‘It’s odd that Mathilda never mentioned hearing them,’ said Jack. ‘It’s the sort of thing that would have driven her mad.’
‘Mrs Orloff says she spoke very clearly and decisively, so perhaps she was a little deaf, and if she never heard them, it wouldn’t occur to her that they could hear her. In any case, as soon as they realized just how much could be overheard, I suspect they tempered their own volume. It’s interesting to watch them. He speaks just above a whisper and whenever she gets excited, he frowns at her and she drops her voice.’
‘I suppose that’s how he found out about the key,’ said Sarah slowly. ‘When Mathilda told me where it was that day. He must have heard her.’
Cooper nodded.
‘How did he know about the diaries?’
‘According to Violet, she often used to talk to herself when no one was there, so I’m guessing she read them aloud. Otherwise, he stumbled on them by accident when he was looking for something else.’ He frowned. ‘He’s not going to tell us, that’s for sure. He’s just sitting there at the moment denying everything and challenging us to give one good reason why he would suddenly want to murder a woman he had known for fifty years, when scarcely one cross word had been exchanged between them in all that time. And Violet supports him on that. She says Duncan is far too lazy either to take offence or give it, so Mathilda very quickly got bored with trying to provoke any sort of reaction out of him.’
‘He’s got you by the short and curlies,’ remarked Jack with reluctant admiration. ‘You won’t get very far with “trying to delay the passage of the will” as a convincing motive for murder. Even if the Prosecution’s prepared to run with it, I can’t see a jury accepting it. Have you really no idea at all why he wanted her dead? Surely Violet must know something.’
‘She’s very distressed at the moment. The DCI hopes a little tender care from a sympathetic policewoman will help jog her memory, but, if you want my opinion, she’s being genuinely honest when she says she doesn’t know. She’s a funny little person, seems to live in a world of her own most of the time, talks nineteen-to-the-dozen but doesn’t listen. I suspect most of what went on inside Cedar House was just background noise to her.’ He glanced from one to the other of them. ‘All of which is why I’m here. I need to talk to Ruth. She mentioned that her grandmother wrote her a letter shortly before she died, and it occurred to me that there might have been something in there which might help us.’
‘If it’s the same one she told me about, then she tore it up,’ said Sarah.
‘Still, she’ll remember what was in it. I really do need to talk to her.’
Sarah shook her head firmly. ‘Not now, Cooper. She’s paranoid about the police at the moment, what with last night, and Jack being carted off in handcuffs at lunchtime. Okay, I know none of it’s your fault, but you’ve got to show her a little compassion.’
‘Don’t make me insist,’ he begged. ‘I really don’t have a choice on this one. We can’t hold Duncan indefinitely without some very concrete evidence and, once he walks, he’ll be free to tidy up anything we’ve missed.’
She sighed and took one of his large hands in hers. ‘Look, I’m going to tell you something that, strictly speaking, I shouldn’t because it’s Ruth’s secret and not mine, but I’d trust you with my life, Cooper, so I think I can trust you with Ruth’s.’ She gave the hand a quick squeeze before releasing it to reach across for Jack’s, her eyes creasing with affection. ‘Why do you think this silly sod has been charging about like a bull in a china shop? He says what he’s done is rational and sensible. You and I know it isn’t. Rather belatedly, he’s discovered that he has some very powerful paternal feelings which, because he’s the generous soul he is, he does not intend to limit to his own offspring. He is acting in lieu of Ruth’s dead father because he wants her to know that there is someone in this shitty world who loves her.’
Jack raised her fingers to his lips. ‘Two people,’ he corrected her.
