The Cold Hand of Malice

by Frank Smith

‘What about your day?’ Grace eyed him critically. ‘You seem a bit down, tonight.’

  He shrugged and shook his head. ‘I’m not, really,’ he told her. ‘Just a bit frustrated. Tregalles and I have been going through everything we have but there is nothing we can get our teeth into. Holbrook’s friend, Trevor Ballantyne, came in to give his statement, but it was virtually a carbon copy of what he told us last night. I had hoped to talk to Simon Holbrook today, but his doctor wouldn’t allow him to come in until tomorrow.’

  Grace eyed him curiously. ‘That’s not a problem, is it? I mean it’s not as if he’s a suspect, or if there’s any doubt about how Mrs Holbrook died – or is there?’

  ‘Not that I know of, but you know the old rule of thumb when dealing with a suspicious death: look first at relatives and friends. I have to make sure that every angle is checked, even though we are ninety-nine per cent sure that Mrs Holbrook was killed by the people who broke into their home.’

  Grace looked thoughtful. ‘What does the autopsy show?’

  ‘Still waiting for the results. Starkie called to say that he won’t be able to do the autopsy until tomorrow morning. However, we did manage to get a commitment from Holbrook to meet Tregalles at the house tomorrow so they can go through the place together to find out exactly what, if anything, is missing.’

  ‘What time?’ Grace asked.

  ‘That they’re meeting? Nine o’clock. Why?’

  ‘Because I think I’d like to go through the place with them,’ Grace told him. ‘Unless you have any objections, of course?’

  ‘No, no, none at all,’ he told her. ‘I’ll let Tregalles know in the morning.’

  Six

  Friday, March 6

  Grace Lovett was already there, standing beside the wrought iron gate, when Tregalles pulled up in front of Holbrook’s house in Pembroke Avenue at five minutes to nine, but there was no sign of Holbrook.

  ‘Morning, Grace,’ he greeted her, nodding toward the house. ‘Is Holbrook inside?’

  She shook her head. ‘Haven’t seen him, but it’s not quite nine; I expect he’ll be here soon.’

  ‘Beautiful morning,’ he observed, raising his face to the morning sun, stretching, and settled his back against the car. ‘I wouldn’t mind living here – except I doubt if I could afford the rates, let alone the price. Holbrook’s firm must be doing all right.’

  ‘It is,’ Grace told him. ‘We looked it up yesterday, and it’s one of the fastest growing small businesses in the area.’

  Pembroke Avenue was a pleasant little backwater. The houses were set back from the street, separated by fences, walls and hedges high enough to ensure privacy – and high enough to shield the activities of anyone trying to break in, thought Tregalles. Which might be why so many of the houses, including Holbrook’s, had home security logos in their windows. Not that it had done Mrs Holbrook any good.

  He pushed himself away from the car to join Grace. ‘That’s Holbrook,’ he said, indicating a man who had just emerged from the driveway of a house three doors down. ‘He’s been staying with the Ballantynes.’

  He leaned closer to Grace and lowered his voice as Holbrook approached. ‘Looks a bit drawn,’ he said critically, ‘but you still wouldn’t think he’s over forty, would you? Looks more like one of these young blokes you see in the magazines, surrounded by birds in bikinis.’

  It was true, Grace thought. She’d seen the man’s picture in the newspapers from time to time, but this was the first time she had seen him in the flesh.

  ‘Good morning, sir,’ Tregalles said as Holbrook came up to them. His face was pale, but he looked considerably better than when Tregalles had last seen him.

  ‘Good morning, Sergeant,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I don’t know if you realize how painful this is for me, but I suppose it has to be done. I hope it won’t take too long.’ His words were for Tregalles, but his eyes kept flicking to Grace.

  ‘We do understand, sir,’ Tregalles assured him, ‘and we’ll try not to keep you any longer than necessary. I don’t think you’ve met Ms Lovett. She is a Scenes of Crime officer, and she will be going round with us.’

  Holbrook’s face underwent a subtle change as his eyes swept over Grace in a fleeting yet all-encompassing glance. He flipped a stray lock of hair away from his eyes with a practised gesture, extended his hand and said, ‘This is an unexpected pleasure, Ms Lovett.’

