The Fethering Mysteries 06; The Witness at the Wedding tfm-6

by Simon Brett

  Gita Millington stopped and looked at Jude for approval. She got it. “Very good. Exceptionally good.”

  “Yes, thank you,” said Carole, in a way that she knew sounded rather graceless. “So, if he started his sentence in October 1974, and served the full thirty years, he would have been released in October of last year.”

  “Yes.”

  Carole looked directly at Gita for the first time since she had arrived at Woodside Cottage. “Were there any other names mentioned in the case? Friends of Brewer’s? Accomplices? People who gave him the false alibi?”

  “I’m sure I could track down that information. All I have given you today is an overview. I can check the national press and the records of the court proceedings, if you want more detail.”

  “I think we do, don’t we?”

  Jude nodded decisively. “Yes, it’d definitely help. That is, if you don’t mind, Gita?”

  “Mind?” The journalist smiled wryly. “Today is the first time I’ve felt like a human being in the last three months, the first time I’ve felt like myself. I’ll research whatever you ask me to. I can’t think of anything I’d like to do more.”

  “Good.”

  “So, more detail of the trial – fine. I’ll write it up like an article. That’ll get me back into the right way of thinking.”

  “And who knows?” Jude suggested gently. “One day you might be able to sell it somewhere.”

  “I might at that,” said Gita with a determined grin. She picked up a notepad. “Right. Any other specifics you want to know about?”

  “Names would help,” replied Carole. “Any details of Michael Brewer’s life before he committed the murder: who his friends were; who his enemies were, come to that; whether he mixed with Janine Buckley’s friends from school.”

  Gita Millington scribbled a note. “OK, I can do that for you. Anything else?”

  “Yes,” said Jude. “Can you confirm that Michael Brewer actually was released last year? And if possible, what he’s been doing since?”

  “And,” added Carole, with an involuntary shudder, “his current whereabouts.”

  ∨ The Witness at the Wedding ∧

  Eighteen

  Robert Coleman phoned Carole at nine o’clock on the Saturday morning. “Sorry if it’s a bit early.”

  “Good heavens, no,” she said self-righteously. “I’m always up by seven. I have a dog that needs walking.”

  “Well, listen, I was wondering – I’m coming down to Fethering today, to see Marie and Gaby, and, if it’s convenient, I’d like to have a chat with you at some point.”

  “Of course.”

  “Just to check how they’re doing, before I meet them at the hotel.”

  “Fine. I haven’t actually seen Marie, but I’ve talked to Gaby.”

  “OK. Well, what’s best for you? Meet somewhere for a coffee?”

  “Be simpler if you come round here.”

  “Very well.”

  “Now, do you know Fethering?”

  “I’ve been there when we lived in Worthing, but you’re talking thirty years ago, so my geography’s a bit rusty. I remember the bit where the river goes into the sea, and the Yacht Club.”

  “I’m not far from there.” Carole gave him instructions to find High Tor. He arranged to be with her at half past eleven.

  He arrived on the dot, casually dressed in off-white chinos and a biscuit-coloured suede jacket. Carole was once again struck by his family likeness to Marie, and once again wondered what had prevented his vivacity from being shared by his sister. Was it just a difference in personality, or had Marie experienced some event in her life which had left her permanently traumatized? The more Carole thought about Gaby’s mother, the greater the impression she got of a woman in shock. And that had been the case before the recent blow of her husband’s murder.

  Carole had coffee ready on a tray in the sitting room, and quickly supplied Robert with a cup. “Just black – no sugar for me – got to watch my figure – nobody else does.”

  She had forgotten how much his brown eyes twinkled, and how they expressed the full focus of his attention on her. Though not conventionally good-looking, Robert Coleman was an attractive man.

  “I just wanted to say first of all, Carole, many thanks for organizing the hotel for Marie and Gabs. They’re both in such a shattered state that they need someone to make the decisions for them.”

  “It was no problem.”

