David Webb 13 - One Is One and All Alone

by Anthea Fraser

  And he himself, Webb thought, rejoining Crombie in the foyer, would be free to interview Una Bennett. He was not looking forward to it.

  12

  Una was sitting in an interview room at Carrington Street Police Station, her hands folded in her lap, staring into space. There was a polystyrene mug of tea in front of her, half-empty.

  WDC Denton stood up as Webb entered. He raised his eyebrows interrogatively, and she shook her head. He sat down next to her, switched on the tape, went through the preliminaries. Una hadn’t moved, even to acknowledge his presence.

  He leant forward slightly. ‘Una, I need to know what happened.’ He was hoping that use of her Christian name might reach her where a more formal approach had failed.

  No response.

  ‘Could you start by telling me why you didn’t return to the office after lunch?’

  ‘Lunch?’ she repeated vaguely.

  Webb said in an aside to Liz Denton, ‘Has a doctor seen her?’

  ‘Yes, Guv. She’s OK to be interviewed.’

  You could have fooled him. ‘Are you all right, Una? Would you—?’

  She moved suddenly, making him jump, and gave a choking laugh. ‘Oh, I’m fine, fine. Why shouldn’t I be? In the last four days, I’ve discovered the bodies of two members of my family. Things couldn’t be better.’

  Webb said quietly, ‘Can you tell me what you did this afternoon?’

  With a visible effort, she dragged her eyes up to his face. They were like caverns in the pallor of her face. ‘I took a couple of hours off. Wonderful timing, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Did you meet Neil Crawford?’

  She looked blank. ‘Neil? Why should I meet him?’

  ‘Please answer the question.’

  ‘Of course I didn’t, not until —’ She broke off, clenching her hands till the bones cracked.

  ‘So where did you go?’

  ‘House-hunting.’

  The reply was so unexpected that Webb simply stared at her. ‘House-hunting?’ he repeated in bewilderment.

  ‘Yes; I intend to sell the house, and as I was passing an estate agent’s, I stopped to look in the window.’

  ‘And?’ Webb prompted, when she didn’t continue.

  ‘And I spent the afternoon looking at houses. Or a cottage and a flat, to be exact.’

  ‘Were you alone?’

  She gave the ghost of a smile. ‘No, I was escorted by a very enthusiastic young man. You can check.’

  ‘What time did you get back to the town centre?’

  ‘Quarter past three.’

  ‘Yet you didn’t arrive at the office till after four?’

  ‘I had tea at the King’s Head.’

  Webb’s eyebrows lifted. It seemed uncharacteristic behaviour, but at the moment he did not question it, asking again, ‘Alone?’

  This time she nodded, and he registered that she had no alibi for that unlikely but crucial interlude.

  ‘I want you to tell me in detail what happened from the moment you left the King’s Head.’

  ‘I walked back along King Street. There was a police car outside Dring’s. It drew up as I was passing and some uniformed men got out.’

  He’d check that. ‘Yes?’

  ‘I went into Lowther Building, but there was a crowd waiting for the lift. Someone said it was stuck on the second floor.’

  She shuddered.

  ‘So what did you do?’

  ‘Used the other ones. And as I turned into our corridor I — I saw him.’ She caught her lower lip in her teeth.

  ‘Was anyone else in sight?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did you hear anything — a door shutting, or the sound of running footsteps?’

  ‘No, nothing.’

  ‘And you hadn’t seen anyone after getting out of the lift?’ She shook her head.

  ‘All right, go on. What exactly did you see?’

  ‘This figure lying on the floor. I didn’t know who it was, of course. Not then. I thought someone had had a heart attack. It was only when I got closer that I saw the knife. Even then I’d no idea it was Neil.’

  ‘What did you do?’ Webb asked again.

  ‘Panicked, I suppose. Tried to pull the knife out. Then that stupid girl started to scream. I told her to dial 999, and bent down to see if he was still alive. That was when I recognized him.’

  The hypothetical scenario he’d outlined to Daisy Saunders. ‘Do you know what he was doing outside your offices?’

  ‘How could I know? He was dead, he could hardly tell me!’ Her voice had started to rise.

