Murder in the Valleys

by Pippa McCathie

  “Telescope?” At last he answered her question. “Good Lord yes, it’s the most fantastic instrument. She could have spied on the whole of Pontygwyn with that – well nearly all of it – and it’s in pristine condition, obviously been well looked after and used regularly. The focus was spot on. Have you ever been up into that attic of hers?”

  “Not recently. Has she still got that shrine to her father up there?”

  “Yup, gave me the creeps. He didn’t look a particularly pleasant chap.”

  “He wasn’t. You should have heard my Auntie Meg on the subject. He was still alive when she lived here and she used to tell me the most awful horror stories about him. It’s no wonder Rhona is... was like she was.”

  Matt pushed his plate away. “That was delicious. Just what I needed. Thank you so much.” And the smile he gave her across the table was completely natural. Fabia’s heart gave a jolt, for a moment he looked so much like his old self. But this was no good. Nothing could come of trying to turn back the clock. It had been her, after all, who’d held back from getting too involved before. There was no mileage in sitting here mulling over past mistakes. She shrugged dismissively. “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” she said.

  “Okay,” said Matt, rubbing a hand across his eyes, “as you suggested we’ve picked up that nearly new stuff from the vicar. Luckily the sale isn’t until tomorrow evening, so it was still all there. You were right, the fabric matches. We’ll be following that up.”

  “I know it’s tenuous, but it does rather point in one direction, doesn’t it?”

  “But making it stick, that’s going to be the problem, unless we turn up some more evidence, and a motive, for that matter. We’ve got that message Amber left, but we need more.”

  Matt slumped down in his chair, his legs thrust out in front of him. The silence drew out and neither spoke. It lengthened to uncomfortable proportions, and then both spoke at once.

  “Fabia, I wanted to talk to you–”

  “What’s next? Have you–”

  Both smiled, embarrassed. There was another awkward pause. “You first,” said Fabia.

  Matt leant forward, cradling his glass in his hands, gazing down at it. She wondered what was coming next. When he finally spoke, it wasn’t at all what she expected.

  “I had a drink with Alun Richards the night before last. He told me you and some others get together occasionally, for old time’s sake, and I... and, well, I wondered why on earth we don’t.”

  Fabia felt a spurt of anger bubble up inside her. That had to be a question he could answer for himself. Surely, he should know why? “For Christ’s sake, Matt, you–”

  “I know, I know,” Matt said quickly. “What I mean is, what does Alun know that I don’t? Sorry,” he interrupted her protest, “that didn’t come out right either. I mean, it’s my fault I don’t know exactly what went on before you left. I should have made it my business to find out at the time. And now you’ve actually resigned, I just couldn’t – oh God, Fabia, I just–”

  “Believed all the scuttlebutt and didn’t bother to come to me and ask what really happened?”

  “After that row we had?” Matt protested, glaring at her. “I assumed you wouldn’t want to talk to me.”

  “Assumed!” Fabia almost shouted. “How difficult would it have been to find out? I thought you cared about me, Matt. You told me you did. What’s worse, I thought you knew me. And yet you were willing to walk away, make no effort to patch things up. How do you think I felt about that?”

  He didn’t reply, just continued to look at her under frowning brows. Below his eyes, deep shadows stood out in his white face, his dark hair flopped down over his forehead and he didn’t bother to push it back. His broad shoulders were hunched, he looked completely defeated. Her anger evaporated. Poor Matt. She couldn’t help feeling sorry for him.

  She leant across the table and touched his hands with the tips of her fingers. “Look, let’s take this wine into the sitting room and try to clear away some of the cobwebs. I’ll tell you the full story, if you really want to know. And you can tell me how you’re feeling. I’ve been thinking about Bethan too these last few days, and I do have some idea of how difficult this case must be for you.”

  “Nothing I can do about that,” he said, his eyes bleak, “and you’d better make coffee, got to drive back.”

  Fabia grimaced. “True, the last thing you need is one of your PCs pulling you over for a breath test.”