She held his gaze for a moment. ‘Two people,’ she agreed. She took her hand away and transferred her attention back to Cooper. ‘Ruth is so vulnerable at the moment that if she’s put under any more pressure, then I can guarantee she’ll withdraw from reality in the way that Joanna clearly has done and Mathilda probably did as well. It’s almost as if there’s a self-destructive gene in the family that triggers the withdrawal.’ She shook her head. ‘Whatever it is, Ruth is not going the same way, not if Jack and I can prevent it. She’s pregnant, Cooper. I know she doesn’t look it, but she’s almost at the legal cut-off point, and if she doesn’t make up her mind very quickly about having the pregnancy terminated, then she’ll have to go through with it. Jack was trying to buy her the peace and quiet she needs to reach a decision, because as yet she hasn’t had the chance to do it.’
Cooper absorbed all this in grave silence. ‘Are you helping her reach her decision?’ he asked at last.
‘I’ve given her all the information I can, but I don’t like to say, do this or do that. It’s her mother’s role to give advice but Joanna doesn’t even know about the rape, let alone about the pregnancy.’
‘Hmm,’ grunted Cooper, pursing his lips in deep thought. ‘Well, I certainly don’t intend to add to the poor girl’s problems,’ he said at last. ‘I’m sure her grandmother wouldn’t demand justice for herself before consideration for her granddaughter. If she was that way inclined she’d have reported Ruth for thieving when she was still alive.’ He stood up and buttoned his coat about him, preparatory to leaving. ‘But, if you’ll forgive the impertinence, Dr Blakeney, you must take your responsibilities as her adopted mother, temporary or otherwise, a great deal more seriously. It’s no good giving her information and leaving it up to her to decide, without making it very clear that you believe it’s in her best interests to have an abortion. The chances are she’ll scream and yell, say you don’t love her and don’t care tuppence for her feelings, but parenting is not about patting oneself on the back for being understanding and liberal, it’s about guidance, education and training to help the child you love become a man or woman you can respect.’ He nodded a friendly goodbye and made for the door, only to pause as he saw Ruth in the shadows of the hall.
‘I’ve been listening,’ she said, her wretched eyes full of tears. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.’
‘There, there,’ said Cooper, gruff with embarrassment, pulling a large white handkerchief from his pocket and offering it to her. ‘I’m the one who should apologize. I’d no business to interfere.’
Her eyes brimmed again. ‘I don’t mind about what you said. I was thinking – if only – you said you wished your children had had my opportunities – do you remember?’
He nodded. He had indeed said that, he thought with chagrin.
‘Well, I was just thinking – I wish’ – she gave him a watery smile – ‘I wish I’d had theirs. I hope they appreciate you, Sergeant Cooper.’ She took a letter from her pocket and gave it to him. ‘It’s Granny’s,’ she said. ‘I didn’t throw it away, but I couldn’t show it to you because she talks about my stealing.’ A tear splashed on to her hand. ‘I really did love her, you know, but she died thinking I didn’t, and that’s almost worse than everything else.’
‘Yes,’ he said gently, ‘I’m sure it is, because there’s nothing you can do to mend it.’
‘Not ever.’
‘Well, as to ever – that I couldn’t say. In this life, the best any of us can do is learn from our mistakes and try not to make them again. We’re none of us infallible, Ruth, but we owe it to ourselves and to those around us to act with whatever wisdom we possess. Otherwise, how will mankind ever improve?’
She pressed her lips together to hold back the tears. ‘And you think it would be wise for me to have an abortion?’
‘Yes,’ he said with absolute honesty, ‘I do.’ He placed his broad palm against her stomach. ‘At the moment you’re not quite old enough or tough enough to be mother and father to another human being, and you�
��re too riddled by guilt over your grandmother, and what you see as your betrayal of her, to give this baby away to someone else.’ He smiled rather shyly. ‘That’s not to say I expect you to agree with me or that I’ll turn my back on you if you decide to have your baby. Dr Blakeney’s quite right when she says it’s your choice. But I’d rather see you pregnant when you’ve lived a little and found a man you can love who loves you, too. Then your babies will be wanted and you’ll be free to be the kind of mother you want to be.’
