Model Murder

by Nancy Buckingham

  Theories were one thing, but solid facts (so beloved by her superintendent) were something else. This narrowed the investigation down a lot.

  Chapter Three

  A few minutes after eight that evening, when Kate drove through the archway into the stable yard at Streatfield Park, she found a large van parked there. Men were unloading its contents ... office furniture and other equipment for the Incident Room. All the mass of bumf that was always needed in a major investigation.

  Inside the squash courts Sergeant Boulter was supervising the placing of desks and chairs and filing cabinets, aided by the two detective constables who’d so far arrived. Even as Kate stood watching, order miraculously began to emerge from chaos.

  “Phone lines will be installed by Telecom first thing tomorrow,” Boulter told her.

  Kate had spent the past hour at her desk at DHQ in Marlingford, sorting out her caseload to leave her free of other commitments in the days ahead. Needing a clear run on this murder enquiry, she’d delegated the jobs she couldn’t let hang. Luckily, she had no court appearances scheduled that would demand her presence.

  Boulter suggested that she should use a changing room as her personal office. It wasn’t too cramped for a desk and chairs, and would get plentiful daylight through a large frosted glass window. She nodded her approval.

  “What about catering facilities for the squad?” she asked him. “Are you arranging for a mobile van to be stationed here?”

  His square face broke into a self-satisfied grin. “Better yet, guv. I went round to the hotel kitchens and dropped a hint in the head chef’s ear that our lads and lassies would be needing sustenance. He insisted it’d be no problem for his staff to lay on grub for us all while we’re here.”

  Kate grinned back. “Trust you to get your priorities right, Tim. How much did you have to twist his arm?”

  “Hardly at all. So we’ll all be feeding on smoked salmon and caviare and game pie.”

  “I wouldn’t count on it. And for God’s sake make sure there’s a squeaky clean financial arrangement about the food, or I’ll be shot at from on high. Get together with Inspector Massey when he arrives tomorrow and ask him to work out a billing procedure with the hotel office.”

  All the equipment had now been put in place and the delivery men were gone. The two DC’s were hanging around, wondering about their chances of getting off home.

  “Thanks, Vic, Jock, for your help. There’s nothing more you can do here tonight, so off you go. Tomorrow we should have a full squad, and we’ll get cracking. There’ll be a lot of interviewing to be done here at the hotel, and I’ll issue guidelines on some specific questions I want answered.”

  They said goodnight and left. Boulter cocked a hopeful eye at Kate, but she shook her head.

  “Forget it, Tim. You and I still have some work to do. For one thing, I’d like to have another talk with Admiral Fortescue tonight. Check if he’s back yet from the identification, will you?” She gestured to the wall phone that connected to the hotel switchboard. “And while you’re about it, ask for a line and ring Julie, to warn her you’ll be pretty late home.”

  * * * *

  “So this is how the rich live,” said Boulter, gazing around. “Lucky bastards.” He and Kate were crossing the Great Hall of Streatfield Park on their way to interview the admiral.

  “Surface gloss, Tim. They’ve all got their problems, too.”

  A man and a woman had just left the restaurant and were heading for the lift. The woman’s dress, flame-coloured and clinging to her figure, left her smooth shoulders bare. She was stunningly attractive, and Boulter watched with undisguised lust as the man put his arm around her and they laughed together intimately.

  “I wouldn’t mind having his problems, guv.”

  They were admitted to the admiral’s suite by the steward, Larkin, who eyed them in silent hostility. Admiral Fortescue was seated before a log fire that blazed cheerily against the autumnal chill of the evening. A dinner tray had been pushed aside, the food only pecked at. It didn’t surprise Kate that he’d avoided the restaurant this evening.

  “This is Detective Sergeant Boulter, sir,” she introduced, adding, as he made a move to rise to his feet, “Please don’t get up.”

  He sank back into his armchair, and gestured for them to be seated also. To Boulter’s disappointment, Kate declined the offer of drinks.

