No Laughing Matter

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No Laughing Matter Page 15

by Dorothy Simpson


  ‘Don’t pretend that you don’t understand, sir. The fact is that a man has been murdered. We don’t yet know why, but as I’m sure you’re aware, there are a limited number of motives for a crime like this. And one of them is jealousy.’

  ‘Jealousy!’ Fester gave an ironic laugh. ‘How you can look at me, look at this’ – his gesture encompassed the wheelchair, his useless legs – ‘and talk about a crime of passion, I just don’t know.’

  ‘Don’t treat me like an idiot! Do you think I don’t know that someone in your situation is as capable of experiencing powerful emotion as the next man?’

  ‘Not much point in having feelings if you can’t do anything about them, though, is there, Inspector?’

  Fester’s tone was flippant, but Thanet’s question had gone home, he could tell. ‘Maybe,’ said Thanet softly, ‘that very fact would make the situation even more explosive.’

  ‘How can you talk to Giles like that?’ interrupted Elaine. ‘With him being … as he is?’

  ‘Strangely enough, Elaine,’ said Fester, ‘I don’t actually mind. In an odd way the inspector is actually paying me a compliment.’

  ‘A compliment! You call accusing you of murder a compliment!’

  ‘Yes. He’s ignoring the fact that I’m a cripple and treating me just like anyone else. It’s practically a unique experience for me. All the same, Inspector, you’re still wrong.’

  ‘Giles and I are just good friends,’ said Elaine. ‘I know the phrase is a bit of a joke, but in this case it’s true. We just enjoy each other’s company, that’s all.’

  Thanet caught the flicker of pain in Fester’s eyes. That may be true on your side, Miss Wood, he thought, but it’s far from being true on his. And don’t pretend you’re not aware of it, either. ‘Let’s go back to Friday night,’ he said to her. ‘What did you do?’

  ‘Believe it or not, I stayed in. Watched television, had a bath, washed my hair, went to bed early. Very boring, I’m afraid.’

  She was hiding something. ‘There’s something else, isn’t there? Something you’re not telling me.’

  ‘I assure you I’m telling you the truth, Inspector. That was what I did – stayed in, all by myself, and had a thoroughly domestic evening.’

  ‘I’m not querying the truth of what you’re saying, simply questioning that you’ve told me all there is to tell.’ She had darted a quick, uneasy look at Fester, Thanet noticed. And Fester was listening intently, eyes narrowed.

  Thanet tried to think. What if Fester had asked her out on Friday evening and she had put him off, ostensibly because she wanted to have a quiet evening at home, but in fact because she had arranged to meet Randish? She would now be reluctant to admit it in front of Fester because she wouldn’t want to be caught out in a lie. All the same, it would be interesting to see her reaction. ‘You had a date with Mr Randish, didn’t you?’

  The quickly suppressed glint of surprise in her eyes and her too-swift denial confirmed his guess. Thanet suspected that Fester’s thought processes had paralleled his own and that he too had seen through her reaction – his hands had clenched on his knees and a fleeting expression of disillusionment had crossed his face, vanishing so quickly that Thanet might have missed it if he hadn’t been watching him so closely. Had Elaine seen it, he wondered? There was no doubt about it, her composure had slipped. Her tension showed in the painted fingernails tapping against the arm of the chair. She saw him looking and hastily put her hand in her lap, folding it into the other. He decided it was worth pursuing the subject a little longer. ‘What time had he arranged to come, Miss Wood? Late in the evening, perhaps, as he was so busy?’

  ‘I told you, Inspector, you’re barking up the wrong tree.’

  She had no intention of retracting, that was obvious.

  Thanet gave her a sceptical look, making sure she knew he didn’t believe her. ‘Do you live in a house, a flat?’

  ‘A flat.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Landway House in Beecham Road.’

  Thanet knew it, a new block of flats on the site of a former warehouse near the river. ‘Did you see or speak to anyone on Friday evening?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not that I can remember, unfortunately.’

  He turned to Fester. ‘And what about you, Mr Fester? What were you doing on Friday evening?’