She tried to thank him, but the words wouldn’t come, so Cooper took her in his arms instead and held her tight. Behind them, Sarah turned a tear-streaked face to Jack. ‘Remind me of this,’ she whispered, ‘whenever I get complacent. I’ve just learnt how little I really know.’
My dear Ruth [Mathilda had written], Your mother and I have fallen out over a letter written by my uncle Gerald Cavendish shortly before he died, making Joanna his heir. She is threatening to take me to court over it because she believes she can use it to overturn my father’s will. She won’t succeed, but I have been unable to convince her of that. She feels understandably aggrieved and wants to punish me. I realize now there has been too much secrecy within this family and so I am writing to you now to acquaint you with the knowledge she already has, because I do not want you to learn about it from her. She will not, I think, tell you kindly. James Gillespie was not your mother’s father. Gerald Cavendish was. I realize how shocked you will be by this information but I urge you to do what I have done all these years and see it as something that happened which should not be regretted. You may find this hard to believe but, despite everything, I have always been fond of your mother, as indeed I have been fond of you.
I am faced now with a difficult choice. I am aware, my dear, that you have been stealing from me for some months. I am aware, too, that your mother has given up on life and prefers the twilight world of drug dependency and the casual relationships that give her the illusion of being loved without the ties of responsibility. You are both allowing yourselves to be abused by men and, in view of my own history, I find that deeply disheartening. I realize I have failed you, and have decided, therefore, to set you both free to make your own decisions about your futures.
My intention is to make over a lump sum to you and your mother on your eighteenth birthday, the amount to be apportioned in the ratio 2:1, with your mother receiving double your share. Perhaps it is something I should have done a long time ago, but I was reluctant to give up what I have worked so hard for in the Cavendish name. As things are now, I see that a name is nothing unless the individuals who bear it stand above their peers, for it is not the accident of our births that makes us great but our individual characters. By setting you and your mother free to lead your lives as you choose, I hope to give you the chance to prove yourselves, just as others – those less fortunate – have already done.
In conclusion, should anything happen to me and you find yourself in need of a friend, then I urge you to talk to Dr Sarah Blakeney, my GP, who will give you nothing but good advice whatever the situation you find yourself in.
With love, Granny.
Cooper placed the letter in front of Detective Chief Inspector Jones. ‘I’ve been asking myself where she was going to get the money from to give lump sums to Mrs and Miss Lascelles if she’d already made a will giving everything to Dr Blakeney.’
Charlie scanned the page rapidly. ‘Did you come up with an answer?’
‘I reckon it’s on the video, if we’d only known what to look for. Do you remember when she was talking to Ruth towards the end and she mentioned her promise to leave the girl Cedar House before Ruth’s behaviour of the last six months had persuaded her to change her mind? Okay, well immediately after that she went on to say something like: “You’d have had the choice either to sell up or stay but you’d have sold because the house would have lost its charms for you once the estate was approved.” Or words to that effect.’
Charlie nodded.
‘I assumed the phrase “once the estate was approved” referred to the goods and chattels being handed over to Joanna as part of her share.’
‘Go on.’
‘I think now she was talking about an estate of houses. She was planning to sell off the garden for development. How else could she raise a lump sum for the Lascelles women and still be able to leave Cedar House and its contents to Dr Blakeney? Just imagine the impact that would have had on Duncan Orloff. A man who can’t bear the thought of noisy children next door sure as hell isn’t going to sit tamely by and watch his garden turned into a building site.’
‘Prove it,’ said Duncan placidly. ‘Name the developer. Explain why there’s no correspondence with this mythical company. Good grief, man, she wouldn’t even have got planning permission for such an enterprise. The days of unravelling the green belt are long gone. They’re knitting it back together now just as fast as they can. There’s electoral mileage in the environmental vote and none at all in speculative vandalism.’
All of which, thought Charlie gloomily, was true. It was left to Cooper to bring a dose of common sense to the situation.
