by David Beard
‘That’s why she went to the Met in the first place,’ Smalacombe explained.
‘But, wait a minute,’ Tiley interjected, having waited for some time to find an appropriate point to butt in,‘we were with her in the morning at Heathrow. She couldn’t have done it. She’s got the best alibi on earth.’
‘I know but she could still be involved in some way, she’s too bloody clever to get her own hands dirty,’ Smalacombe explained.
‘A hit man you mean?’ Tiley asked with some astonishment. ‘This is Dartmoor, not LA.’
‘I go along with the Chief Inspector, Sergeant,’ Milner interjected, ‘I imagine Golding will have an astonishingly broad base of associates and acquaintances. It’s not beyond the bounds of possibility. However sophisticated she may appear to you, the world in which she operates contains some pretty unsavoury characters and she could be identified as one of them.’
Sheila Milner was now leaning back in her chair with her arms folded. She looked very much in control. The anxious looks when she was concerned about the press debacle and a lack of progress had disappeared. She was confident that she could pass on a succession of positive reports to the chief constable. For all his faults good old Dexter always came up with the goods.
‘Thank you, mam,’ said Smalacombe acknowledging her support, ‘We can guess from her report to the Met that she must have known who Anna was with and she must have had a pretty good idea of the dangers she was facing. Why else would she have gone to them?’ Smalacombe paused for a moment for Milner and Tiley to digest what he was saying. ‘There’s something else,’ he said, when he started up again. ‘Golding was emphatic that Winsom was not interested in Turle or any woman, sexually, I mean.’
‘Well, that’s not what the tabloids were saying yesterday,’ Sheila Milner observed. ‘There was a whole load of women who have come out of the woodwork and said they had been seduced by her.’
‘My thoughts entirely. According to the Sunday papers she was into shagging anything that moved,’ Smalacombe commented and Milner raised her eyebrows. ‘Beg your pardon, mam, that doesn’t include sheep,’ he added.
Milner stared at him with an amused benevolence. ‘Male or female sheep?’ she enquired.
‘Down here they call them ewes and rams, mam,’ Smalacombe corrected his superior.
‘I’m never going to fit in, in Devon if I don’t get that right I suppose,’ she said with mock consternation.
‘No, you certainly won’t and remember that everything in Devon is a he, except a tom cat and he’s, a she!’
Superintendent Milner saw this as a good time to break off the interview, as she was as well informed as she could expect and the concentration levels of its participants seemed suddenly to have waned. She stood up and moved to the door ‘OK, Dexter, I won’t hinder you any longer and I must say, after a pretty shaky start you and your team have done well. Keep me informed.’ The superintendent signed off the meeting abruptly and she opened the door for the two men to pass through. ‘Do you still need the incident room?’ she asked, still concerned about the budget.
‘I think we can dispense with it soon, mam. I have a feeling our investigations will move around a bit now. It may be easier to conduct things from here. I will keep you informed.’
On the way back to his office he indicated to Tiley to follow him in. Smalacombe sat in his chair, swung it around and crossed his legs on the desk.
Before he sat down Tiley was asking questions. ‘So, what do you think we should look at first, Dexter?’
‘It’s the mystery of the earring isn’t it? That’s the thing that’s really baffling me at the moment and I think if we crack that we’ll be home and dry.’
‘You never mentioned that to the boss?’
‘You’ve always got to be one step ahead in this game, old son, especially when talking to your superiors. Always keep something back.’
‘I’ll remember that,’ said Tiley with a mischievous glint in his eye.
Smalacombe shook his head. ‘That doesn’t apply to sergeants, especially if they work with me. It only starts at DCI level.’
‘So, we concentrate our minds on the earring do we?’
‘Have you got any better suggestions?’ He popped a peppermint in his mouth and threw the tube to Tiley who fumbled and missed it.
‘Not really! I suppose you’re right.’ Tiley answered, as he scrabbled around on all fours to pick up the offending package that had rolled under his boss’s desk.
