The Lily-White Boys

by Anthea Fraser

  The name and address of the transport firm were written down.

  ‘I tried hitching a lift,’ Andrews continued, ‘but the miserable buggers wouldn’t stop so I started walking. And as I was passing the lay-by this lorry went by and its headlights picked up the van. Well, I thought my luck was in; if someone had stopped for a break, I reckoned I could cadge a lift. I went over, but the van was empty. Then I saw the keys in the ignition, which seemed odd.’

  Andrews took another drink of tea. ‘I expected the driver any minute so I hung around but no one came. Time was going on, and after a while I began to wonder if it had been abandoned. That’d account for the keys being left in it. I was pretty het up by this time, so I decided to get in and try to start it. If it went OK, I’d borrow it to get home, and run it back next day. Honest to God, I’d have done that. What use is a clapped-out old van to me, anyway?’

  Presumably it was a rhetorical question. At any rate Webb treated it as such, and after a moment Andrews went on, wiping the sweat off his face with the sleeve of his jacket.

  ‘But half way back the bloody thing started playing up, and it finally ground to a halt outside that house.’

  ‘If you were making for the far side of Shillingham,’ Webb interrupted, ‘what were you doing in North Park? The main road runs straight into town.’

  Andrews flushed. ‘Yeah, but as I was going under the motorway I saw one of your lot just ahead, blue lights and all. I wasn’t going near him in my borrowed van, now was I? So when he kept on along the main road I veered off to the right, which took me up the hill by the park. I reckoned by the time I’d filtered back to the main road, I’d have lost him.’

  As simple as that. ‘Go on.’

  ‘That’s about it. I tried to get the van going, but it wouldn’t budge so I got out. And then I looked up and saw this face at the window staring down at me. Fair gave me a turn, I can tell you. So I legged it off down the hill.’

  ‘And your good intentions of returning the van went by the board?’

  ‘I wasn’t going up there in broad daylight with a can of petrol in my hand. Not to a posh area like that. I reckoned if the owner wanted it back, he’d keep an eye open for reports of abandoned vehicles.

  ‘But then –’ he swallowed convulsively – ‘on Wednesday night it said in the News two bodies had been found in it. Strewth, that was all I needed! I swear I never slept a wink. All I could think of was that woman watching me – and she’d a good view, because I was under the lamp – and her thinking it was me that had done it. There’d be a photo-fit in the paper, and the wife would see it.’

  ‘How did you find out who the lady was?’

  ‘Checked the house in the register at the library. Simple enough. And the name was the same as the shop. I tried to phone her a couple of times, but I had to go to Belgium first thing Friday, so yesterday was the next chance I got.’

  ‘You realize you put her through a very worrying time?’

  ‘Well, I’m sorry, but I had to choose my time, with the wife in the house.’

  ‘Right, Mr Andrews, thank you. If you’ll read through and sign the statement Sergeant Jackson’s taken down, that’ll be all for the moment.’

  ‘Back to square one, eh, Guv?’ Jackson commented, following Webb upstairs after seeing Andrews out.

  ‘Yes, the field’s wide open again. All we’ve got now is that car parked under the trees.’ But at least one point had been cleared up; the murderer had not after all been so foolhardy as to drive off in his victim’s van. That had worried him all along.

  ‘Come into my office, Ken, and let’s talk this through.’ He pushed open the door, and Crombie looked up from his desk.

  ‘Here’s that list of the Whites’ customers, Dave. Those known to have business dealings with Miss Tovey have been highlighted, but no doubt she knows a lot of the others as well.’

  ‘I doubt if it’s relevant now, Alan; we’ve established that the van stopping outside her house was pure chance. By the way –’ he sat down at his desk – ‘before Andrews arrived, we were talking about that plane and I think it’s time we gave it a bit more thought.’

  ‘Don’t tell me you’re considering a connection after all?’ Webb’s original reaction to the idea still rankled.

  ‘There could be a tenuous one. We now know it was the Whites who did the Badderley house, and that the plane landed nearby at about the same time. Also, we suspect the lads met their death through a blackmail attempt that went wrong. Why else all that excitement about keeping a rendezvous in a lay-by?’

  ‘So?’ Crombie still wasn’t sticking his neck out.

