“Who is it?” her husband’s voice came from within.
“Me. Hazel. Open the door.”
The sound of the lock snapping back reached Joe’s ears. Freddie opened it, smiled at his wife, then spotted Joe. His smile turned to fury.
“What the bloody hell—”
“Knock it off, Freddie,” Hazel interrupted. “He knows everything. At least he thinks he does.”
“You stupid, bloody woman. Do you know who he is?”
“She knows,” Joe butted in. “She also knows I know you sent those goons after me the other night and in Bath yesterday.”
Freddie ignored him. “His niece is a cop. He’ll go straight to Feeney.”
Hazel opened her mouth, but Joe beat her to it again. “Wrong. A couple of hours ago, I probably would have done, but things have changed and right now I don’t know my arse from my elbow. Now let me in Freddie. You have to talk to me.”
There was a critical silence in which Freddie glared at Joe and his wife, and Hazel pleaded with her eyes. Eventually, he opened the door wide enough for his wife and Joe to enter. And as Joe came in, Freddie slammed the door shut and turned the key again.
It was a pitifully small room; smaller, Joe thought, than his flat over the Lazy Luncheonette. A tiny, dormer window looked to on the rear roof and yard of the hotel and the street beyond, a narrow back alley between the rear of the Leeward and a council car park mingling with the rear of other guest houses and hotels.
Inside the room, all Freddie had was a single divan bed, and a wooden chair on which stood his alarm clock, a half full ashtray and an empty plate and cutlery. He looked as tired as his wife; dishevelled, and he had not shaved – nor washed for all Joe knew.
“How are the mighty fallen?” Joe muttered.
Perching on the edge of the bed, his wife by him, holding his hand, Freddie screwed up his face into a question mark.
“There you were, lord of all you survey and now look at you. Hiding away in a dirty attic where I wouldn’t hide my ex-wife.”
Joe looked around for somewhere to sit, and there was nowhere but the chair. He cleared the clock and plate from it, put them on the bare floorboards and moved it back from the bed before sitting down. Anything to keep him beyond the range of those massive arms and large hands.
Putting the ashtray on the floor beside the chair, he said, “All right, Freddie. Start talking.”
“I’ve nothing to say.”
“Wrong. You’ve a lot to say. Like why did you send those guys after me on Friday night?”
“I didn’t.”
“Nah, don’t gimme that.” Joe shook his head. “They told me to get back to Sanford. Now who in Weston-super-Mare knew I was from Sanford? Only you, your wife and the cops. I don’t think Hazel did it, and I know the police didn’t, and that means it could only be you. You sent ’em. Tell me why.”
Freddie tutted and scowled at his wife. “Why is it if you want something doing, you’re always better doing it yourself?”
Joe did not give Hazel time to answer. “A question I constantly ask myself. Now why?”
The big man sighed. “They were ordered not to hurt you. I told ’em to scare you. Nothing more. I just wanted you to mind our own business.”
“Why? Because you’d been across to Diane Shipton’s place and killed her? Or was there something about you that my inquiries might uncover?”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Freddie replied.
“True. But I know you’re an ex-con, and you got half remission. It means you still have time to serve and being mixed up with a woman like Diane Shipton could be enough to send you back to finish your sentence.”
Freddie glowered at his wife. “You told him, you silly cow? What is the point—”
Hazel backed off in horror. “I had to. Jeez, Freddie, you don’t know what he’s like when he gets going. He’s worse than the bloody beer salesmen. He won’t let go.”
“She’s right, Freddie.” Joe took out his tobacco. “I never give in. And you know it, too. That’s what I told you in the bar when I first mentioned Diane Shipton to you, and it’s the reason you sent those clowns after me, isn’t it? And, by the way, Hazel didn’t tell me, she only confirmed it. You were the one who told me. You let it slip that you knew Diane, and that was enough for me to put it together. Now I’ve heard Hazel’s line of logic on this business of you keeping your past a secret, but it doesn’t make much sense. I’m not likely to go back to Sanford and start blabbing about how I stayed in a hotel run by an ex-armed robber, and even if I did, how much difference would it make to you in Weston-super-Mare? At the most you might lose a dozen customers over the next five years.”