The following morning, after lengthy consultations with the local borough planning officer, he presented himself at Howard & Sons, building contractors of Learmouth since 1972. A middle-aged secretary, agog with curiosity at this unexpected appearance of a plain-clothes policeman in their midst, ushered him with some ceremony into the office of Mr Howard Snr.
Mr Howard, a thickset elderly man with a scattering of grizzled grey hairs, looked up from a set of plans with a frown. ‘Well, Sergeant? What can I do for you?’
‘I understand your company was responsible for the Cedar Estate development in Fontwell. It was built ten years ago. Do you recall it?’
‘I do,’ barked the other. ‘What of it? Who’s complaining?’
‘No one, as far as I know,’ said Cooper placidly.
He waved to a chair. ‘Sit down, man. You can’t be too sure about anything these days. It’s a dog-eat-dog world where litigation’s the name of the game and the only people who get fat are the solicitors. I had a letter this morning from a tight-fisted bastard who’s refusing to pay what he owes because he says we’re in breach of contract by putting in one less electric socket than the plans called for. It makes you sick.’ He beetled ferocious eyebrows. ‘So what’s your interest in Cedar Estate?’
‘You bought the land for it from a MrsMathilda Gillespie of Cedar House, Fontwell.’
‘I did. Blood-sucking old bitch she is, too. Paid far more for it than I should have done.’
‘Was,’ Cooper corrected him. ‘She’s dead.’
Howard eyed him with sudden interest. ‘Is that so? Ah, well,’ he murmured without regret, ‘it comes to us all in the end.’
‘In her case rather prematurely. She was murdered.’
There was a short silence. ‘And what does that have to do with the Cedar Estate?’
‘We’re having difficulty establishing a motive. One idea that suggests itself,’ he declared ponderously, ‘is that she was planning to continue her successful venture with you by selling off the rest of her garden for development. From consultations I’ve had with the planning department, I understand some sort of second phase has always been on the cards, but this would have made her very unpopular in certain quarters and might have inspired the murder.’ He hadn’t missed the gleam of interest in the sharp old eyes opposite. ‘Have you had any recent correspondence with her on the subject, Mr Howard?’
‘Only negative.’
Cooper frowned. ‘Could you explain that?’
‘She approached us with a view to going forward. We made an offer. She rejected it.’ He grunted with annoyance. ‘Like I told you, she was a blood-sucking old bitch. Wanted far more for the land than it’s worth. The building trade’s been through the worst recession in its history and prices have plummeted. I wouldn’t mind so much if it wasn’t down to us in the first place that she was even in a position to de
velop the damn thing.’ He glared at Cooper as if Cooper were responsible for Mathilda’s rejection. ‘It was us who established the sodding outline permission on her garden ten years ago which is why we left access space on the south-east boundary. First refusal on the second phase if she decided to go ahead was part of the original contract and she had the gall to turn us down.’
‘When was this? Can you remember?’
‘The day she turned us down? Bonfire night, November the fifth.’ He chuckled suddenly. ‘I told her to stick a rocket up her arse and she hung up on me. Mind, I’d said many worse things first time round – I don’t mind my Ps and Qs for anyone – and she always came back.’
‘You saw her in person?’
‘Telephone. She meant it, though, wrote a couple of days later confirming. Claimed she was in no hurry and was prepared to wait for the prices to go back up again. It’s in the file, along with a copy of our offer.’ The gleam of interest was back in his eyes. ‘Still, if she’s dead, her heirs might be interested, eh? It’s a fair offer. They won’t get better from anyone else.’
‘Her will’s being contested,’ said Cooper apologetically. ‘I imagine it will be some time before ownership of the property is proved. May I see her letter?’
‘Don’t see why not.’ He pressed the intercom and demanded the Gillespie file. ‘So who killed her then?’
‘No one’s been charged as yet.’
‘Well, they do say planning disputes bring out the worst in people. Bit extreme to murder someone over it though. Eh?’
‘Any murder’s extreme,’ said Cooper.
‘A few houses more or less. It’s hardly a motive.’
The Scold's Bridle Page 32
