Murder in Langley Woods

by Betty Rowlands

  Melissa found herself smiling in return. ‘I might just do that,’ she agreed.

  As she stood up, WPC Savage said, ‘Will you be all right on your own?’

  It was the first time she had spoken. Holloway gave her a sharp look, which softened to a nod of approval. ‘Good point. Perhaps Mrs Craig would like to wait until you’re free to accompany her?’

  Melissa shook her head. ‘That’s kind of you, but I’ll be okay. My car’s parked at the pub; I’m sure Mr Ingram will drive me back there when you’ve finished talking to him.’

  ‘As you wish.’ Holloway’s formal demeanour returned. ‘Audrey, tell him to come in, will you?’

  ‘My God, what an officious, self-opinionated sod that man is!’ Bruce muttered angrily as the front door of the Wilkins’ house closed behind them.

  Melissa gave him a sympathetic glance. ‘Did he give you a hard time?’

  ‘Anyone listening would have thought I was a suspect instead of a witness trying to help. He didn’t even give me credit when I gave him the registration number of Wilkins’s car.’

  ‘Good heavens, how did you manage to get that?’

  ‘Made a mental note of it as I arrived. Habit, I suppose … I had no particular reason to think it was his.’ Bruce took Melissa by the arm. ‘How are you feeling now?’

  ‘Fine, thanks. If you wouldn’t mind giving me a lift back to the pub, I’ll collect my car and go home.’

  ‘Sure.’

  They had almost reached the gate when they heard the sound of the front door of the adjoining house opening. A voice called out, ‘Excuse me, what’s going on?’ and they turned to see a young woman in outdoor clothes with a baby tucked under one arm. They waited while she hurried up the path to her own gate and said, ‘Are you the police? Has something happened to Julie?’ There was a note of anxiety in her voice as she looked from one to the other.

  ‘No, we’re not … the police are—’ Melissa began, but Bruce cut her short by asking, ‘Do you mean your next-door neighbour?’

  ‘Yes. When I came home from my walk and saw the police car …’ The woman broke off, eyeing them doubtfully. She was on the plump side, with a round, homely face framed in a tumble of dark, straggling curls that blew across her face in the chilly breeze. ‘Who are you, then?’ she asked.

  ‘My name’s Bruce Ingram from the Gazette and this is my colleague, Mrs Craig.’ Bruce dived into a pocket and produced his card while Melissa, dumbfounded by his effrontery, looked on in amazement. ‘I wonder, can you spare a few minutes, Mrs … er?’

  ‘Lister … Penny Lister.’ She scrutinised the card before handing it back. ‘What do you want to know?’

  Bruce glanced down at the infant, which was beginning to grizzle and squirm in its mother’s arms. ‘Pretty baby,’ he said. He put out a hand and the grizzling stopped as one tiny fist closed over his forefinger and large eyes regarded him with curiosity. Not for the first time in their acquaintance, Melissa saw mistrust melt away under the effect of his disarming smile. ‘Don’t think he … or is it she? … likes being out here in this cold wind,’ he went on, with an air of almost fatherly concern.

  ‘She. Her name’s Kirsty.’ Penny jiggled the baby against her shoulder, patting its back and crooning in its ear. ‘You’re right, it is cold out here … I’d just taken her outdoor things off when I saw you and I felt I just had to—’ She broke off and turned back towards her own front door, saying, ‘Perhaps you’d better come in for a moment.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  By now completely won over, Penny led the way up the path. As they followed, Melissa hissed in Bruce’s ear, ‘Since when have I been on the staff of the Gazette?’

  ‘I did it to hide your real identity,’ he whispered back. ‘Think of ex-DCI Harris’s reaction if he heard about this little show!’

  ‘Oh Lord!’ Melissa clapped a hand to her mouth. ‘He’d go ape!’

  ‘Exactly.’ Bruce gave her a sideways grin. ‘See how considerate I am.’

