A Killing Resurrected

by Frank Smith

  The muscles around David Taylor’s mouth tightened as he said, ‘That’s right, Sergeant. Kevin and I shared it with the building society. You see, the money we thought Dad had been saving for our education, actually came from a mortgage on the house and business, and all Dad had been paying off for years was little more than the interest, so by the time everything was settled and taxes paid, we ended up with less than eight thousand pounds apiece. Hardly what you would call a motive for killing our father, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘True,’ Tregalles conceded, ‘but on the other hand, you said yourself you didn’t know the place was mortgaged to the hilt until he died, did you? Have a nice day, Mr Taylor. I’m sure we’ll be talking again soon.’

  David Taylor remained where he was, eyes closed, mouth clamped shut as he silently chastised himself for the slip of the tongue that had forced him to lie about Kevin’s absence that fateful Saturday morning. At least he’d had the good sense not to mention Kevin’s unexplained disappearance on the Sunday, and the fact that Kevin had lied about that as well.

  It was only by chance that David had discovered the lie his brother had told him about where he was on Saturday morning, and he suspected that Kevin had also lied about where he’d gone on the Sunday night after receiving a call on his newly acquired mobile phone.

  He wrinkled his nose. Even now, it was impossible to forget the smell on Kevin’s clothes. The smell had filled his nose, his mouth, and his lungs as he’d come out of a sound sleep to find Kevin standing between the two beds.

  He remembered peering at the figures on the digital clock, and saying, ‘For God’s sake, Kev, it’s four o’clock in the morning. Where the hell have you been? Aunt Edith wanted to know where you’d gone, and I didn’t know what to tell her. And what is that bloody awful stink?’

  ‘Steph and I were trying to get Ed’s barbecue going and I spilt fluid on my trousers,’ his brother whispered as he stripped off his clothes and sat down on his own bed. ‘Go back to sleep. I’ll open the widow and the smell will be gone by morning.’

  ‘I thought Steph was in Amsterdam with her father?’

  ‘She was, but they had to come back early. Something to do with a case Ed’s working on.’

  David hadn’t believed it then and he didn’t believe it now.

  He smiled grimly to himself. Kev had never been a very good liar, and David had often teased him about it being a serious handicap if he hoped to become a successful lawyer. But the fact remained that if Kevin didn’t tell the police about where he’d been before they discovered it for themselves, they would wonder what else he had lied about, and who could blame them?

  He glanced at the time. He’d have to talk to Kevin. It wasn’t something he wanted to discuss over the phone, and if Steph didn’t know about what Kevin had been up to back then, he didn’t want her learning about it from him. Best thing to do, he decided, would be to ask Kevin to come to the shop to give him a hand and help him with the packing.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Kevin Taylor parked the car in the garage, picked up his briefcase and got out. His footsteps sounded hollow as he crossed the floor and entered the house.

  ‘I’m home,’ he called as he walked down the hall. ‘Where are you, Steph?’

  The greeting had started off as a joke the first few times he’d come home to the new house, because it was so much bigger than their old house on Oak Street, but it was fast becoming a standard greeting.

  ‘Right behind you in the kitchen,’ Stephanie called loudly. ‘Come and tell me what you think of this. It’s a new recipe I’m trying out, and I need a guinea pig. How was your day?’

  ‘A bit dull, actually,’ he said as he reversed course and entered the kitchen. ‘How about yours?’

  ‘About the same, except for a visit I had from a very nice gentleman caller, who couldn’t quite make up his mind which he liked best, my iced tea or my legs.’

  Kevin set the briefcase on the floor and gave his wife a quick peck on the cheek. ‘No contest,’ he said perfunctorily. ‘Anyone I know?’

  ‘Detective Sergeant Tregalles. Funny little chap with a sort of wrinkly face. Well, not exactly little, I suppose, but very pleasant. Have you met him?’

  ‘Yes I have,’ Kevin said cautiously. ‘He was with Chief Inspector Paget when they came to the office the other week. What did he want?’

