Gabrielle had no idea whether Ashbourne had any CID and if they did she certainly had no idea whether the senior officer would be an inspector.
‘Er, yes Ma’am, I mean, Miss. Help me, I really don’t know what to call you.’
She smiled. ‘Gabrielle will be fine.’
‘Gabrielle? But you’re a vicar.’
‘I’m not actually, I’m a minister in the Scottish Episcopal Church, but yes, Gabrielle will be fine.’
‘Right, and er, you want to speak to CID.’
‘Yes, please.’
‘May I ask what it’s about?’
‘Of course you can, Constable. It’s about the murders of Lucinda Harrison and her children, Charlotte and Timothy.’
DI Eric Rowlands sat across the table from Gabrielle and each had a mug of coffee in front of them.
‘You’ve caused a bit of a stir,’ DI Rowlands said, his eyes intent on Gabrielle’s. Young Phillip Walters was right because she really was a stunner with a collar. ‘I understand you want to talk about the Harrison murders.’
‘Yes, Inspector, that’s correct.’
‘Do you want to give me information or obtain it?’
DI Eric Rowlands was pushing retirement. At fifty-three he reckoned he had seen and done it all. He enjoyed his career although he had not got quite as far as he had hoped. This was down to a personality clash with the DI in Stafford when he was a lowly DS. He wondered how many careers that particular DI had made or broken in his time.
Rowlands knew he was overweight. He needed a haircut, although there was no longer much to cut, and yes, he was ready for retirement. But then somebody like this vicar sitting opposite him comes along and makes him realise he did not know it all and he had not done it all.
‘I suppose it’s a bit of both really, but more of the latter,’ Gabrielle told him.
She had a cute Scottish accent as well as an equally cute figure. Vicar or not she was flesh and blood. Actually he liked the way she was dressed. Blue jeans, Nike trainers, grey V-necked sweater and the collar. He thought the large silver crucifix and chain was a bit over the top but perhaps the two went together - the collar and the crucifix. Like Phillip Walters, Eric Rowlands had never met a female vicar before. If they all looked like her he would get himself christened, baptised and then whatever came next - confirmed, was it? - all in one day. He would go to church in the morning, afternoon and evening. He would even join Sunday school. That is until his wife found out and then all hell would break loose.
‘So where do you want to start?’
‘Can we establish how much time we have first, Inspector?’
Eric Rowlands looked at his watch. ‘Let’s see, it’s nine-fifteen now, I’ve got to be home for lunch about twelve-thirty and then well, I had hoped for an early finish as soon after four as I can make it.’ He smiled. ‘An hour, would that do?’
‘An hour will be fine, Inspector, and can I thank you in advance?’
‘You certainly can ... Look, what exactly do I call you? I know you told young Walters that you wanted to be known as Gabrielle, but there’s you calling me Inspector and well, you are sort of official, aren’t you?’
Gabrielle crossed her legs and smiled. ‘My official title is Minister, but that conjures up too many parallels for me. I really would prefer it if you called me Gabrielle.’
‘Only if you call me Eric.’
‘Eric it is.’
‘On second thoughts, Inspector sounds better, doesn’t it?’
‘There’s nothing wrong with Eric.’
‘Matter of opinion, Gabrielle. Now, how can I help with the Harrison murders, or may I ask first what your interest is?’
‘My interest is, Eric, that I know Adam Harrison.’
‘You’re not from round here, are you? If you were I’d know.’
‘My parish is on the west banks of Loch Lomond.’
‘Oh, really, right, so you’ve come a long way?’
‘I’ve driven down from Scotland, yes.’
‘Okay, so what’s the connection?’
‘I met Adam Harrison for the first time last week and …’ Gabrielle paused for a second or two. ‘Well, suffice it to say he gave me cause for concern.’
‘Was he up in your area or were you down here?’
‘He was in my area.’
‘Presumably you have the equivalent to the Hippocratic Oath and you’re limited in what you can tell me.’ Eric Rowlands drained his mug. He wanted to light a cigarette.
