She couldn’t let them know that she’d discovered their dirty secret.
Forty-Two
‘Here it is, coming up on the left. Number seventy-two.’
Kay slowed the car to a crawl and drove past the house until she could find a parking space.
They walked back to the property at a slow pace to give them a chance to get their bearings.
‘How long has Felix Ashgrove lived here?’
‘Records show that he’s always lived in Oxford, but he moved to this house seven years ago. From the title deeds, it looks like it was his mother’s house prior to that.’
They reached a tall privet hedge with a wooden gate halfway along its length, two chrome numbers nailed to the front of it.
‘Number seventy-two. Alright, let’s see what Mr Ashgrove can tell us.’
Kay let the gate swing back into place behind them and led Carys up the path to the front door.
It opened before she could raise her hand to press the doorbell, and a middle-aged man half a head shorter than her appeared, a pair of reading glasses pushed up into his thinning black hair.
‘You’re the detectives?’
Kay smiled. ‘Are we that obvious?’
He blushed, then cleared his throat. ‘I don’t get too many visitors during the day. Come in.’
Kay stepped into the hallway and formally introduced herself and Carys.
‘You’ve come a long way,’ he said. ‘I’ll put the kettle on, shall I?’
‘That would be great, thanks.’
‘Go through to the living room. I’ll be there in a minute.’
Kay walked through the door he indicated and checked over her shoulder.
While Carys waited by the door, she carried out a quick look around the room, but found nothing untoward.
The man appeared to live alone, and the decor didn’t look like it had been updated since his mother had died. However, the room remained fresh, and she noticed at the far end that a patio door led out to a well-tended garden.
‘It’s quite a sun-trap on the right day,’ he said, entering through a second door near the back of the room with three steaming mugs. ‘But a bit too cold today.’
‘How long have you been here?’
‘I grew up here.’ He handed her and Carys a mug each. ‘I’ve moved around a bit since, but when my mother died seven years ago, I thought I’d move in rather than sell. The housing market wasn’t brilliant at the time, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to wait.’ He took a sip of his drink. ‘But you didn’t come here to talk about houses, did you?’
‘I understand from DC Miles that you spoke to her yesterday about Duncan Saddleworth.’
‘Yes, that’s right. Shall we sit?’
He gestured to the two generously stuffed sofas near the front window, and sat in one.
Kay and Carys took the other, and Carys retrieved her notebook and pen from her bag.
‘Oh. I didn’t know this was a formal interview.’
‘It doesn’t have to be,’ said Kay. ‘But we do need to have a record of what we’ve discussed. There’s a lot to recall when conducting an investigation like this. If you prefer, I can let you have your rights, and we can go from there.’
He held up his hand. ‘Don’t worry. I’ve got nothing to hide.’
‘Okay, great. So, to start us off, tell me what led you to phone us.’
‘I saw the news the night before last – the teenager’s funeral. Must’ve been a slow news day in Oxfordshire.’
Kay nodded, but said nothing. It was more likely that Sharp and the media officer had requested the regional news stations within a certain radius of Maidstone broadcast the footage in case it jogged anyone’s memory. It didn’t always work, but when it did, it often offered a breakthrough or another lead to follow up that they wouldn’t have otherwise got.
‘Go on.’
‘Well, I was taken aback when I saw Duncan Saddleworth, to be honest. I thought he was still in America. I’m surprised he wasn’t keeping a low profile though.’
‘Oh? Why?’
Ashgrove leaned forward and placed his half-empty mug on the coffee table between them. ‘Because he’s being blackmailed.’
Kay’s eyes narrowed. ‘What?’
‘I know. You’d think the last thing he’d be doing is appearing on television, right?’
‘How do you know that Duncan is being blackmailed?’
In response, he got up, walked over to an antique-looking writing bureau near the window and opened the top drawer. His hand shook as he plucked out an envelope and handed it to Kay.
‘Because the same person was trying to blackmail me.’
In the silence that followed, Kay cast her eyes around the room, taking in the sparse decoration compared to the collection of photographs that took up one corner of a sagging bookshelf.
Carys’s pen dropped to the floor, and Kay’s thoughts snapped back to the task at hand.
‘Sorry,’ said Carys, and scrambled for the ballpoint pen.
Kay sat further forward on the sofa. ‘If you only saw Duncan on the news yesterday, how do you know he’s being blackmailed?’
‘We’ve spoken. He phoned me out of the blue when he received the first letter.’
Kay changed tack. ‘How many letters have you received?’
‘Eight in total.’
‘Do you have them?’
She waited while he returned to the desk, rummaged through the top drawer and retrieved a handful of similarly-coloured envelopes. She took them from him, and pulled out each letter before reading it and then placing it back.
‘How often have you received these?’
‘One a month. The day they arrive differs, but it’s usually around the third week of the month.’
‘There are no postmarks. Were these delivered in an outer packaging?’
‘No. I’m presuming they were hand-delivered.’
‘When did you find them? In the morning? When you returned from work?’
‘Both. Sometimes I’d be upstairs getting ready to go to work. Sometimes there’d be one waiting for me on the mat when I got back.’
‘These are all asking for money.’
