‘What about Amelia Villiers?’ asked Steve. ‘Don’t you think she should be involved?’
‘Not at this stage. We’ll leave her up at Avon Hall having her nervous breakdown,’ said Maguire. ‘I gather Hilda Thorne has been called in again to administer unto her.’
‘You don’t sound very sympathetic,’ remarked Steve.
‘I don’t feel very sympathetic,’ replied Maguire. ‘In fact, in truth I don’t feel much sympathy for any of them. A spoilt, moneyed group of people, not the type I’ve ever had much empathy for.’
Steve didn’t reply; he went off to arrange the group interview Maguire wanted.
*
Steve set up interview room two for the four of them, but Maguire decided to see Fergus first, alone in room one which was smaller. ‘It won’t hurt the others to wait,’ he said, and taking Steve Grayson with him he settled down and waited for Fergus Garrick.
He sauntered in, his navy-blue velvet coat draped across his shoulders, and Maguire regarded him with suspicion, thinking it was not often he met characters like Fergus, who looked as if they’d escaped from a 1950s movie. The man before him draped himself across the chair, tossing his coat back with a flourish before taking a long draw on an e-cigarette then exhaling a stream of vapour above Maguire’s head while peering at him through dark glasses.’ ‘I’m Fergus Garrick,’ he announced.
Steve sat down beside Maguire and remained silent.
‘This is a no smoking area,’ said Maguire, and switched on the recorder.
‘This is an e-cigarette,’ replied Fergus. ‘It doesn’t count.’
‘It counts as far as I am concerned, so please put it away.’ Maguire was tempted to whip the offending article from Fergus’s hand.
Fergus slowly did as requested and then said, ‘now what?’
‘Now I want you to tell me everything you did when you arrived at the Country House Hotel. Where you stayed that night, who you talked to when there, and how you left and where you returned to.’
Fergus heaved an exaggerated sigh. ‘I don’t think any of this will be of the slightest use to you,’ he said. There was silence then Fergus said, ‘here goes then.’
‘You know Jem and I were an item,’ he said, ‘although we’d cooled off a bit, well quite a lot actually, and I’d moved out of the house in Salisbury. Then I went to Nottingham where I was working for a few weeks.’ He paused, then said, ‘I suppose I might as well tell you, because the others will if I don’t. Jem and I had a terrible row, although Simon and Ruth didn’t know what it was about; still don’t know as far as I am aware. It was about money, of course. I owed her a couple of thousand pounds and she wanted it back that weekend.’
‘That’s a lot of money,’ remarked Steve.
Fergus shrugged. ‘She’d borrowed it from her uncle Harold, and then out of the blue he suddenly said he wanted it back. God knows why, the old bloke is rolling in the stuff.’ There was a long silence, and neither Maguire nor Steve spoke. ‘Anyway,’ Fergus continued slowly, ‘I didn’t have it, and I had no way of laying my hands on two thousand quid, and I told her so.’
There was another long silence. Maguire thought Fergus was not looking quite as cocksure as when he’d entered the room. ‘If you’d had a quarrel, why did you come down to the function that weekend?’ he asked. ‘And where were you staying?’
‘I booked in at the hotel of course. That was bloody expensive too, I can tell you. But I had just about enough credit left on my Visa card, so I used that. The reason I came was because Jem had set up a meeting for me with a London Theatre Director, Cameron Bailiss, you may have heard of him. Money was her reason and mine. She thought he might employ me, and then she’d get her money back.’
‘Never heard of Cameron Bailiss,’ said Maguire, making a note. ‘Was he a close acquaintance of Jemima’s?’
Fergus shrugged. ‘I don’t think she knew him that well. He was the director of a very successful run of Waiting for Godot at The Round House in Camberwell. Jem went several times with others from the university to attend workshops which he ran in the day, and found out he’d been invited to the perfume launch. Don’t ask me why. Anyway she had this idea that he might be interested in one of my plays and the launch would be a good time for me to meet him, so I brought down three manuscripts for him to...’
‘Let’s concentrate on your meetings with Jemima Villiers,’ interrupted Maguire. ‘Did you see her alone? And if so, where?’