Freddie eyed his wife. “You were never the main worry.”
Spreading tobacco along a cigarette paper, Joe asked, “Then who was? The filth?”
The big man looked at his wife, then back at Joe. “I can’t tell you.”
The gesture was not lost on Joe. “You can’t tell me, or won’t tell me while your wife is here.”
Freddie did not answer and that confirmed Joe’s suspicions.
Freddie’s shoulders slumped and he shook his head. “I knew you were trouble, Joe. I bloody knew it.”
Joe grinned. “Cut the compliments and let’s hear it.”
“I have nothing to say. Get that. Nothing.”
Joe held up his completed cigarette and raised his eyebrows, asking permission to smoke it. Freddie nodded, and Joe lit the cigarette. Tucking his Zippo back into his pocket, he said, “I believed Diane was putting the screws on you about your past, the way she did Ginny, and I believed you went out and murdered her for that very reason. The cops have just arrested Gil Shipton and Elaine Badger for Terry Badger’s murder. That changed my thinking, because it doesn’t make sense to me to have three different killers. So it changed my mind, but unless you let me help you, you’ll go down for a murder I don’t believe you committed. Now what is so bad that you can’t help me to help you?”
Freddie shook his head. “They’ve pulled in Shipton and Elaine Badger?”
“I was there when Feeney arrested them. Come on, pal. Talk to me.”
The big man fumed, but remained silent. Joe drew on his cigarette.
“Honesty is what matters, mate. It won’t get you anywhere doing a runner… or pretending to do a runner. At some stage the search for you will step up a gear. Someone else will see your car on that car park, and Feeney will come back, with a warrant next time. They’ll go through this hotel like syrup of figs going through a baby. What will you do then? Hold one of the guests hostage?”
Frustration began to get the better of Freddie. “Gar. It’s all right for you to talk. You never wanted for nothing, did you? Brought up proper, you were. Privileged.”
Joe’s anger spiked at the accusation. He crushed out his cigarette and replaced the ashtray on the floor.
“Privileged? Me? I’ll tell you summat, shall I? From the age of ten, I was going to school, coming home then helping my old man in the café. Before I left school, I was crawling outta bed at half past five in the morning to give him a hand in the kitchen, and when I left school I went straight to work in the place. I had two days of college every week, and even then I had to get up at half past five to help him first. And I’ve done it all my life. Even now, I’m up at five every bloody morning, and I don’t knock off until four in the afternoon. Even then I have the books to do. You think that’s a privilege? Graft is what it is. Honest graft, and that’s the difference between us, Freddie. Honesty. I pull the odd fast one, sure, but what businessman doesn’t? But I don’t look for the easy way out. I don’t rob banks or security vans. I work for my living. Always have done.”
His rant over, Joe began to relax. Sat on the edge of the bed, Hazel holding his hand, her face a picture of concern, Freddie suddenly smiled.
“You’ve got a lot of bottle, Joe Murray, talking to an armed blagger like that.”
“What the hell is going down, Freddie?”
Freddie sucked in his breath and stood up. “Do your civic duty, Joe. Call Feeney. Tell her where I am and I’ll give myself up.”
Joe coughed in surprise. Hazel was stunned into anger.
“I’ve lied my head off for you over the last twenty-four hours and now you’re gonna—”
“If they have Gil Shipton and Elaine Badger, it’s time for me to go to the cops. Simple as that. And don’t ask for any more cos I ain’t giving you any.”
While Hazel appeared to be building up to shred her husband, Joe was more thoughtful.
“Tell me why you went to see Diane last night?”
Freddie thought about it. “What does it matter? When I got there, I saw the cops, asked a few questions of the neighbours and when I found out what had happened, I knew I’d be fingered, so I legged it.” With a glance at his wife, Freddie went on. “I had to go to her place. I couldn’t talk to her anywhere else. Not with Gil and Terry around. I had to get her alone.”
Joe leapt to the obvious conclusion. “And you knew she’d be alone because I told you in the street that I’d faced them out in The Prince.”
Freddie nodded.
“And you also asked Hazel to tell everyone that you were here all the time?” Joe asked and Freddie nodded again.
