No Laughing Matter

by Dorothy Simpson

  Her eyebrows shot up. ‘Murdered!’ She glanced at her father and Thanet had the impression that she was thinking fast, working out the implications. ‘Well, well, well!’ she said at last, and sauntered towards them, wobbling slightly on the impossibly high heels. ‘Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say.’

  ‘Sharon!’

  ‘Don’t “Sharon” me, Dad. You know what I thought of that creep! What’s the point in being hypocritical about it?’ She turned to Thanet. ‘All the same, I don’t see what you’re doing here. What d’you want with us?’

  ‘We understand your father went to see Mr Randish tonight, Miss Mason.’

  ‘So what? Oh I see … So that’s it! Someone told you about Dad’s little problem and bingo, you added two and two together to make five. Typical!’

  ‘Sharon, no one’s said anything about –’

  ‘No, they don’t need to, do they? Come on, Dad, who d’you think you’re kidding? Why else d’you think they’ve got you out of bed at this hour? Better go and get your clothes on, pack your suitcase or they’re going to be dragging you off to the police station in your pyjamas.’

  ‘You’re jumping the gun somewhat, Miss Mason. At this stage we simply want to ask your father some questions.’

  ‘Oh, I see, the arrest is the next stage, is it? Well I can tell you straight off you’re barking up the wrong tree. Dad wouldn’t hurt a fly. And he didn’t even see Mr Skinflint Randish this evening. Did you tell them that, Dad?’

  Thanet was getting a little tired of this. ‘Your father hasn’t had a chance to tell us anything yet,’ he snapped. ‘All we know so far is what we have heard from other people. That’s why we’ve come to see him.’

  ‘Well go on then, Dad. Tell them.’

  And Sharon planted herself in front of the fire, arms folded belligerently across her substantial bosom.

  They all looked at Mason.

  He shrugged. ‘There’s not much to tell. I did go up to the vineyard, yes, but I didn’t see Mr Randish.’

  ‘Why not?’ said Thanet. ‘No, begin at the beginning. What time was this?’

  Mason’s story tallied with what Alice and Vintage had told them. He had arrived at the vineyard at about 7.30 and had spent ten minutes or so talking to Alice Randish, a further ten talking to Vintage. Then he had left.

  ‘Mrs Randish tells us that she advised you not to see Mr Randish this evening, that she thought it would be better for her to speak to him first. So why did you go up to the winery?’

  ‘I thought if Mr Randish knew how serious my position was, he might –’

  ‘And pigs might fly!’ said Sharon. ‘I told you there was no point in going, didn’t I? If you’d listened to me you wouldn’t be in this mess now, would you?’

  Thanet ignored the interruption. ‘So why didn’t you speak to him?’

  ‘Because Oliver also advised me not to.’

  So Mason had told Vintage that he intended to speak to Randish.

  ‘Oh, did he? Why was that?’

  ‘He didn’t think it was a good moment to approach him.’

  ‘Any particular reason?’

  ‘Mr Randish wasn’t in a very good mood, he said.’

  ‘Did he say why?’

  Mason hesitated and before he could reply the door opened again. An older woman this time, Mason’s wife, presumably. She stood supporting herself with one hand against the door post. ‘Reg? What’s happening?’

  Mason jumped up and both he and his daughter hurried to assist her.

  ‘Kath, you shouldn’t be here …’

  ‘Mum, what are you doing up?’

  Mrs Mason peered past them at Thanet and Lineham. ‘Who’s this? What are they doing here? It’s nearly one in the morning.’

  ‘And you should be in bed,’ said Mason gently, attempting to steer his wife back out of the door again.

  She detached her elbow from his grasp. ‘Reg, please … I want to know what’s going on.’

  ‘There’s been an accident in the village, Mum,’ said Sharon. ‘It’s the police. They’re making some inquiries.’

  ‘What accident? Why is it so urgent? Why can’t it wait till morning?’

  She was clearly determined not to be fobbed off and they seemed equally determined not to tell her. Thanet now remembered Landers telling him that Mrs Mason had a heart condition. Perhaps he should, after all, have waited until morning to question the builder, when he could have got him on his own.

  She was becoming exasperated. ‘Reg, for goodness’ sake stop treating me like a child and tell me straight what’s happened.’

