‘It does seem odd. The wall safe, the one behind the books, is opened with a combination lock, but the one let into the floor under the desk is opened with a key. The dog was interested in both locations, but as you say, nothing appeared to have been touched. We’ll have to see what the fingerprints tell us.’
‘Mrs Chant probably disturbed her killer before he had time to tackle either of the safes.’
‘So it would seem, on the face of it.’ It was clear from his tone that Jim had his doubts. He began to gather the pictures together, a frown rumpling his high forehead, a look of concentration in his greenish eyes above the slightly aquiline nose. ‘It’s odd,’ he repeated. ‘An experienced thief would expect to find a safe in that kind of household and know the sort of place where it would be concealed, but the fact that the scent was so strong around the spot where the floor safe was fitted suggests that he knew that one was there as well.’
‘Do you know where the key was kept?’
‘In a drawer in the wall safe. Chant checked in our presence – it was still in its usual place.’
‘What else did he keep in the wall safe?’
‘His wife’s jewellery, some documents, the usual stuff.’
‘And nothing was missing?’
‘So he says.’ Jim returned the pictures to their folder and laid it aside.
‘You don’t sound convinced.’
‘I just had the feeling he was holding something back. I asked him why he had the second safe installed, and he said there was always a chance that an expert cracksman could open the one in the wall so he’d had the other put in as a kind of back-up. From time to time he keeps fairly large sums of money in the house. His company manages a string of amusement arcades and of course they handle a lot of cash.’
‘Was there much in it on the day of the murder.’
‘On the contrary, it was empty.’
‘So perhaps he’d just paid the last lot into the bank?’
‘Or he’d emptied it before we came on the scene.’
‘Why would he do that?’
Jim shrugged. ‘It’s only a hypothesis, of course, but suppose he was hiding the proceeds of some dodgy business deals – in drugs, perhaps. Money he wouldn’t want us, or the Inland Revenue, to know about.’
It was Sukey’s turn to look doubtful. ‘Assuming you’re right, d’you reckon he’d have had the presence of mind to stash the evidence away somewhere before calling for help, when he was in shock after finding his wife’s body?’
‘It’s true he seems genuinely broken up by her murder, but we can’t discount anything at this stage.’ Jim made an impatient gesture, as if mentally sweeping the problem to one side for the time being. ‘I’m sorry, I’m off duty, I shouldn’t be inflicting all this on you.’
‘Don’t talk rot, I’ve got a professional interest as well.’
‘So you have.’ He put a hand on hers and gave it a squeeze.
Something in her nervous system went zing. ‘I’m sorry about our lunch date, Sook.’
‘That’s OK.’ She let her hand lie under his, enjoying the dangerously pleasant messages it sent to remoter parts of her body.
‘What about dinner? I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.’
‘Me too, but I can’t go out, I’m on standby again until ten o’clock.’ Against her inclination, she drew her hand away.
He stood up awkwardly and his chair almost toppled over. As he grabbed it, the packet of photographs slipped from his grasp. She leaned forward and fielded it. ‘Clumsy ox,’ she teased.
He gave a sheepish grin as he took the packet from her. ‘Well, if we can’t eat out, I’ll get something from the takeaway. Indian, Chinese, pizza—?’
‘I’ll have a pizza, I think.’
‘Me too. What topping would you like?’
They discussed details, agreed on a dessert and he left. Fifteen minutes later he was back with cartons of food. Despite a resolution not to talk shop, the case was still uppermost in both their minds. It was Sukey who reverted to it. ‘Tell me,’ she said as she put plates and cutlery on the table, ‘did Chant’s statement take you any further forward?’