  Penny ushered them in and closed the front door. The hall was a mirror image of the one in the adjoining house, with the staircase to the left and the front room to the right. There was an old-fashioned hall-stand behind the door, the pegs hung with an assortment of jackets, coats and caps and the lower part a clutter of boots, gloves and shoes. Penny led them into the front room and deposited Kirsty on a woollen blanket spread on the floor, where she lay contentedly kicking her plump legs and blowing bubbles at the ceiling while her mother slipped off her shabby duffel coat and threw it over the back of a chair. ‘You’ll have to excuse the clutter,’ she said, scooping up an armful of toys and small garments from a couch with sagging cushions to make room for them to sit down. ‘I’m not such a good housewife as Julie.’

  ‘Julie? Would that be Mrs Wilkins?’ asked Bruce, who had already produced a notebook.

  ‘That’s right.’ Penny glanced from him to Melissa and back again. The look of anxiety returned. ‘Before I answer any of your questions you must tell me … is she all right?’

  ‘So far as I know,’ said Bruce. ‘She isn’t at home at the moment … but what makes you think she might not be all right?’

  ‘Last night they – she and Rocky – had a most fearful row. They were shouting at one another … the noise was terrible, it woke Kirsty … and at one point I heard a thump and a scream and I wondered if he was knocking her about again.’

  ‘Again? Does he make a habit of it?’

  ‘No, I wouldn’t say that. Most of the time they seem okay, but she has to watch her step and now and again he gets mad and lashes out at her. I wouldn’t stand for it myself, but she’s so besotted with him she just takes it … or she has done up to now. When I saw the police car, I wondered if she’d decided enough was enough and was going to charge him.’

  ‘No, I understand Mrs Wilkins is at work as usual,’ said Melissa. ‘In fact, I think I met her on the way here … does she ride a bicycle?’

  ‘That’s right. She works in the deli at the superstore outside Stowbridge. She uses the car sometimes, but she usually cycles to work.’

  ‘Have you any idea what they were rowing about last night?’

  ‘I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I do know she’s very jealous of him … doesn’t like him so much as looking at another woman, especially if she’s pretty. Most of the time he behaves himself when he’s at home, but there’s no saying what he gets up to when he’s away. She doesn’t worry about me, though,’ Penny added with a slightly rueful smile. ‘He’s got a roving eye all right, but I’m not his type … he likes them sexy and glamorous.’

  ‘You have a lovely personality, and that counts for far more than glamour,’ said Bruce gallantly. Penny’s smile of pleasure transformed her face. Despite her undistinguished features, shabby clothes and slightly dishevelled appearance there was something warm and appealing about her. Her skin was clear and her brown eyes wide and candid. ‘So you and Julie are friends?’ Bruce went on. ‘Does she confide in you?’

  ‘She never says a word against Rocky, if that’s what you mean. She’s very proud of him … shows off all the things he brings back from his trips … and the photographs he takes while he’s away. Some of them are ever so good … he’s turned the attic into a darkroom and he develops them himself.’

  Bruce was scribbling in his notebook. ‘That’s an interesting hobby,’ he remarked casually. ‘What sort of pictures does he take?’ There was a gleam in his eye that Melissa instantly recognised, but Penny took the question at its face value.

  ‘Views of places in foreign parts mostly,’ she said. ‘Good as pictures in travel brochures, some of them.’

  ‘People?’

  ‘Sometimes. He did a series of shots of the gipsies at the Stow Horse Fair last year.’

  It was confirmation, if any were needed, that Melissa’s hunch had been correct. ‘Was there a shot of a girl making lace?’ she asked.

  Penny’s forehead puckered in a frown and she shook her head.
‘I don’t remember seeing one,’ she said. ‘I daresay he does take pictures of girls, but I doubt if he shows them to Julie.’ Her expression became suddenly keen and alert. ‘That girl whose body was found in a freezer … she was a gipsy, wasn’t she? Do you suppose Rocky knew her? Maybe that was what he and Julie were rowing about last night.’ She put a hand to her mouth at the thought of the possible implication. ‘You don’t suppose he killed her, do you?’