‘I didn’t murder her if that’s what you’re thinking.’
‘Somebody did,’ snapped Maguire.
‘Yes, I did see her alone. She came up to my room, number 45, before she started work. I wanted to be friendly and offered her a drink but she refused. She was in a hell of a mood, and asked me again if I had the money I owed, and of course I told her no. We rowed again, and she said if I could afford to stay at such an expensive place I must have some money. I told her I was overdrawn, and I’d paid for everything by credit card. She said I was impossible and threw a glass ash tray at me. It smashed against the wall, and she left.’
‘And did you meet this man, Cameron Bailiss?’
Fergus shrugged. ‘I did, and he was insulting. He barely glanced at my work and said I had a long way to go before I became professional.’ He drew in a deep breath, then said, ‘I ask you. Telling me I was not professional when I earn my living at writing.’
‘But not a very good living,’ observed Maguire.
‘All I need is a lucky break,’ said Fergus fiercely. He drew a deep breath, glowered at both Maguire and Grayson and said, ‘anyway, after that, there didn’t seem much point in hanging around, as I wasn’t interested in that bloody perfume. So I snitched a full bottle of red wine and went up to my room and drank that plus the contents of the mini-bar. I suppose I must have drunk too much, because I was flat out on the bed when Jem came in and woke me. She’d finished working and wanted to know how I got on and whether there was any chance of the money. Of course I told her there wasn’t and we had another argument, and then Jem left on her own saying she had to go as she was meeting someone and couldn’t stay. Don’t ask me who because she didn’t say.’
‘Did anyone see you and Jemima together?’
Fergus shrugged. ‘Only the people in the main function room, when she was all sweetness and light for a few moments when she introduced me to this chap Cameron Bailiss.’
‘Did anyone see her entering or leaving your room?’
‘Not that I know of.’
‘What did you do when she left you the second time?’
‘I packed my things, and left. It was late and I decided to go back to the rooms I lodge in near Salisbury Theatre. I wanted to get away from everyone.’
‘How did you get there?’
‘I drove of course.’
‘I thought you said you’d had too much to drink,’ interrupted Steve. ‘And why leave when you’d already paid for your room?’
‘I told you, I wanted to get away. Yes I admit I’d had a lot to drink, but I was perfectly compos mentis, and anyway it isn’t far to Salisbury.’
‘Did anyone else see you leave?’
There was a long pause, before Fergus answered. Reluctantly, thought Maguire. ‘Yes, I saw Jem again. She was hanging about waiting for someone, and couldn’t get rid of me fast enough. She was still bad tempered and started shouting that I was a waste of space and that she wished she’d never got involved with me. Of course the subject of money came up again. She went mad and slapped my face. Bruised me, see.’ He pushed his hair back and revealed a purplish bruise on his forehead. ‘It’s fading now,’ he said, then added, ‘that was it as far as I was concerned. I got into my car and drove off into the deer park. And that was the last time I saw her.’
‘Did you see any other cars parked near to yours that night?’ asked Maguire.
Fergus shook his head. ‘A couple, maybe three were parked over in the shadow on the far side, but I couldn’t see what they were. The car park lig
hts had mainly been turned off by then, as most people had left.’
Maguire switched off the recorder and snapped his notepad shut. ‘That will be all for now,’ he said. ‘Now I’d like you to join the other three people I’m about to interview again. And oh, there is one other thing. How well do you know the gardens at Avon Hall? For example do you know where the ice house is situated?’
‘Haven’t a clue,’ said Fergus. ‘I’ve already told you everything, so I really don’t see why I should waste my time repeating it.’
‘Sometimes, something extra might be remembered by one or more of you,’ said Maguire smoothly and nodded at Steve.
Steve got to his feet. ‘Can I get you a cup of coffee before we go in,’ he said, nodding at Fergus.
