Dead and Gone

by Dorothy Simpson

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  After this the meeting was quickly wound up. Thanet had reached the door and was thinking that he had got away lightly after all when Draco called him back.

  ‘Why was I not informed of Mrs Min tar’s death until I arrived at work this morning?’

  ‘You were away, sir—’

  ‘I know I was away! But as you are well aware, I always leave a contact number.’

  ‘To begin with we didn’t realise it was so serious, sir. As I said, we thought Mrs Mintar might well turn up overnight. And then, well, we got caught up in things.’

  ‘That is no excuse whatsoever!’

  ‘I know. I’m sorry, sir. I did try to ring you last night—’

  ‘There was no message on my answerphone.’

  ‘It was late, sir. I thought it could wait until this morning.’

  ‘You thought! Thanet, it is I who am in charge here. It is I who am ultimately responsible for what goes on here and it is I who make such decisions. I have made it abundantly clear in the past that if anyone so much as sneezes on my patch, I want to know, and my attitude has not changed. Is that clear?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Perfectly.’

  ‘What is your next move?’

  ‘I want to see Matthew Agon, Mr Mintar’s daughter’s fiancé. He’s the only person present when Mrs Mintar went missing that we have not yet interviewed.’

  ‘Mr Mintar does not approve of this relationship, you said.’

  ‘None of the family does.’

  ‘Hmm. And after you’ve seen Agon?’

  ‘I’m hoping to go and see a friend of Mrs Mintar’s, sir. A Mrs Amos. I thought she might be able to help us with some background.’

  ‘Hot on background, aren’t you, Thanet?’

  ‘I do find it helps, sir.’

  ‘And after that?’

  ‘I’m not sure yet, sir.’ Thanet hated being pinned down like this.

  But Draco wouldn’t let it go. ‘But probably?’

  The Superintendentwas punishing him for his slip-up, Thanet realised. ‘Probably back to Mr Mintar’s house.’

  ‘And I imagine you’ll then be there for some time. Most of the afternoon, perhaps?’

  ‘I expect so, sir. Unless we’re able to apply for the search warrant this morning, and it’s granted. In which case—’

  ‘It’s just that I’d like to take a look at the crime scene for myself. But it needn’t be a problem. We’ll make it early afternoon – say around 1.30? Then you’d have plenty of time to do the search later.’

  Draco breathing down his neck, the ultimate punishment. Thanet’s heart sank. ‘Right, sir.’

  Back in the office Lineham took one look at his face and said, ‘What’s up, sir?’

  ‘We are to have the honour of an on-site visit from the Super this afternoon, Mike. Entirely my fault, for not making sure he was informed about the Mintar case.’

  ‘Ah.’ Knowing that Thanet would not allow criticism of a superior officer Lineham made no further comment, but his tone spoke volumes.

  ‘Also, we’re to defer the application for a search warrant until we’ve heard the PM results. We’d better ask Doc Mallard to ring them through. Did you manage to fix both appointments?’

  Lineham had, and they were soon on their way.

  The Leisure Club where Matthew Agon worked was attached to a country house hotel. Melton Park, for centuries the home of the Purefoy family, had, like many English country houses, become in the end an impossible financial burden and when the last owner had died a few years ago death duties had been the last straw. His heir had sold up and moved to a different part of the country, declaring that he could not bear to watch the indignities his family home would undoubtedly suffer in the hands of the new owners, a consortium which specialised in running upmarket hotels.

  Application had at once been made, and permission granted, for extensive improvements. Outbuildings had been converted into a glamorous indoor swimming pool and leisure complex, parkland ‘landscaped’ into an eighteen-hole golf course, and a range of other outdoor activities catered for.

  ‘Ve-ry nice,’ said Lineham, looking about as they walked into the reception area of the Club. No expense had been spared. In the centre was a dolphin fountain, the soothing sound of trickling water a welcome change in Thanet’s opinion from the ubiquitous pop music which assaults the ear in so many public buildings these days. The terracotta floor tiles had been buffed to a soft sheen and the reception desk looked as though it had been hewn out of one huge slab of marble.

  ‘Prepare to pay through the nose, all ye who enter here,’ murmured Lineham as they approached it.

