A Trio of Murders: A Perfect Match, Redemption, Death of a Dancer

by Jill McGown

  He looked at her. ‘You think Sam raped Diana because of you, don’t you?’ he asked. ‘And you think he was watching you. That’s why you’re scared. Isn’t it?’

  She dropped her eyes from his, and nodded.

  He moved to the door, and Caroline looked up as he opened it. He turned back to her.

  ‘Sam wasn’t watching you,’ he said. ‘And he didn’t rape Diana.’

  With that, he left, and Caroline had to sit down, or she would have collapsed.

  No, no, not Philip. Please God, not Philip.

  ‘What the hell’s going on here?’

  The large man who brushed off Jack Woodford’s restraining arm stood in the doorway, his face apoplectic.

  Jack shrugged, and Lloyd stood up, wishing, not for the first time, that he was taller.

  ‘Mr Cawston,’ said Jack quietly. ‘Matthew’s father.’

  ‘We’ve been trying to get in touch with you, Mr Cawston,’ said Lloyd, coming out from behind his desk, and extending his hand, just as though he imagined Mr Cawston might shake it.

  ‘I was already here!’ he roared. ‘I wasn’t letting my son stay at a place where—’ He spluttered. ‘And when I get there I’m told that you clowns have arrested him!’

  ‘Matthew hasn’t been arrested, Mr Cawston,’ said Lloyd, taking Judy’s chair, and putting it down in front of his desk. ‘He’s making a statement.’

  ‘It’s the same thing!’

  ‘No,’ said Lloyd. ‘Do have a seat, Mr Cawston.’

  ‘Er . . . Mr Waters is here, too,’ said Jack. ‘He says he’s been asked to make a statement.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Lloyd. ‘See to it, will you?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Are you in charge of this murder?’ Cawston demanded as Jack left, and Judy came in.

  ‘No,’ said Lloyd. ‘Chief Superintendent Allison is in charge of the murder inquiry.’

  ‘Then get him! I’ll speak to the ringmaster.’

  Lloyd bit his lip, and nodded, leaving Judy with Mr Cawston while he rang the chief super, who groaned as Lloyd told him what he thought of Cawston so far. ‘I’ll be right down,’ he said. ‘Don’t say anything, Lloyd. Let me handle it.’

  It would probably have been easier for Lloyd to stop breathing, but he went back to his office, and manfully parried Cawston’s questions with non-answers until the super arrived.

  ‘Mr Cawston,’ he said, after Lloyd had effected a kind of introduction. ‘You’ll want to talk to Matthew—’

  ‘I want to talk to you! What sort of a circus are you running here?’

  Fifteen love. Lloyd had to admire the man’s ability to choose a metaphor and stick to it.

  ‘Certainly you can talk to me.’ Allison smiled, politely awaiting a question. ‘What did you want to know?’

  ‘Why has my son been arrested?’ demanded Cawston.

  ‘Your son hasn’t been arrested,’ said Allison. ‘He has been interviewed about the theft from his school of several items over the last eighteen months.’

  ‘What?’ Cawston frowned, shaking his head. ‘That’s not what they’re saying at the school. They’re saying you think he was involved with this tramp that’s got herself murdered!’

  No coincidence, then, that Mr Waters had arrived at the same time as Cawston, Lloyd thought.

  ‘I can’t be responsible for what “they” are saying, Mr Cawston. We’re not saying anything of the sort,’ said Allison. ‘He has admitted theft. Whether there is a prosecution depends largely on the school.’

  Cawston stared at him. ‘Matthew?’ he said. That took a moment to sink in; then he rallied. ‘What the hell did he steal, for God’s sake? The crown jewels?’

  ‘The thefts were very minor,’ said Allison. ‘Only one of the items was worth more than a few pence.’

  ‘And just because of that you cart him off in a police car in front of the whole school?’

  ‘Matthew was brought here in the chief inspector’s own car,’ Allison said.

  ‘Why was he brought here at all?’

  It was weak-wristed; it landed at Allison’s feet.

  ‘He was being questioned about his most recent theft by Mrs Hamlyn less than an hour before she was murdered.’

  Cawston rushed the net to scoop up the dropshot. ‘I knew it! You’re accusing him of murder!’

