‘But you can tell by the way he watches her,’ said Victor. ‘We’ve been to one or two dos in the village, the church fete and that, and he never takes his eyes off of her.’
‘So when you saw Mr Martindale talking to her on Tuesday afternoon, Mrs Victor, you were naturally intrigued?’
She nodded. ‘Yes. That was another reason why I specially noticed him.’
‘I see. Were you close enough to hear what they were saying?’
She shook her head with a tinge of regret. ‘No.’
‘She was filling her car with petrol, I believe you said?’
‘That’s right. Well, she wasn’t actually doing it herself, Bert was. The garage attendant.’
‘I see.’ Good. With any luck Bert would be able to tell them more. ‘And they were just passing the time of day, so far as you could tell.’
‘Well, I’m not sure. I wouldn’t put it quite like that. He seemed to be doing the talking and she was shaking her head.’
‘As if he was trying to persuade her to do something?’
‘Could have been. Something like that, anyway.’
‘Were they talking long?’
‘Just while her car was being filled up. I looked back when I got to the post office and she was just driving off.’
‘Did you have the impression they knew each other?’
‘Oh yes. Definitely.’
Thanet glanced at Lineham and raised his eyebrows. Anything else?
Lineham shook his head.
‘Right, thank you. Now, I assume that it was when you came out of the post office that you saw him again, this time talking to Mrs Rankle?’
‘That’s right. When I went in Mrs Rankle was there, being served. She went out, I bought my stamps and when I went out again there they were, having this argument.’
‘Where was this? Were they on the same side of the road as you?’
‘Yes. He must’ve crossed over while I was inside.’
‘How far away from you were they?’
She screwed up her face in concentration and glanced at her husband as she said doubtfully, ‘Fifty yards?’
‘Dor’s not very good at distances,’ said Victor with an apologetic little laugh.
‘It doesn’t matter. Were they near enough for you to hear what they were saying?’
‘Not really, not most of it, anyway. But you could tell they were arguing. And I did hear Mrs Rankle say, “How you’ve got the cheek to show your face here again I just don’t know.”’
‘She raised her voice, presumably? Yes. Did you hear any more?’
Mrs Victor shook her head regretfully. ‘I was sticking the stamps on my envelopes before posting them and if I’d gone back along the pavement the way I’d come, well, I’d have had to pass quite close, you see, and it was so obvious they were rowing … It would have been embarrassing, trying to pretend I couldn’t hear. And it would have looked a bit obvious if I’d crossed the road just to avoid them. I didn’t know quite what to do, so in the end I just stayed where I was and made out it was taking a long time to stick the stamps on.’
‘Yes, I see.’ Pity, but still … ‘So then what happened?’
‘She went off, well, flounced, really, I suppose you’d say, in a temper. And he came on towards me and went into the post office. That was when I got a better look at him.’
‘Did he seem upset?’
‘Yes, he did a bit. Well, I mean, it’d be understandable, wouldn’t it, after being told to your face you’re not wanted.’
She and her husband exchanged glances. We know all about being not wanted.
‘Is there anything else you can recall?’
A shake of the head. ‘No, I don’t think so.’ Then another glance at her husband, a slight lift of the eyebrows. Are you going to tell them?
Might as well make it easy for him, Thanet decided. ‘I believe you were out yesterday, when our man called, Mr Victor?’
‘That’s right, yes.’
‘So is there anything you can add to your wife’s statement?’
‘Well there was something, as a matter of fact. Though I don’t know if it’s of any importance.’
‘If you could tell us anyway …’
Victor passed the tip of his tongue over his upper lip and leaned forward, relishing his moment centre stage. ‘I was in the pub on Monday night –’
‘Sorry to interrupt, but I just want to make sure I’ve got this straight … You’re talking now about the night before Mr Martindale had his accident?’
‘Yes.’
Thanet remembered Delia Hamilton saying that Martindale had gone down to the pub that first evening, and had got back about nine. ‘Go on.’