  ‘All right, love. But come and sit down first.’

  He glanced at Sharon and some unspoken communication passed between them. Sharon left the room.

  Mason led his wife to a settee and sat down beside her, taking her hand. Gently, he broke the news to her.

  She drew in her breath sharply and he watched her anxiously.

  Sharon came quietly back into the room. She was holding something in her hand. Thanet couldn’t see what it was.

  Mrs Mason looked up at Thanet. ‘I still don’t understand what you’re doing here. What’s it got to do with –’ She broke off and turned back to her husband. ‘Reg, you went up there tonight. Is that …’ Her hand flew to her chest as realisation hit her and Sharon hurried forward, stumbling in her haste as one of her heels caught on the edge of the hearthrug. If the look she directed at Thanet and Lineham could have killed, they would have fallen dead on the spot. She dropped to her knees in front of her mother, shaking some tiny tablets out of the pill bottle she was holding.

  This was what she had gone to fetch, Thanet realised. She and her father had been afraid this might happen.

  She handed a tablet to her mother, who put it under her tongue.

  They all watched Mrs Mason anxiously. In a minute or two she began to breathe more evenly and the hand she was pressing against her chest relaxed.

  Thanet became aware that he had been holding his breath. He and Lineham exchanged relieved glances.

  ‘It’s all right,’ she said feebly. ‘I’m fine now.’ She patted her daughter’s hand. ‘Thanks, love.’

  Sharon stood up, coming to her feet like a released spring. ‘I think you’d better go,’ she said to Thanet and Lineham in tones of barely suppressed fury. ‘You’ve done enough damage for one night.’

  Thanet was inclined to agree with her. He could finish questioning Mason tomorrow. It was obvious that the builder wasn’t going anywhere.

  It was not until he was almost home that he realised there was something he had forgotten to do. One of the reasons why he had not wanted to leave the interview with Mason until the next day was that he had intended to take away the shoes Mason had been wearing that night, in case there were fragments of glass embedded in their soles. His concern for Mrs Mason and his relief that she seemed to have recovered had driven this completely out of his mind.

  He hoped that at this very moment vital evidence was not being destroyed.

  FIVE

  Joan was fast asleep when Thanet got home and he was careful not to wake her. Next morning she brought him a cup of tea in bed. Usually it was the other way around.

  He blinked himself awake, peered at the clock, sank back with a sigh of relief. Seven o’clock. He hadn’t overslept, then. ‘What are you doing up at this hour, love? Got to go in to work today?’

  Joan was a probation officer and usually had Saturdays off. Occasionally, though, there was some special task to perform.

  She drew the curtains back and a grey, mournful light crept into the room. ‘No. I just woke up early, that’s all. What a miserable day.’

  ‘Is it raining?’

  ‘No.’ She peered up at the sky. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if it did later, though.’

  She sounded uncharacteristically gloomy and looked tired, Thanet thought. ‘Do I gather you’ve found out what’s wrong with Bridget?’

  ‘Yes. We had a talk last night, after you’d
gone.’ She came back, sat down on the bed, a dispirited slump to her shoulders. ‘It’s as we thought. Alexander has broken it off.’

  ‘Just like that.’

  ‘Just like that?’

  ‘No warning, no hint of what was coming?’

  ‘Apparently not. Oh, I suppose there must have been signs, but if there were, Bridget didn’t see them. Or didn’t want to see them, perhaps.’

  ‘Did he give any particular reason?’

  ‘Only that he doesn’t feel ready for a long-term commitment yet.’

  Thanet experienced a spurt of anger. How dare this handsome, privileged, debonair young man float into Bridget’s life and then toss her aside, careless of any damage he might have inflicted? ‘How’s she taking it?’

  ‘Well, you saw for yourself.’

  ‘Quite. Well, I don’t suppose there’s much we can do for her at the moment, except give her moral support. Anyway, let’s try to look on the bright side. She’s still young, she’ll get over it eventually, I suppose.’ He hoped.

  ‘Maybe. But I’m afraid she’s going to have a bad time for a while. She really was very fond of him. And inevitably she’s asking herself where she went wrong.’

  ‘If we could help her to see that it was Alexander’s problem, not hers …’

  ‘I know. Oh Luke, it’s such a shame. He was such a nice young man.’