  ‘No, Mr Cawston, we are not. But another of the stolen items is believed to be the murder weapon. If your son stole this item, then we are bound to ask him what he did with it, where he hid it, who might have had access to it – whether he was stealing on his own, or in concert with others. Matthew also wanted to give us information which he felt might be relevant to the inquiry into the death of Mrs Hamlyn. He is here to make a statement. Nothing more.’

  For a moment, Cawston blinked a little as the conversational lob went soaring over his head, out of reach. But then he raced it to the base-line, and it came screaming back over the net. ‘Believed to be the murder weapon?’ he said. ‘You don’t even know?’

  ‘It hasn’t been found yet.’

  Lloyd watched Cawston’s face with interest as several different reactions chased over them. Anger, disbelief, relief, worry. ‘Not been found?’ he said, in the end. ‘So you don’t know that anything he took was used to murder the woman, do you?’

  ‘No,’ said Allison. ‘But we have to find out. His headmaster was with him, of course. Mr Treadwell thought it advisable to engage the services of a solicitor, who was also present. Your son was interviewed by Detective Sergeant Hill, who is a very experienced officer, and who is dealing with the thefts at the school.’ He indicated Judy’s presence.

  Cawston swung round to look at her. ‘And this woman’s murder? Is she dealing with that?’ he asked.

  Allison inclined his head slightly. ‘She is involved in the murder inquiry, yes,’ he said. ‘As one of the last people to see Mrs Hamlyn alive, Matthew is a very important witness. If he were my son, I’d sooner he was here than anywhere else.’

  Game, set and match.

  Cawston’s anger turned to sulky co-operation. ‘Can I see him? Can I talk to him, alone?’

  Allison smiled, as a constable brought Matthew into the office. ‘Matthew is free to leave, Mr Cawston. You can do anything you like with him.’

  Lloyd blew out his cheeks as they all trooped out of his office, and sat down again, looking up at Judy. ‘Well?’ he said. ‘What do you make of his story about Newby?’

  Judy shrugged. ‘He didn’t tell us his car was in the Barn,’ she said. ‘But he couldn’t have stolen the golf-club.’

  ‘Why the hell would anyone want to steal it?’ Lloyd asked.

  ‘To murder Mrs Hamlyn with?’ said Judy. She thought about that for a moment. ‘With which to murder Mrs Hamlyn?’ she suggested, as an alternative.

  ‘In order to murder Mrs Hamlyn,’ Lloyd said, with a grin.

  ‘It can’t have been that, can it?’ she said.

  ‘Why not?’ said Lloyd sourly. ‘They had a nymphomaniac, a kleptomaniac and a dipsomaniac – maybe they needed a homicidal maniac to complete the set.’

  Judy laughed.

  ‘But no one planned this,’ he said. ‘Even Mrs Hamlyn didn’t know she was going to leave the Hall when she did. She took Matthew out to try to get the pen back with the minimum of fuss, and got herself murdered.’

  ‘If Newby’s telling the truth,’ Judy said, ‘then it couldn’t have been him that interrupted Matthew and Mrs Hamlyn.’

  ‘He who,’ said Lloyd absently. ‘No. No, it couldn’t.’ He tipped his chair back, swinging it gently to and fro on its back legs. ‘Sam?’ he suggested.

  ‘He admitted being there,’ said Judy. ‘Would he do that if he had something to hide?’

  ‘He would if he thought that young Matthew had seen him,’ said Lloyd. ‘Wouldn’t he?’ He let the chair fall forward.

  ‘But we saw him. That night. He couldn’t have cleaned himself up that well.’

  ‘Maybe we just haven
’t seen the right clothes yet.’

  ‘Lloyd.’ She gave him a look.

  ‘It’s not so unlikely! He changes out of that music-hall dinner-jacket into something more suitable for taking Mrs Knight out. Realises his pen’s gone – goes looking for it. Runs into Diana, and kills her, for whatever reason. Goes back, changes into the jeans and sweater and leaves the premises altogether. We know he didn’t go straight to the club, remember. He could have been getting rid of the golf-club, like I said.’

  ‘But he wasn’t going out with Mrs Knight by that time.’

  ‘She seemed to think he was. She was all dressed up.’

  Judy shook her head. ‘She says she was going to go alone. And you can’t take any more of his clothes, Lloyd. The man won’t have anything left to wear.’

  Lloyd smiled. ‘Anyway, it might not have been necessary for him to change. He might just have gone somewhere to dry out before he went on to the club – Freddie doesn’t think the killer’s clothes would necessarily get dirty.’