‘Dor’d gone to her Keep Fit class in Ashford, so I went along for a drink, about eight it must’ve been. Place was pretty crowded, there was a darts match on. Anyway, this chap was at the bar, by himself.’
‘Mr Martindale, you mean?’
‘Yep. Though I didn’t know it was him, if you get my meaning. At first I thought he was a stranger, just dropped in for a drink as he was passing through the village, then I began to realise there was more to it than that.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, after a while it dawned on me that all the locals, the older ones, anyway, were avoiding him. It was unnatural, like. They didn’t look at him and when they wanted a refill they’d deliberately go to the end of the bar away from him.’
‘How did he react?’
‘Just sat there drinking as if he didn’t notice what was happening. I wondered if I was imagining it at first, but after a while I was sure I wasn’t and I began to feel sorry for him. I’d just made up my mind to go and stand next to him, have a chat, perhaps offer to buy him a pint, when Sam Tiller came in – he’s groundsman up at the Hall.’
‘Yes, I know. Go on.’
‘Well, he comes in and goes straight to the bar, to the space next to this man. Martindale looks round and says, “It’s Sam, isn’t it? Sam Tiller! How are you?” Tiller looks at him and sort of freezes … I swear, if looks could kill … Tiller doesn’t say a word, just moves away, to the other end of the bar. No one says anything, but all the locals were watching, to see what Martindale would do.’
‘And what did he do?’
‘Just finished up his drink and left.’
So, a public snub, thought Thanet. And more than that, a warning?
‘What happened after that?’
‘Sam paid for his drink and went across to join some of his pals.’
‘Nothing was said, that you could hear?’
‘No. But one of them clapped him on the back and said something, and they all laughed.’
‘I see. Well thank you very much, both of you. You’ve been very helpful.’
‘There’s just one point …’ said Lineham, as they all stood up. ‘When you came home on Monday night, Mr Victor, did you happen to mention this incident to your wife?’
‘Yes, I did. Well, like I said, I felt sorry for him.’
‘I was just wondering why you didn’t mention it to the PC who interviewed you yesterday, Mrs Victor?’
She looked confused. ‘I don’t know. I didn’t think … He said they were trying to trace Mr Martindale’s movements during the day he died, so I just told him what I’d seen.’
‘But when I got home from work and heard what had happened,’ said Victor, ‘that this chap was dead and the police had been round asking questions, I thought perhaps I ought to tell you. If you hadn’t made this appointment I was going to give you a ring.’
‘Quite right, too,’ said Thanet. ‘We need all the help we can get.’
In the car Lineham said, ‘What d’you think, sir? Think Mrs Fever was an old flame of Martindale’s?’
‘Possibly. Anyway, it certainly confirms that both Fever and Tiller have some explaining to do, doesn’t it? What time is the appointment with the Fevers?’
‘Twelve-fifteen.’
Thanet glanced at his w
atch. Twenty to twelve. ‘Just time for a word with that mechanic first.’
ELEVEN
The local garage did nothing to enhance the meagre charms of Sutton, being no more than a large weatherboarded hut tacked on to the end of a row of cottages in the centre of the village. At some point the peg tiles had been stripped off the roof and replaced with green-painted corrugated iron. Outside were two antiquated petrol pumps with a notice saying PLEASE HOOT FOR SERVICE, inside was the usual acrid smell of oil and metal.
Business did not appear to be thriving. There was only one car in the workshop and one pair of legs sticking out from beneath it. Bert, presumably.
Lineham advanced. ‘Bert?’ He stooped, peered underneath the car. ‘Sorry, I don’t know your surname.’
The legs slid forward, a torso emerged clad in mechanic’s overalls, then a head.
‘Seller.’ The man squinted up. ‘What d’you want?’
He was in his thirties, Thanet guessed, with longish, greasy black hair and pinched ferrety features.
‘Police, Mr Seller.’ Lineham held out his warrant card.
The man glanced warily from Lineham to Thanet and back again. ‘If it’s anything to do with the business you’ll have to wait for Mr Stake. He’s gone into Ashford to pick up a spare part.’