  Chapter 25

  Once settled in the sitting room, neither spoke for a while. Earlier on Fabia had lit a fire to cut the chill in the air and in a vain attempt to cheer herself up. It had died down and she bent to sort it out, not satisfied until the flames were licking up around the logs she’d added to the smouldering remains.

  Matt sprawled back in an armchair, his chin on his chest, his coffee mug nursed between his long fingers. He watched her as she prodded at the wood. Fabia felt his eyes on her and wondered what he was thinking. Still kneeling on the hearth rug, she twisted round to look at him. “Can you honestly say you know nothing of what went on?” she asked him.

  “Well, not nothing.”

  “Didn’t you go to someone and ask about the reasons for the sick leave?”

  “No. I thought there was every reason for you to feel incredibly stressed, so I suppose I put it down to that. I hardly wanted to add to it by giving you the third degree, particularly not after that row.”

  “Oh Matt, isn’t curiosity part and parcel of being a police officer? How could you stop yourself asking around?”

  “You know I hate gossip, and anyway, I thought you’d prefer it if I just kept out of things.”

  Fabia sighed, understanding but exasperated at the same time. She tucked her legs up under her and leant back against the settee. “You’d better start by telling me what you do know.”

  Matt stirred, seeming uncomfortable with this direct approach, and Fabia’s exasperation increased. “For goodness sake, let’s talk about this once and for all. No-one’s completely impervious to gossip. Surely you must have picked stuff up, if only in the canteen.”

  “No, not then.” His tone cooled. “And I wasn’t about to sit in the canteen earwigging the chit-chat, you know that’s something I never do.”

  “Don’t be so bloody self-righteous,” she snapped. “You’re making yourself sound like a total prig.”

  “Thanks a bunch!”

  “I’m sorry, but that’s how it comes across.” Then she added, her voice quieter but cool as well. “Perhaps it’s just that you didn’t care enough to find out.”

  Matt said nothing, just glared at her. In the end, she relented. “I appreciate you don’t like gossip. And people knew we were close friends, so there’s always a possibility they clammed up when you were around.”

  “Probably.”

  “But I’m amazed you didn’t ask, say, someone like Alun Richards.”

  “I knew you were involved in a fraud case that started up just after I went off on that course, but by the time I got back it was all done and dusted. It wasn’t until I asked Alun about it this week, when we met for a drink, that I found out any details.”

  “You could have come and asked me.” It was a cry from the heart.

  “That’s what he said.” He held a hand out to her, but she didn’t take it. His shoulders sagged. “What can I say? I’m truly sorry, really I am.”

  “Water under the bridge now,” she said, trying to dismiss it, but knowing she couldn’t. “What did Alun tell you?”

  “He said Neville Breverton was a city councillor at the time, in Cardiff, and he was the front-runner for selection as Labour candidate. I suppose that must have been for the by-election a few years ago.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “He told me Breverton was a close friend of Vivian Sligo, the then ACC. That they were both Masons and also belonged to the same clubs, golf and all that, and that their wives were related or something.”

  “Cousins.”<
br />
  “You got a tip-off about a dodgy property deal involving old man Vasic and a few others. It was rumoured the land was contaminated, but Breverton had made sure planning permission went through nice and smooth. He said it was also rumoured that a senior police officer had some kind of financial involvement. Is that right so far?”

  “The bare bones, yes.”

  “Alun said you went to Rees-Jones, who was then your immediate superior, and soon after that the whole thing went pear-shaped. Alun told me you said they’d poisoned police work for you, made you feel grubby and ashamed of yourself, though why you should he can’t imagine.” He paused and took a deep breath. She waited, dreading what would come next. “And he told me he thought they’d got some hold over you, that’s why you gave in so easily and took the sick leave.”

  Fabia made a small sound of protest and he stopped. His eyebrows were raised, his face anxious, and she could tell he was asking for reassurance, but she said nothing.