  ‘You hadn’t an appointment with him?’

  ‘Of course not; if I’d wanted to see Neil — which I didn’t — I’d have done so at home. My private life has no place in the office.’

  ‘But he wanted to see you. Why else would he be in Lowther Building?’

  ‘I tell you, I’ve no idea.’

  ‘Was there any business of your husband’s he might have wanted to discuss with you?’

  ‘We’ll never know, will we?’

  ‘Nothing that you’re aware of ?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘When had you last seen him?’

  ‘When I last saw all of them, except Jane — at the birthday party.’

  So no one had been near her since. Webb felt a twinge of pity. ‘Was the atmosphere at the party quite amicable?’

  ‘Reasonably, apart from Neil. He was never amicable.’ She paused, eyeing him thoughtfully. ‘He more or less accused Malcolm of squandering public funds by having lunch with you at the Grill House.’

  Webb raised an eyebrow. ‘It was a birthday celebration.’

  ‘So Malcolm told us.’

  ‘Did he tell you Mr Crawford went to see him at the station?’

  Una frowned. ‘No?’

  ‘He wanted a loan, I believe.’

  ‘Did he get it?’

  ‘No.’

  She said drily, ‘You obviously know more of my family’s affairs than I do, Chief Inspector.’

  ‘I only mention it because I wondered if perhaps, now Malcolm’s dead, he was going to try his luck with you.’

  ‘He’d have had to be pretty desperate.’

  ‘You didn’t like him, did you?’

  ‘No, and it was mutual. To be frank, I always felt I’d have had more chance of being accepted by the family without his continual sniping. However, don’t run away with the idea that I killed him, because I didn’t, whatever that girl said to the contrary.’

  ‘Perhaps Mr Crawford had learned something about your husband’s death, which he wanted to discuss with you?’

  ‘Blackmail, you mean? I wouldn’t put it past him, but since I didn’t kill Malcolm either, it wouldn’t have worked, would it? Or am I still a suspect for that, as well?’

  ‘Everyone remains a suspect, Mrs Bennett, until someone is formally charged.’

  ‘And I do have a habit of finding the bodies of my nearest, if not always dearest. Yes, I see your point.’ She lifted her chin. ‘Am I going to be charged, then? With one or the other, or both?’

  ‘Not at the moment.’

  She seemed surprised. ‘You mean I can go?’

  ‘I’m releasing you on police bail. Which means you’ll have to report back here in two months’ time.’

  ‘In other words, you’re hedging your bets.’

  ‘You could put it like that.’ Webb hesitated. ‘Will you be going back to Miss Wood’s?’

  ‘God, no! She’s only just got rid of me, poor woman.’

  ‘I don’t think you should be alone.’

  ‘Chief Inspector, Neil’s death is a shock, but I certainly shan’t be grieving for him. I’ll be all right.’

  ‘Then Miss Denton here will run you home.’

  ‘What about my car? It’s still in the office car park.’

  ‘I think it would be unwise to drive back to Lethbridge yourself. It’ll be safe enough where it is overnight.’

  ‘Since the place is crawl
ing with policemen, no doubt it will.’

  She stood up and swayed slightly, reaching out for the table to steady herself. Meeting his eyes, she gave a rueful smile. ‘Perhaps I’m not quite as tough as I thought I was.’

  He rose, too. ‘Good night, Mrs Bennett. Try to get some sleep.’

  Actually, he saw when he glanced at his watch that it was only seven o’clock. Somehow, it felt much later. He went upstairs to find Alan Crombie back at his desk.

  ‘Everything put to bed for the night?’

  ‘Yep. What did Mrs Bennett have to say for herself ?’

  ‘That she’d no idea what he was doing there, and she found him on the floor with the knife in him.’

  ‘What have you done with her?’

  ‘Released her on police bail. I had a word with the CPS earlier, so they’re aware of events so far. I’ll give them an update tomorrow.’

  ‘Bit of a coincidence, tripping over two bodies in a week — specially of her own family.’