‘What do you mean, suppose? Of course I’m bloody right. At the very least, whoever it was that chucked the thing in the pool knows who committed both murders.’
Tiley stood up, helped himself to a triple X and handed the rest back. ‘They’re not going to put deliberate clues down for us, Dexter. It isn’t a bloody game is it? In any event, now that we’ve nailed Winsom and her mother for Turle’s death it changes the whole aspect. It seems to me, the likelihood now is that Winsom herself had the earring. It could have come off in the struggle. She could have thrown it in the pool herself. I don’t see why you’re fixated by it anymore.’
‘On the contrary, I still don’t think Winsom had it. What was she doing with it in the pool? Playing diveys down to the bottom to retrieve it? I don’t think so! If she removed it to hide the identity she would have taken the other one too and buried them both in the garden.’ He stopped so that Tiley could digest the significance of what he was saying. ‘I still think it’s relevant, even more so now. It might have been put there deliberately to confuse us: earring from the first murder means same person committed the second? Who knows? Whoever it was might have thrown it in at Winsom before she died as some sort of comeuppance; that reeks of Golding doesn’t it? They might have done it to engineer precisely the reaction you have come up with.’
Tiley pursed his lips. He wasn’t convinced.
‘Whatever scenario is right, the earring will give us the answer,’ said Smalacombe emphatically and he reached forward to slap his palm on the corner of the desk.
‘But take the Golding idea. How did Winsom come across the ring in the first place? Turle’s lobe was ripped so we can assume she was wearing it when she died.’ Tiley was standing his ground.
‘We don’t know that for sure do we? She may have had two pairs the same.’
Tiley returned to his chair and sat with one arm over the back. ‘I don’t buy that guv.’
‘No, neither do I, Clive, but it’s a mystery we’ve got to solve.’
CHAPTER 11
Thursday July 6th
It was the Thursday morning before the two detectives went to formally interview Louisa Cooper. When they entered the interview room she was already seated behind the desk with her solicitor at her side. Wendy Childs was standing just inside the door.
The lady waiting was not much improved from the one they arrested the day before and totally unrecognisable from the feisty talkative woman they had come to know. She wore no make-up and her eyes were dark, dulled, and sunken after a night without sleep. She had made no attempt to tidy her hair and she looked ten years older than she did on the day they first met, less than a fortnight before. She stared ahead showing no response to the detectives’ arrival or the formalities that ensued as they prepared to start the interview.
Clive Tiley, sensing her forlornness, explained to her on autopilot, what were the procedures as he loaded the tape machine. It was Smalacombe who began the proceedings.
‘I want you to tell us what happened on Sunday, June the twenty fifth, Mrs. Cooper,’ he said. He refrained from using the word “detail” because he was concerned that once she began, they might have difficulty in stopping her. On this occasion his fears were unfounded.
‘Anna visited me. She arrived at about two,’ she started in a quiet subdued monotone and she continued to look ahead at nothing in particular, avoiding any eye contact. ‘And, Joan came down….’
‘Voluntarily?’ Smalacombe interrupted, Mrs. Cooper hesitated and looked to
her brief who nodded for her to continue. Before she could do so Tiley took up the questioning. ‘You rang your daughter at two twelve, Mrs. Cooper. What was that about?’
‘Just for a chat. Mothers chat to daughters you know.’ For the first time she looked across to the person she was speaking to.
‘So, Anna Turle arrives and you simply ignore her and go off to chat to your daughter on the phone?’
‘Well, not exactly.’
‘No,’ Tiley pressed on. ‘You rang your daughter to tell her you had a visitor. Right?’
‘Yes, I did,’ she sighed with some resignation. ‘Joan wouldn’t come at first but Anna insisted she would stay for as long as it took.’
Smalacombe took up the reins again. ‘What was this “it”? What did Anna want with your daughter that was so urgent?’
‘I don’t know. They were rowing.’
‘I’m not clear about this, Mrs. Cooper. Up to this point there had been no contact between them.’
