Dead by Morning

by Dorothy Simpson

  Anger sparked in her eyes as she capitulated. ‘If it’s so important for you to know … Yes, he did.’

  But the battle was only half won. Thanet still had to find out what he really wanted to know. ‘Why was that?’

  She shrugged, lifting elegant shoulders. ‘How should I know?’

  ‘Do you know?’ he pressed.

  ‘I’ve no doubt he had his reasons.’

  ‘What were they?’

  Her self-control was admirable but her fury and tension showed in the unnatural rigidity of her posture, the clenching of the muscles along her jawline.

  Thanet waited. Was she going to tell him, would he have to press her further or would she lie? It was, he felt, absolutely crucial that he win this battle. It would be the first crack in the barrier of silence which everyone who knew Martindale seemed to put up when being questioned about the general hostility towards him.

  He allowed the silence to prolong itself for a little while longer then sighed. ‘Mrs Hamilton,’ he said gently. ‘You’re not really asking me to believe that if you didn’t already know, you wouldn’t have asked why Sam found the idea of working for your brother so unacceptable?’

  ‘I’m not asking you to believe or disbelieve anything.’

  Thanet tried a different tack. ‘I’m beginning to wonder if you really do want us to find out about your brother’s death.’

  That had stung. Her lips tightened. ‘You can’t fool me, Inspector. You don’t believe anything of the sort. You’re just trying to goad me into telling you what you want to know. If it’s so important, why don’t you ask Sam himself?’

  ‘If you don’t tell me, I shall. But I assume that as you’re so keen to protect him you really don’t believe he can be involved. In which case you would be doing him a good turn by telling me, instead of my having to ask him straight out. I assume that it is a matter which has caused him some distress, in the past?’

  Still no answer.

  ‘I shan’t give up until I find out, you know.’

  Silence. She rose with an exasperated sigh and went to stand looking out of the window with her back to them.

  Thanet waited, glancing at Lineham, who grinned and raised a triumphant thumb. Thanet pulled down the corners of his mouth and shrugged. We mustn’t count our chickens …

  Finally she turned to face them, leaning back against the windowsill. Sunlight haloed her hair. ‘Just why is it so important?’

  ‘We don’t know that it is. It’s just that it could be.’

  ‘Because you suspect Sam of running Leo down.’

  ‘It’s one possibility among many.’

  She gave a wry smile and returned to her seat. ‘Well, Inspector, I can see that as you say you’re not the type to give up. As you will have gathered, I don’t like talking about my employees behind their backs. In my view loyalty is a two-way process. But I suppose you might as well hear the truth from someone who will give you an unbiased account of it.’

  And a vested interest in diverting attention away from herself, Thanet reminded himself as she began to speak. But he had won!

  ‘Sam wasn’t always in such a … well, menial position. He once ran his own farm. It was only a small farm, but it had been in his family for several generations.… He also had a passionate and life-long ambition, to breed a prize bull. Oh, you may well smile, Inspector, but believe me there was no more serious subject in the world to Sam.

  ‘Well, to skip all the years of trial and error, of complete failure and near misses, and to cut a long story short, in the end he did it. His bull won the prize of Supreme Champion at the Royal Show at Stoneleigh. It’s the most prestigious prize of all and Sam was walking on air. Stud fees, he knew, would make him a rich man, but best of all was the knowledge that he had done it, he alone by his own efforts had made it. You understand what I mean?’

  Thanet nodded.

  ‘The week after the show my dear brother left open the gate of the field in which the bull was kept. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen one of these creatures, Inspector, but believe me they are massive. It was unfortunate that an articulated lorry happened to be coming along at the time. The bull ran straight out into its path. The animal wasn’t killed outright but it was so badly injured that it had to be put down. You can imagine how Sam felt.’

  ‘It was carelessness on your brother’s part?’