  The liquid in the large pot on the stove began to bubble. Stephanie turned quickly to stir it with a long wooden spoon. ‘Got to keep this stuff moving or it sticks to the bottom and burns,’ she said. ‘He wanted to know where you and I were when Roger was killed, and he’d like you to call him to confirm what I told him about where you were that evening. He left me his card.’

  Kevin frowned. ‘Why does he want to know where we were?’

  Stephanie shrugged. ‘I didn’t get the impression that we are at the top of his list, but he did ask a lot of questions about Roger’s call to John Chadwell, and John’s call to me that afternoon. I suppose it’s more or less standard procedure to talk to anyone and everyone who either saw or spoke to Roger that day. They seem to think he was killed sometime around five or six o’clock, so when the Sergeant asked where you were, I told him I thought you were either in the Ludlow office or on your way home. That is right, isn’t it?’

  ‘That’s right,’ Kevin said absently as he peered over his wife’s shoulder. ‘What is that stuff, anyway?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s a sort of stew,’ Stephanie told him. ‘It sounded good so I decided to try it out. Here, taste it.’ She handed him a large spoon.

  He dipped the spoon in, blew on it, then took a tentative sip. ‘Tastes all right,’ he said, ‘but isn’t it a bit much in this heat, Steph?’

  ‘Oh, this isn’t for now. It freezes – at least that’s what it says in the article, so I hope they’re right.’

  ‘Glad to hear it,’ Kevin said, sounding relieved, ‘because I was trying to work out how to say I didn’t want any for supper without hurting the cook’s feelings.’

  ‘Chef, darling,’ Stephanie corrected, ‘so be careful. They’re known to be temperamental. Oh, yes, and before I forget, David rang to ask if you could spare him an hour or so this evening. It seems he’s running behind schedule, and he could use an extra hand to help pack his stuff.’

  ‘I suppose I could,’ he said. ‘I don’t think we have anything on, tonight, do we, Steph?’ His wife continued to stir as she shook her head. ‘Did he mention a time?’

  ‘Just said whenever it was convenient. He’s still living above the shop, so he’ll be there all evening. Did you know he’s moving into Claire’s house? Well, the old Grant house, I suppose it is, really. Just until he can get sorted out.’

  ‘No, I didn’t know,’ said Kevin. ‘But I wonder if he ever will? Get sorted out, I mean?’

  ‘Not much to show for almost nine years of your life, is it?’ David said wistfully as he poked at a box with his toe. ‘Compared to how far you’ve come, Kev. Partner in the firm when old Mortimer retires. And then what? Onward and upward, eh? Head of the firm when Ed retires?’

  ‘Who knows,’ Kevin said. ‘And you’ve not done so badly. I’ve seen some of the work you’ve done locally, and I think you’re on your way. And now, with this offer of Claire’s, you’ll have more time to devote to your painting. Are you and Claire . . .?’

  David shook his head. ‘It’s simply a business arrangement,’ he said. ‘Claire would like someone in the house, and I need a place to stay and store my stuff. We’re just good friends.’

  ‘Are you sure about that?’ Kevin asked archly. ‘It seems to me that she’s inviting you to move in with her.’

  David laughed. ‘You always did have a good imagination, Kevin,’ he said, ‘but it’s not like that at all. She has her own place in town, so we won’t be living in the same house.’

  ‘Still, it could be the first move,’ his brother said, ‘and you could do a lot worse, so think about it. Anyway, now we’ve got your love life out of the
way, what needs packing next?’

  ‘Actually, that’s not why I asked you to come,’ David said, ‘I told Steph I needed your help with the packing because I wanted to talk to you in private. I had a visit from that detect-ive chap, Tregalles, today, and he told me that Barry Grant didn’t kill himself. They now believe he was murdered, so they’re going back to square one to look at the statements everyone made at the time, and I have the distinct feeling that he thinks you and I had something to do with the robberies and Dad’s death.’

  ‘A feeling . . .?’ Kevin said sharply. ‘Why? What did he say?’

  ‘Nothing specific. But he did mention that we probably both knew about the way Sam used to knock on the back door to be let in, which we did, of course, and that we and Dad didn’t always get on, and we benefited financially from his death, things like that.’

