The Ten Commandments

by Anthea Fraser

  'Yeah. Come to think of it, that was probably the last time I saw him.’ Her eyes filled suddenly with tears.

  'Thank you, Mrs Chadwick. You've been an enormous help.'

  Out on the pavement, Ferris pulled out his mobile phone. 'What's the number of Ward and Johnson, Rob?'

  He dialled it as the sergeant read it out, and was put through to the manager.

  'Mr Laycock, this is vitally important. Have you any means of looking up your records and finding out who among your staff left just before Mr Philpott was killed? ... Yes, I'll hold on.'

  The wait seemed interminable. It was hot in the afternoon sunshine, but neither Ferris nor his sergeant was aware of it, nor of the life of the little town continuing round about them. Tense, hardly daring to hope, they waited, and at last the manager's voice came back.

  'As far as I can see, Chief Inspector, one of our clerks left in October that year – Richard Simpson. That seems – Just a moment, Sandra's remembered something.'

  He covered the mouthpiece with his hand and Ferris, seething with impatience, could hear muffled voices behind it. Then Laycock's came clearly again. 'She says one of the typists left about then, too, if that's of any interest. Her name was Zoe Knowles.'

  14

  The woman in the doorway looked at them blankly.

  'Mrs Knowles?' Ferris asked.

  'Who?'

  His heart dropped like a stone. 'Are you Mrs Knowles, ma'am?'

  'Oh – no, the name's Fielding. The Knowleses moved away years ago.'

  Ferris closed his eyes briefly in frustration. 'Have you any idea where they went?'

  'Over to the east of the county, I think. Yes, that's right – Honeyford. We drove through it once, and my husband said, "This is where the Knowleses moved to." Quiet sort of place.'

  'Thank you, you've been most helpful.'

  Ferris hurried back to the car and, sliding inside, took out his phone again.

  'Dave? It's Ted. I'm in Oxbury, and we could be on to something: girl by the name of Zoe Knowles, might have been involved with Philpott. She moved from here to Honeyford some years ago. That's on your patch, isn't it?'

  'Yes. What have you got on her?'

  'Nothing, really. It's a convoluted trail – I'll explain when I see you.'

  'You're coming over?'

  'You bet we are. Straight away.'

  Right, I'll see if I can track her down and meet you there. How long will it take you?'

  'About an hour and a quarter. I'd say.'

  'I'll wait outside the Swan – it's the first pub as you enter the village.'

  'Thanks, Dave, we're on our way.'

  It was four-fifteen when Ferris's car drew up behind Webb's outside the Swan. Webb got out and walked back.

  'We've located her, Ted. Girl and her mother live in Swing-Gate Lane.'

  Ferris frowned. 'Her mother? No husband?'

  'No, Zoe's the daughter, according to the newsagent across the road there. While 1 was waiting I went over for a paper and engaged him in a bit of chat. No father either; died when she was an infant.'

  'Then who the hell are we looking for?'

  'You tell me.'

  Ferris swore softly. 'Do you know if she's home?'

  'Someone is; there's a car in the drive. We don't want to alarm her by crowding her out, though; I suggest we stop just short of the house and the two sergeants stay in the cars.'

  'Fine; you lead the way, then.'

  They set off in convoy. Jackson turned down the first road on the left and after a hundred yards or so drew to a halt. Seconds later, Ferris's car stopped behind them.

  The two senior detectives got out. The sun had disappeared and there was an oppressive air to the day, as though all the oxygen had been used up. As they turned in the gate, Webb saw that the house was little more than a cottage, chocolate-box pretty in its Broadshire stone, with a steeply pitched roof and, literally, roses round the door. They walked up the path and rang the bell.

  The door was flung open by a pale, fair woman in her thirties, who appeared taken aback to see them.

  'Oh – I'm sorry, I thought it would be the doctor.'

  'Police, ma'am.'

  Before Webb could continue, her eyes widened and she exclaimed, 'It's not my mother, is it? Nothing's – happened?'

  'No, no, Miss Knowles.' He paused. 'I take it you are Miss Knowles – Miss Zoe Knowles?'

  'Yes, that's right.' Puzzled, she looked from one face to the other.

