline look at one another, when they think no one sees, is the way of people who share some very bad knowledge.’
Nick muttered a protest again, but this time without conviction.
‘It makes me very worried, because they are a nice family, Cassie and children and him.’ Gordana pointed in the direction of the now invisible Caroline. ‘But she is not nice.’
‘That bloody woman is certifiable!’ They heard a distant yell from Caroline. ‘Let me go! Go back and arrest that maniac nanny!’
Gordana nodded towards the sound of Caroline’s voice. ‘She is the crazy one. Nick and Cassie, they don’t see she’s crazy. But me,’ declared Gordana, with satisfaction, ‘I know she is crazy when I first see her; and she looks at him – Mr Ellsworth – in a way that isn’t good. So I watch out, and I listen. When her husband drown, I know she blame Nick. She wants revenge.’
From what they could now hear, Caroline – outside, in Morton’s grip – was spitting and growling like an angry cat. The sound was cut off by the slam of a car door.
‘Well, thank you again, Gordana,’ said Nick, gathering up what shreds of dignity he had left. Hell’s teeth, he felt a fool. ‘I’m sorry I said you snooped.’
‘Yes, yes, of course I snoop!’ snapped Gordana. ‘Someone must keep eyes open.’
Nick belatedly got to his feet and dusted himself down. ‘Inspector Campbell,’ he said, ‘I’d like to make a statement. I should have made it twenty years ago.’
Chapter 20
Back at Bamford, Trevor Barker had resumed the interview with Mickey Wallace.
‘So, you admit to burying the body of Rebecca Hellington, with the help of the late Fred Stokes?’
‘Yeah, I admit it,’ Wallace growled. ‘Satisfied?’
‘Only up to a point, because now we come to a more recent matter, the death of Stokes. Why on earth did you do that, Mickey, give your old friend a bottle of whisky laced with your wife’s sleeping pills?’
‘For the same bloody reason as I helped bury the girl!’ Wallace yelled, his voice echoing round the small room. ‘Because I hadn’t any choice!’
There was a prolonged silence.
Emma Johnson broke it, remarking, ‘Deciding to murder an old pal, that’s some choice.’
Wallace gave her a look of disgust. ‘Where did you get her from?’ he asked Barker. ‘Listen, old Fred was going to spill the beans about burying the girl. He said he wouldn’t, but I knew he would. He was old and tired and scared. If it had only been about burying her, perhaps that wouldn’t have been so bad, but I was afraid you’d try and pin her death on us as well.’
‘So, what did you do?’ Barker asked, without commenting on the last words.
‘You know what I did. I wanted to be sure of the old man, and that meant he had to go. But I didn’t want him to suffer, of course I didn’t! He was my old mate. So, I bought the whisky and I pinched the pills from the medicine cabinet at home. My wife’s a poor sleeper. She says I snore and keep her awake. Anyhow, she gets these pills from the doctor. I crushed them really fine and put them in the whisky. Then, when I drove Fred home from the pub, the evening before, I took the whisky out of my pocket and gave it to him. He was surprised, but he was pretty pleased, too.’
‘He didn’t question why you were suddenly so generous?’
‘No,’ said Wallace. ‘I told him I’d had a win on the horses. He knew I like to place a bet now and again. So I left him with the whisky and – well, went home.’
‘And the fire?’
Wallace was silent for a while, then sighed. ‘Nothing went right,’ he said. ‘I knew if he was found dead, there would be some kind of post mortem, right? So I thought, if there was a fire, the smoke would do for him. He wouldn’t know anything about it, because he’d be unconscious from the whisky and pills. That was my plan, see? Only knock him out with the pills and alcohol, then nip back and start a fire. He wouldn’t know a thing about it. I was trying,’ Wallace added, wretchedly, ‘to be kind!’
Emma looked as if she would say something, but Barker glared at her and she changed her mind.
‘Go on, Mickey. What happened?’
‘I meant to allow time for the pills to work. Then go back in the early hours of the morning and start the fire. So, I slipped out of bed about two in the morning, grabbed my clothes and went downstairs to dress. But I thought I’d better make sure he was unconscious. So I rang him.’
‘What, at two in the morning?’ Barker exclaimed.
‘He slept right by the phone!’ Wallace retaliated. ‘I knew he’d pick it up if he woke up. If he didn’t wake up, well, I’d know the whisky and pills had done the trick, right?’ He drew a deep breath. ‘I told you, nothing went right! I rang his number and, I couldn’t believe it, he answered! He was still conscious, wide awake!’ Wallace dwelt on the unpleasant shock he’d received. ‘I nearly dropped my mobile. But I just put it down. Needed a drink myself by then! I sat down and wondered what had gone wrong. That combination of whisky and pills ought to have felled a horse. Well
, first of all, I realised he hadn’t drunk the whisky, or not enough of it. What had probably happened, I reckoned, was that he’d sat up late, watching the telly, until he fell asleep in the chair. Then, when I phoned, that woke him. He hadn’t gone to bed. He must have drunk the rest of the whisky after I called.