  ‘How may I help you?’

  The girl behind the desk was predictably young and pretty, presenting a suitably healthy image to clientele: shining shoulder-length blonde hair and a smile which would have enhanced any toothpaste advertisement. She was wearing a crisp white T-shirt with the club logo and the briefest of brief white shorts. Her smile dimmed a little when she heard why they were there. ‘Matthew? He’s coaching at the moment, but he’ll be free in about twenty minutes. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind waiting . . . ?’ She gestured in the direction of a group of armchairs. ‘I could order some coffee for you.’

  The message was clear. We don’t want to upset our clients.

  But Thanet was interested to see Agon in action. He smiled benignly. ‘That’s very kind, but thank you, no. We’ll just stroll around to the courts and wait until he’s finished. Where are they exactly?’

  Reluctantly she gave directions and Thanet turned away.

  But Lineham lingered. ‘Have you a membership leaflet?’

  The gleaming white teeth reappeared. ‘Of course, sir.’ She rummaged beneath the desk and produced one. ‘If you have any queries, please don’t hesitate to ask. After the initial joining fee we do prefer clients to pay by monthly direct debit. It’s more convenient all round.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Thanet waited until they were outside then said, ‘Thinking of taking out a second mortgage, Mike?’

  ‘I’d need one! Just listen to this! The joining fee is £2,000 – two thousand quid! And that’s just for a single membership. A family membership is £3,000! And then on top of that the annual fees range from £1,000 a year to £2,000 a year, depends on which option you go for. Ah well, it’s all right for some.’ Lineham screwed up the leaflet and threw it into a conveniently placed waste bin.

  ‘No point in wanting things you can never hope to get.’

  ‘Perhaps when I win the lottery . . .’

  ‘If, you mean. Complete waste of money, in my opinion.’ Apart from which, Thanet disapproved of the whole business. In his view the winning of huge sums of money never did anyone any good and in many ways was a positive force for harm. The introduction of the National Lottery, coupled with a dramatic rise in the number of slot machines and the easing of controls in the gaming industry, had resulted in a vast increase in the number of people with gambling problems, to the degree that a charity called Gamcare had been launched to help them. He himself had never bought a lottery ticket and had no intention of doing so.

  Lineham grinned but said nothing. They had already discussed the matter ad nauseam and he knew that nothing would change Thanet’s mind. ‘Looks as though there are plenty who can afford the membership fees, anyway.’

  The tennis courts were tucked away at the back of the building and as they walked around the side they had a clear view of the golf course. There were small groups of golfers at every hole.

  ‘What I can never understand,’ said Lineham, ‘is how they can afford to belong to a club like this if they’re out there playing golf instead of working their backs off to earn enough money to join.’

  Thanet laughed. ‘But you know perfectly well that they are working, Mike, at least in the sense that a lot of them are making or cementing important contacts from which they hope to earn money in the future. Not that that applies to everyone who plays, of cou
rse, far from it, I’m sure. But golf in particular is notorious for that.’

  ‘So they say. I think we’re in the wrong profession.’

  ‘Oh come on, Mike. Can you honestly say you’d rather be out there knocking a ball about and buttering people up instead of being about to interview a witness in a murder case?’ It was getting hotter by the minute; Thanet took off his jacket and slung it over his shoulder.

  Lineham pulled a face and followed suit. ‘You’re dead right. I wouldn’t.’

  They had turned the corner and come in view of the tennis courts.

  ‘There he is, sir.’

  Thanet put a hand on Lineham’s arm to restrain him. ‘Wait a minute, Mike’. He wanted to seize the opportunity to watch Agon unobserved.

  On the court nearest to them Agon was coaching a slim, attractive woman in her thirties. They were both standing at the base line with their backs to the two detectives and were obviously working on the woman’s service. Agon stood back and watched as she served several balls.

  ‘You’re not bringing your racquet far enough down behind, so you don’t get up enough momentum,’ he said. ‘Look.’ He demonstrated, sending a couple of balls skimming over the net at speed.

  She tried again. He was right, Thanet could see.