  'Chief Inspectors Ferris and Webb.' They both held up their cards.

  She said tentatively, 'How do you do?'

  'May we come inside, please?'

  Still bewildered, she stood to one side and they went directly into a charming living-room. Obviously genuine old beams criss-crossed a low ceiling, and most of one wall was taken up by a stone fireplace, the grate of which was masked by a basket of flowers.

  The table and dresser, of a rich, dark wood Webb couldn't identify, were polished to a high sheen, and the comfortable easy chairs were covered in chintz. No attempt had been made to double-glaze the small, diamond-paned windows, and a staircase went up from one side of the room. Webb felt a twinge of envy; he could comfortably live here himself.

  He nodded to Ferris, who began without preamble, 'Miss Knowles, we're looking into the death of Mr Trevor Philpott. I wonder –'

  He broke off in consternation as she swayed, her eyes flickering. Webb moved quickly forward and guided her into a chair.

  'We don't mean to distress you, Zoe, but we have to ask you some questions.' He hoped the use of her first name would reassure her, but her deepening pallor showed no signs of improving. 'You did know Mr Philpott, didn't you?'

  'We – worked in the same office.' He had to bend down to hear her.

  'But there was more to it than that, wasn't there?'

  'I don't know what you mean!' She rose unsteadily to her feet, holding on to the chair for support. 'I'd be grateful if you'd go now. My mother –'

  'Did you have an affair with Mr Philpott, Miss Knowles?' Ferris this time.

  She gave a little moan, both hands going to her mouth.

  'Shortly before he was killed?' Ferris persisted. 'Your boyfriend wouldn't have liked that, would he?'

  'My-?' She stared at them with total lack of comprehension.

  From beyond the open window came the crunching of footsteps on the path, the door opened, and a tall, fair man came into the house, stopping short on seeing the tableau before him. Right on cue, Webb thought, regarding him with interest.

  'What the hell's going on?' he demanded.

  'Patrick – oh, Patrick, thank God!' Zoe's knees began to buckle. The man caught hold of her, his arm encircling her protectively.

  'What is this? Who are you, and what are you doing in my sister's house?'

  The detectives exchanged a significant look, and Webb released his breath in a long sigh.

  'You're Mr Knowles, sir?'

  'Of course I am. More to the point, who are you?'

  DCIs Ferris and Webb. We're looking into the murder of Trevor Philpott.'

  There was total silence. Then Patrick Knowles said, 'Oh, my God.'

  Zoe had begun to weep silently. 'Make them go away,' she begged.

  'We have reason to believe, sir, that your sister had a relationship with him. Is that correct?'

  Knowles didn't answer. His face was now as white as his sister's.

  'Did she?' Webb repeated.

  'All right, damn you, yes, she did ... And I bet she wasn't the only one.'

  'But perhaps she took it harder than the rest?'

  'Look, you can see this is distressing her. She's not well, and added to that, our mother is seriously ill in hospital.'

  'I'm sorry, sir. If you'd like to make arrangements for your sister, we're quite agreeable to hearing the story from you.'

  Patrick held his eyes for a long moment. Then he said, 'I'll ring my wife. She can be here in fifteen minutes.'

  He gently
lowered his sister into her chair, and disappeared through one of the doors opening off the living-room. They heard him say, 'Sonia, there's an emergency. Can you come to Honeyford at once, and take charge of Zoe? ... What? No, it's not Mother. Just get here as soon as you can, for God's sake.'

  Faced with a fifteen-minute delay, Webb moved restlessly to the window, in time to see a short, dark man turn into the gateway and walk briskly up the path. Webb recognized him from a case in the area two years ago; it was Dr Pratt.

  The doctor gave a token tap on the door and came straight in, looking in surprise at the gathering.

  Knowles greeted him with relief. 'Doctor, thank God you're here! My sister's not well, and I have to speak to these gentlemen; could you possibly –?'

  The doctor's eyes went to the detectives and he gave Webb a brief nod. 'Of course, she can come and rest in the surgery until you're ready for her.'

  'I take it there's no news on my mother?'

  'Nothing significant. I called in because I promised your sister I would, but there's really nothing to report.'