‘To make things worse, Samantha had woken up. She sleeps light, like I said. And she came marching downstairs wanting to know what I was doing, why I was all dressed ready to go out. We had a bit of an argument. Then we went back to bed and I didn’t move until six in the morning, because she’d wake up again, you could put your money on it!
‘About six thirty, I got up and called out to Samantha I was going over to my lock-up to see about a load. I approached Brocket’s Row from the other direction, not from the spinney. I took the motorway and turned off a mile or so from those houses, parked up in a field, and walked the rest of the way to Fred’s house. I’d rung him again on the mobile, on the way, and this time he hadn’t answered so I reckoned the whisky and pills had done the job at last.
‘But I soon found out I had another problem. When I got to Brocket’s Row, it was quite busy. It was so much later than I’d planned, like I said. The other people living up there were getting ready to go to work. I ducked into Fred’s garden shed and sat there until it was all quiet. It was just before ten by then. I couldn’t go round to the front of the house and push some lighted rags through the letter box. That was also my original idea. But in broad daylight there was a good chance Nina Pengelly would see me. She’s in and out of the front of her house all the time. So, while I was waiting in the shed, I made up a petrol bomb, Molotov cocktail, what they call it. There’s a big old hedge between Fred’s back garden and the one next door. I reckoned Nina wouldn’t see me, if she chanced to go out into her back garden. I levered open one of the windows at the rear of Fred’s house, lit the rags and tossed the bottle in. Then I scarpered, back over the field to my van, and drove home. The fire didn’t catch and spread as fast as I’d thought it would. Well, nothing went as I’d thought it would. You’ve seen Fred’s place.’
Wallace looked enquiringly at Barker, who nodded. ‘Well, it was pretty bare of furniture and stuff, to leave a free area for his wheelchair. I should’ve taken more account of that. If I could’ve pushed the lighted rags through the front door, like I intended first, the fire would have caught on faster. The wooden staircase would’ve gone up like tinder, for a start. As it was, it seems it didn’t get going until later, and then Nina Pengelly turned up, didn’t she? Not one single thing went right.’
Wallace sat back in his chair. ‘I didn’t mean for Nina to get hurt. I thought if she saw the fire, she’d run and call the fire service. I didn’t know she’d go in there like ruddy Wonder Woman and try and save him!’ His features puckered into an unlovely scowl, a mix of truculence and self-pity. ‘I can tell you something for free,’ he said to Barker, ‘it ain’t easy planning a murder. Of course,’ he added, ‘I don’t say some people aren’t good at it. But you coppers don’t catch them, do you?’
‘Sooner or later, we usually get our man,’ said Barker, wishing he didn’t sound so corny. ‘If it makes you feel any better,’ he added on the spur of the moment.
‘Well, it don’t!’ snarled Wallace.
There followed a few moments of silent introspection on the part of all present. It was broken by Wallace who, when he began to speak again, did so in a voice that held genuine sorrow.
‘I didn’t want to harm Fred. I made sure he didn’t suffer. We were mates for twenty years or more. We were bound together, you might say, by the business of finding that girl in my truck, and burying her. There’s nothing like a secret for tying two people together stronger than any rope, or chain. But he was old, and scared, and you and your lot kept hanging round the spinney. I thought he’d break. But I didn’t want to do it. I had a dog once, spaniel it was. I really loved that dog. But he got old and started making messes all around the house, and that got Samantha riled. So, in the end, I had to take him to the vet, have him put down. It was a bad day. I still miss the spaniel. I’ll really miss old Fred.’
Chapter 21
Early the following morning, Jess also conducted an interview, the interviewee being Nick Ellsworth. Carter had driven back from Bamford the evening before, arriving too late for the drama, but in time to be informed of Caroline’s arrest, and Nick’s expressed wish to make a statement. He now sat in. A fourth person present was the solicitor called in to protect the interviewee’s rights. He wasn’t a duty solicitor, but one requested by Nick. As he had previously known both Nick and Cassie socially, and played golf with Nick, the wretched man was looking understandably bewildered.
‘I’d like you to do it,’ Nick had told him. ‘The other guy, the one I saw yesterday morning in Gloucester, is my cousin’s solicitor and will probably be representing her.’
‘What are you being charged with?’ asked his golfing friend.
‘At the moment, disposal of a body with the intent of obstructing or preventing a coroner’s inquest. Obstructing the police in their enquiries. Oh, and possibly accessory to murder.’