  “The last thing he told me was that he’d heard something about you having an affair with a fellow officer when you were at Milford Haven, and he thought that might have had something to do with... well... why you let them get the better of you. That’s about it.”

  Strange, Fabia thought, how she’d not thought about Peter much for months, and yet today he’d hardly been out of her mind. She looked at Matt, wondering now why she hadn’t made him listen to her side of the story at the time. Looking back, she realised it wasn’t so much to do with the row they’d had, it was that she hadn’t wanted to tell him about Peter. At the time, she’d been afraid it would make him think less of her. Matt could be such a puritan at times. And quite apart from this, she’d convinced herself it was best they should go their separate ways. After all, she, of all people, had known only too well that having a relationship with a fellow officer was asking for trouble.

  But now she wondered if she’d made the right decision. Quite apart from anything else, it had deprived her of a good friend – and deprived him of one as well, she supposed. And she knew now that she’d loved him, back then. She just hadn’t had the courage to take the risk, too afraid that a relationship with Matt would turn out just as disastrous as the one with Peter.

  Gazing into the patterns made by flames licking up round the wood in the fire, slowly she began to speak. Without emotion, but not sparing herself any of the details, she told Matt about the affair with Peter and all the repercussions. He listened, slumped back in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of his face masking his expression, making it difficult for her to tell how he was reacting.

  “But what has all this got to do with Breverton and Rees-Jones?” Matt asked finally.

  Fabia rubbed her hands wearily over her face and went on. “Unfortunately, rather a lot. The more I delved into that building project, the more obvious it became it was dodgy, and that both Neville and Sligo were involved. Trouble was the evidence was all circumstantial, or merely hearsay, and a couple of the contacts I had weren’t exactly model citizens, although I’d have sworn they were telling the truth this time. The whole thing was bloody dynamite.”

  She could feel the old mixture of frustration and anger welling up inside her, giving the lie to her conviction she’d put it all behind her. It was still there, deep down, a festering wound that had never healed. Stupid to think otherwise. She sighed as she went on.

  “At that time, I thought Rees-Jones was on my side. I took the whole thing to him, and at first he supported me, but not for long. I’m not saying he’s dishonest as such, I just think that, for him, the reputation of the force came before the career of one officer, particularly a female officer. He was willing to sacrifice me for what, to him, was the greater good. So, it all blew up in my face. Sligo insisted the investigation was to be dropped, Rees-Jones went along with him, and it was made clear if I didn’t do so too, my affair with Peter would be resurfaced, thus ruining not only my career but possibly his as well.”

  Matt frowned down at her. “So why didn’t you fight? You’re not the sort to give in to blackmail.”

  “If it’d been just me I might have.” She shook her head. “But it was Peter as well–”

  “For Chrissake, Fabia, he’d left you to carry the can. You owed him nothing.”

  Fabia sighed wearily. “It wasn’t for him,” she said, “it was for his wife.”

  Matt made a disbelieving sound, but Fabia went on, not allowing him to interrupt. Now she’d started, she might as well tell him the whole story.

  “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not some lily-white idiot whose guilt over her adultery suddenly got the better of her.” Her tone was scalding, allowing herself no mercy, but then she spoke more quietly. “It was complicated, Matt. The poor woman was dying, some sort of cancer. I found out through someone Peter and I had both worked with. If I’d fought – no, I couldn’t have done that to her, poor woman. Anyway, what I said to Alun was right. At the time all I wanted was to get the hell out of there, and the sick leave business seemed the best way to do it without losing out too much financially. Back then, I had no idea I could make any kind of living out of my painting, so I thought that was the best solution.” Fabia sighed as she looked up at him. “So, there you have it.”

  Suddenly Matt gave her a twisted grin. “I should imagine the Brevertons are shitting bricks wondering whether or not you’ll rake up the past now.”