  Fester smiled. ‘You’ll think us a very dull pair, I’m afraid, Inspector. I, too, spent the evening at home, watched television etc., etc. Though I didn’t wash my hair, I must admit.’

  He was being flippant again – too flippant, for a man who had just been informed he could consider himself a murder suspect. And he was watching Thanet’s reaction too closely. It was obvious, however, that he wasn’t going to change his story without good reason either. Thanet decided to leave it for the moment. He caught the brief flash of relief in Elaine’s expression as he stood up. Simple relief because the interview was over, he wondered, or was she hiding something else? Perhaps there was a question which she had expected but which he had failed to ask? He hesitated a moment, racking his brains, but it was no good. No doubt about it, they’d have to look into this further, come back later.

  He said so to Lineham, outside.

  ‘They were both lying in their teeth, if you ask me,’ said the sergeant as they got into the car. ‘I bet she’d given him the brush-off for Friday evening because she had a date with Randish, and didn’t want to lose face by admitting it. Where now, sir?’

  ‘Back to the office, I think. Mmm. I’m not sure there wasn’t more to it than that. But yes, I agree, that’s what I thought. Though according to what Vintage said about the workload at the vineyard, I wouldn’t have thought Randish would have had much time for his love life during harvest.’

  Lineham started the car and pulled out. ‘Perhaps she was getting fed up with never seeing him in the evenings, made a fuss about it, and to shut her up he agreed to take her out for a quick drink or something.’

  ‘Possible, I suppose. Though in that case you’d think she’d have rung his office to find out why he hadn’t turned up.’

  ‘Perhaps she did, before Vintage discovered the body at 9.30, and got no reply.’

  ‘True.’

  ‘But Fester is a different matter, in my opinion. I mean, if you’d told me I’d ever suspect a bloke in a wheelchair of committing this murder I’d have thought you were joking. Now, I’m not so sure.’

  ‘He’s certainly pretty taken with the delectable Miss Wood,’ said Thanet.

  ‘Who wouldn’t be! Just think what it must be like to be in his position, working with a girl you really fancy, day in and day out, and to feel you can’t make a real play for her because it wouldn’t be fair on her to ask her to marry a cripple.’

  ‘Able-bodied people do marry handicapped partners, Mike.’

  ‘I know that. But you have to be a pretty special person to take on someone handicapped to that degree. And Elaine, well, she just didn’t strike me as the type.’

  ‘I agree. Underneath that porcelain exterior I’d say she was pretty tough and calculating. Ambitious, probably, too.’

  ‘Yes. But she is most definitely the sort of girl a bloke might go crazy over. And if Fester had had a pretty clear field until Randish came along …’

  ‘Quite.’

  ‘And he’s pretty remarkable isn’t he? I mean, look at what he’s made of his life despite his handicap. You can’t help admiring him. Honestly, sir, I really do hope he’s not the one we’re after. But to be realistic, it’s obvious that he’s the type who really goes for what he wants and usually gets it. And if what he wants is Elaine …’

  ‘I agree. There’s another point that occurred to me too, Mike. The actual method of the murder ties in uncomfortably close with the limitations Fester’s condition imposes on him.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, if you actually try to visualise what happened in that laboratory, you begin to realise that there are certain things we alread
y know about this murderer.’

  ‘Such as?’

  They had arrived back at Headquarters. There were various things to attend to and they waited until they were back in Thanet’s office before taking up the conversation where they had broken off.

  ‘What were you saying about the murderer, sir?’

  ‘Well, I think we can assume, for a start, that this was an unpremeditated murder. Right?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘An accidental murder, even?’

  ‘I’d go along with that.’

  ‘That what happened was that someone who was very angry with Randish went along to have it out with him and the whole thing got out of hand.’

  Lineham was nodding.

  ‘Well, have you given any thought as to what that person must be like?’

  ‘Not really. There’s been so much to take in …’

  ‘Well think about it now.’ Thanet was longing to smoke. Of its own volition his hand emerged from his pocket holding his pipe. Becoming aware of this he shoved it back in again. He was addicted and he knew it. Part of him was ashamed of the fact but the far larger part was realistic: if he smoked he was a happy man and functioned well; if he didn’t he was just plain miserable and his work went to pieces. But he had come to appreciate that it was misery for Lineham if he lit up in his presence, so he really made a big effort these days to be considerate about this.

