No Laughing Matter

by Dorothy Simpson

  Benton shifted uncomfortably in his chair and glanced at his son. ‘I suppose I was, to a certain extent. Sorry, Mark, but there’s no point in trying to make out that Zak was some sort of saint, because he wasn’t.’

  ‘I’ve never suggested otherwise.’

  ‘And in any case, we would be doing him a disservice if we tried to pull the wool over the inspector’s eyes.’

  ‘Don’t treat me like an idiot, Dad, I realise that! I don’t know what you’re going on like this for in any case. You know Zak and I hardly ever saw each other any more.’

  ‘Oh? Why was that, sir?’ Thanet was interested.

  Mark shrugged. ‘We just drifted apart. Our paths divided, I suppose, and we went different ways. I don’t actually work on the vineyard, I reneged and became a white-collar worker.’

  ‘An accountant, I believe.’

  Mark looked surprised and a little wary. ‘That’s right. You’re very well informed, Inspector.’

  ‘But you had known Mr Randish a long time.’

  ‘As my father said, since we were in our teens, yes.’

  ‘And – correct me if I’m wrong – but I had the impression, just now, that it wasn’t just because your ways divided that you didn’t see much of each other any more, but also perhaps because you didn’t like him as much as you once did.’

  ‘Yes, that’s true. But – look, I hope you’re not about to suggest that I went over to Sturrenden last night and bumped him off, are you?’

  Mark Benton’s tone was jocular, but his father jumped in before Thanet could respond. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Mark! The inspector’s suggesting no such thing.’

  ‘Quite right, I’m not suggesting anything of the sort. It’s just that I’m trying to find out as much as I can about Mr Randish, and the only way I can do that is to ask questions of the people who knew him. And you, Mr Benton, are in a position where you could be especially useful to us. You’ve known him a long time but you’re not so close to him now that you can’t stand back a little and give us a more impartial view than people he was involved with on a day-to-day basis.’

  ‘I was, as I’m sure you realised, Inspector, joking. Anything I can do to help … Ask away.’

  Much of what Mark Benton told them simply confirmed what they had already heard. Randish had met Alice when he was fruit-picking on her father’s farm during the school holidays and it was she who introduced him to the Young Farmers’ Club, which was where he met Mark.

  ‘She was absolutely crazy about him. All the while they were together, even in a crowd, she’d hardly take her eyes off him. It was as if the rest of us simply didn’t exist.’

  ‘Did he feel the same about her?’

  ‘He was keen, certainly, but not to that degree. I think he just went along with it, to begin with, at least.’

  ‘And then?’

  Mark Benton looked uncomfortable. ‘Well, to be honest, I think it dawned on him that he might be on to a good thing.’

  ‘Because she was an only child, you mean, and her father had a large farm.’

  Mark nodded reluctantly. ‘Yes.’

  Benton intervened. ‘I don’t know if what Mark is saying is true, Inspector, it well might be. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me in the least. All the same, I do feel that we might be giving you the wrong impression. Zak had many good qualities, or I wouldn’t have employed him to take over here when I retired. He was reliable, very hardworking and as far as I was concerned absolutely trustworthy.’

  ‘Oh come on, Dad, don’t be a humbug! Who was apologising to me a few minutes ago for being too frank about Zak? I don’t like saying these things about him any more than you do, especially when he can’t defend himself, but let’s face it, people don’t get themselves killed because they’re reliable, hardworking and trustworthy. They get themselves killed, presumably, because they’ve treated someone badly – very badly.’

  ‘All the same, I think it has to be said. Zak worked incredibly hard to get where he did, and when you consider his background … His father was a drunken brute, Inspector, who used to beat his wife and children without any excuse at all. There was some very nasty publicity once, when a neighbour reported him to the NSPCC. I imagine the whole family heaved a sigh of relief when he got drunk one night and landed up in the river. Fortunately he couldn’t swim. There was no foul play, there were plenty of witnesses around. Zak was around fourteen then, I believe.’

  ‘I had the impression that Mr Landers wasn’t too keen on Mr Randish’s association with his daughter,’ said Thanet.

  ‘Can you blame him, with a background like that?’ said Benton senior. ‘If Mark had had a sister I wouldn’t have been too keen on Zak as a prospective suitor for her, I can tell you. And not because I’m a snob, either. The poverty of his background wouldn’t have worried me if his parents were good people. But bad blood is a different matter.’