  ‘Oh I don’t think it was deliberate, if that’s what you mean. But it was carelessness, yes, sheer, criminal, absolutely inexcusable carelessness. My father paid heavily in compensation, tried to smooth things over, but of course it couldn’t make up to Sam for all those years of single-minded endeavour. It just about broke his heart, finished him. He couldn’t face starting all over again. He let things slide, the money dwindled and dwindled and in the end he went bankrupt. Just about then his wife died and he went to live with his daughter. For years he got occasional jobs as tractor driver or farm labourer, and then when my father died and I decided to turn this place into a hotel I needed someone to look after the grounds. There was accommodation available in the stable block and I felt an obligation to Sam … He took some persuading but by then there was friction with his son-in-law and he was tempted, as I hoped he might be, by the prospect of independence. He’s been here ever since.’

  ‘I see.’ Thanet did see. Long years of bitterness could shrivel a man’s soul. To Tiller the prospect of working for the man who had ruined him would have been unendurable. Faced with having to abandon for the second time the life he had built for himself and presented with the opportunity for revenge he could well have succumbed to temptation.

  ‘Oh, I know what you’re thinking, Inspector. It’s why I didn’t want to tell you. You’re thinking that if the opportunity presented itself Sam might well have been tempted to run Leo down. But he’s not like that. He’s a good man, kind …’

  Remembering Tiller’s defensiveness, his aggression and hostility, Thanet wasn’t so sure. He said as much to Lineham, outside.

  ‘I agree. Though how we’d ever be able to prove it, if it was him –’ Lineham broke off. ‘Oh, no …’

  Thanet turned to look. A police Land Rover was coming up the drive. It was just close enough for him to recognise the passenger.

  Superintendent Draco had arrived.

  THIRTEEN

  Draco sprang out of the Land Rover and came bouncing towards them across the gravel. Energy emanated from him in almost visible waves. ‘Ah, there you are, Thanet. How’s it going?’

  ‘We’re just going to have a word with the groundsman, Sam Tiller, sir.’

  They waited while two of the guests, a middle-aged couple dressed for a country walk in wellington boots and anoraks, came out of the hotel and passed them, casting curious glances. Then Thanet gave a brief account of the conversation with Mrs Hamilton.

  A delighted smile spread across Draco’s face. ‘That’s a new one. Revenge for the death of a prize bull, eh? Thought I’d heard them all, but this really takes the biscuit.’

  They headed for the stable yard.

  ‘Even if Tiller did run Mr Martindale down we’re going to have a hard time proving it. Have you heard anything from forensic yet, sir?’

  ‘No. I was on to them again just before I left. Usual story, snowed under with work etc. But they promise the results by tomorrow.’

  Draco was glancing about curiously as they walked. He looked as though he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

  Thanet again remembered wondering, when Draco first came, how long the Superintendent was going to tie himself to his desk. He hoped this visit wasn’t heralding a new era of involvement on the Superintendent’s part in the day-to-day progress of cases in his division.

  ‘There was one point, though.’ Draco fished in his pocket, produced a piece of paper. ‘Bentley thought you might be interested to know that Mr …’ He consulted the paper. ‘… Mr Talion had sacked a farmhand a couple of weeks back. Here’s his name and address.’ He handed the paper to Thanet. ‘H
e thought it might be useful to interview him, in view of the fact that Talion and Martindale had had a row and you hadn’t been able to find out why. He thought the man might possibly know the reason for any animosity between them and if he’s still feeling sore he might be tempted to talk. I told him to go ahead. I hope that’s OK by you.’

  It wasn’t. Thanet did not appreciate Draco giving his men orders. Who knew where it would end? He swallowed his resentment and said non-committally, ‘It could be useful.’ But again, it might not. It depended, Thanet thought, on how long the man had lived in the area and how much he knew about the grudge which Talion evidently harboured against Martindale. Still, he admitted reluctantly, Draco was right, it was worth following up.

  The stable yard appeared deserted.

  ‘He may be in the outbuilding where we interviewed him yesterday,’ suggested Lineham.

  They walked across and knocked. A moment later the door opened. Tiller scowled. ‘Oh, it’s you again. What d’you want this time?’

  ‘Another word, if you don’t mind. This is Superintendent Draco.’

  Was that a flash of fear as Tiller glanced at Draco? If so, it was immediately replaced by the old sneering belligerence. ‘Come to arrest me, have you?’

  ‘Just a word, as I said.’ Thanet was at his most benign.