  ‘Maybe. But I never did think he was right for her, as you know.’

  ‘I never really understood why.’

  Thanet leaned forward and kissed her. ‘Darling, much as I’d love to have a deep and earnest conversation on the merits or otherwise of Alexander as a suitor for our daughter, if I don’t get up soon I shan’t want to get up at all.’

  She laughed and stood up. ‘I’ll go and get you some breakfast.’

  ‘No need. I can do it myself.’

  ‘I know that. But I thought I’d cook something for a change.’

  Thanet wasn’t going to argue with that. Cooked breakfasts were a rare treat nowadays, indulged in only occasionally at weekends.

  Neither Bridget nor Ben put in an appearance and they had a leisurely breakfast à deux. Fortified by bacon, egg, toast and marmalade, several cups of freshly brewed coffee and a pipe, Thanet arrived at the office feeling ready to tackle anything. As usual, Lineham was already at work. Thanet could never be sure whether the sergeant invariably arrived early because he loved his job and couldn’t wait to get to his desk each morning, or whether he found the early-morning chaos of life with a young family so trying that it was a relief to escape from it. In any case, he suspected that by now it was a matter of pride to Lineham to arrive before his boss.

  ‘Morning, Mike. Anything new?’

  ‘The Kent Messenger’s been on the phone, sir. And TVS.’

  Thanet groaned. He hated the public relations side of his job, but forced himself to take it in his stride. Occasionally the police really needed the cooperation of the media and he was careful not to antagonise them. After all, like him they were only doing their job. ‘Tell them I’ll give them a statement this evening but that there’ll be nothing until then. Perhaps that’ll keep them from being underfoot all day.’

  ‘In time for the six o’clock news, sir?’

  ‘I suppose so. Anything else?’

  ‘PM’s arranged for later on today.’

  ‘Good.’ Thanet glanced at his watch. Time for the morning meeting, a ritual instituted by Draco when he first arrived, and which they had kept up whether he was there to take it or not. ‘Look, while I’m at the meeting get a message out to the vineyard. The regular staff will no doubt be turning up for work as usual. Make sure they’re not allowed home until they’ve all been questioned. Get Carson and Bentley out there to do it. And give Reg Mason a ring. I want to talk to him again, but not at home. I don’t want a repeat performance of last night with Mrs Mason. Ask him to come in to Headquarters, as soon after nine as possible.’

  At the meeting Chief Inspector Tody, who acted as Draco’s deputy in his absence, confirmed that Draco had intended taking his wife away for the weekend after getting the results of her latest test the previous day.

  ‘Let’s hope the news is good,’ he said.

  On the way back upstairs Thanet ran into DC Wakeham, hovering outside his door. This was a recent recruit to Thanet’s team, keen as mustard but still unsure of himself. Thanet always kept a close eye on new arrivals. It was very interesting to see how they settled in – important, too. Nothing was as disruptive to teamwork as disharmony between its members. Wakeham would do, he thought. The DC was feeling his way carefully, trying to learn and to pull his weight without treading on anyone’s toes.

  ‘You’ve got something for me, Chris?’

  Wakeham wore a worried frown. ‘I’m not sure, sir. I don’t even know if I ought to mention it, when …’

  ‘Come on in. Let’s hear it all the same.’

  Inside, Wakeham looked if anything even more worried. ‘I hope I’m not jumping the gun, sir. I mean, I don’t even know if there’s any point in mentioning it at the moment …’

  ‘Chris,’ said Thanet patiently, ‘you’ve said that once, already. But you’re here now, so just get on with it, will you?’ Then, as Wakeham still hesitated, ‘Well come on, man, spit it out. It’s obvious you’ll go on worrying about it until you do.’

  ‘It’s just that I’ve been looking at the photographs. Of the murder victim, sir. And I’m sure I’ve seen him before.’

  ‘Where? And when?’

  Wakeham looked downcast. ‘Well, that’s why I wondered if I ought to mention it at the moment, sir. I can’t remember.’

  Thanet laughed. ‘I know the feeling, Chris, I know the feeling. We all do, for that matter. But don’t worry, it’ll come to you. And when it does, let me know. Meanwhile my advice is try to forget about it. Let your subconscious do the work for you. Sooner or later it’ll come up with the answer.’