  And so was an undesirable example. Had the Bentons known or suspected that Randish was beating his wife, as his father had beaten his mother?

  ‘And would your anxiety have been justified, sir?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Benton was looking puzzled, but Mark had understood, Thanet could see it in his face. ‘Are you married, sir?’ he asked the younger man, on a sudden inspiration.

  ‘Yes. Why?’

  ‘Just wondered.’

  ‘It was through Alice that Mark met Zoë – his wife – as a matter of fact,’ said Benton. ‘She and Alice were at the same finishing school in Switzerland, and Alice invited her to stay when they left.’

  That explained a lot, thought Thanet. If the two girls were friends and the two young men had known each other for a long time, no doubt they had seen quite a lot of each other in the early years of their marriages. And if Randish had started knocking Alice about, Zoë – like Lineham’s wife, Louise – might well have noticed, or guessed. In which case, even if the two young women had kept up their friendship, Mark Benton might well out of distaste have allowed his friendship with Zak to lapse. ‘It was during Mr Randish’s final year at college that Mrs Randish – Miss Landers as she was then – was away in Switzerland, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes. I think Landers sent her away in the hope that separation might break the relationship up. A vain hope, I’m afraid. The experiment was a dismal failure. The minute Alice got back she and Zak were inseparable again. Not long afterwards they announced their engagement.’

  ‘Mr Landers gave his consent to the marriage?’

  ‘Well, Alice was nineteen by then. Strictly speaking she didn’t need it.’

  But that wouldn’t have suited Randish’s plans at all, thought Thanet. He needed Landers’ blessing.

  ‘What happened,’ said Mark, ‘was that Mr Landers agreed, provided they waited two years before getting married. If they still wanted to go ahead at the end of that time, he would not oppose it.’

  ‘I suppose he thought that if they were still determined then, he might as well give in gracefully,’ said Benton. ‘Which, of course, is what happened.’

  ‘I assume he set them up in the house and vineyard?’

  ‘It was his wedding present,’ said Benton.

  So Randish’s patience had been amply rewarded.

  Lineham shifted from one foot to the other and Thanet could hear his unspoken comment. Some wedding present!

  ‘And meanwhile Mr Randish was working here?’

  ‘Yes. I told you, I couldn’t fault him in that respect. He learned fast as he had a real flair for winemaking. Some have got it and some haven’t. He did.’

  ‘You were saying,’ said Thanet to Mark Benton, ‘that Mr Randish was never as keen on his wife as she was on him.’ He paused, choosing his next words carefully. ‘Do you know if he had other girlfriends at the same time, while he was away at college, for instance?’

  ‘Good God, yes!’ said Mark Benton. ‘His attitude was that he should make hay while the sun was shining.’

  ‘Didn’t Miss Landers suspect?�
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  ‘I can’t think how he got away with it, but he seemed to. It must have been some juggling act, during his second year at least, because her father gave her a car for her seventeenth birthday and once she passed her test there was no holding her, she was off to Plumpton every weekend.’

  ‘Hence the finishing school during Zak’s final year there, I imagine,’ said Benton.

  ‘He had a particularly torrid affair while she was away, I remember,’ said Mark. ‘With his landlady’s daughter, I believe. I met her once. Interestingly enough, she looked a bit like Alice, except that she was dark instead of fair. She was the same type, I suppose – small, slight, rather fragile-looking.’

  Of course! thought Thanet. That was what had been eluding him when he was looking at those photographs. All Zak’s girlfriends had been the same physical type. ‘And did his attitude change after he was married?’ he said, arriving at last at the point up to which he had been leading.

  ‘Ah,’ said Benton. ‘Now there, I certainly can’t help you.’ There was a brief silence. He glanced at Mark.

  ‘So that’s what you’ve been getting at,’ said Mark. ‘You’re thinking in terms of a jealous husband, or lover.’

  ‘It’s a possible explanation.’

  ‘Well, all I can say is that I do know for a fact that Zak wasn’t exactly the most faithful husband in the world. But whether or not he had a current girlfriend, mistress, whatever, I’m afraid I have no idea. And that’s the truth.’