‘No, it’s nothing to do with the business. It’s you we wanted to see.’
‘Oh …?’ Seller scrambled to his feet as Lineham introduced himself.
Thanet was intrigued by the overtones of wariness in Seller’s voice. Had Lineham noticed?
Seller crossed to a bench, put down the spanner he was holding and wiped his hands on an oily rag.
‘We’re looking into the death of a Mr Martindale, the night before last.’
‘The hit and run.’
‘Yes. During the afternoon he was seen talking to Mrs Fever here at the garage.’
He was nodding. ‘That’s right. She’d stopped for petrol, and he came over.’
‘Could you tell us about the conversation, please?’
‘Well …’ He squinted into the middle distance, considering. ‘I was just starting to fill Mrs Fever’s car when he came across.’
‘Across the road, you mean?’
‘Yeah. He was walking towards the post office, on the other side of the road. I’d noticed him because he was a stranger and we don’t get many around here. Anyway, he must’ve spotted Mrs Fever because suddenly he stops, looks, and then crosses the road. He nods at me then he bends down and says through the car window, “It is Yvonne, isn’t it?” Well, she looks up and goes white as a sheet. She doesn’t say a word, but it’s obvious she’d recognised him and he says, “Yes, it’s me. Leo.”
‘She still doesn’t say nothing, but she opens the door and gets out, and moves away a bit with a look at me as if to say, “I don’t want him to hear this.”’ Seller grinned. ‘Out of luck, wasn’t she? Hear a pin drop at fifty yards, I can.’
‘So what happened then?’ said Lineham.
Seller glanced from one to the other, obviously gratified by their rapt attention.
‘The chap runs after her, doesn’t he? “Aren’t you pleased to see me?” he says.’
‘Where on earth have you sprung from, Leo?’
‘Oh come on, ’Vonne. What sort of a welcome is that?’
‘Why have you come? What do you want?’
‘Which question would you like me to answer first?’
‘Leo, please!’
‘It’s quite simple, my sweet …’
‘Don’t call me that!’
‘Very well. It’s quite simple. I’ve come home for good.’
‘Oh God, no … But why? Why now, after all these years?’
‘Shall we say I recently learned something to my advantage?’
‘You mean, you didn’t know your father was dead?’
‘Not until last week.’
‘I’d finished filling up with petrol by then and Mrs Fever asked me how much it was. She paid me and I had to go into the office to fetch her change,’ said Seller regretfully. ‘Then the phone rang and I had to answer it. When I went out again he was trying to persuade her to go to tea with him. For old times’ sake, he said.’
‘Did she agree?’
‘No. He was still trying to get her to change her mind when she got into the car and drove off. Pretty upset she looked, too.’
‘Then what?’
‘He looks at me, grins, shrugs and says, “Ah well, you can’t win ’em all.” Then he crosses the road and goes on his way towards the post office.’
Thanet was surprised that Seller had been so forthcoming. Initially he had thought that Lineham might have problems in getting the man to talk. He remembered Seller’s uneasiness when Martindale was first mentioned. Was all this loquacity a smokescreen for something else? He watched carefully as Lineham continued the questioning, and became convinced that the man was hiding something. Seller had apparently worked in the village for only two years and at first had had no idea who Martindale was.
‘When did you find out?’ said Lineham.
‘I mentioned it to Mr Stake when he came back.’
‘Mentioned what, exactly?’
‘That this Leo character had been chatting Mrs Fever up.’
‘And he knew who he was, straight away?’
‘Oh yes. Said, “Leo Martindale back? I hadn’t heard. That’s a turn-up for the book.”’
‘Mr Stake has lived here a long time, presumably.’
‘All his life. His dad had the garage before him.’
‘How old is he?’
Seller looked surprised, shrugged. ‘Fiftyish?’
Contemporary with Martindale, then, thought Thanet.
‘What else did he say, when you told him?’
‘Not much. Just said he hoped he wasn’t going to start causing trouble again.’