‘Yes, we do and all I can say is that Adam gave me cause for concern. I’m in Derbyshire courtesy of the Bishop in Edinburgh because I feel that Adam’s life might be in danger.’
‘Is that the information you want to give me?’
‘In a way but I don’t think anybody else would be involved.’
DI Rowlands thought for a moment. ‘Thank you, Gabrielle. I think you handled that quite brilliantly. I’m in the picture and all I’ll say is, I wouldn’t be surprised.’
‘Somebody else said that to me recently.’
‘May I ask who?’
‘Jeremy Jacobs, Adam’s solicitor.’
‘What? The one across the road?’ Gabrielle nodded. ‘So you’ve been to see him, have you?’
‘Yesterday. You sound as though you don’t approve.’
‘It’s not a question of approval. Were you in uniform at the time?’
‘Uniform?’
‘You know, collar and stuff.’
‘No.’
‘And you survived?’
‘God moves in mysterious ways, Eric.’
‘So does Jeremy bloody Jacobs.’
‘I see.’
‘So, how can I help?’
‘By telling me as much as you can about the Harrison murders.’
DI Rowlands hesitated. ‘Would you like some more of what we loosely call coffee?’
‘No, not for me, thank you.’
‘No, neither will I.’ He put his elbows on the table and scratched his forehead. ‘In a nutshell, the murders were gruesome. There didn’t appear to be any motive whatsoever and we’ve been down so many blind alleys I’m ready for retirement.’
‘Did you know the Harrisons before the murders?’
‘Yes, in a way. They caused a bit of a stir when they first arrived, she being black and him white.’
‘I thought she was Sri Lankan, well half and half, half Sri Lankan and half Chinese.’
‘She might well have been but in this part of the country, if you go on holiday and get a tan, you’re black. I’m not saying that in any racist sense, it’s just that non-whites are not very common round here. More are coming in now but when the Harrisons arrived they were the only mixed race couple in the town. We’ve even got a black DS now but she’s bloody good.’
He saw the disapproving look on Gabrielle’s face and realised he’d made a racist remark. He was relieved when she chose to ignore it.
‘Jeremy Jacobs told me the same about the mixed race issue.’
‘Did he now? Well, he should know. Him and his ... how can I put it? ... appetite ... caused more bad than good.’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t follow.’
‘Look, Gabrielle, I was a lowly PC at the time, and soon after I was posted to Stafford on promotion to Sergeant, so I only picked up the gossip when I came home in the evenings and at weekends.’
‘Gossip?’
‘Him and Lucinda Harrison. Rumour had it that they were carrying on behind her husband’s back during the week when he was down in London.’ Eric Rowlands leant further across the table. ‘Look, can I tell you something that must stay between you and me.’
‘Of course.’
‘All right. Jeremy Jacobs was top of the suspect list for quite a while.’
‘What? You believed he was capable of murder?’
‘In my experience, Gabrielle, never go on looks and social behaviour. Some of the worst criminals that walk this planet look like everyday, honest-to-goodness citizens.�
� Eric Rowlands sat back and clasped his hands on his lap. ‘He’s still not completely in the clear.’
‘What, he’s still a suspect?’
‘When you haven’t nailed a triple murder on anybody then anybody can be on the suspect list. Yes, he’s still there and he’s one of only a few.’
‘May I ask who else is on the list?’
‘You can ask and again I’d be shot if my superiors knew I was telling you this but seeing you’re a minister in the Scottish Episcopal Church and all that, and because of what you’ve told me, Adam Harrison himself has yet to be completely ruled out.’ When he saw the look of incredulity on Gabrielle’s face he added, ‘Beautiful wife, solicitor who you consider a good friend, discover the affair between them, it has all the ingredients.’
‘But -’
‘You did ask. If Jeremy Jacobs and Lucinda Harrison were having an affair then Adam Harrison would have a motive.’
‘But the children.’
‘You read the papers. It happens all the time.’
‘And Jeremy Jacobs?’
‘Don’t know. Maybe he wanted her to go away with him and she wouldn’t.’
‘But murder? The murder of three people, two of whom were children! I can’t and don’t want to believe it.’