  ‘So,’ said Lineham as they walked back to the car. ‘Surprise, surprise, we’re back to “cherchez la femme”.’

  ‘You’ve been working on your French accent, Mike.’

  ‘Shouldn’t be too much of a problem, sir, should it, to round up all the small, slight, fragile-looking girls in the area and find out which of them was Randish’s mistress?’

  ‘Ha ha. Very funny.’

  Lineham cocked his head. ‘Isn’t that the car radio?’ He hurried off.

  Thanet’s shoelace was undone and he stopped to fix it. The call was brief and by the time he arrived at the car Lineham was replacing the handset.

  The sergeant leaned across to unlock the passenger door. He was grinning from ear to ear.

  ‘What’s up?’ said Thanet.

  ‘You won’t believe this!’ said Lineham.

  ELEVEN

  Thanet got into the car. ‘Believe what? Well, come on, Mike, stop grinning like a Cheshire cat and spit it out.’

  ‘It looks as though we’ve found the femme!’

  ‘Oh?’ Thanet was wary. He wanted to hear more before he started rejoicing.

  ‘That was a message from DC Wakeham. You remember he was saying this morning that he was sure he’d seen Randish before? Well, he remembered where. It was at a restaurant in Lenham. Randish was with a girl and they were very engrossed in each other. Wakeham especially noticed them because he fancied the girl. Anyway, and this is the point, the friend Wakeham was with knew who she was. He works in computers and so does she. You remember the new system I commented on, at the vineyard? I bet that was how Randish met her.’

  ‘Could be. When was this, that Wakeham saw them?’

  ‘Couple of weeks ago, sir.’

  ‘But he didn’t know the name of the girl? Or the firm she works for?’

  ‘No. But he’s trying to get hold of his friend, to find out.’

  ‘Good. Well, let’s hope you’re right.’ It all sounded feasible and if so it was a lucky break. It wasn’t often that an answer fell into their laps almost before they’d asked the question.

  ‘Where now, sir? Back to Headquarters? You promised that statement to the press.’

  Thanet groaned. ‘I suppose so.’

  It was nearly 9.30 before he at last reached home. Joan and Bridget were watching a film on television.

  ‘Your supper’s in the oven,’ Joan said. ‘Side salad in the fridge.’

  ‘Thanks, love.’ In the kitchen the table was laid for one. Thanet turned off the oven, took an oven-cloth and removed the dish inside. A mouth-watering aroma rose to greet him. As he expected it was one of Bridget’s specialities, salmon and prawn lasagne. Bridget was a Cordon Bleu cook, a freelance professional who cooked for directors’ dining rooms in the City. The effortless ease with which she produced delicious meals never failed to arouse her mother’s envy and admiration and invariably, when she was home, despite Joan’s protests that it was no break for her, she cooked for the family. Thanet inhaled appreciatively, suddenly realising how hungry he was. He was glad to see that they’d left him a generous helping.

  As usual, at the end of a long day, his back was aching and he adjusted himself into the most comfortable position before beginning to eat. Gradually, as he enjoyed his meal, the strains and tensions began to seep away and by the time he’d finished, cleared away and lit his pipe he was feeling a new man. He put his head around the sitting-room door. ‘Tea, coffee, Horlicks, cocoa, chocolate?’

  Briefly they turned smiling faces towards him. They both wanted tea.

  He returned to the kitchen, made tea for three. The front door slammed and Ben wandered into the kitchen.

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘You’re early for a Saturday night.’

  ‘Yeah. Got a training session in the morning. Have to get up early, groan, groan.’

  ‘Want some tea? I’ve just made some.’

  ‘Think I’ll really live it up, have some chocolate instead. Don’t worry, I’ll make it myself. Saw you on the box tonight, by the way. Great performance, Dad. We’ll make a star of you yet.’

  ‘No comment,’ said Thanet, departing with the tray of tea.

  The play was just finishing.

  ‘Well timed, darling,’ said Joan.

  ‘How are things?’ said Thanet.

  Bridget pulled a face. ‘Not exactly great.’

  ‘Oh?’ Thanet was surprised. Surely Bridget wasn’t going to talk about Alexander here, now, with Ben about to come in?

  Joan had guessed what he was thinking. ‘It’s Karen, Luke. You remember Bridget’s friend Karen, the one with anorexia?’