  He paused to take a deep breath, ‘Unfortunately, I happened to mention that I covered your rounds for you that morning, and he picked up on it. I’m sorry, Kev, but it just slipped out, so I had to explain it was because you wanted to see Steph before she and her father left for Amsterdam to visit her grandmother.

  ‘The trouble is, that wasn’t true, was it? Because when I asked Steph a couple of weeks later how her grandmother was, she said she hadn’t seen her for several months, and when I said I thought she’d been to see her the weekend Dad was killed, she said no, she’d been in Birmingham that day to do some shopping. So you lied to me about where you were going, didn’t you?’

  Kevin stared at his brother. ‘So it just slipped out, did it?’ he said coldly. ‘Just what the hell were you thinking of? You know what they’re like, for God’s sake.’

  ‘But it’s not too late to set things straight,’ David protested. ‘I think I know why you lied, and I don’t blame you because it would have looked bad at the time, but times have changed, and I think you should tell the police the truth before they find out for themselves.’

  Kevin started to speak, but David hurried on. ‘Look, Kev,’ he said, ‘I don’t want to see you in trouble with the police, but if you tell them the truth, and I don’t mean that load of codswallop you gave me that night, I’m sure they’ll understand.’

  He chuckled. ‘I mean you have to admit that the story you gave me about the barbecue when you came in at four in the morning was bullshit. That wasn’t lighter fluid on you, was it? That smelt like petrol to me. Besides, Ed’s barbecue is gas-fired anyway, and Steph was supposed to be in Amsterdam, but you made up some story about Ed having to return early, remember?’

  Kevin stared warily at his brother for a long moment before turning away. Head down, hands behind his back, he paced the length of the shop before turning to face David once again. ‘All right,’ he said, ‘you say you think you know what I was up to, so tell me, what do you think it was?’

  ‘Drugs,’ said David. ‘I think you were messing about with drugs. All the signs were there. You were tense, jumpy, you weren’t sleeping well, and you would disappear at odd times, and snap at me if I asked where you were going. That in itself was a dead giveaway that you were up to something, because we used to tell each other everything, yet suddenly you were very secretive. It was almost as if your whole personality had changed, and that was what tipped me off, because I’d run into it before.

  ‘The lad I shared digs with at Slade got into drugs the second year I was there, and the same thing happened to him, so it wasn’t hard to work out. In fact I was getting so worried about you that I’d decided to tackle you about it when Dad died. But that seemed to bring you to your senses, and you settled down after that, so I decided not to say anything. So what the hell were you doing that Sunday night to get yourself covered in petrol?’

  Kevin grinned sheepishly. ‘I should have known I wasn’t fooling my little brother,’ he said. ‘And you’re quite right, that was petrol you could smell; petrol and smoke from the fire. But that bit about the barbecue was partly right, except it was down by the rock pools on the other side of the river. We were all pretty high, so when we couldn’t get the thing going, someone had the bright idea of throwing petrol on it. Next thing we knew the tall grass was on fire, and we were in the middle of it trying to stamp it out before someone raised the alarm and called the cops.

  ‘It’s a wonder we weren’t all killed,’ he said. ‘In fact, I think that was the moment when I realized what a fool I’d been, and decided to quit the drugs. Not that I’d ever been into them as heavily as some of the others, but it still took one hell of an effort on my part. I don’t know if you noticed, but I wasn’t exactly myself for weeks after that. I couldn’t seem to make even the simplest decisions.’

  ‘I was never sure if that was because of the drugs or because of the way Dad died,’ David said quietly. His brow furrowed as he shot a questioning glance at Kevin and said, ‘Steph wasn’t at that party, was she?’

  ‘Good God, no! If Steph had known I was playing around with that stuff, it would have been all over. She was death on that sort of thing. And that is why, little brother, noble as your intentions may be, I shall not be telling the police about what I was doing that weekend, because it’s bound to get back to her. And nor will you.’

  Kevin Taylor got out of the car and pressed the remote control, then waited until the double-width garage door rolled down and locked itself in place before he entered the house and locked that door behind him.

  ‘I’m out here,’ Stephanie called from the terrace. ‘Come and look at the stars. They’re quite magnificent tonight.’