*
Lizzie’s morning clinic took longer than usual. Almost without exception, all her patients wanted to talk about the death of Harold Villiers, which they’d seen on the TV the night before. Shooing her last patient through the door, kindly but firmly and without the antibiotics he was convinced he needed for his sniffles, Lizzie rang A & E to find out where and what was happening to Nellie Barnaby. While waiting to be put through she reflected that it seemed everyone had an opinion about the Villiers’ family, particularly about Harold and Amelia Villiers. They were not liked, and Lizzie formed the opinion that everyone she spoke to would have quite happily bumped off either of them. It was incredible how two people could have upset so many people. She knew Maguire was certain that it was Harold who had killed Jemima. But unfortunately, from the point of view of neatly solving the case, as Maguire had planned, Harold had died before admitting anything.
While waiting for Casualty to reply to her call, she wondered whether he would take time out to talk to Nellie Barnaby about the shoe. It was a mystery. How did she come by it?
Eventually the phone was answered by a new sister. Welcome by name but not by nature thought Lizzie, listening to her thin reedy voice echoing down the line. Yes, she’d just come on duty, and No she hadn’t had time to sort out Nellie Barnaby.
‘She has a clean break of her tib and fib,’ she informed Lizzie. ‘Dr Black has decided to put a walking plaster on it because there’s no swelling. That woman must be as tough as old boots.’
‘Walking plaster,’ Lizzie frowned. ‘Isn’t that a bit old fashioned?’
‘In Dr Black’s opinion there is no point in giving her an expensive plastic boot because she’ll probably take it off and sell it,’ said Sister Welcome. ‘At least with a plaster it will stay on until the break mends, and then we can remove it. It also ensures that she will have to come back to have it taken off, so that we can confirm the break has healed.’
‘I’m going to persuade her to go into a nursing home, for the time being,’ said Lizzie.
Sister Welcome actually laughed. ‘You are kidding. You will never get that woman into a nursing home. I can hardly get her to take a painkiller. All she wants to do is collect that pram of hers, wherever it is, and the dog, and go off on her own again.’
‘Please do not let her go anywhere. I shall be with you as soon as I’ve made the arrangements.’ Lizzie slammed the phone down.
In A & E, Sister Welcome shrugged, and put her end of the phone back in its cradle.
Lizzie rang Maguire. ‘I’m off to fix up Nellie Barnaby,’ she told him. ‘I’ve found out that she has plenty of money that she never uses. She can spend some of it on a nursing home. I know of one which I think will be suitable, so I’m making the arrangements.’
Maguire smiled. ‘Poor old Nellie,’ he said. ‘She won’t know what has hit her once you get going.’
‘You’re as bad as Dick Jamieson,’ replied Lizzie. ‘I’m doing it for her own good. And I can tell you something else; I’ve learned some very interesting things about her and the Villiers family.’
‘So have I. We must compare notes when we can get together.’ The door to his office opened and Steve poked his head around. ‘I’ve got to go now,’ Maguire continued. ‘We are having a meeting of the Villiers siblings plus Ruth’s boyfriend, and a very strange character, the ex of Jemima Villiers, just to see if we can glean any further information.’
‘You don’t sound too hopeful.’
‘The answer is there somewhere,’ said Maguire. ‘When we’ve finished with them, I might take a walk through the Avon estate again. We’ve never found the vehicle which carried the body to the icehouse, and we’ve never found any bloodstained clothes which must be some somewhere. We’ve got the car, but all that has done is add another layer to the mystery.’
‘Wish I could help.’
‘You are helping. You are sorting out Nellie, which is one less job for the police. We usually have to deal with the lords and ladies of the road.’
‘Yes, and in this case, it seems she really is a lady,’ said Lizzie.
‘Let me know once she’s settled. When I’ve finished here, I’d like to talk to her.’
*
In the interview room Maguire waited a few moments and looked at the four sitting before him. ‘We’ll start at the very beginning,’ he said. ‘Thursday night; the evening of the perfume launch.’
‘That’s going to take hours,’ muttered Simon.. ‘I haven’t got all day to waste.’
‘And I can’t stay here long either,’ announced Fergus, tossing back his long hair. ‘I’m a very busy man.’
‘So am I,’ said Maguire severely. ‘I have a killer to find, and find him or her I shall, no matter how long it takes. We will stay here for a week if necessary. You can start Simon. Tell me again what time you arrived at the Country House Hotel, then tell me exactly everything you did and who you met until the moment you left and drove off into the night.’