  Thanet was nodding.

  ‘Well, she died last night.’

  Thanet stared at her as wheels clicked in his brain. Karen. He heard Landers’ voice. Zak’s niece died this evening. She was only twenty. She’s been in hospital for some time.

  Joan glanced uneasily at Bridget, who was staring down at her hands, her expression grim. ‘And that wasn’t all.’

  Thanet knew what was coming next. Landers’ voice again: Jonathan had an accident last night … the twin brother of the girl who died … he and his sister have always been very close …

  ‘Bridget went around to Karen’s house,’ Joan was saying, ‘and there was no one in. But the next-door neighbour heard her knocking and came out. She told her about Karen, then said that Karen’s mother was still at the hospital because Karen’s brother Jonathan had had an accident …’ Joan stopped. ‘You’re not looking surprised,’ she said.

  ‘I’d already heard. I’m sorry about your friend, Sprig,’ he said to Bridget. He rarely used her childhood nickname these days but this time it just slipped out.

  Bridget looked close to tears. ‘It was such a shock,’ she said. ‘I knew she wasn’t getting on very well. Last time I was home she’d gone down to five stone again. But I didn’t think … And then, Jonathan, too. I rang the hospital and he’s still unconscious.’

  ‘Who’s still unconscious?’ Ben came in carrying a mug and a triple-decker sandwich.

  No one commented on the latter. They were used, by now, to Ben’s late-night snacks.

  ‘Jonathan Redman,’ said Joan. Quickly, she filled Ben in on what they had been saying.

  ‘A motorbike accident!’ said Ben, glancing at his father.

  Thanet nodded. With what he considered superhuman restraint he refrained from saying anything. The question of a motorbike was a bone of contention between them and he hoped that Ben would have enough sense to
draw his own conclusions. He remembered thinking the same thing last night when he’d passed the scene of that accident. It struck him now that it might well have been Jonathan Redman on the stretcher.

  ‘But how did you know about all this, Luke?’ said Joan.

  ‘This murder I’m working on. The victim was Karen’s uncle, Mrs Redman’s brother.’

  All three stared at him, taken aback. Joan was the first to speak. ‘Oh no!’ she said. ‘Poor woman! She must be absolutely devastated by all this.’

  ‘I know,’ said Thanet. ‘I was thinking earlier on that I can’t imagine how anyone in her situation even begins to cope.’

  ‘I’ll go and see her tomorrow,’ said Bridget suddenly. ‘In case I can do anything to help.’

  ‘Her brother’s mother-in-law, Mrs Landers, was going around to keep her company today,’ said Thanet. ‘But of course, in the circumstances, she can’t stay with her all the time. Mrs Landers’ daughter is naturally very upset over her husband’s death, and there are the grandchildren to think of.’

  ‘Quite,’ said Bridget. ‘But Mrs Redman will be feeling so alone. She hasn’t got anybody else, to my knowledge. She’s incredibly shy and awkward in company and it puts people off. I don’t think she has any close friends.’

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ said Ben. ‘She and Mr Redman were a pair of oddballs, in my opinion. I went there once with you, do you remember, when he was still alive? Mrs Redman wouldn’t say “boo” to a goose and Mr Redman gave me the creeps.’ He took a huge bite out of his sandwich.

  ‘In what way?’ said Joan.

  Somehow Ben managed simultaneously to screw up his face in distaste at the memory and masticate energetically. He swallowed. ‘Dunno. This was yonks ago. I couldn’t have been more than, what, eleven? at the time, so I don’t suppose I stopped to analyse what I didn’t like about him. All I knew was that I wasn’t too anxious to go back there.’ He returned to his sandwich.

  ‘I don’t blame you,’ said Bridget. ‘It wasn’t much fun going to the Redmans’, especially if Mr Redman was there. He was a bit of a religious maniac. Very strict. Like something out of the dark ages, really. He wouldn’t allow a television set in the house, or a radio. I’m sure he didn’t approve of me. He had very rigid rules about the way they were all supposed to behave, even about how they should dress – Karen wasn’t allowed to wear bright colours, short skirts, jeans or T-shirts, and as for makeup, that was absolutely verboten.’ Like Ben she pulled a face. ‘He gave me the creeps too.’