  “But getting them away from Harlow was very necessary. Inspector Pollard’s a good copper, but not necessarily the most sensitive” – he chuckled – “of abreed that isn’t noted for its sensitivity at the best of times.”

  “I was glad to help.”

  “And you say you’ve seen Gabs? How did she seem?”

  “All right in herself. But she was very worried about Phil. She’d been trying to contact you that day about him. I assume you know that he had been taken in for questioning?”

  “Yes. I heard. It was nothing to worry about.”

  “That’s not the way Gaby saw it.”

  “No. People are very paranoid about the police. Someone gets ‘taken in for questioning’, the general public immediately assume he’s about to be charged with murder. Phil was only being questioned because some of his friends have been involved in car theft in the past. Well, so’s he, come to that. Pollard was trying to get a line on the car in which Howard’s body was found.”

  “Would this be through Phil’s friend Bazza?”

  Robert Coleman’s white eyebrows raised. “How do you know about him? You have been doing your research, Carole.”

  “Gaby mentioned him when I saw her.”

  “Ah.” He seemed relieved by the explanation. “Yes, Bazza’s a bit of a naughty boy. Been up before me as a magistrate more than once. If there’s a car theft in Harlow, Bazza’s the first person you think of.”

  “I thought that was Phil.”

  “Oy, oy.” Robert Coleman wagged a finger of reproof. “No slandering my nephew, thank you very much.” But he wasn’t serious. “Phil may have misbehaved in the past, but he’s a good boy now’. ‘Is he?”

  “Oh yes.” But his tone suggested Robert was not totally convinced. “Anyway, Phil’s fine. Pollard only had him in for an afternoon.”

  “Does Gaby know that?”

  “Yes, I told her.”

  “Good. Apart from the fact that it was a car theft, were there any other reasons why Inspector Pollard suspected Bazza?”

  Robert Coleman grimaced wryly. “Main one is that he’s done a runner. Phil crashed out at Bazza’s place the night after the party and saw him the next morning, but nobody’s seen him since. Bazza’s made himself scarce. Which, if he did steal the car that got burnt out, might be seen as the action of a guilty man.”

  Carole took this in, and was silent for a moment. Then she asked, “The night of the party, at the hotel – who actually organized the car for Howard? I wasn’t there at the time, you remember. I’d taken Marie home.”

  “That’s right. Well, there was some problem with just ordering a cab the normal way.”

  “A big conference or something.”

  “Yes. So there were various discussions about how Howard should be got home and…” He seemed unwilling to continue, but eventually he said, “It was Phil who said he could organize a car for his dad.”

  “Through his mate Bazza?”

  “I’ve got no proof of that, but it might be a logical inference.”

  “So it’s no surprise Inspector Pollard wanted to talk to him.”

  “No.”

  It was a difficult question, but Carole felt she had to ask it. “You don’t think Phil had anything to do with his father’s death, do you?”

  “God, no.” Robert sounded appalled by the idea. “Phil had no reason to get rid of his dad. He liked the old boy. And all right, there’s some petty crime in his background, but nothing like that. Strangling’s a pretty nasty way of killing someone.”

 
“Yes. Sorry.”

  “No, reasonable enough question.” He grunted a little laugh. “It must be odd for you, Carole, coming into this situation. Your son announces his engagement. Suddenly you’re deeply involved with another family.”

  “Not to mention an ex-husband,” she said glumly.

  “Yes. And then, through the new family, you’re involved in a murder scenario. I’m not sure that those natty little books of wedding etiquette cover the proper behaviour for those circumstances.”

  Carole grinned. She remembered having a similar thought when she was grilling Marie in the Renault after the party.

  “It is a bit odd, yes. And, at the same time, heartbreaking. I’m afraid my main concern in all the business is for Gaby. I mean, I feel sorry for the rest of your family, but Gaby’s the one I know.”