  Bruce put the book in his pocket and stood up. ‘I’m afraid we can’t help you there. The fact is, Mrs Craig and I came to talk to Rocky about his job. We’re putting together a feature about long-haul truck drivers for the Gazette.’ His candid gaze never wavered as he told the barefaced lie. ‘It seems, however, that the police also want to talk to him … we’d just started our interview when they arrived and he left in rather a hurry. I don’t suppose you’ve any idea where he might be heading?’

  ‘No, none at all. Look, don’t you think Julie should know about this? If Rocky’s in some sort of trouble—’

  ‘What time does she finish work?’

  ‘I’m not sure … not before six, I wouldn’t think.’ As she spoke, there was a ring at the bell. She went to the window and peered out. ‘It’s a policewoman,’ she said, looking apprehensive.

  ‘I expect Chief Inspector Holloway will want to ask you a few questions, just in case you can help him with his inquiries, but there’s nothing for you to worry about,’ said Bruce reassuringly. ‘Come along Melissa … we’d better be going. Goodbye, and thank you so much for your time, Mrs Lister.’

  They stepped past a surprised-looking WPC Savage and Bruce took Melissa’s arm. ‘You quite all right now?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, fine.’

  ‘Right, let’s get moving.’ He hurried her to his car, which was parked a few yards away.

  ‘What’s the rush?’ she asked as she buckled her seat belt.

  ‘We’re going to have a chat with Julie Wilkins before the police get to her.’

  ‘Why?’

  Bruce drove a few yards until he reached a field entrance, slammed the car into reverse and executed a rapid three-point turn. ‘I want to try and find out a bit more about Rocky’s picture gallery before Prune-Face hears about it,’ he said as he headed back towards the main road at a speed that had Melissa clinging to the edge of her seat.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Melissa began. ‘Why do we—?’

  ‘Your tussle with Rocky has blunted your detective instincts,’ Bruce told her cheerfully as he set the car hurtling along the winding road to Stowbridge as if it was a race track. ‘That photo of Hannah … the one you saw in Rachel’s caravan? With any luck there’s a copy – or at least, the negative – still in the house.’

  ‘Of course!’ Melissa mentally kicked herself for not having thought of it herself. ‘I didn’t think of that. But I don’t see what you hope to—’

  ‘If I could get my hands on it before the police do,’ Bruce began. The prospect excited him so much that he took a sharp bend too fast, making the car rock alarmingly on its suspension.

  Melissa reached for the grab handle. ‘If you carry on driving like this, the police will be getting their hands on you!’ she told him through clenched teeth. ‘Anyway, you’re kidding yourself. Julie won’t have seen any of Rocky’s girlie pictures … you heard what Penny said.’

  ‘She might be willing to have a rummage round when she hears what he’s been up to this afternoon—’

  ‘And I suppose you plan to have Hannah on the front page of the Gazette while DCI Holloway is still plodding through statements from Rocky’s neighbours?’

  ‘Why not? We’d only want to borrow it for an hour or two, until we can get one of the girls in the newsroom to run it through the scanner.’

  ‘You’ll never get away with it. Even if Julie falls for whatever cock and bull story you plan to tell her, the police are bound to be keeping a watch on the house in case Rocky comes back. As soon as she appears, they’ll pounce on her.’

  ‘You’re probably right, but it’s worth a try.’ They were approaching the entrance to the superstore and Bruce at last slowed to a reasonable speed. He turned into the car park, found a space and cut the engine. ‘I’m going to see if I can have a word with her. Are you coming with me, or are you going to wait here?’

  ‘Neither,’ said Melissa. ‘You please yourself, but I’ve had more than enough excitement for one day, thank you. I’m going to take a cab back to the Golden Bell, pick up my car and go straight home.’ She unbuckled her seat belt and got out.

  Bruce looked disappointed but resigned. ‘Just as you like. I’ll call you later, after I’ve had a chat with Julie.’

  ‘I doubt if you’ll have the chance to do even that.’ Melissa indicated with a jerk of her head a police car that she had just spotted turning into the car park. A uniformed officer got out and hurried towards the store entrance. ‘Looks as if your favourite DCI has radioed for a patrol to pick her up.’

  ‘Shit!’ said Bruce. ‘If I could have had just five minutes with her first …’

  Melissa got back into the car. ‘Well, it’s an ill wind,’ she said. ‘You can drive me back to the pub instead and save me the taxi fare.’