  ‘He thinks you can rape and murder someone in a downpour and not get dirty?’

  ‘If she was in Newby’s car, he wouldn’t have to get dirty, would he? And the field was frozen – no mud. Freddie says her injuries wouldn’t have caused that much blood to splash – especially not if he was at the far end of a golf-club. He might just have got very wet.’

  ‘And you think it was Sam. On no evidence.’

  Lloyd knew he had no evidence. But he had Sam. In the interview room. And there was something wrong with Sam’s story, if only he could sort out what it was.

  ‘I take it you wrote down what Sam said about his pen?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. She found the page.

  Lloyd listened as she read, closing his eyes when she got to the bit that mattered. How could he have just let it pass at the time? Because he let Waters get to him, that’s how. He stood up. ‘Let’s go and have a word with Mr Waters before he leaves,’ he said. ‘There is something he did that night that could bear a little explanation.’ He smiled. ‘Or, rather,’ he said, ‘something he didn’t do.’

  He deliberately left it at that, enjoying watching Judy’s brow furrow as she resolutely refused to ask him what he meant.

  They found Waters having his statement read over to him. Lloyd waited until the constable had finished, and Waters had been handed a pen with which to sign it.

  ‘It’s an offence,’ he said.

  Waters looked up. ‘What is?’ he asked.

  ‘Making a statement knowing it to be false.’

  Waters sighed. ‘I’ve had enough of this, Lloyd,’ he said. ‘Your superior officer is going to hear from me.’

  ‘That’ll be nice for him.’

  Judy sat down in the seat vacated by the constable, and produced the notebook. The constable stood by the door. Lloyd positioned himself behind Waters.

  ‘Let’s look at your statement, Mr Waters. You say you noticed your pen missing, and went to look for it. But that’s not what you told us, is it?’

  Waters twisted round. ‘Of course it is!’

  ‘No. My sergeant wrote down exactly what you said. And you said you thought you had left your pen on the table.’

  Waters sighed extravagantly. ‘Oh, I do beg your pardon. You are a stickler for detail, aren’t you? Bordering on the pedantic, I’d say.’

  ‘So why didn’t you go and look on the table?’

  Waters swore, screwing up the statement. ‘You’re going to regret this,’ he said.

  ‘I’ll tell you why,’ Lloyd went on. ‘Because you knew where your pen was. Diana Hamlyn told you what had happened – when you were with her.’

  ‘I wasn’t with her. I saw her, that’s all. With Cawston. Going into the Barn. They left the small door open, and I went to see what was going on. I heard her tell him she’d seen him take a pen, so I knew it had to be my—’ He pursed his lips. ‘My expletive deleted pen.’

  ‘And you went in.’

  The constable had hastily started taking notes. What with him and Judy, this was going to be the best-documented conversation on record.

  ‘No. I left her to it. I went back to the flat. I did exactly what I told you. Exactly what was in that statement.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I was getting soaked to the skin. It seemed the best place to go.’

  ‘Didn’t you want to get your pen back? You seem anxious enough to get it back now.’

  Waters tapped his fingers lightly on the table as he spoke. ‘I knew Diana. I knew she would go through all the proper channels in dealing with young Cawston. He was denying it – she wasn’t going to get anywhere like that. I preferred to deal with him my way.’

  ‘Which was?’

  ‘A clip round the ear. Or two. I’d have got the pen back, don’t you worry.’ Waters smiled. ‘But Diana’s demise presented me with an opportunity for much more poetic justice. I let you take him away. And I hope you scared the shit out of him.’

  Lloyd sat down on the table. ‘Oh,’ he said slowly. ‘You let us chase after Matthew because he stole your pen?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Or because it stopped us dwelling on the logistics?’

  ‘I don’t know words with that many syllables.’

  Lloyd bent his head close, and spoke confidentially to Waters. ‘Someone interrupted Mrs Hamlyn’s interview with Matthew,’ he said. ‘Someone who seems to have had sex with Mrs Hamlyn, possibly in a car. Newby’s car was in there.’

  Waters didn’t move. Most people pulled away when you got too close. ‘Then I suggest you talk to Newby,’ he said.

  ‘I’m talking to you.’

  ‘You have no right to keep me here.’ Waters sat back in his chair. ‘I will be making a complaint to your superiors. This is harassment.’