  “That’s as it should be. Gabs is going to be your daughter-in-law.” Robert Coleman looked at his watch. “Which reminds me, I’d better be off. Said I’d be there for lunch. What’s the food like at the Dauncey Hotel?”

  “I haven’t actually eaten there myself, but its local reputation’s very good.”

  “Excellent. I’m quite peckish.” He rose from his chair. “Thank you so much for the coffee, Carole. It’s been really good to have a chat.”

  “Yes.” Carole hesitated. She didn’t want to let him go quite yet. Robert Coleman seemed the most accessible of Gaby’s family, and there were questions she could ask him that might be difficult to put to anyone else. On the other hand, she didn’t want to make her curiosity about the case too blatant.

  She decided to take the risk. “Robert, there is one thing I’d like to ask you about.”

  He smiled easily. “Ask away.”

  “It goes back to things that were said at the engagement party…you remember, when Marie fainted.”

  “Uh-uh.” He was still relaxed, but a little more guarded.

  “Howard talked about someone ‘coming back’.”

  “I remember.”

  “And he said he had arranged to talk to that person.”

  “Yes.” Now Robert was very alert, hanging on what she was going to say next.

  “I was just wondering…”

  “Hm?”

  “…whether seeing that person, or a connectionwith that person might have had anything to do with Howard’s murder?”

  “Well, this is all a bit vague, isn’t it? ‘That person’ – Do you know who you’re talking about?”

  “No, I don’t,” Carole admitted. “But I just wondered if it might be Michael Brewer?”

  As at the engagement party when she had mentioned Gaby’s burglary, the casualness instantly left Robert Coleman’s face. He sank back heavily into his armchair and asked, “What do you know about Michael Brewer?”

  “Gaby mentioned his name to me. I think Inspector Pollard had asked her if she knew anything about him.”

  “And did she?”

  “No.” He seemed relieved by this news. Then Carole said, “On the other hand, I know quite a lot about him.”

  “What? How?”

  She didn’t want to mention Gita’s work as a research assistant; that might sound too calculating. “His name came up in conversation. Someone was talking about the Janine Buckley murder case because it was local.”

  Robert Coleman didn’t appear to be worried about the coincidence. “Did you know that Janine Buckley was at school with Marie?”

  “Yes, Gaby mentioned it,” she replied, truthfully this time. “So presumably you knew her?” He nodded. “And Michael Brewer too?”

  “I knew him. We used to see quite a lot of each other in those days. Mick and I were in our early twenties. We’d been at school together too. And having a younger sister could be quite useful for young men in search of female company.”

  “Were you already in the police force?”

  “No, I was working locally round Worthing – crap jobs, driving delivery vans, that kind of thing. I was thinking I needed something more like a proper career, and my ambitions were moving towards the police, but I hadn’t started then.” His lower lip hardened into a straight line. “What happened with Mick was one of the factors that made my mind up for me. Perhaps I felt guilty for not having been able to protect Janine, and wanted to save other people from…” He looked troubled. “Locking the stable door after the horse had gone.”

  “It must have been a terrible shock to you, when the murder happened,” Carole prompted.

  “That’s an understatement. Mick was one of a bunch of us that went round together. Met up in pubs, went to discos – you know. All that music of the time: T-Rex, Slade, Donny Osmond, Gary Glitter. Some of it still stands up even now. But then we were – well, you know how carefree you feel when you’re in your early twenties?”

  Carole nodded. She didn’t think it was the moment to say that she’d never felt carefree in her life.

  “And OK, there was a bit of sex going on, you’re going to be experimenting at that age, aren’t you? No drugs, though. Certainly I didn’t do any, and I don’t think any of the rest of the crowd did. There was a kind of innocence about the whole thing. Looking back, that’s the way it seems to me. And then – this shock. Suddenly we’re in the real world. Sex can lead to pregnancy. Pregnancy can lead to murder. And it’s been committed by someone you thought of as a mate, someone you thought you knew.” He shuddered. “Still gets to me. Still, after thirty-odd years.”

