by K. J. Frost
“Yes. You remember me telling you about her, don’t you?”
“Of course,” he replies. “But that’s not the point. I’m just surprised he gave her as an alibi, that’s all.”
“Well, he did.”
“In front of Miss Cooper?”
“Yes.”
“So, she was aware of Miss Foster’s existence?” His surprise is obvious and I let out a sigh as I realise I’m going to have to tell him.
“No, she wasn’t. But she is now.”
He sits forward. “Oh dear. Can I assume that bit of news didn’t go down too well?”
“I don’t think it could have gone much worse.” I focus my gaze out of the window, to avoid making eye contact.
“Would you like me to pretend I didn’t hear that?” he asks. “Or would you like to talk about it?”
“I don’t particularly want to talk about it, but I suppose you’re going to find out eventually… Amelie wasn’t overly impressed that I’d known about her guardian’s mistress, and hadn’t told her.”
“But you couldn’t tell her,” he says, sitting back again.
“I know, but she didn’t quite see it that way.”
“So what happened?”
“She told me she doesn’t want to see me anymore. She doesn’t trust me.” I may not have understood everything that happened last night, but even I managed to grasp that much.
He looks at me in silence, then shakes his head once more. “I’m sure she’ll come around, once she’s thought it through,” he murmurs. “She can’t expect you to share every detail about your job with her, surely?”
“I don’t think she does. But her argument was that she didn’t like the fact that I hadn’t told her about something that related to her.”
“But does it?” he asks. “I mean, does it relate to her?”
“Well, that’s what Templeton said. He told her in no uncertain terms that it was his life and if he’d wanted her to know, he’d have told her.”
“That sounds a bit harsh, although you can see his point, can’t you?”
“Yes. And no. If he hadn’t been having an affair in the first place, none of this would have happened.” I look across at him. “And that’s not the worst of it.”
“Why, what else happened?”
“Nothing. Yet. But I can’t help wondering how much she’d hate me, if she knew about the letter Beth Templeton found in her father’s desk a week or so before her death.”
“What letter?” he asks, looking intrigued.
“I kept it out of the case notes,” I explain. “But about a week before she was killed, Beth found a letter written to Gordon Templeton by Amelie’s father, Peter Cooper.”
“And what’s this letter about?”
“It relates to something that happened during the last war.” I make a point of choosing my words carefully. “Gordon Templeton got something wrong and in doing so, several men lost their lives. He compounded the felony by blaming one of the dead men for his own mistakes…” I let my voice fade.
“And that was what the letter revealed?” he asks.
“Yes. Templeton told me that, although Cooper had kept the events to himself at the time, his letter went into a fairly lengthy description of what Templeton had done, by way of voicing his disapproval.”
“And Beth Templeton found this?”
I nod my head. “She and her father argued about it, and then, not long afterwards, she went to see Daniel Milton and told him she’d made a mistake in trusting her father. Of course, Milton didn’t know what she meant by that – and neither did I, until Templeton told me about the letter.”
“And you kept that out of the case notes?” he says, raising his eyebrows.
“It wasn’t relevant,” I explain.
“And Miss Cooper doesn’t know?”
“No.”
“Well, I don’t see how you can tell her,” he continues. “I mean, it might paint her own father in a good light, but it does nothing for the man who’s raised her. If she knew about it, their relationship could be ruined.”
“I know,” I reply, although I don’t add that I’d been thinking of seeking Templeton’s consent to tell Amelie. It didn’t feel right contemplating marriage with any secrets hanging between us. Still, it doesn’t matter any more. “But that hasn’t made it any easier to carry the knowledge around with me,” I continue, trying not to think about what might have been, “especially when she’s so convinced that I’ve lied to her about other things that are so much less important.”
“You haven’t lied,” he replies.
“Well, I haven’t been entirely truthful either. I’ve been keeping secrets from the woman I love. And that makes me very uncomfortable.”