  Agon put down his racquet and went to stand behind her. ‘See if you can feel what I mean.’ He moved in closer and curling his left arm around her waist put his right hand over hers on the handle.

  ‘“Feel” being the operative word,’ whispered Lineham in Thanet’s ear.

  With a sinuous little wriggle she pressed her body back against his and turned her face sideways and upwards. It was a clear invitation. And, thought Thanet, not the first time it had been tendered – or accepted.

  ‘Very cosy!’ said Lineham.

  But on this occasion Agon simply murmured something which made her laugh and they both addressed the task in hand. After demonstrating the serving movement once or twice he released her. As he did so he ran his left hand lightly up her bare thigh.

  ‘See that, sir?’

  Thanet nodded.

  The woman cast a coquettish glance at Agon over her shoulder. In doing so she spotted the two men watching and her expression changed. She nodded in their direction and said something to Agon, who turned.

  ‘Don’t let us disturb you, Mr Agon,’ said Thanet, raising his voice. ‘We’re happy to wait until you’ve finished.’

  Agon glanced at his watch. ‘I just about have.’ He turned to his pupil and they had a brief conversation. The woman nodded, picked up a sweater from the bench at the side of the court, then sauntered off, hips swaying provocatively. She gave the two policemen a resentful glance as she passed.

  ‘See you tomorrow, same time,’ Agon called after her.

  The most casual of nods showed that she had heard him.

  ‘Now, Inspector,’ said Agon with a cooperative smile, ‘how may I help?’

  Despite the heat and the exercise he looked cool and unruffled in his tennis whites. Thanet envied him his shorts and polo shirt.

  ‘Is there somewhere cooler we could sit?’

  Agon nodded. ‘This way.’

  He led them along the side of the row of tennis courts and around a bank of shrubs to a shady area where tables and chairs had been set out in front of a small rustic bar serving snacks for the convenience of club members. There were a few people sitting about.

  ‘Fancy a coffee? Or a cold drink?’ said Agon.

  Much as he would have liked to accept, Thanet refused. Agon would presumably have had to pay for them, and he didn’t want to be beholden to the man. He led the way to a table where they would not be overheard.

  ‘It’s about the night before last, of course,’ he said, and glanced at Lineham. Take over, Mike.

  Lineham took out his notebook.

  ‘Ah yes,’ said Agon. ‘Saturday night.’ And briefly, malice sparked in his eyes. ‘A very interesting occasion.’

  ‘In what way, sir?’

  TWELVE

  Agon ran his tongue over his lips. ‘Sure you don’t want a drink? No? Mind if I get myself one?’

  They watched him walk across the grass to the little bar, exchanging an occasional greeting with some of the other people scattered around. One young woman put out a hand to detain him and they spoke together briefly.

  ‘Fancies him, doesn’t she?’ said Lineham. ‘Very popular with the ladies, our Mr Agon.’

  ‘Looks like it. Not surprising, I suppose. He’s a very good-looking young man.’

  ‘I wonder what Rachel thinks of it. It must be very uncomfortable, being engaged to someone who’s such a magnet to the opposite sex, don’t you think?’

  ‘I imagine she’s so head over heels she doesn’t care, just feels delighted that she’s the one he’s chosen. Anyway, I expect he watches his step when she’s around.’

  ‘It’ll be different after they’re married, I bet. He won’t need to be so careful then.’

  ‘You’re a cynic, Mike. Perhaps she’s the love of his life.’

  Lineham gave a derisive snort. ‘Think he really needs a drink, sir, or d’you think he’s just playing for time while he makes up his mind what he’s going to tell us?’

  ‘A bit of both, I imagine.’

  When Agon returned Thanet tried to avoid looking at the glass of lemonade he was carrying. Tall, beaded with moisture and chinking with ice it looked far too inviting for Thanet’s comfort.

  Agon took a long swallow and then sat back with a sigh of satisfaction. ‘Ah, that’s better. It’s hot work out there. Now, where were we?’ He crossed his legs, resting right ankle on left knee, and looked expectantly at Lineham.