‘What sort of trouble?’
‘He wouldn’t say.’
Lineham glanced at Thanet, raised his eyebrows.
‘Mr Seller,’ said Thanet, ‘did you by any chance mention this incident to anyone else?’
On target! Seller’s expression changed and he shuffled his feet, looked uncomfortable.
‘Yes, Mr Seller?’
Seller was still hesitating.
‘Let me guess, then,’ said Thanet. ‘You thought you might stir things up a bit by telling Mr Fever, didn’t you?’
‘He’s such a prick!’ Seller burst out. ‘Always throwing his weight about, thinks he’s so great! I thought it would do him good, take him down a peg or two. How did I know he’d react like that?’
‘Like what? When was this?’
‘Outside the Drovers. I went along for a pint, after work. I ran into him in the car park.’
‘So what, exactly, did you say to him?’
‘Nothing much! Just said I’d seen an old friend of his wife’s, that afternoon. The man’s a nutcase!’
‘What did he do?’
‘Grabbed me by the collar and said, “What the hell do you mean by that?”’
‘And?’
‘I tried to back-pedal, play it down, but he wouldn’t have it. He made me tell him what I’d heard.’
‘And then?’
‘He got straight back into his car and drove off.’
‘In the direction of the Hall?’
Seller nodded sullenly. ‘Like I said, he’s a nutcase.’
Thanet considered that after such deliberate malice Seller had been lucky to get away so lightly. He said so to Lineham, outside.
‘I should think Fever was much more interested in tackling Martindale, sir. He must have rushed straight up to the Hall to have it out with him.’
‘Sounds like it. But in any case Martindale was alive and well for some time after Fever tackled him at – what time was it? Six-fifteen?’
‘Yes. He had dinner with his sister and Hamilton after that.’
‘Of course, it’s always possible that Fever went back later. Tho
ugh that still wouldn’t put him behind the wheel of the van.’
‘We’re still not a hundred per cent sure that it was the van, are we, sir? When d’you think forensic will come up with the confirmation?’
‘The Super said this afternoon, if we’re lucky. If not, tomorrow morning. I’d be very surprised indeed if it doesn’t turn out to be the vehicle we’re after. Anyway, we’ll see what Fever has to say for himself. It’s nearly a quarter past, we’d better get a move on.’
The Fevers lived in a large modern house set in generous gardens next to the dilapidated range of farm buildings from which he ran his haulage business.
‘Wonder how on earth he got planning permission for that,’ said Lineham as they parked on the wide gravelled sweep of drive. ‘Bet a bit of palm-greasing went on there.’
‘Not necessarily, Mike. If you look at the centre section you’ll see the brick is older than the rest. I think it’s an ambitious conversion.’
‘Pretty well done, then,’ said Lineham grudgingly.
Thanet awaited the sergeant’s next remark with an inward smile. It came.
‘Can’t be short of a penny,’ said Lineham. ‘There must be money in haulage.’
‘Thinking of buying a lorry and setting yourself up?’ Thanet rang the door bell and this time was rewarded with a rendering of the opening bars of ‘My Old Man Said Follow The Van’.
‘Very appropriate,’ said Lineham with a grin.
The door was opened by Toby Fever, Tessa Hamilton’s boyfriend. ‘Come in.’
A good-looking young man, thought Thanet, nagged once again by the feeling that he might have seen him somewhere before. He wondered what the two families thought of Toby and Tessa’s friendship. For various reasons, not much, he imagined.
‘I’ll tell Dad you’re here.’ Toby opened a door to the right of the hall, ushered them into the room then went off towards the back of the house.
It was a large sitting-room, at least twenty feet square, with windows overlooking the garden on three sides. It had considerable potential, Thanet thought, but whoever chose the furnishings had played too safe with neutrals and pastels; although the thick carpet, heavy curtains and three-piece suite were of good quality the effect was dull and lifeless. Mrs Fever, he guessed, lacked sufficient confidence in her own taste to indulge it.
Dead by Morning Page 10