  He found her lying almost flat on her back on the chaise longue, looking at the stars through binoculars. ‘There’s something moving across the sky up there,’ she said as he joined her, ‘and I’m not sure if it is some sort of shooting star or one of those bits of space junk that falls out of the sky from time to time. At least it’s not coming this way, if that’s what it is. Here, take a look.’ She handed the binoculars to Kevin and pointed.

  ‘Can’t see it,’ Kevin said, sweeping back and forth across the area his wife was pointing to. He handed the binoculars back to Stephanie. ‘Are you sure it’s still there?’

  Stephanie took the binoculars, but instead of using them again, she set them down beside her. ‘So what did David really want?’ she asked quietly.

  ‘Just some help in packing up his stuff,’ he said. ‘Would you like a drink?’ He crossed the patio to the drinks cabinet and opened it, then stood there frowning. ‘What happened to the ice?’ he asked.

  ‘I forgot to refill the ice maker,’ Stephanie told him, ‘but there’s some in the fridge in the kitchen if you really need it. Anyway, stop trying to change the subject. David never could lie convincingly, and I knew straightaway he wasn’t telling the truth when he rang this afternoon. Any more than you can, darling.’ She grinned. ‘Except when you’re in court, of course. So get your drink, then come and sit down and tell me the real reason he wanted to get you over there alone.’

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Thursday, July 23rd

  When Molly walked into the room, Sharon Jessop was sitting on the side of her bed, talking ani-matedly to her guardian for the day, a very solid-looking WPC by the name of Brenda Borden. Sharon stopped speaking when she saw Molly, then slid her legs back under the covers, and eased herself back on to the raised pillows.

  ‘Feeling a bit better, then, are we, Sharon?’ Molly asked brightly. ‘Good,’ she continued without waiting for an answer, ‘because I have some news for you. But first, I’d like to have a word with Constable Borden. In private,’ she added, with a nod to Borden. The Constable rose to her feet and followed Molly out of the room. At the door, Molly turned to flash Sharon an encouraging smile, then closed the door behind her.

  Two minutes later, Molly re-entered the room and sat down in the chair beside the bed. ‘Sorry to deprive you of your company,’ she said, ‘but since there’s no need for her to be here now, I told her she could go. We had a tip around three o’clock this morning, and found Al in bed with
his girlfriend at her place in Potters Lane. Her mother tipped us off, so he’s back in custody now, and you won’t have to worry about him coming to attack you. I’m sure you’ll be relieved to hear that.’

  But Sharon Jessop looked anything but relieved as she slid further down under the covers, her eyes fixed on Molly. ‘They could let him out,’ she said huskily. ‘They did the last time and they could again. I mean I wouldn’t have a chance the way I am stuck here in this bed.’

  Molly shook her head. ‘There’s no way,’ she said firmly. ‘His bail has been revoked and he’s behind bars, Sharon, so there’s nothing to worry about now, except getting better. I had a word with the doctor before I came in, and he tells me your tests for internal injuries turned out better than he’d hoped, so you might not be in here for as long as you thought.’

  She pushed her chair back and stood up as if to leave, but Sharon’s hand shot out from beneath the covers to grab Molly’s arm. ‘You can’t just leave me like this,’ she said plaintively. ‘I mean in here, all by myself. If Al could get in here, then . . .’ She clamped her lips together and looked away, but it was too late.

  ‘Then what, Sharon?’ Molly asked. The friendly tone was gone. ‘What are you afraid of? Or perhaps I should say, who are you afraid of, Sharon? Could it be this person?’ She took a mobile phone from her handbag and held it up for Sharon to see. ‘The person you rang last Saturday morning, using this phone?’

  ‘That’s my phone! You’ve no right. That’s got nothing to do with this.’

  ‘Then explain it to me, Sharon. Tell me why you rang this number. Is this the man you told me about? The one you say was fondling you during the robbery? What do you think he will say when I ask him?’

  ‘No!’ Colour drained from Sharon’s face. ‘Oh, God, Molly, you mustn’t. He’ll . . .’ Her voice broke and tears spilled down her face as she began to sob.