  Thanet had been trying to work out what it was about the man which had provoked that immediate reaction of dislike, the night before last. It wasn’t that he automatically mistrusted goodlooking men. Alexander, for instance, was very good-looking. When would there be more news of Bridget? True, Agon’s eyes were set rather close together. Was there any justification for the old adage that this denoted shiftiness? Perhaps he, Thanet, was being unfair. He must be on his guard. Prejudice clouds the judgement.

  ‘You were going to tell us about that night, sir,’ said Lineham. ‘You said it was interesting.’

  ‘Ah, yes.’ Agon took another swig from his glass. ‘Well, if you’ve been talking to the family, as I’m sure you have, you’ll have gathered I’m not exactly numero uno around there and on Saturday night they were all shook up, as Elvis would have put it, by our little bombshell.’

  ‘That you and Miss Mintar had just got engaged, you mean.’

  ‘That’s right. You a married man, Sergeant?’ Agon eyed Lineham speculatively. ‘Yes, you are. I can always tell. They have that – what? That settled look.’

  Lineham ignored this. ‘You had a little celebration, I believe? Mr Mintar opened a bottle of champagne.’

  ‘Huh! Celebration? Wake, more like it. Oh, they put as good a face on it as they could bring themselves to, for Rachel’s sake, but you didn’t have to be a mind-reader to know what they were all thinking. I’m only surprised it wasn’t me who ended up at the bottom of the well.’

  ‘Oh come on, sir. Aren’t you exaggerating a bit?’

  ‘You weren’t there, Sergeant. I was.’

  ‘Yes, well, as I said, perhaps you could give us your account of the evening.’

  Agon obliged, with the occasional snide comment. He was obviously enjoying the opportunity of openly displaying his resentment of the Mintars’ attitude towards him. With Rachel, of course, he probably wouldn’t dare, for fear of putting her off.

  His story tallied with the others. After everyone had left the terrace he and Rachel had remained behind for a few minutes ‘for obvious reasons’ – he gave a salacious wink here – and had then separated. Rachel had gone into the house via the lounge, as he called it, whereas he had returned to his car to fetch his swimming trunks before changing in the pool house. He had been first i
nto the pool, closely followed by Rachel and then the others in the order already described.

  ‘Where had you parked your car, sir?’

  ‘In the courtyard, as usual. Everyone parks there.’

  ‘So to fetch your swimming things you had to walk along the side of the annexe where old Mrs Mintar lives, and across the far side of the courtyard?’

  Lineham’s tone was factual, low-key, and betrayed no hint of the excitement which, like Thanet, he must be feeling. Were they about to be given one last glimpse of Virginia Mintar, before she died?

  Agon was looking impatient. ‘Well, yes, obviously.’

  ‘Matt!’ A short, powerfully built man in tennis whites was hurrying across the grass towards them. He was swinging a racquet. ‘Sorry I’m late!’

  Of all the moments to be interrupted! thought Thanet. Lineham was looking equally frustrated.

  Agon glanced at the two policemen. ‘My next lesson.’ He started to rise. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me.’

  Thanet couldn’t believe it. Agon actually seemed to think they were going to let him walk out on them, in the middle of an interview! ‘I’m afraid your client will just have to wait until we’ve finished, sir.’

  The short man raised his eyebrows at Agon, who gave a rueful shrug. ‘Sorry, Mr Martin, you heard the man. If you’d like to go on court and practise some serves I’ll be with you as soon as I can.’

  Martin was not amused. He glanced at his watch. ‘This is very annoying. I’m pressed for time as it is. No, I can’t hang around at your convenience, Agon. I’ll just have to cancel.’ And swinging around he headed back towards the clubhouse.

  ‘I’m not going to be very popular with my employers,’ said Agon, giving Thanet a baleful glance. ‘I’m sure he’ll be making a complaint.’

  ‘I’m sorry to have inconvenienced you,’ said Thanet. ‘But I don’t think you quite appreciate the seriousness of the matter. A woman has died, Mr Agon, and we have to try to find out how and why.’

  ‘No need to get up on your high horse,’ said Agon. ‘Just let’s get it over with as quickly as possible, shall we, before my next session is due to start. I don’t want any more trouble.’ He drank off the rest of his lemonade and put the glass down with an angry thump.