‘There was a long-standing problem. It was clear to me that there was friction between them.’
‘About what?’
‘I don’t know. I took Billy for a walk, I don’t like confrontations.’
‘But that was an hour after your daughter arrived. Was it all sweetness and light until you paid off the taxi driver?’
‘Something like that, yes. Anna wasn’t well. In fact she was quite poorly.’
‘And why was that Mrs. Cooper?’
‘She didn’t say but I assumed it was because she had just had an abortion.’
‘Oh, so you knew about that.’
‘Well, of course I did. I read the papers.’
‘You didn’t read about that in the papers, Mrs. Cooper, because it was one piece of information we withheld from the press. In any case, it doesn’t add up does it? This was before she was murdered. Now, come on! So, if Anna didn’t say, how come you assumed it?’
Louisa Cooper remained silent. She realised too late that she had made a serious and foolish error of judgement and her interrogators had picked it up immediately. She looked to Colin Shields, her solicitor, who shook his head. ‘You can see, Chief Inspector that this whole business has put Mrs. Cooper under tremendous stress. She’s not thinking straight at the moment. She’s not fit to discuss this at all. I understand she has not slept since she was arrested,’ he said.
At this point, Smalacombe realised that the interview was going nowhere. He had overlooked the natural reaction of any mother to protect her daughter at all costs especially when pictures of her had been on the front page of every tabloid newspaper in the land accompanied by the most salacious stories about her private life; her supposed bisexuality, the parties, her ruthlessness and since his arrest, her relationship with a rapist husband.
There was an urgent need for a change of tack and he hurriedly re thought his strategy. ‘Mrs. Cooper, I understand you will want to protect your daughter from anymore adverse publicity,’ he began, ‘it is very natural, but I hate to remind you, she too has been murdered. This interview is not so much about Anna Turle’s death or even your role in it. We have found tissue in the crevices of the warming pan and more in the bath drain, which I am confident the forensics will confirm are the remains of Anna. You and your daughter are already in a hole and I don’t think you will be able to dig yourself out very easily. With the forensics, we already have more than we need to secure your conviction. This interview therefore is more about who killed Rebecca, not who murdered Anna,’ he hesitated and then corrected himself for her benefit, ‘Joan, that is, if you wish me to refer to her in that manner. Now, we are nowhere near discovering this and I am sure you would want us to clear it up so that you can lay her to rest.’
He looked at Shields directly who stared back with complete impassivity. It did not deter Smalacombe and he pressed on. ‘I think it is in all our interests, therefore, that we abandon this interview for the moment. The sergeant and I will go out for a cup of tea and I’m sure WPC Childs will rustle one up for you if you wish. You see, I am sure if we can find out what happened in your cottage on that Sunday afternoon and more importantly, why it happened. It will help to lead us to Joan’s killer. Without it I fear we may be lost. Discuss it with Mr. Shields and we will be back shortly.’
‘The interview is concluded at nine fourteen,’ Tiley spoke up, then switched off the tape and followed his boss from the room. In the corridor outside he caught up with Smalacombe and they made their way to the canteen.
‘Do you think it’ll work, Dexter?’
‘No idea, but if she knows what’s good for her, or more to the point if her poncy brief knows what’s good for her, she’ll tell us all she knows. There’s got to be links with the two murders and I’m sure she can help us. We’ll leave them to stew for half an hour.’
Whilst Smalacombe contemplated his next course of action by slowly sipping a mug of sweet black coffee Tiley tucked into a full breakfast.
‘Is that your second breakfast this morning?’
‘No, Avril was really ill again this morning and with all that going on it’s not conducive to building up an appetite.’
‘That’s nothing lad. You wait till it’s dirty nappies, food on the floor and sick all over the high chair. You haven’t even started yet.’
‘Oh come on! I got scrambled eggs here,’ Tiley complained.
Smalacombe gave a broad smile. ‘That’s why you never have them when the kids are small.’
‘You make parenthood sound like a Hammer Horror.’