Fergus gave an exasperated sounding snort and moved impatiently, but a steely glance from Maguire had him subsiding back down on to his chair.
Chapter 20
The rattling of china awoke Amelia Villiers. Opening her eyes, she dragged herself up from a deep, dreamless sleep to find Hilda Thorne standing beside her bed, holding a tray.
‘I thought it best to wake you now,’ said Hilda. ‘The others have all gone down to the police station. The police especially asked to see Tom Maplin for some reason, so he had to go, and Ruth and Simon were also called down there again. They asked me to come up to the Hall to be with you as there was no one else.’ And that’s not surprising thought Hilda, if you’re snooty and keep yourself to yourself, then when you do need someone, there’s no one about.
‘Who is Tom Maplin? What does he have to do with us? I’ve never heard of him.’ Amelia put a hand to her head, in a dramatic fashion, leaned back on the pillows and closed her eyes.
‘It’s no use going back to sleep again, Mrs Villiers,’ said Hilda firmly. ‘I think you should join your family down at the police station. You want to know what they’re talking about, don’t you? And Tom Maplin is your daughter Ruth’s boyfriend.’
Amelia gazed at Hilda through half closed eyes. Whose idea was it to get Hilda Thorne here she thought, feeling irritated. I’ve never liked the woman. Too bossy by far. ‘Where is Janet Hastings?’ she asked.
‘She’s been sent home to Weymouth, to her mother as I understand it.’
Amelia sat up in bed and tried to concentrate. ‘Gone to Weymouth!’ She muttered. ‘Why has she gone there when I need her here? How are we going to get Avon Hall open again without her? I can’t fathom that new computer, and we need that to order stuff.’
Hilda sniffed. ‘I don’t think you will be opening to the public again just yet, Mrs Villiers.’ She put the tray down on the bedside table and passed Amelia a cup of tea. ‘You do remember that Mr Harold has passed away?’ she asked.
Amelia took a gulp of tea. ‘You mean he’s dead.’
‘Yes,’ said Hilda, thinking as the proverbial doornail, but refrained from saying it. She walked across to the bedroom door and turned. ‘If anyone at Stibbington Police Station asks, shall I tell them that you’ll be down
there as soon as you can?’
Amelia sighed heavily. ‘Yes, I suppose I must go down, although there’s nothing I can do.’ She picked up her bedside phone. ‘I’ll tell them myself, now.’
*
The phone rang in the crowded interview room, and Steve picked it up. ‘Sergeant Grayson.’ There was silence and everyone looked at him. ‘Yes, Mrs Villiers,’ he said. ‘Yes, we are about to start. But DCI Maguire will be pleased to see you when you arrive. Yes. I’ll tell him.’ Putting the phone down he leaned towards Maguire. ‘Mrs Villiers will be here soon.’
‘Good,’ said Maguire briskly. ‘However, I don’t think we’ll wait for her. Simon, you were about to tell us your movements on that Thursday evening and the following morning’.
Simon cleared his throat and began with an ill grace. ‘I’ve already told you all this before,’ he said. ‘And I’m not going to add anything. However, here it is again, and much good may it do you.’
Not much, thought Steve as he listened to Simon’s monotonous account of his movements. What was Maguire up to, making them all repeat themselves?
Simon finished off by saying, ‘I forgot to tell you before, but I did speak to Jem again. I offered her a lift back to the Hall because I thought maybe she’d stay over for the weekend, but she refused. So I assumed she was getting a lift back with her friends, and was not staying at Avon Hall.’
‘How often did Jemima stay at Avon Hall?’ asked Maguire.
‘Quite often. Ruth as well. They both kept their rooms in Avon Hall.’
‘Mr Simon Villiers has finished making his statement,’ said Maguire to the recorder lying before him on the desk. He looked at Tom. ‘Do you want to go next?’
‘But I didn’t even go to the perfume launch,’ said Tom.
‘No, but I need to know what you were doing Thursday night and the following morning.’
‘I’ve already told them.’ Tom nodded towards Steve and Kevin.
‘I know. But I’d like to hear it again.’
The Dead Girl's Shoes Page 23