  Grudgingly, Tiller stood back.

  He had been cleaning his tools, sharpening a spade with a whetstone. Not much could be done outside in this weather, Thanet supposed. It was a good time for ensuring that equipment was in good order for the rush of work when spring arrived.

  Draco’s arrival had given Thanet little time to consider how he was going to tackle Tiller. He felt inhibited by the Superintendent’s presence, despite the fact that Draco had tactfully withdrawn into the background and was pretending to examine the tools arrayed on hooks on the walls. With an effort he tried to put the Superintendent out of his mind, pretend that he wasn’t there.

  He decided to take the bull by the horns. Suppressing a wry smile at the appropriateness of the metaphor he said, ‘You told Mrs Hamilton that if Mr Martindale stayed on here, you would leave.’

  Tiller leaned back against his work bench and folded his arms. ‘So?’

  ‘We know why, Mr Tiller.’

  A spasm of – what? Anger? Fear? – briefly contorted the man’s features. ‘If you’re so clever I don’t know why you bother with pretending you want to talk to me. Go on, admit it, you’ve made up your minds I ran him down, haven’t you?’ His gaze encompassed all three policemen then focused again on Thanet.

  Thanet sighed. ‘If my mind were as closed as yours, Mr Tiller, I’d have a string of false arrests to my credit. And that’s not the way I work. I repeat, we’re merely trying to find out the truth. And I would like to point out that if you were not involved in Mr Martindale’s death it is in your own interest for you to cooperate with us as fully as possible.’

  Silence while Tiller considered the logic of what Thanet had said. Finally he unfolded his arms and took a pipe from his pocket.

  Thanet immediately wanted to follow suit. If Draco hadn’t been present he might in fact have done so. Such a small act of sharing a mutual enjoyment could create a common bond and lower the emotional temperature of a difficult interview by several degrees. Once again he cursed Draco’s presence.

  Tiller was stuffing tobacco into the bowl with practised fingers, taking matches from his pockets. He waited until he had lit up and then, gazing up at the coils of smoke swirling lazily above his head, said, ‘You could have a point there.’

  Thanet knew when to keep silent and he continued to wait patiently, acutely conscious of Draco behind him. He could rely on Lineham, but the Superintendent was a different matter. Patience was not his strong point and if he said or did anything at this crucial moment … He wouldn’t, surely? Thanet reminded himself that Draco hadn’t reached his present rank without good reason.

  Tiller’s gaze slowly descended to linger on Thanet’s face. ‘All right, then. What d’you want to know?’

  There was a distinct easing of the atmosphere. But they were not there yet. Slowly now, Thanet warned himself. ‘We’re still trying to check the’ movements of the van that night. You said you left here at 8.30 to pick up Mrs Rankle?’

  Tiller nodded, puffing rhythmically at his pipe.

  ‘And left the pub at around 10.30, to take her home before returning here?’

  Another nod.

  ‘When did you last use it, earlier in the evening?’

  Tiller considered, then took his pipe out of his mouth. ‘’Bout five o’clock. To run Andy home – the young lad who helps me. He usually cycles, but his bike’s out of commission at the moment.’

  ‘And after that the van stood out in the yard, as usual?’

  ‘’S right.’

  ‘Do you know of anyone else who used it, that night?’

  Tiller hesitated.

  No point in reversing the man’s mood and making him dig his heels in again out of mistaken loyalty to Delia Hamilton. ‘Mrs Hamilton told us she used it to fetch her son from the station just before half-past seven. Also, Mr Talion used it to check on some sheep that had got out on to the road, some twenty minutes later. After that it stood idle until you left at 8.30, so far as we know …’

  No response.

  Thanet tried again. ‘Do you know if anyone used it either before Mrs Hamilton or during those twenty minutes between ten and half-past eight?’

  Tiller was shaking his head. ‘Not so far as I know. Someone could have, of course.’

  ‘Does your cottage overlook the yard?’

  Tiller nodded, eyes narrowing.

  ‘Even if you didn’t actually see anyone getting into or out of it, or driving it, did you happen to glance out at any point and notice that it was gone?’