  Lineham noticed. He occasionally had pangs of conscience about Thanet’s self-imposed restraint. ‘Go on, sir, light up if it’ll help you to think.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Thanet took out his pipe and pouch with alacrity. ‘You can open the door and the window if you like.’ He couldn’t help smiling to himself. Sometimes he and Lineham functioned like an old married couple. He had occasionally had to work with a substitute and it was never the same. He and Mike were on the same wavelength and that was all there was to it. They were so used to each other that their communication was frequently unspoken: all it needed was a glance, a nod, a shake of the head. He watched indulgently as Lineham half opened the window and propped the door ajar with a box file. Cool air filtered into the room and the papers on Thanet’s desk stirred in the draught. He finished filling his pipe and lit up before speaking again.

  ‘As I was saying, Mike, just think about it. Imagine for the sake of argument that the murderer is a man. Now, in normal circumstances – leaving aside your armed criminal, that is – if a man has a row with another man and one of them loses his temper, what is the most likely thing for him to do?’

  ‘Go for him. Sock him on the jaw, probably.’

  The improvised ventilation system, though somewhat uncomfortable, was effective. The through draught was whisking the clouds of smoke away, out of the open window. ‘Quite. But in this case?’

  ‘He chucked something at him.’

  ‘So what does that tell us about him?’

  ‘Either that he was afraid of what he would do if he lost control of himself, or that he was afraid of Randish.’

  ‘Physically, you mean?’

  ‘Yes. Randish was a big man and pretty fit. So our murderer was much smaller, perhaps. Or … I see what you mean about Fester. Yes. He wouldn’t have gone for Randish in the usual way but he’s very adept at manoeuvring himself about in that wheelchair. Also, all that basketball must have given him pretty powerful arms and shoulders.’

  ‘There’s a further possibility, too, Mike.’

  ‘What? Oh, yes. That it could have been a woman, you mean.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘So where does that get us?’

  Thanet struck another match. His pipe wasn’t drawing properly yet. ‘Think of our suspects, Mike, in the light of what we’ve been saying. Take Landers first.’

  ‘Too big.’

  ‘Vintage.’

  ‘He’s fairly slight. Possible.’

  ‘Reg Mason?’

  ‘Ditto.’

  ‘And Fester, of course, as we said. Then there are the women. Alice Randish, her mother …’

  ‘I didn’t know we were considering Mrs Landers, but I suppose you’re right. Are we counting Elaine Wood, too?’

  ‘Why not? The more the merrier, it seems to me.’

  ‘So what we were saying doesn’t get us very far, does it? Except for Landers they’re all still in the running. Do we definitely count him out, now?’

  ‘Certainly not, Mike. We were only theorising. It was considering Fester as a suspect that set me off. No, what we really need now is some hard evidence.’

  ‘Not much prospect of that at the moment, is there? D’you want me to get a house-to-house, going, see if we can find anyone who might have seen Fester go out that night?’

  ‘Yes. Ditto Elaine.’ Thanet was silent, puffing steadily and gazing up absent-mindedly at the sinuous movements of the smoke swirling away into the gathering dusk. ‘You know, Mike, I can’t help feeling that there’s something we’ve overlooked.’

  ‘Something we heard when we were interviewing Fester and Elaine, you mean?’

  ‘I don’t know. But there is something, I’m sure.’

  ‘Take your own advice, sir. Stop thinking about it and you’ll remember.’

  Thanet grinned. ‘It’s easier to give advice than to take it.’

  FIFTEEN

  As he opened the front door Thanet sniffed appreciatively. A delicious aroma was wafting along the hall to greet him. The kitchen door was ajar and he could hear voices and laughter. All the way home he had been thinking about the case and trying to recall what it was that had triggered off his uneasy feeling of having missed something, but now he could feel the cares rolling off his shoulders. He put his head into the kitchen. ‘That smells good.’ He kissed them both, in turn. Bridget looked a lot more relaxed, he was thankful to see, their morning disagreement apparently forgotten.