‘Good God, man!’ gasped the solicitor. ‘What on earth have you been doing?’
Now Nick took a deep breath and began, addressing the two detectives. ‘As I told you when you came to Weston St Ambrose, everything springs from that party I threw at my parents’ home while they were away on a cruise. The Norwegian fjords, I think it was, and they were gone for two whole weeks – so, well, you understand.’
Carter and Jess both nodded.
Nick regarded them glumly. ‘At the time I thought the party was a roaring success. Now I know it was an unmitigated disaster! Well, I couldn’t know then, could I?’ He gazed at them in appeal.
‘Go on, Mr Ellsworth,’ encouraged Jess. ‘Why did it turn out to be a disaster?’
‘Not at the time!’ protested Nick. ‘That’s what I’m trying to explain. But it was at that party that Pete met Rebecca; and my cousin Caroline met Pete, and decided he was the man for her. So, it turned out pretty quickly to be the eternal triangle, isn’t that what they call it? More like infernal triangle, if you ask me.’
Nick leaned forward and went on, earnestly. ‘You’ve got to understand Caroline. She’s my cousin and I know her very well. I’ve got on with her well, all my life – until she lost it in the kitchen and flew at me with a knife! Only, I’m getting ahead of myself…’ His voice trailed away.
‘Take your time,’ invited Jess.
‘Caroline was always strong-minded, even as a kid. When we played games, she made the rules. If there was any dispute, she settled it. There could be no argument. I think, looking back, we were all a bit scared of her, and we didn’t dare argue. She hated, really hated, losing at games, of any sort. Board games, guessing games, sports, you name it. She could never be second in anything. She had always to be first, you see. On the other hand – the plus side, if you like – she was fiercely loyal in her friendships.’
‘Loyal or possessive?’ Jess asked quietly.
Nick considered this. ‘Both,’ he decided. ‘You might say, she didn’t distinguish between the two, in her mind, anyway. If Caro was your friend, you could always count on her. She expected, still does, to be able to count on you. I believe, for her, it was a matter of honour, you see. That’s why she flew at me with that knife. She believed I’d betrayed her. I hadn’t, had I? You know that. Will you tell Caroline? I want her to know I didn’t betray her.’ He looked at them, pleadingly.
‘Gordana’s right. We did have a secret, and Caro thought it was safe with me. I misjudged Gordana!’ Nick added. ‘She did understand Caroline. Perhaps, where Gordana comes from, all the loyalty and honour stuff makes a lot of sense. Vengeance, too, for all I know. Anyhow, she picked up the vibes that escaped me altogether!
‘When poor Pete did what he did, Caroline thought I’d betrayed her and had told Pete all about what happened. But I didn’t ever even consider te
lling him! I couldn’t have done, I was involved and – well, in the end, I didn’t have to tell him. He worked it out for himself.
‘Pete was never a fool. He couldn’t know the details: the when, how and where. But he understood Caroline. So, he sat down and thought about it until he’d got it figured out. Caroline and I – and the police, too, I reckon – we all thought Pete was brooding over it like some half-bonkers romantic poet. Well, you, the police, might have thought he’d done it, killed her. Did you?’ Nick asked suddenly, staring at Carter in a very direct way.
Asked so directly, Carter could only reply, ‘To be frank, I didn’t know. I was prepared to believe he hadn’t done it. But I did also believe he knew a lot more than he was saying. Well, we won’t know now, will we?’
‘I do,’ said Nick. ‘I’ve tried to explain Caroline to you. Let me explain Pete, if I can. Above all, you have to remember, Pete was a numbers man. He was a financial wizard. He could sense a flaw in some money project a mile off. If there was one, he’d find it. If his calculations didn’t add up, he’d start again from scratch and work at it until things did add up.’
A sudden realisation seemed to pass across Nick Ellsworth’s face. ‘I think,’ he said to Carter, ‘that he was a bit like you.’
At this, Jess turned a thoughtful stare on Ian Carter, and Carter was so startled that he couldn’t say anything at all. Then, to his dismay, he remembered old Inspector Parry, sending him off to interview Malone, because Parry’s theory was that he and Malone would understand one another. Had Parry not been so wrong?
‘So,’ concluded Nick, ‘I didn’t have to tell Pete, did I? About Caroline and Rebecca? He worked it out. He solved the puzzle. Trouble was, poor chap, he couldn’t live with the result he’d arrived at…’ Nick paused. ‘Bloody shame,’ he added, sadly. Then, more sourly, ‘Caroline will never agree. She’ll always blame me, insist I told him what happened. But I really didn’t. I didn’t have to, as I said.’
An Unfinished Murder Page 26