  He helped Patrick raise Zoe to her feet and between them they guided her down the path. Webb kept an eye on Knowles through the window, phone at the ready in case he needed to alert Jackson, but the man returned almost at once.

  'The doctor lives next door but one. She'll be all right for the moment. Look, I need a drink. Can I get you anything?'

  'No, thank you, sir.'

  He went to the sideboard, removed a whisky bottle from one of its cupboards and poured a shot into a crystal tumbler.

  'Philpott was a rat,' he said unemotionally, 'and whoever killed him deserves a medal.'

  Ferris resumed his questioning. 'What happened, sir?'

  'He made a play for my sister. She didn't realize his game – she's always been immature for her age – and she really fell for him. He spun her the usual line, he'd divorce his wife, all the rest of it. Even so, she still refused to sleep with him. So,' Knowles said deliberately, sitting down in the chair his sister had vacated and staring into his glass, 'he took her out in his car and raped her.'

  The words hung in the charming room, brutal and alien.

  'I'm very sorry to hear that,' Ferris said quietly. 'Why didn't you report it?'

  'How could we bloody report it?' Knowles's voice was savage. 'What do you think it would have done to her, to my mother, if it had all come out in court? Wasn't it bad enough that she had to go through it once, without bringing it all up again?' He wiped a hand across his face. 'Then we realized she was pregnant. We arranged an immediate abortion, but it was all too much for her and she had a breakdown. She's – never been the same since.'

  Yet again there were sounds on the path outside, and this time the door burst open to admit a tall, slim woman with shoulder-length brown hair. She, too, stopped short on seeing them.

  'Patrick –?' she said hesitantly.

  'These men are detectives, Sonia.'

  She frowned. But – Zoe?'

  'Dr Pratt has taken her. No' – at her exclamation – 'she's all right, but she wasn't up to the – questioning.'

  'Questioning?' Mrs Knowles repeated, looking from one to another.

  'These gentlemen, my dear, are on the point of asking me if I murdered Trevor Philpott.'

  Sonia Knowles gasped, but Ferris forestalled her. 'Mr Knowles, I think I should caution you that –'

  He interrupted with an impatient gesture. 'Save your breath; I'm not making any statement, other than to say categorically that I did not.'

  'All the same, sir, I'm afraid it will be necessary for you to accompany us to the station. A statement will be required, even if it's only to repeat what you've already told us.'

  'What have you told them, Patrick?' Sonia demanded urgently.

  Knowles looked at her briefly, then away. 'That Philpott raped Zoe and she had to have an abortion.'

  She stared at him in horror. 'Is that what her illness was all about?'

  'She had a breakdown afterwards.'

  'Why didn't you tell me?'

  Why indeed, thought Webb. 'What size shoes do you take, Mr Knowles?' he asked conversationally.

  'What?' Knowles turned to him with a frown.

  'Your shoes; what size are they?'

  'Nines, though I can't see –' He broke off as, patently, he began to see.

  'Do you possess a pair with rubber soles?'

  Knowles was about to deny it, but his wife cried, 'What have Patrick's shoes got to do with anything? Is it now a crime to own rubber soles?'

  Ferris said tonelessly, 'Whoever broke in to the Mace house was wearing them. We'll need to examine yours, Mr Knowles.'

  Sonia looked from him to Patrick's wooden face. 'You can't seriously believe my husband would break in to the Maces' house?' she said incredulously. 'They're friends of ours – I've known them most of my life.'

  'He was getting too close, wasn't he?' Webb remarked, ignoring her. 'He'd worked out by some method of his own what type of man Philpott had been, contrary to received opinion. And he stated in public that he'd been killed, not by one of those he'd hurt directly, but by someone avenging her. We assumed he meant a husband or lover, but a brother would have an equally strong motive. Especially,' Webb added, remembering the newsagent's words, 'one who'd felt responsible for his sister from childhood.'

  Sonia Knowles reached blindly behind her for a chair and lowered herself into it.

  'My goodness,' Knowles said gratingly, 'you have been doing your homework. Well, Mr Webb, or whatever your name is, in this country we're still innocent until proved guilty, so you can theorize all you like. Even if I had killed Philpott, there's nothing that could link me with it.'