Rowlands shrugged. ‘As I said, read the papers. It happens all the time.’
‘Do they know they’re suspects?’ Gabrielle looked very uncomfortable and he wondered why.
‘We interviewed them both on more than one occasion and although neither was ever arrested or charged, yes I have every reason to believe that they know.’
‘Should you have told me?’
‘Probably not but we’re talking to each other in our official capacities, aren’t we?’
‘Well, yes.’
Gabrielle needed a moment to think. She got up from her chair and went over to the window. It was a clear morning and the temperature was in the low fifties. She had heard on the morning news that rain could be expected in the Midlands by late afternoon. She turned round. The room was simply furnished, a water cooler in the corner, some old flower prints hanging on one wall, the table and four chairs standing on a threadbare carpet. The table was up against one wall in which there were various plugs she assumed were for tape recorders or whatever they used nowadays.
Inspector Eric Rowlands was watching her.
‘Did you interview them personally?’
‘No, DS Brown, she’s the black one, and DC Tilsey were the case officers. If there’d been grounds for arrest then I’d have become directly involved.’
‘Are you saying the entire investigation into a triple murder was handled by a Detective Sergeant and a Detective Constable?’
Eric Rowlands bristled but only for a moment. He did not like police methods being questioned even by a very pretty female vicar. ‘No, that’s not what I’m saying. What I’m saying in direct answer to your question is that DS Brown and DC Tilsey were the interviewing officers for your friends Jacobs and Harrison.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, as though she realised she’d overstepped the mark. ‘That was rude of me.’
‘No, not at all. The reason I’m seeing you this morning is because of your status and I assumed you were here officially. Somebody off the street wouldn’t normally get to see anybody without an appointment, unless they had some critical evidence.’
‘Yes, of course.’ Gabrielle sat down again and Eric Rowlands allowed a cynical smile to cross his lips. He wondered if all men who met Gabrielle Brooks, especially when she was in uniform, had the same thoughts he was having. He closed his eyes to get rid of the image of her wearing nothing but her collar and crucifix.
He glanced at his watch.
‘Is there anything else?’
Gabrielle looked at him. ‘Just a few more minutes, if that’s all right.’ The inspector nodded. ‘This short list, is there anybody else on it?’
‘Let’s put it this way, Gabrielle, it’s an open list. We can add to it and take from it at any stage.’
‘So there’s nobody else?’
‘I didn’t say that, but there isn’t anybody on it that you would know.’
‘You said there was no motive?’
‘Not that we can establish. Nothing was stolen and neither Lucinda Harrison nor her daughter was sexually assaulted in any way. The house wasn’t searched for anything, the doors and windows weren’t forced. It was a perfectly normal house with three dead bodies in it.’
Eric Rowlands leant back in his chair and waited. He could see from Gabrielle’s expression that he had posed more questions than he’d answered.
‘But I thought all murderers make mistakes. A fingerprint, DNA …’
‘They do but in this case we haven’t found it yet.’
Gabrielle paused a moment. ‘The injuries, were they -?’
‘The only word I can use is surgical. They were all cut from ear to ear.’ Eric Rowlands drew a line across his own throat to emphasis his point.
‘And nothing else?’
‘Nothing else.’
‘Did you know … no that’s silly of me, of course you’ll know, but the Harrisons’ background and their connection with Hong Kong. Did you know …’
Eric Rowlands smiled. ‘Yes I did and yes we did. Regrettably I didn’t go to Hong Kong myself, although I would have liked to, but nothing there either. The Chinese police were remarkably helpful, considering.’
‘Considering what?’
‘Well, you know, it no longer being a British colony and all that.’
‘But they didn’t come up with anything?’
‘No.’
‘You’re aware that Mr Harrison was adopted by a Chinese family and Lucinda was his sister, and he had a brother, Patrick, who as far as I know is still in Hong Kong?’
‘Yes, a bit complicated isn’t it. Brothers, a sister, adoptive parents, Chinese and Sri Lankan, and all that, but no, nothing further was found in Hong Kong that warranted following through.’
‘But the investigation is ongoing?’