‘It’s a messy business, that’s all I’m saying.’
‘Avril says she’s not having anymore. You only had one didn’t you?’
‘Yes. Not by choice though. Freda had problems. Hysterectomy at thirty-two, so there was no chance. Anyway, I tell you, one is enough to keep you poor. You wait until it’s time to buy a piano or a bloody violin and music lessons, school trips abroad,…’
‘I know and these days it’s eighty quid trainers with the right name on them. Perhaps it isn’t such a good idea after all.’
‘And, when they’re seventeen, it’s dad can I have a car?’
‘University? That’s expensive! So, what’s the upside?’
Smalacombe smiled. ‘You know what? Freda would say only men could have a conversation like this.’
‘Well, she’s right.’
‘Laura is a great kid and we’ve two lovely grandchildren. We get great pleasure from them all. Believe me it isn’t all bad news.’ Smalacombe stopped and put down his cup. He had surprised himself, it was the nearest he had ever come to divulging his emotions to anyone. This was dangerous territory and time to move on. He looked at his watch. ‘Let’s try Louisa Cooper again,’ he said.
‘Oh come on, I haven’t finished yet,’ Tiley moaned.
‘You’re having a bad day lad. Five minutes!’
When the two returned to restart the interview, Shields advised them that his client wanted to cooperate fully with the investigation of the murder of her daughter but he reminded them that she reserved the right to remain silent if necessary, as the law allowed. When the initial formalities were over Smalacombe began to question her again.
‘We need to know what the row between your daughter and Anna was all about, Mrs. Cooper.’
‘It was money! Joan paid her a considerable sum to compromise Hempson.’
‘How much?’ Smalacombe interrupted her.
‘You must understand, Mr. Smalacombe; I had nothing to do with it.’
‘Except for the phone call,’ Smalacombe interrupted.
Mrs. Cooper looked surprised. ‘You know about that?’
‘We’ve not been idling away playing whist all of this time. Now, how much?’
‘I’m not sure how much it was. A lot! She paid her by cheque. I told her that was stupid, because it could open her up to blackmail and after all it could be easily traced if it all went wrong. I suppose it has probably been traced, Mr. Smalacombe, so you know how much it is anyway.
So, why ask me?’
‘She paid her ten thousand pounds in April,’ he asserted.
‘That’s probably about right. I assumed it would have been something of that order,’ she confirmed and then added, ‘but you see the problem was that Anna’s only real interest was money. She was the most avaricious person I have ever known, apart from her friend Rita, who I think is just as bad.’
‘Can I get back to this phone call?’
‘I phoned Mrs. Hempson on that Saturday morning,’ she volunteered.
‘This was the one that tipped her off about the liaison in Newquay?’
‘Yes.’
‘So, you were aware of the scheme Anna and your daughter had hatched up to discredit Hempson.’
‘Oh yes,’ she said with a surprising emphasis. ‘I knew. Hempson was a nasty piece of work. He cost them a fortune over the land dispute. It was all over a piece of grubby moorland.’
‘It could be argued that he was just protecting his interests,’ Tiley observed.
Smalacombe was annoyed, it was a comment he wanted to avoid, so he came back quickly with another question before she had time to dwell upon it. ‘Whose idea was it to set Hempson up?’
‘Joan’s! I have to admit I was all for it though. He had humiliated them in court, Mr Smalacombe and the costs turned out to be astronomic. He deserved his comeuppance.’
There was no need to pursue this line of questioning any further. Mrs. Cooper had confirmed what Smalacombe already knew and so he tracked back to something else she had mentioned. ‘You talked of Rita just now. You know Miss Golding, then?’
‘Well, she comes to these wretched parties. They were sort of organisers as far as I could gather. They were always down a day early and left a day late. I got to know them and I have always thought that Anna and Rita were an item, if you know what I mean.’ Smalacombe knew exactly what she meant but felt no need to confirm it. ‘The thing is, Anna changed her mind and decided that the one off payment in April wasn’t enough and she wanted more.’