  Tiller considered. Finally he shook his head. ‘Earlier on I was having my tea in the kitchen at the back of the house. Then I watched telly until about eight, when I went upstairs to have a shave and get ready to go out. And it was dark, of course, the curtains was drawn.’

  Pity. ‘Did you hear anything, then, while you were in your bedroom? An engine start up?’

  ‘Nah. Had the radio on.’

  ‘What about later on, after you got home? Did you hear anything then?’

  Tiller started to shake his head again, then stopped. ‘There was something,’ he said slowly.

  ‘When was that?’

  ‘Soon after I got into bed. I was just dozing off. Must have been about a quarter past eleven. I heard a car start up.’

  ‘Ah, yes, that was probably Mr Hamilton. Miss Hamilton had borrowed the Range Rover and she couldn’t get it to start. Mr Hamilton went to help her. You might have heard them come back.’

  ‘Not me. Went out like a light, I always do.’

  ‘What about earlier, before you went to bed?’

  Another shake of the head. ‘Sorry.’

  Dead end, there. Move on, then, to the more delicate topic of Mrs Rankle borrowing the van. Would it be best to try to get Tiller to volunteer the information, and risk arousing his anger again if it was necessary to press him, perhaps catch him out in a lie, or to ask him outright? Either way he was likely to erupt. Marginally better, perhaps, to avoid putting him in the wrong.

  ‘I understand that when you and Mrs Rankle go to the pub she usually borrows the van some time during the evening to go and check that her son is all right. He’s handicapped, I believe?’

  Tiller’s reaction was instantaneous. Ignoring the last question he took his pipe from his mouth and straightened up, glaring at Thanet. ‘So what? I’ve got every right to lend it to whoever I like.’

  ‘I’m not questioning your right to lend it …’

  ‘I should hope not. Because you ask Mrs Hamilton. Go on, ask her. I wondered about Sonia driving it because of the insurance, see, I wasn’t sure who was covered, so I asked Mrs Hamilton’s permission and she told me the cover was comprehensive and I coul
d use it as I liked. “Off duty you must treat the van as yours, Sam,” she says. “Just use your own discretion.”’

  Thanet held up his hand. ‘All right, all right. I accept that. I told you, I’m not questioning your right to lend it to whoever you want to lend it to. All I’m trying to find out is whether Mrs Rankle drove it on Tuesday night.’

  If Tiller had been playing a game of Statues he couldn’t have frozen into immobility more quickly. Only his eyes seemed alive, small black burning coals in an expanse of paralysed flesh. Then a hiss escaped through his slightly parted lips, his left eyelid twitched and he took a deep breath. ‘Just what,’ he said through his teeth, ‘are you implying?’

  The waves of antagonism emanating from him were so powerful that it was with difficulty that Thanet stood his ground. ‘Asking, Mr Tiller. Not –’

  Tiller took a step forward and Thanet sensed Lineham tense beside him. ‘Just leave Mrs Rankle out of this, d’you hear me? LEAVE HER OUT OF THIS!’

  ‘That may not be possible, Mr Tiller.’

  Tiller made an inarticulate sound that was almost a growl and, bunching his hands into fists, took another step forward.

  Lineham also moved forward and Thanet was suddenly conscious of Draco flanking him on the other side. Three against one, he thought: Not very fair. He suppressed a desire to laugh. How impressed the Super must be with his handling of this one!

  He was opening his mouth to speak when Draco intervened. ‘Come now, Mr Tiller. That wouldn’t be very sensible, would it? Assaulting a police officer and all that?’

  ‘Look,’ said Thanet, humiliated and seething, trying to ignore the fact that Draco had spoken at all, ‘I can imagine how you feel …’

  ‘Can you?’ snarled Tiller. ‘How would you like it if someone you knew died in an accident and before you could turn round you’re suspected of murdering him? Or if not you, your girlfriend or wife, perhaps. Just think about it! How would you feel?’

  ‘If I were innocent – furiously angry, outraged, helpless, frustrated, hurt, confused, misjudged …’

  ‘Well then!’

  ‘But if I were guilty …’ Thanet allowed the pause to lengthen then said softly, ‘If I were guilty, then I would put on a good show of feeling all those things, in order to proclaim my innocence.’