  ‘Supper in ten minutes,’ said Joan.

  It was good to have his family united around the table for once, thought Thanet as they all sat down. It was a rare experience these days. Bridget was not usually here, of course, and Ben seemed to snatch his meals between activities, often eating earlier or later than his parents. It was also a great pleasure to see Bridget and Ben behaving like adults – most of the time, anyway. The childish squabbles of old seemed to be a thing of the past, civilised conversation the order of the day.

  The savoury smell had emanated from an elaborate fish risotto and they all tucked in enthusiastically.

  ‘Great!’ said Ben, after the first mouthful. ‘How’s Jonathan?’

  ‘He’s recovered consciousness, I’m glad to say, and he’s been moved out of intensive care.’

  Joan had obviously heard the news before and she glanced at Thanet. ‘That must be a tremendous relief for his mother, mustn’t it?’

  ‘It certainly must,’ said Thanet. ‘Did you see her?’ he asked Bridget.

  ‘Yes. D’you know, she still hasn’t been home since Friday night! She’s been sitting beside his bed ever since!’

  ‘I can understand that,’ said Thanet. ‘If you or Ben were in a coma …’

  ‘Don’t!’ said Joan with a shudder. ‘It doesn’t bear thinking about. Anyway, it’s wonderful that Jonathan’s come round. Sometimes you hear of these motorcycle accident victims being in a coma for months.’

  She hadn’t looked at Ben and Thanet didn’t think the remark had been directed at him, but Ben obviously didn’t see it that way. ‘All right, Mum! No need to rub it in. I’ve got the message.’

  ‘He’s still very dazed, though,’ said Bridget. ‘He doesn’t remember a thing about Friday evening.’

  ‘That’s not unusual after an accident,’ said Thanet. ‘In fact, some people never do remember the circumstances surrounding it.’

  ‘Yes, but I’m not just talking about the accident itself. The worst thing is, he doesn’t even remember that Karen is dead.’

  ‘Oh, no!’ said Joan. ‘You didn’t tell me that.’

  ‘Poor Mrs Redman,’ said Bridg
et. ‘She’s absolutely dreading breaking the news to him all over again.’

  ‘I can imagine,’ said Thanet. ‘You went in to the hospital yourself, I gather.’

  ‘Yes. I didn’t stay long, though, there wasn’t much point. Jonathan wasn’t up to talking and Mrs Redman was so tired I thought she’d fall asleep where she was.’

  ‘She could go home and get some rest now, though, couldn’t she?’

  ‘Yes, she could, but she wants to wait a bit longer first. Jonathan’s all she has left now, and I don’t think she could bear to leave him.’

  ‘Bridget’s been playing the good Samaritan,’ said Joan with a smile. ‘She took Jonathan’s clothes home, fetched various things he and Mrs Redman needed, fed the cat …’

  ‘I thought there was something different about you this evening,’ said Ben to his sister. ‘It’s the halo.’

  ‘Don’t tell me the cat hadn’t been fed since Friday!’ said Thanet.

  ‘Oh no. Mrs Phillips, their neighbour, had been looking after him,’ said Bridget.

  No doubt about it, thought Thanet, all this buzzing about had done Bridget good. Far better for her to be actively engaged in something than moping around at home.

  All in all she seemed to have had a busy day. Conversation turned to her visit to the Mallards this morning and then to the joint trip she and Joan had made out to Thaxden, to have tea with Joan’s mother.

  After they had cleared away the first course and stacked the dishes in the dishwasher Bridget brought in the dessert.

  ‘Oh boy!’ said Ben, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the raspberry pavlova she had made. ‘I can put up with this treatment as long as you like!’

  ‘You’d better make the most of it,’ she said. ‘I’m going back tomorrow evening.’

  ‘So soon!’ said Thanet. ‘And I’ve hardly seen you.’ He’d been afraid this might happen, which was why he’d made a special effort to get home early this evening.

  ‘And not likely to, with a murder case going on,’ said Bridget. ‘Don’t worry, Dad, I do understand. Anyway, I was wondering if you could give me a lift to the station. Mum’s got a meeting. It doesn’t matter if you can’t, I’ll walk.’

 

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