  His handshake was firm, and Grace felt her eyes being held by his own, and there was something subtly appealing about the look he gave her before releasing her hand. ‘Mr Holbrook,’ she said formally.

  His eyes never wavered. ‘Simon,’ he said softly. ‘I much prefer Simon, Ms Lovett.’

  She smiled pleasantly. Was it her imagination, or was Simon Holbrook coming on to her?

  ‘Shall we get on then, sir?’ Tregalles said brusquely, stepping between them to lead the way up the path to the house.

  A uniformed constable opened the door as they mounted the front steps, and Holbrook looked surprised. ‘I didn’t realize there was still someone in here,’ he said as he stepped inside.

  ‘It is still a crime scene,’ Tregalles reminded him, ‘so we don’t want anything disturbed until everyone is finished here.’

  ‘Yes, I see that,’ Holbrook said, ‘but I must say I’m not sure what it is you want from me. I told you what I could the other night.’

  ‘About . . . about what happened, yes,’ Tregalles agreed, ‘but what I would like you to do now is walk through the house with me and tell me, as best you can, what, if anything was taken, and if you see anything significant about the damage.’

  ‘What was taken,_Sergeant?’ Holbrook’s voice rose. ‘Do you honestly think I give a damn about what was taken, compared to what they did to my wife? And what do you expect me to see that’s “significant” about the damage?’

  ‘It’s a matter of what we might be able to trace,’ Tregalles said patiently. ‘We need to circulate a list of everything that was stolen as soon as possible in case whoever did this tries to sell it. As for the damage, I’d like to know if you can see any pattern to it. For example: does it appear that specific items were chosen, items that perhaps meant more to you than others. I would also like to know who would have known the house would be empty Wednesday evening – or would have been empty if there hadn’t been a last-minute change of plan.’

  Holbrook shrugged. ‘Almost anyone,’ he said. ‘It’s been a bit of a ritual throughout the winter: Tuesday night badminton; Wednesday night a film. Not every Wednesday, you understand, because we sometimes have other commitments, but we go if we can.’ His voice dropped. ‘I should have stayed with her,’ he said hollowly, ‘but . . .’ He raised his hands then let them fall to his side in a gesture of helplessness. ‘But who would think that something like this could happen?’ he ended huskily. ‘If it hadn’t been for that damned migraine . . .’

  ‘Is there anyone you can think of who might have wanted to do you or your wife harm?’ Tregalles asked. ‘Anyone with whom you’ve had a falling out? Someone at work, perhaps? A disgruntled employee; someone with a grudge against you or your wife?’

  Tregalles might have been mistaken, but it seemed to him that Holbrook hesitated for just a fraction of a second before shaking his head. ‘We’re like a family at work,’ he said. ‘There’s been no trouble there. As for someone with a grudge, I can’t think of anyone. But I don’t see why you are asking questions like that, when this is obviously the work of that bunch of vandals who have been terrorizing people all over town. In fact, to be blunt, Sergeant, the more I think about it, the more I feel that my wife would be alive today if the police had done their job.’

  ‘Believe me, Mr Holbrook, I can appreciate the way you feel,’ Tregalles told him, ‘but I’m afraid it isn’t quite as simple as that. The truth of the matter is we have put a great deal of effort into trying to track them down, but these people have so far avoided leaving anything in the way of clues behind them. Ms Lovett can testify to t
hat.’

  ‘I’m sure she can,’ Holbrook snapped, then modified his tone as he looked at Grace. ‘No disrespect, Ms Lovett; I’m sure you know your job, but from what I’ve read, criminals always leave some clues behind, no matter how careful they try to be. Haven’t you found anything?’

  His look was so appealing that Grace couldn’t help feeling sorry for the man. ‘I’m afraid not, Mr Holbrook,’ she said, ‘which is why it is so important that you tell us what you can as we go through the house.’

  Holbrook didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t say anything as they began the tour of the rooms. Tregalles couldn’t take to the man, but he could hardly blame him for feeling as he did. He would probably feel the same if their situations were reversed.

  They trailed Holbrook from room to room. He stopped every now and then to examine something and shake his head. ‘Nothing missing from here as far as I can tell,’ he would say, and move on. ‘As for the damage, I don’t know what you’re looking for, but it seems pretty random to me.’