  ‘So, Alan,’ Webb said deliberately, ‘it could well be you were on to something after all. Suppose the twins saw the plane land and stopped to investigate? And spotted something – or someone – they considered worth following up?’

  Jackson, who’d silently taken a seat alongside Webb’s desk during this exchange, gave a small cough, and as the two senior officers glanced at him, said diffidently, ‘I was talking to Joe Casey the other day. Another consignment of heroin’s hit the streets; he narrowly missed a transaction at the Whistle Stop.’

  ‘You mean the plane probably landed it? I know that’s what the Drug Squad have been working on, but –’

  ‘Yes, Guv, but I was reading Bob Dawson’s interview with the Hargreaves. One of the reasons they threw the lads out was that they were smoking pot.’

  Webb’s eyes narrowed. ‘Go on.’

  ‘I know there was no evidence of the habit at the PM, but because they’d kicked it themselves doesn’t mean they weren’t pushing it.’

  ‘You’ve a point there, Ken. Come to that, even if they weren’t involved, they might have recognized someone who supplied them in the old days. His name could even be here, among their customers. Let’s have a quick run-through.’

  He glanced down at the list. ‘We’ll start with the ones who know Miss Tovey: Carruthers, France and Studley, dental surgeons, 24 Kimberley Road; Alexander’s Hairdressing Salon, 42 East Parade; National Bank, King Street branch, Manager Mr G. A. Latimer (personal and business accounts); Rayner & Teal, wine importers, 39 Duke Street.’ He looked up with a grin. ‘Mr Teal’s another magistrate, isn’t he? Not a promising bunch for international drug-smugglers, you must admit.’

  ‘Randall Tovey’s on the list too,’ Crombie reminded him. ‘How about Miss Tovey herself?’

  Ignoring both Webbb’s and Jackson’s surprise, he went on, warming to his theme. ‘Andrews came upon the deserted van about eleven-thirty and didn’t reach North Park with it till midnight. If the murder took place at eleven, the killer could have been safely tucked up in bed by then.

  Webb looked at him disbelievingly. ‘You’re not seriously suggesting Miss Tovey’s running a dope ring?’

  ‘It’s feasible. She’s plenty of wealthy contacts; the habit’s not limited to the down-and-outs, as we know only too well. And if she had met the plane, the Whites would certainly have recognized her; they’d been up before her often enough.’

  ‘But if Miss Tovey topped them, she’d have recognized their van when it appeared outside her house.’

  ‘Perhaps she did,’ Jackson said, entering into the spirit of the argument. ‘But she wouldn’t have let on, would she? Not a clever lady like that. She’d have done exactly what an innocent person would do; wait to see if someone was coming back for it, and when they didn’t, get on to us.’

  ‘It’d have given her one hell of a shock, turning up on her doorstep,’ Crombie said reflectively.

  ‘Come to that,’ put in Webb, ‘whoever the killer is, he’d have had one hell of a shock when the van appeared in North Park. Must have done his nut wondering how and why it arrived there from the lay-by. Anyway, back to the list: what other customers had they got?’

  He ran his eye down the page, reading out names at random. ‘Punjabi Gardens Restaurant – Hong Kong Restaurant – Carlton Gallery –’

  ‘They’ve got an exhibition there
this week,’ Crombie cut in. ‘I saw a notice in the newsagent’s. Wednesday to Saturday, I think.’

  ‘I know, I intend to look in if I get the chance.’ Webb, an amateur artist and cartoonist, was quite familiar with the Carlton. In fact, he’d an eye on a print he hoped to buy for Hannah’s birthday.

  ‘Well, we’ll have to see the whole lot. What’ll be interesting is to find out how many of them knew the Whites were their window-cleaners.’

  ‘Surely they all did, Guv,’ Jackson interpolated. ‘You can hardly miss a face at your window!’

  ‘Oh, they probably knew them by sight,’ Crombie agreed, ‘but could they have put a name to them? I’ve no idea what our window-cleaner is called. I bet half the Whites’ customers still don’t realize that the “bodies in the van”, as the press call them, are the same lads that did their windows.’ ‘No harm in telling them, then,’ Webb said, putting the list in his desk drawer and getting to his feet. ‘I promised Miss Tovey I’d let her know if Andrews turned up. Instead of phoning, I’ll go in and see her, and ask about the Whites at the same time. Not to mention the current price for cocaine. Ready, Ken?’