‘Not really. He says he left for his office as usual at around nine o’clock yesterday morning. His wife had arranged to go to London to attend a friend’s wedding and wasn’t expected back until next day. Soon after he got to the office he realised he’d forgotten a file that he was going to need at a meeting later on, so he went back home to fetch it. His wife was still there. She was in good time, and his meeting wasn’t until twelve, so they had a cup of coffee together before he returned to his office. When he came home at about six o’clock, he found the place in a mess and realised someone had broken in. He went upstairs to see what other damage was done and found her body. He had the presence of mind to call the police and an ambulance, and then went into complete shock. Thought of something?’ he enquired as Sukey put down the dish of salad she was holding and reached for the packet of photographs.
‘I’m not sure. What time did Chant come back the first time?’
‘Shortly before ten o’clock, as far as he remembers. Why?’
‘And where was the file he says he forgot?’
Jim thought for a moment. ‘I think he said he left it on the hall table. He just forgot to pick it up when leaving the house.’
‘In which case—’
Sukey rummaged through the prints and picked out one of the en suite bathroom. She held it up for Jim to see. ‘What does that tell you?’
‘That the last person to use the toilet was a man,’ he said, after noting the position of the seat. ‘So what? He probably popped in for a quick pee after his cup of coffee.’
‘Wouldn’t he have been more likely to use the downstairs loo?’
‘He would indeed.’ Jim was quick to spot what she was driving at. ‘And his wife almost certainly used the toilet after he left home the first time, so any prints other than Chant’s on the underside of that seat will probably have been left by her killer. Well spotted, Sook. Now, let’s get on with this food before it gets cold.’
They ate in silence for a few minutes. Then she asked, ‘Do we know how much stuff was taken?’
He shook his head. ‘Not yet. We’ve asked Chant for a list and when we have it we’ll be circulating details through the usual channels.’
She nodded and chewed thoughtfully on a mouthful of pizza for a few seconds before asking, ‘I assume you’ve had his story checked?’ In such cases, she knew, the murder victim’s nearest and dearest was always a suspect until eliminated.
‘Naturally,’ said Jim. ‘Independent witnesses have confirmed the times of his movements, but of course we’ve only his word for it that his wife was still alive when he left her.’
‘D’you reckon she could have been planning to leave him?’
‘That’s an obvious possibility, but nothing he said suggested anything of the kind. On the contrary, he kept on about how close they were, how much in love – but he would say that, of course, whatever the truth of the matter.’
‘This wedding she was supposed to be going to, where exactly was it?’
‘That’s another question we can’t answer at the moment. Chant claims they were friends of his wife that he’s never met, he doesn’t even remember their names, and he has no idea where the wedding was taking place except it was somewhere in London. It’s significant that no one’s called to enquire why she never showed up.’
‘I suppose they could have phoned before he came home, but got no answer.’
‘It’s possible. In which case presumably they’ll call again sometime, but it might not be for ages, after the honeymoon for example. We’re working through Mrs Chant’s address book to see if we can trace them that way.’
‘You didn’t find an invitation anywhere… in her handbag, for example, or her overnight bag?’
‘We didn’t find an overnight bag, which seems to indicate that she was killed shortly after her husband
left for the second time, before she’d started packing. It’s a point though.’ Jim laid down his fork. ‘I suppose it’s just possible that she packed the bag and put it in her car some time before she was ready to leave.’
‘Where was her car?’
‘In the garage, I guess. I should have checked at the time. I’ll see to it first thing tomorrow.’ Jim rumpled his hair with his fingers. ‘There’s something not quite straightforward about this case. On the face of it, we’re looking at an opportunist break-in by someone assuming the house was empty, who panicked and committed murder when confronted. But it’s hard to see how a casual thief would go to both safes, one concealed by books and the other by a rug, and yet leave everything apparently untouched.’
‘It is odd,’ Sukey agreed. ‘Was anyone seen hanging around?’
‘The woman who keeps the village shop says she saw a white van driving up the lane towards the Chants’ house at about half-past ten. She doesn’t remember seeing it again that day, but she says it’s been in the village before and thinks it belongs to a man who does odd jobs around the place. We’re following that up as well. Oh, hell, let’s talk about something else!’ Jim picked up their empty plates and carried them to the sink. A fork fell on the floor and Sukey retrieved it. He took it from her and put it down with exaggerated care. They laughed as their eyes met.