  ‘I see you have a safe in your desk, Mr Holbrook,’ Grace said when they came to the study. ‘We don’t think it’s been opened, although it does look as if someone has had a go at the dial.’ She pointed to scratch marks around it. ‘Everything has been dusted for prints, so you can go ahead and open it.’

  Holbrook squatted down before the safe, shielding it from them as he twirled the dial. The small door swung open; he reached inside and took out an old-fashioned cash box.

  ‘There should be something like seven or eight hundred pounds in here,’ he said, opening the lid to reveal a wad of notes held together by an elastic band. He riffled through them slowly, then closed the lid. ‘Looks like it’s all here,’ he said.

  ‘Do you keep anything else of value in there?’ Tregalles asked.

  ‘Nothing that would be worth anything to anyone else,’ Holbrook said. ‘Personal stuff for the most part. Passports, birth certificates, that sort of thing.’ He sorted through the documents, then put the cash box back and closed the door. ‘It’s all there,’ he declared as he stood up again.

  Grace eyed the papers strewn about the floor. ‘Could they have been looking for something specific, perhaps to do with your business?’ she asked. ‘I understand that some of your designs are unique in the field of laser micro-technology.’

  Holbrook looked at Grace with renewed interest. ‘You have been doing you homework,’ he said approvingly. ‘But, no. We do have competitors, of course, but there is nothing here to interest them, and I’m sure they know that. It might have been a different story if this had happened at the lab, but we’re well protected there.’

  ‘Speaking of protection,’ Grace said carefully, ‘I see you have quite a good home security system here, and yet apparently the alarm didn’t go off when the thieves broke in. Did you set it before you left on Wednesday night?’

  Holbrook shrugged guiltily. ‘If only I had,’ he said with feeling. ‘Unfortunately, we couldn’t see the point when one of us was in the house.’

  ‘We found your wife’s handbag open on the floor beneath the table at the bottom of the stairs,’ Grace said when they came back to the front hall. ‘They left her credit cards, but there was no money. Should there have been?’

  Holbrook nodded. ‘Laura didn’t carry much cash, but she would have had something like thirty or forty pounds with her.’

  ‘I see. Shall we go upstairs and see what . . .’

  ‘No!’ Holbrook literally turned pale at the suggestion. ‘I–I can’t,’ he said. ‘Sorry, but I just can’t. Besides, there’s no point; there’s nothing worth stealing there.’

  ‘What about jewellery?’ Tregalles asked.

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose there’s that,’ he conceded, ‘but Laura didn’t care much for jewellery, and what she did have, apart from the rings I gave her, wasn’t worth very much. She keeps it . . .’ He passed a hand across his brow and corrected himself. ‘I should say kept it, in a rosewood box on the dressing table.’

  Grace frowned. ‘The rings as well?’ she asked.

  The question seemed to annoy Holbrook, who shook his head impatiently. ‘No, of course not,’ he said. ‘She wore them all the time.’

  Tregalles and Grace exchanged glances. The sergeant didn’t remember seeing any rings on Laura Holbrook’s fingers. ‘Can you think of any reason why Mrs Holbrook might have taken her rings off that evening?’ Grace asked quietly.

  Holbrook’s eyes narrowed as he threw a questioning look at Grace. ‘Why are you asking these questions?’ he said. ‘Am I missing something here?’

  Grace spread her hands in a gesture of apology. ‘It’s just that everything has been inventoried, and I’m afraid there were no rings of any kind on your wife’s fingers. Nor were they in the jewellery box.’

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ Holbrook looked stunned as he breathed the words. ‘You mean they . . .?’ He stopped, seemingly at a loss for words. ‘You’re sure about that?’ he demanded.

  ‘Very sure,’ Grace told him, and Tregalles nodded in agreement. ‘Sorry, Mr Holbrook, but I was one of the first on the scene, and there were no rings on your wife’s fingers when I saw her. Were the rings very valuable?’

  Holbrook grimaced. ‘Just short of twenty thousand for the two,’ he said. ‘But it’s not the money so much as the thought that they would . . .’ He shook his head and shrugged the thought away as he moved to the front door. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said in a firmer voice, ‘but I think I’ve done all I can here, so I hope that’s it for now, Sergeant?’