  ‘She admitted as much. Actually, Alan, coincidence is right. If she didn’t do it — and I have a gut feeling that she didn’t — I think we’ll have to dismiss the idea of the job being the reason for Bennett’s death. With Crawford’s following on so close, it’s beginning to look more like a family vendetta.’

  Crombie stared at him. ‘You mean the rest of them could be in danger?’

  ‘I certainly hope not, but they should be put on their guard. I’ve had a bad feeling about this case from the start, and I like it even less now. We’ll have to go more deeply into family backgrounds, including that of the first wife. Miss Wood can help with that.’

  ‘Which reminds me, she left a message in case you wanted to contact her. Said she’d gone to Sally Crawford’s and would be staying as long as she was needed.’

  ‘Poor woman. She’s having to cope with them all — Jane, Una and now Sally. Did she say how Sally is?’

  Crombie shook his head. ‘If she’s feeding the baby, she probably can’t even take sedatives.’

  Webb let that go. Such intricacies were beyond him. ‘By the way, Mrs Bennett saw a cop car in King Street this afternoon. Was there some trouble?’

  ‘Another shop raid. What with everything else, I forgot to tell you.’

  ‘That’s all we need. Any details?’

  ‘Three hooded youths, same as usual. They got away with the takings.’

  ‘Um.’ The raid triggered another thought. ‘Was Neil Crawford robbed?’

  ‘No, wallet intact, credit cards and everything. He was wearing an expensive watch, too.’

  ‘So it wasn’t a mugging gone wrong. But then the objects taken from the Bennett house were probably a blind, like the breaking of the glass. Robbery wasn’t the motive there, either. I just wish to hell I knew what was.’

  He rubbed a hand over his face. ‘I suppose a press release has gone out?’

  ‘Yes; a conference was already fixed for nine in the morning. No point in bringing it forward, is there?’

  ‘No, it can wait till then. Did the support group have anything to report from the other offices?’

  Crombie shook his head. ‘Despite the reduction in lifts, no one remembers going up with Crawford. I’d say that’s pretty conclusive; the office crowd tend to know each other, and they were all sure no stranger got in with them.’

  ‘What time scale was covered?’

  ‘Midday to four p.m.’

  Webb nodded. ‘And Mrs Bennett?’

  ‘No one saw her, either.’

  ‘She said there was a crowd when she got there, because the lift was stuck — which, if true, would mean Crawford was already dead. And if they were all staring up at the indicator, it’s quite possible no one noticed her.’

  He sat for a minute or two, staring broodingly down at his desk. ‘Crawford’s friends, acquaintances and business colleagues will have to be rounded up, to see if there’s any common denominator with his father-in-law. We’ll get on to that in the morning.’

  ‘The deaths must be connected, surely?’

  ‘What worries me is the difference in MO. Bennett was killed by a series of blows to the head, Crawford by a knife. It’s unusual, but we have to keep an open mind.

  ‘So, let’s think: since Crawford was out and about during office hours, he presumably had an appointment. It will be interesting to know who with. In fact’ — he glanced again at his watch — ‘since we don’t know who he worked for, and it’s too late to get hold of them anyway, I’ll have to ring Sally after all.’

  He looked up her number in the file in front of him, and started to dial. It was a relief when Barbara Wood’s voice answered.

  ‘Chief Inspector — I was expecting to hear from you.’

  ‘How is she, Miss Wood?’

  ‘Numb. Going round in a trance, poor child. She can’t take it in.’

  ‘I was going to leave her till tomorrow, but there are a couple of things I need to know. Perhaps you can tell me. Do you happen to know where her husband worked?’

  ‘Yes, with Mattison and Freebody. They’re solicitors, in Silver Street.’

  Webb made a note. ‘Thanks. And has Sally any idea what his plans were for today?’

  ‘He was late going into work, because someone came to see the car — he’s put it up for sale. And he told Sally he had an appointment with a client later.’

  ‘Does she know who that was?’

  ‘I don’t think so. But she also said he was going to see his bank manager this afternoon.’

  ‘Which bank is that?’

  ‘The National, in King Street.’

  Webb had met the manager, George Latimer, who was married to a friend of Hannah’s. It was highly unlikely he’d have had anything to do with the death.