  In the car on the way to East Parade, Jackson said tentatively, ‘The DI wasn’t serious about Miss Tovey, was he, Guv? I mean, I know I joined in, but it was only for the sake of argument. I didn’t really believe it.’

  ‘It’s a possibility, nothing more. Trouble with cases like this, you can’t completely discount anyone.’

  ‘But her a magistrate and all –’

  Webb shrugged. ‘Could be a good cover. I’ll tell you this, though, Ken. Having met the lady, I can’t really see her in the role of drug-smuggler and murderer.’ Especially since she’s a friend of Hannah’s, he added mockingly to himself. With which unprofessional proviso, he got out of the car outside Randall Tovey and walked into its foyer.

  She was looking a lot better than the previous evening. Webb wondered how much of the improvement was due to the departure of the migraine and how much to her conversation with Frank Andrews.

  ‘Did he turn up?’ she asked eagerly, as soon as she’d shaken Webb’s hand.

  ‘Yes, ma’am, we got the full story.’

  ‘And you think he’s genuine?’

  ‘I’d say so. We’re checking times with his girlfriend and the transport firm he works for, but it seems to tie in.’

  ‘Well, that is a relief.’

  ‘Yes. However, we’ve still the real murderer to find. Miss Tovey, were you aware that the White brothers cleaned the windows here?’

  She stared at him for a moment. ‘The windows? Oh, I see. I did know, yes, though I’d forgotten. Is it important?’

  ‘It could be, if they were killed because of something they saw in the course of their work.’

  She smiled a little. ‘All they’d have seen here, Chief Inspector, would be ladies trying to squeeze into a dress one size too small. And since the windows are frosted in the changing-rooms, they wouldn’t have seen much of that.’

  The phone rang on her desk. ‘Would you excuse me for a moment? Hello? Oh, Justin.’ Webb and Jackson exchanged a quick glance. ‘Yes, thank you, much better. And please thank Theo for bringing the car round.’

  There was a silence broken only by the murmur from the telephone. Then she said, ‘Has she? I am sorry; perhaps it’s the weather . . . This evening? Well, yes, I should think so . . . No, really, I’ve fully recovered, though to be safe I’ll avoid shellfish and red wine . . . Yes, I’ve met Monsieur Clériot . . . Did he? How kind of him. Very well, Justin, I’ll be ready at seven-thirty . . . Not at all, I’ll be glad to.’

  She put the phone back, and smiled at the two men sitting expressionlessly opposite. ‘Sorry about that. My brother-in-law wants me to act as hostess for him this evening. It seems it’s my sister’s turn to have a migraine.’

  Webb said quickly, ‘Your brother-in-law?’

  ‘That’s right, Justin Teal. You may know him, he sits on the Bench.’

  ‘I know of him, yes, but I didn’t realize you were related.’ He paused, wondering how best to phrase what he wanted to know. ‘It’s a case of business entertaining, is it? This evening?’

  She looked surprised at his interest, but answered readily enough. ‘Yes; a lot of his suppliers have difficulty with English, and since I speak French and Italian it comes in very useful.’

  ‘With your brother-in-law being in the wine business, he must take fairly regular trips abroad?’

  ‘Of course.’ She paused. ‘Forgive me, Chief Inspector, but why this sudden interest in my brother-in-law? Was he a customer of the Whites too?’

  Webb smiled a little shamefacedly. ‘Actually, he was. As were quite a lot of business premises in this area.’

  ‘And you really think the twins might have seen something they shouldn’t have?’

  ‘We’ve yet to find a motive for their murder, Miss Tovey. When we do, we might have a clue as to their murderer.’ He rose to his feet, motioning Jackson to do likewise. ‘I hope you enjoy your dinner this evening.’

  ‘I expect to; we’re going to The Gables, at Frecklemarsh.’

  Webb paused. ‘Does Mr Pendrick still own it?’

  ‘Yes indeed. Do you know him?’

  ‘We met a few years ago.’ When he was suspected of murdering his wife. ‘Give him my best wishes,’ he added, smiling to himself as he pictured Pendrick’s reception of them.