  “I’ll keep this as short as I can, sir, but you’ll appreciate the need to obtain all the information we can as soon as possible.”

  “Naturally I’m willing to assist your enquiries in any way I can, but I fail to see what you want from me. Poor Corinne was raped before she was strangled, as I now understand it, so it must be a madman you’re looking for. A vicious prowler who saw a beautiful woman and couldn’t keep his filthy hands off her.” The admiral held up his own two hands, which trembled slightly. “My God, I’d like to kill the brute for what he did to her. Prison is too good for his sort. He deserves to die.”

  “I can understand your feelings, sir. But the chances are that Miss Saxon’s assailant was known to her. That’s why I’m anxious to find out all I can about her life and the people she knew. And why I shall appreciate your help.”

  “Anything, as I said. Anything!”

  “First of all, sir, I’m going to ask if you have any idea who might have perpetrated this crime?”

  “Good heavens, no. Her death is monstrous beyond belief. I can’t imagine any normal man being capable of such a thing. I’m sure you must be mistaken about it not being a stranger.”

  “The possibility of that is not being overlooked,” Kate said, “though we have reason to think it improbable. So if any name should come to your mind in the next day or two, please let me know at once. Meanwhile, I must set about this investigation by making routine enquiries and gathering all the information I can about Miss Saxon, and about the people with whom she came into contact.”

  “Very well. What can I tell you about her?”

  “To confirm my earlier conversation with you, Admiral Fortescue, the last time you saw Miss Saxon was at about two-fifteen on Wednesday, when she drove off from Streatfield Park after lunching with you. You said that she was planning a few days away, but you had no idea where she was going. Is that correct?”

  “That is correct.”

  “How would you describe her mood over lunch? Was it any different from usual?”

  He considered that, his face sombre. “Corinne was always a vivacious woman. She sparkled, that’s what was so special about her. Perhaps, on Wednesday, she was a little brighter even than usual. The thought of a short break after a long spell of very hard work would be pleasing to her.”

  “Did she give you any hint—the very slightest hint—that she was joining up with a companion?”

  The lines on his face deepened in a frown. “I don’t understand you.”

  “Is it likely, do you think, that she planned to spend those few days alone?”

  He paused a moment or two, then said, “She mentioned nothing to me about a companion.”

  “What was it that the two of you talked about over lunch?”

  Another short pause. “We discussed future plans for the hotel. Corinne was full of clever ideas in that direction. She was enlarging upon an earlier thought of hers that we should provide conference facilities for select groups of top business executives.”

  “Please tell me, Admiral Fortescue, why it was you chose Miss Saxon for the job of converting Streatfield Park into a hotel, and then managing the hotel for you?”

  One, two, three seconds. “I don’t see what it is you are driving at. Why should I not have chosen her?”

  “I was merely wondering what her qualifications were. Had she had previous experience in the hotel business? Apart from the fact that she was married for a time, I have no information as yet on what she was doing in the years since her modelling career ended.”

  Kate kept her gaze on the admiral while she waited. He seemed uneasy
.

  “Corinne had a remarkable grasp of what is required to make a deluxe hotel successful, even though she had no direct experience in the business. She was full of good ideas.”

  “So you just said. But what made you seek her out in the first place?”

  “I, er ... I did not seek her out. It was her idea. She made the approach to me.”

  “Are you saying that Miss Saxon contacted you out of the blue with the suggestion of turning Streatfield Park from a private residence into a luxury hotel? What made her think you might agree to such a scheme? Did you already know each other?”

  “Oh ... one could hardly say that.”

  “But you had met her before?”

  “Well, years and years ago. Just a casual meeting. I had quite forgotten about it until Corinne reminded me of the fact when she first wrote to me.”

  “I see. Perhaps you’d tell me about that earlier meeting, sir.”

  A quick frown that was intended to show his displeasure of her quizzing. “I fail to see how this is relevant.”