  Sixteen

  That morning, after a restless night, Julie had woken up with a sense of foreboding in her brain and a dull ache behind her eyes. Rocky was still asleep; very cautiously, so as not to wake him, she rolled over and propped herself up on one elbow to look at him. Her throat tightened with love for him. If he was in some sort of trouble, no matter what it was, she would protect him with her dying breath. He was so attractive, with his tanned features and crisply curling hair, like the heroes on the covers of the romantic novels one of the girls at the superstore brought in to read during meal breaks. Julie herself wasn’t much given to reading and she wasn’t interested in story-book affairs. She had her man and, in any case, looking after him when he was at home and keeping the house the way she wanted it took up most of her time.

  Rocky grunted and stirred slightly as she slid out of bed but he did not wake, even when she gave an involuntary cry from the pain of her bruised ribs. She put on her dressing-gown and slippers, crept out of the bedroom and went to the bathroom. She peered at her face in the mirror; her eyes were still puffy from crying and her cheeks were pallid except for the mark where he had struck her. Last time it happened she had blamed it on a collision with a cupboard door she had carelessly left open. She would have to think of a different explanation this time. It wasn’t a very bad bruise; if she could let her hair hang loose round her face no one would even notice, but working in a food department where the hygiene rules were strict and caps had to be worn, that wasn’t possible. Still, she told herself as she crept downstairs to make a cup of tea, it was only once in a while and it was always because she had done something Rocky had told her not to do. It was her own fault really. She had so much to be thankful for; dozens of women would give their ears for a husband as attractive as Rocky. He was generous too … he brought her lovely presents back from his trips and they had a beautiful home.

  After drinking her tea she went back upstairs to have a wash and get dressed. Rocky was still sound asleep; she’d have to wait a while before she could start hoovering or running the washing machine. He’d give her a shout when he was ready for her to start cooking his breakfast. Except on the days when he had to get up early to start work, he hated to be disturbed until he’d had his sleep out. So she ate her cereal and toast without listening to her favourite radio programme and then did some quiet jobs around the house.

  As she worked, the picture of the gipsy girl kept coming back into her mind. It was easy, of course, to understand why Rocky hadn’t shown it to her. It was because he knew how jealous she was. If she didn’t get so up-tight every time there was a pretty woman around, there’d have been no need for him to keep the photo hidden; she’d have known about it all along and there wouldn’t have been that terrible scene. It was her ow
n fault, really. As for burning the photo and the negative … well, they’d agreed it was the obvious thing to do, hadn’t they? Otherwise there’d have been the risk of it getting out that he’d known someone who’d gone and got herself murdered. Like Rocky had said, it would be bad for business. A man in his position couldn’t afford to get mixed up with a police inquiry about someone whose picture he just happened to have taken, along with lots of others of horses and gipsy caravans, all those months ago.

  It was gone ten o’clock when Rocky awoke and shouted down for a cup of tea. When she brought it he told her to wait while he drank it, then made her take her knickers off and get back into bed. Having his weight on top of her was painful because of her sore ribs, but it was only for a minute or two and she didn’t complain out of relief that he was in a good mood and never said a word about last night. While he was eating his breakfast he chatted quite cheerfully about this and that before settling down to watch the telly while she tidied the kitchen, did the washing, cleaned the bathroom and bedroom and prepared the vegetables for their evening meal. By the time she had finished he was ready for lunch, which they ate together off trays in the sitting-room while watching their favourite game show. Her shift at the superstore started at half-past two; at ten past she kissed Rocky goodbye, got out her bicycle and set off for work.

  A couple of hours later she was having her tea break in the staff canteen when she received a message to say that she was wanted in the manager’s office. She was aware of enquiring eyes following her as she left; one or two of the girls had given her funny looks when she explained about missing her footing as she got out of the bath and hitting her face against the wash-basin, but it never entered her head that there might be a connection between this summons and the events of the previous evening. The sight of a uniformed policeman standing beside the manager’s desk came as such a shock that she put a hand to her mouth to stifle a gasp of fright.