He doesn’t react at all to the fact that I’ve just said I love Amelie, but then I wonder whether he’d already guessed that for himself. “It’s a difficult position to be put in,” he remarks.
“Well, it was. But Amelie’s fairly adamant that she wants nothing more to do with me, so I’m not sure it’s relevant.”
“Give it time,” Thompson says slowly. “She’ll come around.”
“Gordon Templeton said the same thing,” I reply, looking back at him. His face is filled with sympathy.
“Then maybe you should listen to him?”
I shrug my shoulders and, for the first time since I made the decision, I wish I hadn’t given up smoking.
“Can we talk about something else?” I clear my throat, even though I don’t really need to.
“Sort of,” he says.
“Why only ‘sort of’?”
“Because I was just wondering whether Templeton’s mistress might lie for him,” he suggests.
“Probably. But I don’t think it’s him anyway.”
“You think it’s Cole, don’t you?”
“At the moment, I think he’s our most likely suspect, yes.”
He gets up and wanders over to the window, his hands in his pockets. “He’s certainly the one with the most suitable temperament,” he says, then scratches his head, just as there’s a knocking on my door.
“Come in,” I call, and Sergeant Tooley enters, carrying a small envelope. “Please tell me that’s what I think it is,” I remark, looking up at him.
“Well, if you think it’s the bullet we’ve been looking for, then I’m pleased to report that it is,” he says, a slight smile twisting at his lips.
“The bullet?” I reply. “Not the casing?”
He shakes his head. “No, sir. We’ve gone over every inch of ground and there’s no casing to be found.”
“So, it looks like they used a revolver then,” I muse, almost to myself, even though I’m talking out loud.
“Yes, although knowing that won’t help much,” Tooley adds.
“No…” I get up and go around the desk, taking the envelope from him. “There are so many ex-service revolvers around, it doesn’t help at all, really.”
Thompson is right behind me. “Well, either way, I think I know what my first job of the day is,” he says.
“Phoning anyone who we haven’t already asked, to see if they’ve got a weapon?” I suggest.
“Something like that.”
“And when you’ve done that, we need to go and pick them all up,” I tell him.
“We?” he queries.
“One of them belongs to Mr Cole,” I point out. “And I don’t think any of us should go and see him alone, do you?”
He shakes his head, then turns to me. “Although I’m not sure it’s wise that you should go either.”
I manage a slight smile. “Well, with any luck, he’ll be at work.”
Thompson nods his agreement, just as PC Pearce appears in the doorway.
“Can I help you?” I say to him. My office is starting to resemble a general assembly room, as Tooley steps to one side to allow Pearce to enter, followed by Wells.
“We spoke to Chambers yesterday,” Pearce begins, blushing and seemingly embarrassed.
>
“Right?”
“We did as you said, and didn’t tell him why we were asking, and while he was happy to admit to his own role in the earlier robberies, it took a while for him to give us the names of his accomplices,” he continues.
“So he did have some then?”
“Yes, but he didn’t want to grass them up,” Wells adds. “Those were his words.”
“That’s understandable.” I look at them both expectantly.
“Eventually, we persuaded him the court would look on him more favourably if he cooperated, and he gave us two names. They were both in on the robberies, but they’d gone off in different directions when they saw Joe and me.” Pearce does the talking.
“So we can pick them up as accomplices, but we can’t be sure if they saw what Harper did?”
“No.” He shakes his head for emphasis.
“We’ve managed to find an address for one of them,” Wells says, taking over the story.
“Only one?” I query.
“So far, yes, sir.”
I nod my head. “Okay.” I’m more and more convinced this matter has nothing to do with Harper’s death, but I can’t afford not to follow it up, just in case. I turn to Tooley. “Can you spare a couple of men to accompany Pearce and Wells?” I ask.
“Yes, sir,” he replies.
“Thank you, Sergeant.”