  “As I explained, I am trying to discover all I can about Miss Saxon’s life. How long ago was it when you first met her? When?”

  He shrugged in curt resignation. “It must have been ... nearly twenty years ago. I was commanding an aircraft carrier in those days. We were engaged on a Pacific tour of duty and had called in at Singapore. Corinne Saxon happened to be there at the same time on a modelling job, and she was one of the civilians who were invited to an officers’ party we were having on board. I don’t recall what the occasion was for the celebration. However, I was introduced to Corinne, and in the course of our social chit-chat it emerged that she’d been brought up in Cheltenham and knew this part of the Cotswolds fairly well. As I say, I’d forgotten all about the incident until she reminded me of it.”

  “I still don’t understand, sir. What made Miss Saxon think that someone like you, whom she had only met casually many years ago, would be prepared to give consideration to such revolutionary plans concerning his family home?”

  The admiral was growing increasingly impatient, and—it seemed to Kate—more and more uneasy. He smiled with a touch of condescension. “I realise that it must sound somewhat curious to you, suggesting perhaps that I am too easily influenced. But Corinne ... Miss Saxon ... was very convincing in her approach to me. She had a way of expressing her ideas with great clarity and enthusiasm. How it came about was this. She had happened to read a feature in Country Life about the difficulties faced these days in the upkeep of stately homes. Streatfield Park was mentioned as an example, with an excellent photograph of the house taken from the end of the drive. The article referred to my distress at the thought of the Park passing out of the hands of the Fortescue family. I lost my wife several years ago, you see, and I am alone now except for our son, who has settled in America. Dominic is a corporation lawyer, and doing very well. You may possibly have been introduced to him when he came over for our opening ceremony.”

  “Yes, I was.” Dominic Fortescue had been accompanied by his American wife and their teenage son and daughter. They were well-mannered people, demonstratively attentive to the paterfamilias, but Kate received the impression that tradition counted for less with them than present affluence. The hotel had struck them as an excellent way to make some real money out of the Fortescue ancestral home.

  “I was anxious to avoid Streatfield Park becoming a problem and a burden to Dominic on my death,” the admiral resumed. “Yet at the same time I wanted to ensure that my grandson and generations after him should retain control over what I regard as their birthright.”

  “I see. And on the strength of reading that article, Miss Saxon conceived her plan to create a hotel out of your spacious home?”

  “Exactly so. It wasn’t, of course, a totally novel idea to me. Other people in my position had adopted a similar course, and I had already considered the possibility of converting to an hotel—among other possibilities—as a solution to my financial problems. You could say, I suppose, that Corinne sowed the seed in my mind when the ground was fertile, and her enthusiasm persuaded me that it would be a worthwhile venture. As indeed it proved to be, Chief Inspector. Already, even though we have been open only five weeks, the hotel shows every sign of being a triumphant success.”

  “Will Miss Saxon’s death have a serious effect on that success, do you think?”

  “Alas, that seems inevitable. Corinne was the driving force of the whole operation. She was the most charming hostess one could possibly imagine.” He sighed. “But perhaps we shall manage to survive. I certainly hope so.”

  “Will your assistant manager, Mr. Labrosse, be able to take on overall control?”

  “Possibly. I ... I’ll have to talk to him. Corinne told me that he was very experienced in all aspects of the hotel trade and that we were lucky to get him.”

  “So it was Miss Saxon who engaged him, not you?”

  “Corinne engaged all the staff.”

  “And was she satisfied with him once he was working here?” Kate asked. “Was there ever any friction between them?”

  The admiral’s eyes met hers briefly, then flickered as he glanced away. “It has to be said that Corinne was something of a perfectionist. She would never tolerate anything but the very highest standards.”

  “Are you suggesting that Mr. Labrosse sometimes fell short of those high standards?”