  ‘I shall.’ She came round her desk to open the door for them. ‘Goodbye, Chief Inspector. Miss Lancing will see you downstairs.’ She nodded to one of the assistants, who dutifully came forward, and the two men followed her in solemn procession between the rails of brightly coloured dresses and down the stairs.

  ‘Well, Ken, what do you make of that?’ Webb asked as they reached the pavement. ‘Regular contacts with people from the continent – which both Teal and Miss Tovey have – could be a cover for all kinds of things.’

  ‘Sinister foreigners, you mean, Guv?’ Jackson asked. ‘Perhaps we should be looking for Fu Manchu!’ And he ducked Webb’s cuff with a grin.

  ‘What we are going to do now, my lad, is go out and see this Preston family. The Whites were with them immediately before the Trubshaws. Let’s find out if they smoked pot while they were there.’

  The Bridgefield council estate lay a few miles outside Shillingham on the Marlton road. It had been built only six years but already had a shabby, dilapidated air, with broken fences, overgrown hedges and graffiti scrawled on a wall. Three or four small children were playing on tricycles, swooping on and off the pavement, but there was no other sign of life. Presumably most of the inhabitants were at work.

  Webb and Jackson got out of their car in front of the Prestons’ house, and, ignoring the children’s wide-eyed stares, walked up the path and knocked at the door. There was a long pause and then it was opened by a girl of sixteen or seventeen, who regarded them suspiciously.

  ‘We’re looking for Mr or Mrs Preston,’ Webb said pleasantly.

  ‘They’re not in.’

  ‘You’re Miss Preston?’ A nod. ‘Could we have a word with you, then? We’re from Shillingham CID, Chief Inspector Webb and Sergeant Jackson.’

  He produced his identification, but she barely glanced at it. ‘I knew you were the fuzz. It sticks out a mile.’

  ‘May we come in for a moment? We’d like to ask you a few questions about the White twins.’

  The effect of his words was surprising, because the girl’s eyes filled with tears.

  He said more gently, ‘We don’t want to upset you, miss, but you might be able to help.’

  She turned away without speaking, but since she left the door open, they took it as an invitation and followed her inside. The kitchen into which she had retreated overlooked a rough patch of garden. In one corner the chassis of an old pram lay abandoned, its wheels no doubt now gracing some other form of transport.

  ‘Could we have your name, miss?’

  ‘Dolores,’ the girl answered with a sn
iff

  ‘You obviously remember the Whites,’ Webb began, but she cut him short.

  ‘Be surprising if I didn’t, when we had an Indian with them only last month.’ The tears welled up again and spilled down her cheek.

  ‘You’ve kept in touch with them?’ That was better than he could have hoped for.

  ‘Yeh. Damien mostly, my brother.’

  ‘He’s not in, I suppose?’ She shook her head.

  ‘How long did they live here?’

  ‘A couple of years.’

  ‘And why did they leave?’

  ‘Wanted to be nearer the football club.’

  ‘There was no – trouble – of any kind?’

  ‘No, of course not. They was like part of the family. Mum cried when they went.’

  It was another example of the opposing feelings the twins had aroused: suspicion and distrust in Mr Hargreaves and Mrs Trubshaw, genuine affection in her husband and the Prestons.

  ‘And that meal you had was the last time you saw them. Can you remember when it was?’

  ‘After the Oxbury match.’

  ‘Which was?’

  ‘The last Saturday in April, I think. We celebrated at the clubhouse, then went on to the Punjabi Gardens.’

  It was the second time that name had come up today. Any significance?

  ‘How often did you all meet?’

  ‘Damien saw them more than me, but they came here to supper sometimes. They were great.’ Her voice trembled.

  ‘Dolores –’ Webb used her first name in the hope of softening the questions which were to follow. ‘Do you know if they ever smoked pot?’

  She looked at him sharply, and he added, ‘You won’t be getting anyone in trouble. It’s just that we’re trying to find out who killed them, and that could be a lead.’

  She said slowly, ‘They did a bit, when they first came, but Mum didn’t like it, so they stopped. It didn’t matter to them, one way or the other.’

  ‘Any other kind of drugs?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did you ever hear them mention drugs? Anyone they knew on them, something like that?’

  ‘Rob told me someone he was at school with died of an overdose. It shook him quite a bit. He said it was a mug’s game.’