A glum silence fell over the tiny room. Joe tossed the information around his head, drawing various scenarios, not all of them pretty.
“You’re still not telling me why you went to see her.”
“No. And I’m not going to. Now do like I said, and call Feeney. I ain’t gonna put up a fuss.”
“What’s so different now to earlier this morning?” Hazel demanded.
“He just told you,” Joe replied. “They have Gil and Elaine.”
“And what difference does that make?”
Taking out his mobile phone, Joe shrugged at her. “You tell me.”
Chapter Thirteen
Feeney smiled sympathetically at Joe. “I’m sorry, but Freddie refuses to say anything.”
Joe’s frustration reached boiling point. “He told me to ring you. Said he wouldn’t make a fuss.”
“He was quite amicable at first, but the moment he learned we’d released Gil and Elaine, he clammed up.”
They were outside the police station enjoying a smoke, taking the balmy, early evening air, watching the sun as it dipped towards the western horizon. The moment Joe arrived, Feeney brought him up to date.
“We’ve had to release them. We have no evidence against them on any of the three killings. I’m sure we’ll find some… somewhere… sometime, but for now, they’re free.”
“And the fake egg?”
“Nothing. We scanned it, and it’s empty.”
With the news that Gil and Elaine were free and Freddie had refused to talk, Joe’s irritation grew.
“This is the most complicated investigation I’ve ever tackled, and it all hinges on Diane and Freddie. She must have spoken to him. Maybe after she tackled Ginny.” He blew out an angry stream of smoke. “What the hell is it?”
“You’ve asked Hazel?”
Joe nodded. “She knew nothing about Diane until this last couple of days.” He stubbed out his cigarette on a nearby waste bin and after ensuring the stub was cool enough, tossed it into the bin. “Let me speak to him.”
“Joe, I don’t know—”
“Are you married, Patricia?”
She shook her head. “I was in a relationship. It went askew.”
“Then you know how much pressure wives or husbands can bring to bear. Since Hazel isn’t here, I’ll have to stand in for her.” Joe grinned. “Let me speak to Freddie.”
There was a delay of about ten minutes while Freddie was brought to an interview room. Looking on through a CCTV monitor, Joe was annoyed to find him handcuffed.
“He has a history as an armed robber, Joe,” Feeney insisted. “We take no chances with known, violent offenders.”
“He’s not violent,” Joe argued. “He may have been once over, but Hazel has cured that, I’m sure.”
“Nevertheless…” Feeney ushered him into the room.
Joe sat before Freddie and felt a wave of sympathy for the man. Three days back, his life had been perfect. Now it was in tatters.
“Freddie, I know you didn’t kill Ginny, we’re pretty certain you didn’t kill Terry Badger. You’re only suspected of killing Diane. Neither Chief Inspector Feeney nor I think you did that either. But you have to help me prove it. Why did Diane come to see you?”
He looked away and then back at Joe. “No deal.”
“She’s dead, Freddie. So is Terry Badger. Whatever—”
“Gil is still alive and so is Elaine, and they’re out on the streets. No deal.”
“If I find one piece of evidence against them, they’re going down,” Feeney assured him. “And I will find it eventually. Freddie, what is it? What are you hiding?”
“You think they can’t damage me while I’m inside? You don’t need any excuse to send me back to Long Lartin, Feeney. You can do it in the bat of an eyelid. For the last time, I’m saying nothing.”
His words rang around Joe’s head, and merely raised more questions. Before he could work out the answers, his frustration got the better of him. “And what about Hazel? You leave her to suffer, do you? People say my marriage fell to bits because I put my business before it. I won’t have that. I did what I had to do, but there’s more than a grain of truth in it. Some people insist that Alison was the best thing ever to happen to me, and they may be right. But I know I’m right when I say Hazel is the best thing that ever happened to you, and she’s not scared of the future. Whatever you have to deal with, she’s willing to tackle it with you. Now for God’s sake grow up and tell us what the hell is going on.”
There was a long pause during which Freddie would not look at them. Joe fervently hoped Freddie was thinking it over, letting the message sink in.