‘I haven’t paid any.’
‘Why not?’
‘I don’t care if people find out about my past. I’ve never hidden from it.’ He sighed, and joined her on the sofa. ‘I suppose someone of Duncan’s calling might not see it that way. He might be desperate to stop the blackmailer.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s only a thought.’
‘So, let me make sure I understand this. You haven’t paid any money, but the letters kept arriving, and you haven’t been exposed?’
‘No. I wondered perhaps whether I was being used as leverage somehow. The fact I’ve stayed silent might have been helping not hindering the blackmailer. I didn’t know how to contact Duncan, and even if I did, why would I? He might not be receiving letters like this, so why would I draw attention to the fact that I was? I wanted to pretend it wasn’t happening, until I saw the story about that young girl. And then Duncan phoned me. I don’t know – I’m sorry, maybe I’m wasting your time—’
‘Not at all. We’d rather you spoke to us than not. What can you tell us about Duncan Saddleworth?’
He smiled. ‘He was a charmer. Everyone that met him fell for him. The girls, and the boys. He loved the attention – couldn’t get enough of it. Walked around like he was a rock star or something.’
‘Were you jealous of him?’
‘Not really. It might sound strange, but it was enough to be accepted into his circle of friends. Everyone adored him.’
‘What did you get up to?’
He leaned back in his chair, his face wistful. ‘It was the 1990s in Oxford, Detective. Bands from here were going global. Everyone got caught up in the scene – the music was incredible. So, we hung out in pubs, watched bands, and probably drank a bit too much.’
‘Drugs?’
He smiled. ‘Maybe. Just fun.’
>
‘And yet you lost touch with him. How long has it been since you last saw him?’
‘I haven’t seen him since the end of the third semester. I’d never spoken to him until he phoned about the first blackmail letter.’
‘Why?’
‘It all changed. He fell in love with someone else.’
‘Who else was around at that time? Can you recall any names?’
The smile faded. ‘I-I’d rather not say. I don’t want to get sued for slander or something.’
‘If you know something that would help our enquiries, you should tell us. I’m trying to find the killer of a sixteen year old girl.’
‘I’m sorry. I know.’
‘Who did he break your heart for?’
His head snapped up, his eyes wary. ‘How did you know?’
‘There are only photos in here of your time at university. There’s no-one else in your life, is there?’
His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. ‘You’re very perceptive, Detective.’
He got up and wandered over to the collection of carefully framed photographs on the shelves. He pulled out a cotton handkerchief and dabbed at the glass of one of them, before turning back to Kay, tears in his eyes.
‘You’re right, Detective. He did break my heart.’
‘So, who was Duncan Saddleworth involved with after you?’
‘An American. Blake Hamilton.’
Forty-Three
Kay left Carys to park the car on their return to the police station, and wandered into the incident room.
Her mind spun with the information Felix Ashgrove had provided.
The probability that Sophie Whittaker was blackmailing three people was a serious allegation – and opened up more possibilities as to who murdered her.
The problem was, who?
She slumped into her chair and wiggled her mouse to wake up her computer screen, then looked up as a shadow passed her desk.
Gavin held a plastic evidence bag in his hand, a broad grin on his face.
‘Come on, let’s have it,’ said Kay. ‘What’ve you found? It must be good – you look like you’ve been bursting to tell me.’
His grin widened. ‘Remember that key Harriet’s lot found in Sophie’s bedside drawers?’
‘Yeah. You managed to trace it?’
‘Eventually. It’s from a safe deposit box – the sort you can rent from a bank.’
Kay held out her hand for the bag and turned it in her hand.
A nondescript steel key lay in one corner, bare except for the manufacturer’s stamp and a row of letters and numbers stamped into one side of the bow.
‘Do you know which one?’
Gavin held up a piece of paper. ‘This one. It’s here in Maidstone. I spoke to the manager – it’s held in Sophie Whittaker’s name.’
Kay handed back the bag and checked her watch. ‘Well, they’re going to be closed now. Grab your jacket though – let’s go and talk to Sophie’s mother to see what she has to say about this. I’ve got some more questions I want to ask her anyway.’
* * *
Grace Jamieson led Kay and Gavin to the library of Crossways Hall and announced their arrival to Diane Whittaker, before stepping to one side and gesturing to them to enter the room.
‘Thank you, Grace, that will be all,’ said Diane.
The housekeeper nodded deferentially, and left the room leaving the door open behind her.
‘I’m surprised you have any questions left,’ said Diane, turning back to the bookcase next to her and running her fingers over the spines. ‘I thought you must have exhausted all your avenues of investigation by now.’
Kay ignored the barb. ‘When was Sophie’s engagement to Josh first announced?’
‘As soon as she reached her sixteenth birthday. That’s what we’d all agreed,’ said Diane.
‘No plans to continue her education beyond college?’
‘Good grief, no. What for? Josh will be taking over his father’s business one day and Sophie would have had her hands full coping with a young family and running the house.’
‘Here, you mean?’
‘Of course. Where else?’
Diane turned from the bookcase and Kay peered over the top of her head to where Gavin stared at her, stony faced.