  ‘What time was the appointment?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know.’

  ‘Never mind, there’ll be a note in his office diary.’

  ‘Is — Mrs Bennett all right?’

  ‘Shocked, as you can imagine. She’s gone home. Have you any idea why Mr Crawford should have been calling at her office?’

  ‘None whatever. We’re all totally mystified.’

  Join the club, Webb thought sourly. ‘All right, Miss Wood, thank you. I’ll be round in the morning. Will you be there?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve arranged to have tomorrow off. I — didn’t take any leave earlier.’

  Because, Webb thought, Una had insisted on going straight back to work, and Barbara could scarcely do less.

  ‘I’m sure Sally’ll be glad of your support,’ he said. ‘See you in the morning, then.’

  He sat back in his chair, doodling absent-mindedly. It wasn’t difficult to guess the reason for Crawford’s appointment at the bank: the vexed question of a loan. That things were biting was clear from the proposed sale of the car.

  Suddenly he slammed his hand down on the desk, making Crombie jump. ‘I’ve had enough, Alan; my mind’s starting to atrophy. How about a pint at the Brown Bear on the way home?’

  ‘You’re on!’ Crombie closed his file with alacrity and the two men, shelving their problems till the next day, went down the stairs and out into the cold March night.

  *

  He was shuddering uncontrollably, having spent most of the last two hours vomiting over the lavatory bowl.

  Why had it all gone so wrong? He’d realized almost at once that he’d dropped the ring, but Gary’d slammed the van door and Wayne started up before he could get out. Then, as they swung round the corner into Franklyn Street, he’d looked back and seen that guy pick it up.

  Well, he’d done his nut, hadn’t he, fighting and struggling to get out, while Gary and Kevin held on to him, not knowing what he was on about. They fell around all over the place, till Kev yelled at Wayne to stop the van and at Gary to let him go. ‘Though if you’re nabbed, Dean,’ he’d said warningly, ‘you’re on your own. Remember that.’

  As the van screeched to a halt, Dean grabbed Kev’s knife. It would cut out argument
s, and he had to get the ring back. If that guy took it to the police, they’d know whose it was all right.

  Ignoring Kev’s angry yell, he’d started to run back to the corner, rounding it in time to see his quarry turn into the building a few yards ahead of him. Quickening his pace, Dean ran after him, straight into the lift as the door was closing.

  Out of breath, he leaned for a moment against the side of the lift, the knife behind him, relieved to see his companion was still holding the ring.

  ‘That’s mine,’ he said between gasps. ‘Can I have it back, please?’ Nice and polite, like, even though the blood was thundering in his ears.

  The man looked at him then, his fist closing over the ring. ‘Yours?’

  ‘Yeah, me mam gave it me,’ he’d lied. ‘Come on, mate, give it back.’

  The guy was still looking at him with narrowed eyes, and he began to panic, expecting the lift to stop at any minute.

  ‘Well, if it is yours, you’ll have to prove it, because it looks to me very like one belonging to DCI Bennett, who was murdered last week. I hope for your sake you’re telling the truth, because you’re not wearing your hood now and I can give them a pretty good description of you if necessary.’

  Then the lift had stopped with a jerk, and he’d started to get out. Well, he’d had to stop him, hadn’t he? Couldn’t let him go, when —

  He lashed out blindly, and the bloke went crashing to the ground. He’d snatched the ring out of his hand and fled down the corridor, expecting at any minute to hear shouts behind him. There was a door marked ‘Emergency Exit’ and he’d gone clattering down the stone stairs until the flight ended near a door leading to a car park. Lungs nearly bursting, he’d flung himself outside and, ten minutes later, prosaically caught the bus home.

  He hadn’t meant to kill him, he thought now, frightened tears mingling with the sweat. It wasn’t like Bennett, where everything had been planned to the last detail. But the guy had somehow recognized the ring, and seen his face into the bargain.

  Suddenly Dean went cold. The gang would know it was him that done it. They wouldn’t normally grass, but what if the cops traced the knife back to Kev? If the only way Kev could save himself was by shopping Dean, then he’d shop him. Stood to reason.