  “Did it get to Marie too?”

  “And how. Sounds a bit dramatic, but I don’t think she ever really recovered from what happened. Certainly her personality changed. Seeing her now, it’d be impossible for you to imagine what Marie was like at seventeen. Really bubbly…you know, like Gabs, but even more so. And very beautiful. And unafraid of everything. You wouldn’t believe that, the way she is now, would you?”

  “She must’ve married Howard fairly soon afterwards, mustn’t she?”

  “Not long after. Before Michael Brewer came up for trial certainly.”

  “But surely Howard wasn’t part of your disco crowd, was he?”

  “No, he was a lot older. Worked in the business with our dad – fishmonger’s.” So Carole had finally found out the dead man’s profession. “But you may have heard Dad died soon after Janine Buckley’s murder.”

  “I did hear that, yes.”

  “Heart attack. Whether it had anything to do with the stress, you know, the state Maman was in – I just don’t know. Anyway, that meant poor Marie was even more stressed. Howard had always had a thing for my sister, really fancied her, but none of us thought he was in with a prayer. Then suddenly Marie announces she’s going to marry him. I couldn’t believe it. It was like – don’t take this wrong, because I don’t want to speak ill of the dead. I liked Howard. He was a good man, an honest man. But it was as though, when Marie married him, she had given up all ambition. I mean, she left school, didn’t finish her A level course, suddenly no more talk of university. It was as if, for her, Howard represented safety. He would protect her from the wicked world that had just betrayed her. They married quietly in the Register Office, and moved away. Dad’s business was sold off, and Howard didn’t want to stay with the new owner. So he got a job with a fishmonger in Worcester first off; it seemed he and Marie wanted to put as much distance between themselves and Worthing as possible. And then the kids came along, and they moved from place to place, and I suppose they found a kind of happiness – the only kind of happiness they could find – but my sister’s life had been totally destroyed by what Mick Brewer did.”

  The sadness of this statement seemed almost to wind Robert Coleman. He sat back breathing deeply, like a man recovering from a punch.

  “And has he come back?”

  He looked at Carole, as though he did not understand her question. The brown eyes had lost their sparkle, and were dull with memories.

  “Is it Michael Brewer who has come back? Was it him Howard was talking about at the engagement party?”

  Th
ere was a new caution in his voice as he answered, “I don’t know. Certainly Inspector Pollardwas interested in the history of Marie’s connection with the case. That’s often how you start an investigation, when you’ve got nothing to go on. You’ve got to start from somewhere, so you ask: have any of the principal characters got any connection with another crime, even one that happened thirty years before? And, of course, in this case, maybe they found other parallels.”

  “The modus operandi,” Carole suggested. “A strangling in a car that was then burnt out?”

  Robert Coleman gave her a dry look. “You have been doing your research, haven’t you? What is your interest in all this, Carole?”

  “Simply that I care about Gaby. I don’t want her to be hurt.”

  He assessed this answer for a moment, then nodded. “Fair enough. As good a reason as any other.”

  Carole felt emboldened to ask a more specific question. “And have the police found anything that links Michael Brewer to the death of Howard?”

  Robert opened his hands wide in self-defence. “Look, I’m not part of the investigation. I’m not a serving police officer, and when I was I didn’t do murder cases. Because we were once in the same profession, Inspector Pollard occasionally shares a little titbit of information with me, but I don’t get hourly bulletins of how the investigation’s going. All I know is what I told you – that Pollard is seeing if he can find a connection between the murders of Howard and Janine Buckley. I think they’re still running forensic tests on the car and the crime scene. Maybe those will reveal something. But if they do, I think the likelihood is against Inspector Pollard immediately notifying me of their findings.”

  Carole felt duly chastened. “Sorry. I thought it was worth asking.” There was a moment of silence between them. “Of course, the next obvious question is: where is Michael Brewer?”