I face Pearce and Wells once more. “Once Sergeant Tooley has assigned these other two men, I want all four of you to go to the address you’ve discovered, and find the man whose name you’ve been given. Bring him back here for questioning about the robberies, and try to find out whether he saw anything of Chambers’ arrest at the same time.”
Pearce beams his gratitude at being given so much responsibility. “Yes, sir,” he says, with enthusiasm and the two of them leave my office. Physically, they make an unlikely pairing, with Pearce being slight and Wells being – frankly – gargantuan, but they do seem to work well together.
“Are you sure about that?” Thompson says to me, lowering his voice.
“About what?”
“Letting those two deal with that kind of arrest by themselves,” he qualifies. “You don’t think someone more senior should accompany them?”
I’m aware of Sergeant Tooley by the doorway, bristling at the implied criticism of his men.
“They’ll be fine,” I reply to Thompson. “It’ll be good experience for them.”
Thompson nods. “And you’re sure they can handle it?”
“I’m positive they can. There will be four of them.” I pat his arm. “That’s why I asked for the additional men… just to be on the safe side. You don’t actually think I’d risk the safety of any of our men at the moment, do you?”
“No, of course not.”
“Good… now get on with those phone calls, and stop panicking.” I smile at him so he knows I’m joking, and he leaves.
“You’re happy with the arrangements?” I say to Tooley.
“Perfectly, sir,” he replies. “I’ll go and see to it now.”
“Thank you.”
Thompson and I are driving from Kingston to Molesey, and Thompson is explaining the results of his telephone calls. Although it’s sunny and approaching the middle of the day, there’s a real chill in the air today and he pulls the collar of his coat up as he speaks.
“Daniel Milton is a non-starter. I walked round there earlier and spoke to his mother. She explained that her husband was killed in the last war and she won’t allow guns in the house, so we can forget about him.”
“I think we already had, hadn’t we?”
He nods his head and continues, “I phoned Mrs Middleton when I got back and she said her husband used to have a gun of some sort, but she got rid of it when he died, Mrs Gibson said her husband definitely had a gun, but she’s got no idea where he keeps it and she suggested we go round to see him when he gets in from work, sometime after six…”
“And Mrs Franklin?”
“Mrs Franklin isn’t on the phone, so I sent Deakin and Gilmore over there.”
“Is that your idea of delegating?” I remark.
“Absolutely,” he replies.
“You don’t think they’re a little young to deal with her?”
“No. Like you said yesterday, we all have to learn sometime. I look upon this as expanding their education. And they made it back in one piece, so what’s the harm?”
“Did they find out anything?” I ask.
“Yes. She said she’s got no idea whether her husband had a weapon, but if he did, he took it with him.”
“So that leaves us with Cole and Templeton.”
“I can go and see Templeton by myself,” he says quietly. “If it helps.”
I shake my head, negotiating the roundabout at Hampton Court Palace. “It’s fine. Amelie won’t be there anyway. She’ll be at work.”
“Shall we do Mr Cole first?” he suggests.
“We might as well get him out of the way,” I reply, and drive us to his house in Dennis Road.
We approach the property together, and I knock on the door, which is answered almost immediately by Mr Cole himself. I’d forgotten that he comes home for his lunch; if I’d thought it through, we could have timed our visit to allow for that, and avoided seeing him. Still, we’re here now.
“We’ve come to collect your gun,” I tell him, not bothering with social niceties.
He turns and picks up a strange looking revolver from the shelf behind him, handing it across to me. I don’t take it, but hold out an evidence bag for Cole to drop it into.
“I want a receipt,” he demands, his eyes narrowing. “That’s an unusual handgun; bit of a collector’s item, so you’d better take care of it.”
Thompson reaches into his inside jacket pocket, pulls out a pad, and starts writing.
“What is it?” I ask Cole, looking down into the bag.
“It’s called a Reichsrevolver,” he says. “I took it off a German officer at Cambrai, late in 1917, if you want to know.” Thompson hands over his receipt and Cole stares at me. “Anything else?” he growls.