But when he looked up, Freddie’s face displayed no emotion other than anger. “Go to hell… better yet, go somewhere a lot colder. You’re the detective. You work out where.” He looked at Feeney. “Is that it? Can we call it a day now and get me back inside where I belong?”
At a nod from the chief inspector, Freddie was escorted back to the cells. The moment he had left, Feeney shrugged at Joe. “It looks as if you were wrong, Joe.”
Joe had his doubts. “I don’t think so. What did he mean by that? Go somewhere a lot colder? And what did he mean when he said you don’t need an excuse to send him back to Long Lartin? You can only put him back for another seven and a half years?”
Feeney gave him a meaningful stare. “I can’t comment on that, Joe. Freddie could, but I can’t. As for somewhere colder, did he mean Hell freezing over? I don’t know. What I do know is, he has every reason to murder Diane, and I have to send him back to prison.”
Joe stood up, ready to leave. “Don’t be too hasty, Patricia. At least wait until tomorrow.”
“Must I keep reminding you that it’s Easter? Nothing will happen until Tuesday at the earliest. Joe, you’re clutching at straws. It’s likely that Gil and Elaine were responsible for the deaths of Virginia Nicholson and Terry Badger. If so, I’m sure we’ll get to them eventually. But they cannot have murdered Diane. We know exactly where they were when she was killed. As far as I’m concerned, unless I turn up evidence to the contrary, that leaves Freddie Delaney. He and Ginny were the only two people in this town who might have a motive for killing her.”
Joe shook his head. “No. Gil and Elaine had a motive, too, as we saw in the Winter Gardens earlier. What’s more, I have an idea how they could have done it while they were still at the Castle Hotel.”
***
By the time he got back to the Leeward, Joe felt thoroughly despondent. From his overnight position, convinced of Freddie’s guilt, he had come full circle and was now convinced of his innocence, and the only stumbling block to demonstrating it was Freddie himself.
Once dinner was ove
r, he met with Hazel in the bar.
“I’m sorry, luv, I tried every dirty trick in the book, including emotional blackmail, but he wouldn’t say why Diane came here or why he went to see her the other night.”
Hazel’s eyes were red and her cheeks baggy. Joe guessed she had not had much sleep.
“It’s something bad. Something he must have kept from me.” She was pleading with Joe. “What is it? I know about his record. He told me. It doesn’t matter to me, so what can it be that’s so bad he’s keeping it from me?”
Sheila patted Hazel’s hand. “Try to keep calm, dear.” She turned to Joe. “Perhaps if Hazel went to see Freddie, she could persuade him to tell the police.”
Joe shook his head. “You know the rules, Sheila. He’s being held for questioning and they won’t allow him visitors. I struggled to persuade Feeney to let me see him.”
Brenda had been deep in thought. She snapped out of it and asked, “Forgive me, Hazel, but have you thought that Freddie may have had some sort of relationship with Diane before he met you?”
Hazel sneered. “And you reckon that would matter to me? You think I played the virgin between splitting up with my ex and settling down with Freddie? Besides, according to what he did tell me last night, sleeping with Diane Shipton would be like sleeping with fish fingers… while they were still in the freezer. Why do you think Gil Shipton is playing away from home?”
Joe’s colour drained and in that moment, understanding dawned on him. “That’s it!”
They all looked to him.
“What?” Diane asked.
“What is it, Joe?” Sheila demanded.
Brenda laughed. “He’s decided he’s putting fish fingers on the menu at the Lazy Luncheonette.”
“Freddie told me to go to hell, or better yet, somewhere colder. For crying out loud, it’s been staring me in the face since Friday morning. Hazel. Quick. I need your help.”
***
The sun had dipped towards the horizon when Joe’s taxi pulled up outside the rooming house on Clevedon Street.
To Joe, the place looked like any other seaside boarding house. Three storeys high, its brick stone front facing out across the town to the sea, the stone lintels of its windows were painted in brilliant white, expressing the cleanliness of coastal living. But the paint on the front door was fading, badly in need of another coat, and the fading sunlight on the windows reflected the dust. They hadn’t been cleaned in a long time.
The Chocolate Egg Murders Page 15