‘The exact words I would have used. Yes, the investigation is ongoing.’
Gabrielle picked up her bag from the floor. ‘Well, Inspector, I must thank you for your time.’ She stood up and held out her hand.
Inspector Eric Rowlands stood and took her hand in his. ‘It’s been a pleasure, Gabrielle. I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for and I’m sure I don’t have to ask but if you do discover anything you might think will be of interest, then please contact me personally straight away.’ He reluctantly let go of her hand.
‘Of course, Inspector.’ Gabrielle looked pensive for a moment. ‘Just one last question. Was there ever any proof that Jeremy Jacobs and Lucinda Harrison were having an affair?’
‘No.’
‘And did Adam Harrison suspect anything?’
‘Not as far as I’m aware.’
‘Thank you, Inspector.’
‘As I said, a pleasure, Minister. I thought you’d prefer Inspector to Eric.’
Chapter Seventeen
‘Annabelle Tregarthen?’
‘Yes. Oh, my God! Don’t tell me that something has happened to one of the children.’ Mrs Annabelle Tregarthen’s hand was at her mouth and her eyes were wide with shock.
‘No, Mrs Tregarthen, nothing like that. I’m sorry if I gave you a bit of a fright.’ Gabrielle thought about putting a reassuring hand on the other woman’s arm but changed her mind.
‘But you’re a priest, a … what do they call you?’
‘I’m not sure what a lot of people call me but I’m not a priest, I’m a minister in the Scottish Episcopal Church, but to you I’m plain Gabrielle Brooks.’
Annabelle Tregarthen was not what Gabrielle had been expecting. She was probably in her late thirties, with short auburn hair, small brown eyes, an aristocratic nose, a long face with high cheekbones and a small mouth. She was tall, willowy and commanding and she was wearing jodhpurs, riding boots and a ch
eck shirt under a padded green sleeveless top. Gabrielle was sure the top had a horsy type name but she could not think what it was. For some reason Gabrielle had expected to meet somebody who resembled a top class model rather than her history teacher from school.
‘What can I do for you, Miss Brooks?’ Annabelle asked, regaining her composure. ‘Are you on an exchange or something with Peter Clements?’
‘Peter Clements?’
‘He’s our vicar over at St Oswald’s, up the road there,’ she added, pointing over Gabrielle’s shoulder.
‘No, I’m sorry. I’m nothing to do with Peter Clements or St Oswald’s but I would value a few moments of your time, although it looks as though you might be going out.’
‘No, no, just back in actually. Only went down to see Bessie. She’s been none too well over the last few days.’
Gabrielle was standing at the door of what could only have been a converted school or part of a school. She was on Church Street, the road Jeremy Jacobs told her about the previous evening, and the house fronted right onto the main road. It was a very old building, probably dating as far back as the 17th or 18th Century and the four windows at the front, two each on either side of the door, looked as though they could be original, though she doubted they were. She had noted a coat of arms on the wall above the front door.
‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.’ Gabrielle assumed and hoped Bessie was a horse. ‘Do you have a few minutes?’
‘I do,’ Annabelle said, standing back so that Gabrielle could pass, ‘as long as you aren’t going to try to convert me from St Oswald’s.’ Annabelle chuckled in a manly sort of way. ‘Through there,’ she said from behind Gabrielle, ‘go straight through, the kitchen’s that way. I was just about to make myself a cup of tea and I’m sure you’d like one. All members of holy orders seem to like tea.’
‘Yes, that would be nice,’ Gabrielle replied, admiring the flagstone floors, wood panelling, suits of armour and oil paintings as she crossed towards the door indicated by Annabelle. ‘This is some house.’
‘Yes, Hilary and I think so too?’
‘Hilary?’ Gabrielle had posed the question before she realised it.
‘Yes, Hilary, my husband,’ and then as she saw another apology coming from Gabrielle, she added: ‘Don’t worry, my dear. I’m used to the same reaction from most people who don’t know us. I might look and sound a bit masculine but I can assure you Hilary is a man. Sit you down over there by the Aga.’
In Denial Page 19