She managed a small smile, to let her colleague know she probably shared the same sentiment about Diane, and a moment later was struck by the fact her own mother would get on well with the irritating woman.
‘Did Sophie share your love of books?
‘Not as much, no. I tried to encourage her as much as possible – she was more interested in clothes shopping and listening to that horrible pop music the girls at her school listened to, but I was starting to instil a better appreciation of the finer arts in her. You’ve got to keep an eye on these girls, you see. They’re too easily led astray.’
‘You didn’t contemplate sending her to boarding school?’
Diane’s lips thinned. ‘She went to boarding school, when she was younger. Unfortunately, my husband’s business hasn’t been doing as well as it could have been these past few years, and so we had to find an alternative. Not an ideal situation, as I’m sure you’ll appreciate.’
Kay made a noncommittal sound at the back of her throat. ‘Was Sophie someone that would keep secrets from you, do you think?’
‘Whatever do you mean?’
‘All teenage girls rebel at some point. Do you know if Sophie had anywhere she might hide stuff she didn’t want you to see? It seems strange that we didn’t find a diary or anything in her room, that’s all.’
Diane frowned, opened her mouth to say something, then clamped it shut.
Kay pulled out the evidence bag containing the safe deposit box key. ‘This was found in Sophie’s possessions by our crime scene team. It’s for a safe deposit box at a bank in Maidstone. You didn’t think to mention anything about a safe deposit box to us all this time?’
‘I didn’t think of it before, with everything else going on. I arranged for her to have a safe deposit box at our bank in Maidstone, so she could keep some of the jewellery left to her by her grandmother there.’
‘Do you have a key?’
‘No. Sophie had the only one. I lost mine years ago, but I didn’t worry about it as Sophie had the other. When I couldn’t find it the other day, I realised your people must’ve taken it when they were in Sophie’s room. I thought I’d simply fetch my mother’s jewellery once your people had returned the key.’
‘We need to see what’s in that box, Mrs Whittaker – as a matter of urgency.’
‘Oh, right. Of course. I’ll need to check my diary first.’
The woman wandered over to a small table beside one of the armchairs and picked up a silver bell. She waggled it between her fingers. A soft ring filled the room before she placed it back on the table surface and clasped her hands in front of her, a benign smile on her face.
The housekeeper appeared at the door. ‘You rang, Lady Griffith?’
‘Yes. Fetch my handbag from my bedroom, please.’
Kay turned away, and concentrated on staring out the patio doors to the terrace beyond. She knew if she caught Gavin’s eye now, she’d burst out laughing at the woman’s snobbery.
The housekeeper returned shortly with the handbag, and Diane moved across to where Kay stood while she rummaged through the contents.
‘Here it is,’ she said triumphantly, and held up a leather diary. ‘When did you want to go?’
‘We’ve spoken to the manager. He’ll meet us there at nine o’clock tomorrow morning.’
Diane’s eyebrows knitted together. ‘Why so soon?’
Kay resisted the urge to sigh. ‘Because, Mrs Whittaker, I’m trying to find out why your daughter was murdered. I thought you might want to accompany me, anyway – to collect your late mother’s jewellery?’
‘Oh. Very well, then.’
‘Great – see you tomorrow. Please make sure your husband is there, too.�
��
Kay managed to keep her frustration in check until she and Gavin were back in the car.
‘She’s living in a time warp,’ Gavin grumbled. ‘I almost raised my hand in the air to get permission to speak a couple of times.’
Kay laughed. ‘She’s all right, I suppose. Lives in her own little world.’
‘She’s mad.’
‘Ah, see that’s where you’re wrong – people with money like that, we call them “eccentric”, not “mad”.’
Gavin snorted, and turned the car back towards Maidstone. ‘I don’t know whether to feel sorry for her, or be infuriated by her.’
‘Different world, isn’t it? Her whole life has revolved around keeping the house in the family, and now with Sophie gone, she’s got no-one—’
Kay broke off, and held up her hand to stop Gavin from interrupting. ‘Hang on. Who benefits from Diane selling the house?’
‘I can’t imagine the National Trust going to such extreme measures to get their hands on it, Sarge.’
‘Very funny. Come on – who else?’
Gavin leaned forward and turned down the radio. ‘It’s of no use to Blake Hamilton – he was only interested in Sophie’s social position Why would he buy a house that’s in desperate need of some work when he’s got a much better one of his own?’
‘Exactly.’ Kay peered out the window, the scent of honeysuckle reaching her through the gap where she’d wound it down to let in fresh air. ‘We’ll have to get some details from the council regarding property valuation. That place must be worth a fortune with the land it takes up.’
Forty-Four
The next morning, Kay and Gavin stood on the pavement outside the Whittakers’ bank, waiting for the front doors to open.
There was no sign of Sophie’s parents yet, and Kay wondered what was going on between the two of them. It had been evident at the funeral that all was not well with their relationship, and despite knowing the strain they had been under since Sophie’s death, she couldn’t help wonder if the rot had set in well before.
The sound of bolts being drawn back across the heavy-set wooden door roused her from her thoughts, and she turned as a member of staff swung it open and secured it against the far wall before smiling at them.
One to Watch Page 17