‘What time did you say your shift ends?’ he asked softly.
She glanced at her watch. ‘In ten minutes.’
‘And Fergus is with his father until tomorrow?’
‘That’s right.’
The space between them was a magnetic field, drawing them together, invading every corner of their bodies. Common sense, stern resolution, the responsibilities of single parenthood, all fled from Sukey’s mind. She was on the brink of surrender when the telephone rang. Fergus was on the line, and he sounded distressed.
‘Mum, I want to come home,’ he said, his voice unsteady. ‘Can you fetch me?’
‘What is it? What’s happened? Are you ill?’ One dire possibility after another chased through Sukey’s head.
‘It’s Dad and Myrna. They’re having a row – it’s awful! Please, Mum, I can’t stay… oh, Dad! I’m sorry!’
Paul had evidently grabbed the telephone from his son. His voice came over the wire, harsh and angry. ‘He’s right, it would be better for him to be with you tonight.’
‘Paul, what’s going on?’
‘Nothing I can’t handle, but the boy’s better out of it. OK if I drop him off? Say in half an hour?’
‘Yes, of course, I’ll be here but—’
The line went dead. Sukey put down the receiver and turned to Jim. He read her expression and without a word went to pick up his jacket. ‘Some other time, maybe,’ he said dully.
‘There’s some trouble between Paul and Myrna. Fergus sounded really upset.’
‘And he’s coming home.’ Jim’s voice was flat, final.
‘What else could I do but agree? He hates scenes – I remember when Paul and I—’
‘You don’t have to explain. I know he comes first and I understand.’
‘I’m sorry, I know how you must feel.’
‘Do you?’ They had reached the front door, his hand was on the latch. He turned suddenly and grabbed her in a fierce, almost angry embrace, his mouth crushing hers. ‘Just tell me one thing,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Tell me you want it too.’
She put her arms round him, returning the pressure. ‘You know I do.’
‘I’ll see you soon,’ he whispered, his voice gentle again. He released her, opened the door and was gone. She went into the front room and watched from the window as he drove away. There was still light in the western sky.
Less than half an hour later she heard a key in the lock and Fergus walked in. He dumped his overnight bag in the hall and came into the kitchen, where she was just putting away the supper things.
‘Something smells good,’ he said, sniffing the air. ‘Is there any left?’ His eye fell on the empty cartons lying on a worktop. ‘Have you had a takeaway? Did you eat a whole pizza by yourself?’
There was no point in concealment. ‘Inspector Castle called round with some photographs. Neither of us had eaten so he fetched something for us both. He was just leaving when you called.’ A white lie did no harm, and it would be reassuring for Fergus.
‘He seems a top chap. D’you like him?’
‘Very much. I’m glad you do. Do you want anything to eat, by the way?’
‘Wouldn’t mind.’ He was at the age of perpetual hunger. ‘Any baked beans going?’
‘Of course.’ Sukey fetched the tin and Fergus opened it and tipped the contents into a saucepan while she got out some bread for toast. She was curious to know what had caused the rumpus between Paul and Myrna, but felt it better to let Fergus be the one to raise it if he felt like it. She watched him as he lit the gas under the beans, reached for a wooden spoon and began stirring them. His expression gave little away, except for a tightening of the jawline that suggested suppressed tension.
When the food was ready he sat and wolfed it as if he was starving. ‘Didn’t you get any supper?’ Sukey asked.
He shook his head. ‘Myrna was sulking because there was this do on somewhere she’d wanted to go to and Dad had said no. She screamed that it was always the same, he put me before her. He said it was nothing to do with me being there, it was just that he didn’t want to waste an evening with a load of bloody boring airheads. She told him not to insult her friends – and then they really tore into each other.’ Fergus put down his knife and fork and looked at his mother, his expression almost beseeching, begging for help in understanding the complexity of human relationships. His eyes were bright. On the verge of manhood, he was struggling against the tears that would have branded him as still a child.