  ‘Except for taking your statement at Charter Lane, sir,’ Tregalles reminded him, ‘but that shouldn’t take long. I’ll have you back in no time.’

  The look Holbrook shot at Tregalles bordered on the hostile. ‘Is it really necessary that we do this today?’ he asked irritably.

  ‘I’m afraid it is, sir,’ Tregalles told him. ‘Best to do it while things are still fresh in the memory and then it’s done with.’ He stepped outside before Holbrook could say more.

  ‘Oh, very well,’ Holbrook muttered. ‘After you, then, Ms Lovett,’ he said, stepping aside to allow Grace to precede him.

  But Grace shook her head. ‘I still have work to do here,’ she told him. ‘And I do thank you very much for doing this, Mr Holbrook; I know how difficult it must have been for you, but you’ve been a great help and I do appreciate it.’

  ‘My pleas . . .’ he began, then stopped. ‘Sorry,’ he said awkwardly. ‘What I meant to say was, if there is anything I can do, anything at all that will help you find who did this, please don’t hesitate to call me, Ms Lovett.’ His eyes held hers as her handed her his card. ‘Any time,’ he said. ‘My mobile phone number is on there as well.’

  Holbrook remained silent throughout the short drive to Charter Lane. He sat slumped in his seat, hands clasped loosely in front of him as he stared blankly out of the window, and Tregalles made no attempt to engage him in conversation. Instead, he went over everything in his mind that they’d talked about that morning, and wondered what it was about Holbrook that put him off – apart from the fact that the man was older than he was, yet looked about ten years younger.

  He didn’t doubt that the death of his wife had hit Holbrook hard, and yet there had been something predatory about the way he’d kept eyeing Grace as they toured the house. Not that Grace wasn’t worth looking at – Tregalles had done his fair share of looking when their paths had first crossed – but it didn’t seem right that the man should show that much interest in another woman less than forty-eight hours after his wife had been bludgeoned to death.

  On the other hand, he told himself as they arrived at Charter Lane, he wasn’t being very fair to the man. He’d only met him twice, both times under abnormal circumstances, so perhaps he should reserve judgement.

  Before taking Holbrook’s statement, he took another look at the photographs of the scene. Virtually every inch of the bedroom had been photographed, but there was no sign of Laura Holbrook’s rings, eith
er on her finger or on the dressing table. The rest of the jewellery appeared to be there, so why not the rings? The obvious answer was their value, but would vandals, who had ignored things like credit cards and items of value in other houses, know the value of Laura Holbrook’s rings? And if, as Holbrook had said, his wife was not in the habit of removing the rings, that meant they had been pulled from her finger. Tregalles made a mental note to ask Starkie if there were any abrasions on the ring finger.

  Like Trevor Ballantyne, Holbrook’s statement varied little from what he had told them on the night of the murder – not that he’d actually told them much himself before asking his friend to speak for him. He said he and his wife had planned on going to see a film with their friends, the Ballantynes, but about an hour before they were due to leave the house, his wife had said she could feel a migraine coming on, and she had gone to bed. Holbrook had offered to stay with her, but she had insisted that he go out as planned.

  ‘Laura preferred to be left alone when she had a migraine,’ he explained when Tregalles asked him about it.

  ‘This sort of thing has happened before, then, has it, sir?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Laura has always been troubled with migraines, and she insisted on being left completely alone until they were over. She would take a couple of paracetamol and a herbal sleeping pill, then make the room as dark as possible and go to bed.’

  ‘And that is what she did that evening? Did you see her take the tablets?’

  Holbrook shook his head impatiently. ‘No, but since that is what she usually did, I’m assuming she did the same that evening. When I went up to check on her before going out, she was in bed, the curtains were drawn and the light was out. I told her again that I didn’t mind staying home if she would like me to, but she told me to stop fussing and go out as planned.’

  Tregalles returned to the statement. ‘You say here that when Mrs Ballantyne phoned to say they would be leaving the house in a few minutes, and you told her that your wife wouldn’t be going, she decided not to go herself. Did she say why?’