  ‘Right, sir. Thank you.’

  Wakeham was almost at the door when Thanet called him back. ‘There’s a little job I’d like you to do. One of the suspects in the Randish case is a chap called Reg Mason. He’s coming in for questioning this morning and when he leaves I’d like you to go home with him and pick up the clothes he was wearing on his visit to the vineyard last night. Especially the shoes. Get all the stuff sent off to the lab, asking them particularly to look out for fragments of glass embedded in the soles of the shoes. And then I want you to do a little digging about those shoes, just to make sure he’s given you the right ones. Talk to Vintage, the assistant winemaker at the vineyard, see if he can remember what shoes Mason was wearing last night. Also, have a word with Randish’s father-in-law and the landlord at the pub. Anyone, in fact, who might have noticed. Use your initiative.’

  Wakeham went off looking like a Labrador who had just spotted an especially juicy bone.

  ‘That should distract him all right,’ said Thanet with a grin.

  ‘He’s a good lad,’ said Lineham. ‘A bit too much of a worrier at the moment, but only because he’s so anxious to do the right thing. He’ll get over that.’

  ‘I agree. Now, what did you fix up with Mason?’

  ‘I missed him, sir. He’d already left.’ Watching Thanet’s face, Lineham grinned. ‘But before you explode, let me say it’s only because he was already on his way here, of his own accord. In fact, he should be arriving any minute now.’

  ‘Check, will you?’

  Mason was already waiting downstairs and it was arranged that Lineham would question him today.

  Slumped at the table in an interview room in a brown leather jacket which had seen better days, Mason looked tired and depressed. Thanet guessed that he hadn’t slept much the previous night. His eyes were weary, the skin beneath them slack and puffy.

  ‘How’s Mrs Mason?’ Thanet asked.

  ‘All right. But I didn’t want her upset again, so in case there was anything else you wanted to ask me I thought I’d come in, so yo
u didn’t have to come to the house.’

  ‘A good idea,’ said Lineham. ‘There were one or two points …’

  ‘Fire away, then.’ Mason leaned back in his chair, shoving his hands into his pockets. He looked resigned, as if unpleasant experiences had become the norm for him of late.

  ‘You realise that you’re in a very difficult position, Mr Mason.’

  The builder gave a short, unamused bark of laughter. ‘You can say that again! In fact, you might say things couldn’t be much worse.’

  ‘We understand that because of the dispute with Mr Randish, there’s a question of your house being repossessed.’

  ‘That’s what I meant.’

  Lineham frowned. ‘Don’t play games, Mr Mason. It wasn’t what I meant, as I’m sure you’re aware. But I’ll spell it out. I’m referring to Mr Randish’s murder. You obviously had a grudge against him and you were there, at the vineyard, at the time when the crime was committed. What’s more, when you went up there last night you must have been feeling pretty desperate.’

  ‘OK, OK.’ Mason waved a weary hand. ‘So I was feeling pretty desperate. That doesn’t mean I knocked him off, does it? If we all went around bumping off everyone we felt angry with, pretty soon there’d be no one left, would there?’

  ‘All the same, you must have been very determined to see him, make one last appeal to his better nature, shall we say.’

  That short bark of laughter again. ‘You must be joking. Better nature! What better nature?’

  ‘You didn’t like him, did you? In fact you hated his guts.’

  Suddenly, Mason leaned forward. ‘Wouldn’t you?’ he spat. ‘If someone wouldn’t pay you what he rightfully owed you and as a result your family was going to be out on the street, wouldn’t you hate his guts?’ He subsided, indignation already fading. ‘No, I don’t deny it, I did hate him for what he’s done to me, to us. But that still doesn’t mean I’d commit murder just to get my own back.’

  ‘Maybe you didn’t go up there intending to. Maybe you just wanted to have a reasonable, rational discussion with him, man to man. But what if he wouldn’t play ball? What if he just told you to get lost, or worse, just laughed at you? What then? Wouldn’t all your good intentions fly out the window? Come on, Mr Mason, why not admit it? It’s so easy to snap, isn’t it, when you’ve been under a strain for a long time, as you have, so easy to lose your temper, pick up a bottle and throw it at him in sheer frustration. Then another and another, and before you know where you are, it’s too late, he’s dead …’