  'Perhaps I should warn you that when we get to the station, we'll be requiring a blood or saliva sample.'

  Knowles's knuckles whitened on the arm of his chair. 'Why?'

  'Because, Mr Knowles, we're arresting you in connection with two crimes which we believe are linked, the murder of Trevor Philpott and the attack on Mr Mace. And a couple of hairs other than his own were found on Mr Mace's clothing.'

  On the way back to Shillingham, Webb phoned Harry Good from the car to inform him of developments.

  'Well, he's a dark horse!' Good commented. 'I've never even heard of him!'

  'You'll be hearing a lot more, believe me. Ted Ferris and I are on our way to interview him now. Have you any specific questions you want answering on Mace's attack?'

  'Nothing more than you'd ask yourself. Come back to me as soon as you have a result.'

  'You can bet on it.'

  By the time Knowles had had his sample taken and been escorted to the interview room, the fight had gone out of him. He even declined the services of a solicitor. They'd left Sonia in tears at the cottage, having been instructed by Patrick to collect her sister-in-law from the doctor and to stay with her.

  'But when will you be back?' she'd cried desperately.

  Knowles had climbed into Ferris's car without answering.

  Now, seated across the table in the interview room, Webb thought how exhausted the man looked. Until the Judd murder, he must have thought he'd got away with it. In fact, right up until Frederick Mace started declaiming his theories on the Ten Commandments. A very different character from Baring, this one, with a totally different motive, as Mace had recognized.

  Ferris switched on the tape and went through the preliminaries.

  As he stopped speaking, there was silence. Knowles was sitting motionless, his head bent, staring at the pitted table in front of him.

  'When you're ready, sir.'

  He raised his head and looked at Webb. Was that on the level, about the hairs on Mace's clothes?'

  Webb nodded, then said gently, 'Wouldn't it be a relief to get it off your chest?'

  Knowles spread his hands in a gesture of resignation. 'All right, Chief Inspector, you win. But before I say anything, I must make it clear neither my mother nor Zoe has the slightest inkling I was involved in Philpo
tt's death. They simply thought he'd got his just deserts.

  'The irony is that I never meant to kill him anyway. My intention was to take him somewhere he couldn't just walk away from, but would have to hear me out. I meant to tell him what I thought of him, punch him on the jaw, then dump him and leave him to find his own way home. I hoped it would be a lesson to him.'

  'Perhaps,' Ferris suggested, 'you'd better start at the beginning.'

  Knowles sighed, thinking back. 'We'd an awful job finding out what had happened. Zoe arrived home in hysterics and wouldn't stop crying. When we did get it out of her, I wanted to report Philpott, either to you or his manager, but she wouldn't hear of it – swore she'd kill herself if anyone found out what had happened. So, officially, my hands were tied, but I was damned if he was going to get away with it. At the very least I wanted reimbursement for her medical expenses.

  'So I pretended I had a house for sale, in a location that was difficult to find. I suggested picking him up outside the Stag and driving him out there. He was quite amenable.

  'It was November, a cold, foggy evening. I drove out into the country, and turned down a rutted lane I'd earmarked when driving past. Then I stopped the car and we got out – as I thought, in the middle of nowhere. The ground was very uneven and I'd taken the precaution of bringing a torch; I'd no intention of twisting my ankle.

  'But Philpott completely took the wind out of my sails by saying, "We're just behind the Feathers, aren't we? I didn't know there were any houses here."

  'I was dumbfounded. There I was, thinking I had him alone in the depths of the country, and it seemed the lane we were in ran parallel to one which had a pub in it. I hadn't even known there was a pub, but we'd finished up within a hundred yards of its back entrance.'

  Ferris nodded, knowing the terrain. The Feathers could not be seen from the main road, and though there was a board proclaiming its whereabouts, it was quite feasible that Knowles had never noticed it.

  All I could do,' he was continuing, 'was make the best of the situation, so I stopped pretending and told him who I was and what I thought of him.

  'He was a bit shaken at first, then he started to bluster. And the more he tried to justify himself, the angrier I got. Then he also lost his temper and shouted, "Anyway, why all the fuss? She brought it on herself; she'd been following me round for months, simply begging for it."