  “I’ll not do that unless I have to, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit back and let Neville get away with this as well.” She sat forward, eager again. “One thing I heard from one of my contacts at the time – and you have to remember this is all rumour – is that Neville had had an affair with an under-age girl. Her father kicked up a fuss, but Sligo fixed it for him and the whole thing was swept under the carpet. Neville owed Sligo, with a vengeance, so maybe he paid him, in cash. What do you think?”

  “For God’s sake, Fabia!”

  Feeling slightly light-headed with relief that it was all out in the open, she grinned at him. “Just a theory, but one that’s plausible. And now we have all this. Okay, maybe he didn’t kill Amber, but he certainly had motive enough. Maybe he got someone else to do it for him. It’s worth investigating, isn’t it? I’m quite happy to see the bastard sweat a little while you rummage around.”

  “We don’t know for sure that he didn’t kill her himself. I know this London business complicates things, but if he thought Amber was going to go to the tabloids about their affair, if all that speculation of yours has a grain of truth in it, he could well have felt she had to be silenced.”

  “On the other hand, just because he’s had to do with a few bent business deals doesn’t make him a murderer,” Fabia said, playing devil’s advocate.

  “Like you said, maybe he paid someone else to get rid of her.”

  “To be honest, I think that’s a bit farfetched, don’t you?”

  “Wouldn’t you say that depends on how ambitious he is?”

  “He’s certainly ambitious, but so’s Gwen. There’ve been times when I wouldn’t put murder past her.”

  Matt’s eyes widened. “Now, that’s an angle I hadn’t thought of.”

  For a while they sat in the flickering firelight, absorbed in their own thoughts. Fabia felt drained, but somehow content. Although she didn’t expect their friendship to return to its old easy ways, she was relieved there was no longer that dark barrier of unspoken questions between them. Of course, they’d never work together as they used to, now that she wasn’t a colleague, but perhaps there were advantages to that. At least, now she was no longer his superior, they could meet as equals, and neither was she constrained by the rules of police procedure. She almost smiled at the thought. A free hand? Now that was certainly a delightful prospect. But best not to say anything about that to Matt at the moment. She didn’t want him panicking about what she might or might not do.

  Matt stirred, pushed himself up out of his chair and glanced at his watch. “God, it’s nearly half twelve. I mu
st get going. I’ve got to be back in the office by seven.” He smiled at her, tentative, a little embarrassed. “I’m so glad we’ve, you know, cleared all this up. It’s been a weight on my mind for so long.”

  “Me too,” Fabia said quickly, not wanting to continue this particular conversation, not at the moment. It’d take more than one evening for the pain of the last two years to be washed away. She followed him to the door. “What’s first on the menu tomorrow?” she asked briskly.

  “After the briefing and setting up the usual routine vis-à-vis Rhona Griffiths, almost certainly a disagreeable interview with the chief. He’s bound to hold me entirely responsible for a second death,” he said bitterly. “And later on, we’re seeing Amber’s mother. We’ve finally managed to fix a time. The poor woman is still sedated, but her doctor says she should be up to it now.”

  “I must drop round and see her. What time will you be there?”

  Matt gave her a sharp look. “Half eleven, that’s the arrangement. Why do you want to see her?”

  “She’s a friend of mine, Matt. I want to know if there’s anything I can do to help.” Her eyes wide and innocent, she asked, “What else would I be going round there for?”

  He obviously wasn’t happy with this answer but said nothing. Fabia smiled at him as she opened the front door. He reached out a hand to her, bent as if to kiss her goodbye, but she stepped back. She wasn’t ready for that kind of intimacy yet. She didn’t know if she ever would be. This had to be taken slowly.

  Chapter 26

  Fabia woke early the following morning and, in that no man’s land between waking and sleeping, felt an unexpected upsurge of pleasure at being alive. For a moment her mind groped around for a reason, and then she remembered the evening before. The painful splinter of misunderstanding between her and Matt didn’t feel nearly as sharp any more. She got up and stretched, smiling to herself, but it wasn’t long before thoughts of the events of the last few days sobered her mood.