“No, thank y…”
My words are cut off by him slamming the door in my face.
“He really is the most charming of men,” Thompson says, taking the evidence bag from me as we make our way back to the car.
“I can’t say that I’ve noticed.” I get in and start the engine. We’ve got to go and see Gordon Templeton next and I have to admit that, although I know Amelie won’t be there, I’m not looking forward to it.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to see Templeton?” Thompson asks, clearly guessing what’s wrong with me.
I smile across at him as I pull the car away from the kerb. “No. It’s fine. But thanks for offering.”
We turn back onto Walton Road and then take the next right into Seymour Road, which intersects with Beauchamp Road after a few hundred yards. Turning left, the Templeton house is at the end, on the right.
I park on the driveway and go up the steps, knocking on the door. Thompson stands a pace behind me, waiting until Sarah opens it.
“Inspector?” she says, evidently surprised to see me. I wonder how much of my argument with Amelie she heard last night, and whether that’s the reason for her confusion, or whether she knows nothing about what happened, and is just taken aback to find me here when Amelie isn’t.
“We’ve called to see Mr Templeton,” I explain.
She nods and steps aside, letting us in. “He’s in the drawing room,” she says as I hand over my hat, and Thompson follows suit, before she leads us to the scene of last night’s drama.
Templeton is sitting on one of the sofas, reading a newspaper, which he folds up and puts to one side, getting to his feet as soon as we’re granted access.
“Inspector Stone,” he says, approaching me.
“Mr Templeton.” I don’t offer my hand and neither does he.
“Amelie’s not here, I’m afraid.” He looks a littl
e embarrassed.
“I know. I didn’t expect her to be.” He tilts his head to one side. “You mentioned having a gun when we spoke last night?” I remind him.
“Oh… yes. I thought you were going to send someone round for that,” he replies.
“Well, we were passing, so I thought we might as well call in for it ourselves.”
He nods his head. “It’s in my study,” he says. “I’ll go and get it.”
“Sergeant Thompson will come with you, if that’s alright?”
Templeton shrugs. “Of course,” he murmurs and he leaves the room, with Thompson in his wake.
In their absence, I let my eyes drop and deliberately focus on the floor. Anything to avoid looking around at the room and thinking about Amelie. Except she’s the only thing I can think about, so I’m not sure why I’m bothering to pretend otherwise.
I hear a door close behind me and turn to see the two men crossing the hallway, so I decide to meet them halfway. Thompson gives me a nod, letting me know he’s got everything he needs and I turn to Templeton.
“Thank you for your assistance, sir,” I say, and move towards the front door.
“Inspector.” His voice has a commanding tone and I stop in my tracks, turning back to him.
“Yes?”
He takes a few steps and comes to stand right in front of me. “I wanted to apologise… about what happened yesterday evening,” he says quietly.
“It’s not your fault. It’s mine. Well, it’s my job, anyway,” I clarify.
“The thing is,” he continues, as though he hasn’t heard me, “I’ve realised that you’re still keeping my… my other little secret.” He lowers his voice at the end of his speech, then coughs and speaks normally. “That must be causing you some difficulties.”
I shrug my shoulders. “Not really. It might have been, if Amelie and I were still seeing each other, but we’re not, and she’s made it very clear that she doesn’t want to have anything to do with me. So, I wouldn’t worry about it, if I were you.”
He stares at me for a moment, and then I turn away and pick up my hat from the hall table, before walking out through the front door.
Thompson takes charge of labelling up the guns and the bullet and sends them off for testing. We don’t have Mr Gibson’s weapon yet, but that can follow later. At the moment, I’m more interested in Cole as a suspect and I want to know if they can match his gun to the bullet as soon as possible. Maybe sooner. After that’s been done, Thompson comes into my office and we concentrate on going through the witness reports from the house-to-house enquiries, which don’t reveal anything we didn’t already know, and don’t point towards Cole at all, which is very frustrating.