  “Not at all, no ...” When he began again after a momentary pause he seemed to be choosing his words with care. “The other day ... at the beginning of this week, Monday, I think, I overheard what sounded like the tail end of an altercation between them. I asked Corinne about it, but she merely shrugged and said that Labrosse, like everyone else, needed a crack of the whip now and then to keep him in line.”

  “Didn’t you insist on knowing what it was about? A sharp difference of opinion between your two most senior staff.”

  “I didn’t need to know. Corinne dealt with all matters concerning the hotel.” His expression changed abruptly. “Can it be that you suspect Labrosse of ...”

  Yves Labrosse was just one name on Kate’s mental list of suspects, a man in Corinne Saxon’s orbit who therefore had to be investigated. There were plenty of other men who qualified—including Richard Gower! Including Admiral Fortescue himself. It was time for the question that had to be put.

  “I am a little further forward in my investigation, sir, than when I first spoke to you. We now know that Miss Saxon was killed between the time she left Streatfield Park at two-fifteen and six p.m. that same day. Accordingly, my officers will be asking everyone at the hotel, staff and guests, to account for their whereabouts on Wednesday afternoon.”

  “Oh, really,” he protested. “Is that necessary?”

  “It’s essential to my enquiries. But my officers will be instructed to use the utmost tact.” She smiled at him, as if to make light of it. “Perhaps you could answer that question about yourself.”

  The admiral glared at her, his face suffusing with colour. “Are you suggesting that I might have ...”

  “I am suggesting nothing, sir. There is no accusation implied. A vital part of the process of a murder enquiry is the elimination of possibilities, so as to narrow down the field. So, for the record, will you kindly tell me where you were between the relevant times on Wednesday afternoon? Between two-fifteen and six o’clock.”

  “I was where I am every afternoon these days. Here in my suite, resting.”

  “Larkin could confirm that, could he?”

  He didn’t like the suggestion that his word could be doubted. “As a matter of fact, no. Wednesday was Larkin’s afternoon off.”

  “Where would he have been at the time?”

  “At the health club in Marlingford. Larkin spends every Wednesday afternoon at the gym. He’s very keen about keeping in trim.”

  This would be checked out by a member of the squad after Larkin’s routine questioning.

  “Then, is there anybody who could co
nfirm your presence here?” Kate persisted. “Just for the record.”

  He said through tight lips, “Everybody in the hotel would have known where I was.”

  “But you were alone, sir?”

  “Yes, alone. Naturally. I told you, I was resting.”

  “Alone for the entire time?”

  “Well, one of the waiters brought me my tea at four o’clock.”

  “The waiter’s name, please, sir?” asked Boulter, ready to jot it down.

  “Let me see ... it would have been Higgs. Yes, that’s right— Higgs.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Kate took a breath. No way could this next question be put discreetly. “How would you describe your relationship with Miss Saxon?”

  He flinched visibly. Kate allowed him a little time to find his answer.

  “Our relationship, as you put it, was of employer and employee. A very senior and trusted employee.”

  “And that was all it amounted to, sir?”

  “We ... we were on friendly terms. Corinne was an intelligent woman, and I found her interesting to talk to.”

  Kate adopted a patient expression that held only a dash of scepticism. “You have to look at this from my point of view, sir. A woman whom you had met only once before, many years ago, approached you with a business proposition in a field for which it seems she had no special qualifications. Yet you were persuaded to employ her on an exceedingly generous salary, and provide her with accommodations that can only be described as luxurious. All on the strength of her personality and enthusiasm. Is that a fair summary of what you’ve told me?”

  “I have also told you, Chief Inspector, that my faith in Corinne Saxon has been fully vindicated. The hotel is a great success. She earned every penny of her salary.”

  “But I can’t help asking myself if the relationship between you was perhaps closer than you have suggested.”

  “Madam, you are being offensive.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, I have no wish to be offensive. But I must insist that you answer the question. Was your relationship with Miss Saxon one of intimacy?”