Sukey felt her own eyes smarting as she sat beside him and put an arm round his shoulders. ‘Don’t let it upset you, love,’ she said gently. ‘They’ve had rows before – it’ll blow over.’
‘You reckon?’ He sat hunched over his plate, his mouth working. Then he raised his head and looked at her. This time, the tears won. He buried his face in her shoulder. ‘I think he regrets the divorce,’ he said, his voice muffled. ‘Mum, d’you think you could ever have him back?’
Sukey heaved a sigh. Once, she would have killed for the knowledge that Paul still cared for her. Things were different now. ‘I’m afraid not,’ she said. ‘I don’t think Myrna would let him go without a fight, and in any case—’
Fergus sat up and brushed a hand across his eyes. He was back in control. ‘I guess you’d find it hard to trust him again,’ he said.
He was learning fast. Sukey gave his shoulder a squeeze before taking her arm away. ‘I guess I would,’ she said sadly.
It was not until Monday morning, shortly before Fergus was due to leave for school, that Sukey noticed that the letter about the school trip to France was missing from the front of the refrigerator door.
‘I chucked it,’ said Fergus when she asked him about it. He concentrated on spreading marmalade on a slice of toast, not looking at her. ‘No point in keeping it. We have to give in our names and the deposit this week if we’re going.’
‘Did Dad say he wouldn’t contribute, then?’ Sukey sat down at the kitchen table opposite him. Still he avoided her eye. ‘You did ask him, didn’t you?’
‘Couldn’t very well, not with things the way they were.’
‘So where is the letter?’
‘In the bin.’ He finished his toast, gulped the rest of his tea, wiped his mouth and stood up. ‘Forget it,’ he said gruffly. ‘There’s several others not going.’ He dropped a kiss on her forehead. ‘Have a good day, Mum.’
‘You too. You’ll find your supper in the fridge if I’m going to be out when you get home.’
‘Sure, no problem.’
After he had left, Sukey dived into the bin and retrieved the crumpled sheet of paper. She smoothed it out and did
some calculations in her head. It wasn’t all that much, really, when you came to work it out. The deposit was only fifty pounds, she could manage that, and the rest of the money didn’t have to be in for several weeks. It would mean dipping into her reserves, which weren’t all that flush at the moment anyway, but …
Then she remembered something. That man Gary she’d met at the health club had asked her to do a photo session at his house. He’d said something about paying whatever she asked. From the car he drove and the quality of his sports gear it was obvious he wasn’t short of a bob or two. She reckoned she could charge him a fee that would go a long way towards the cost of the trip. It was against the rules and she could be in trouble if anyone down at the nick heard about it, but that was pretty unlikely. Of course, if – as she suspected – the man’s interest in her wasn’t confined to her professional skills, things could get tricky, but she reckoned she could handle any funny business. It might be worth the risk.
He’d said he used the club most Monday mornings – and today was Monday.
Six
All Reg Hodson had been able to tell Terry was that the registered keeper of the car he’d seen Charlie Foss driving was a company calling itself Bodywise Systems Ltd with an address in Cheltenham. That meant Terry would have to do a bit of on-the-spot detective work himself. It appealed to his sense of humour to think he was on the point of succeeding where the police had failed. With all their resources, they’d never managed to trace the driver of the getaway car after the raid that had ended so disastrously. Terry and Frank had both grassed on Charlie, of course. They didn’t owe him any loyalty, not after the way he’d sodded off and left them to take the rap. It hadn’t done them much good; Charlie had covered his tracks so well that it was obvious he’d been plotting the double-cross for weeks, probably from the moment they first started planning the job – or even before that, knowing that sooner or later they’d want his services again.
Death at Hazel House Page 5