  ‘How long were you with Mrs Hamlyn?’ asked Judy.

  ‘I wasn’t with her.’

  ‘Sure?’

  ‘Of course I’m sure. I wasn’t with her, I didn’t rape her, and I didn’t murder her.’ He drummed his fingers on the desk. ‘When are you going to let me go? I’ve got work to do.’

  ‘As you said, Mr Waters. We have no power to keep you here. And I don’t think you raped her,’ said Lloyd. ‘I don’t think she was raped. But, then, you knew that all along, didn’t you? So I think that perhaps you went with her, and failed to tell us that.’

  Waters grinned. ‘Not me. I would have, given half a chance. Any port in a storm, and all that.’ He looked back at Judy. ‘Even you would have done,’ he said. ‘I’d have thawed you out, no danger.’

  Lloyd contemplated sending her away on some pretext, but he wanted to go on living, and Judy’s policy was to ignore Mr Waters. ‘So what went wrong?’ he asked. ‘She was there, the car was there.’

  ‘And Matthew was there,’ said Waters. ‘Even Diana drew the line at an audience.’

  Lloyd sighed. He’d hoped to trick him into admitting that he had been alone with Diana. He had failed.

  ‘And, besides, I didn’t want her to know I was there. I’ve told you – I wanted to deal with Matthew my way, and that would have been less than official. And I was getting soaked. I went back to the flat, changed, and went out.’

  ‘At eleven-fifteen, or thereabouts,’ said Lloyd. ‘But you didn’t get to this club until twelve-thirty. What were you doing?’

  ‘I’ve already told you what I was doing,’ Waters said. ‘I have co-operated fully with your inquiry, as I will tell your superiors.’

  ‘You have consistently refused to tell us what you were doing!’ Lloyd shouted.

  Waters raised his eyebrows. ‘I picked up a prostitute, Chief Inspector. A hooker, a whore, a lady of the evening. That’s why I waited until after closing-time – they’re thicker on the ground then. Do you want to do me for kerb-crawling?’

  ‘I want to know when you think you told me that before,’ said Lloyd.

  ‘I told you at the very start,’ said Waters. ‘It wasn’t an inapposite adjective, Mr Lloyd
. Crude, but not inapposite.’ He smiled. ‘You’re going to catch it from your boss,’ he said, wagging his finger.

  Lloyd got up. ‘She had better have a name,’ he said.

  Waters’s smile grew. ‘I couldn’t give you her name if I wanted to. I wasn’t interested in her name. But I don’t have to worry about that, because you have found nothing whatever to connect me to Diana Hamlyn’s murder, and you know it.’

  Lloyd shook his head as the constable made a move to stop Waters leaving, and shrugged. He and Judy walked back along to the office, neither of them speaking. They sat down, and looked at one another.

  ‘He’s right,’ said Judy.

  She had a remarkable talent for stating the obvious. Lloyd wondered if it was worth deploying manpower to try to find whoever Sam was with. The best they could do was find her, that would prove Sam’s story. The worst they could do was not find her, and that hardly constituted proof that he was lying.

  ‘Even if it’s true,’ he said, ‘he could still have killed her. She was probably dead before he left the school.’

  ‘How would he have got hold of the golf-club?’

  ‘God knows,’ said Lloyd. ‘Unless he stole it in the first place.’ But that didn’t make sense.

  ‘Why did you say that you didn’t think that Mrs Hamlyn had been raped?’ Judy asked, after a moment.

  ‘Because I don’t think she was,’ he said tiredly.

  Judy stiffened slightly. ‘You’ve joined the chorus, have you? Diana Hamlyn couldn’t have been raped; she was the school bicycle?’

  ‘She was in Newby’s car with whoever it was.’

  ‘You don’t know that!’

  ‘Not yet, but I imagine forensics will prove it.’

  ‘So because she was in a car she can’t have been raped?’

  Lloyd sighed. ‘A car that wasn’t going anywhere, Judy. All the evidence suggests co-operation.’

  ‘The evidence suggests a not inconsiderable degree of sexual violence, according to Freddie,’ she said. ‘You’ve read his report. He hurt her, Lloyd.’

  ‘Maybe she got more than she bargained for,’ said Lloyd. ‘A professional foul, Freddie called it. Perhaps that’s why she ran away. Or – maybe it wasn’t that unusual, as far as she was concerned.’