‘Shoes?’
‘I didn’t notice. Probably those scruffy old plimsolls of his.’
‘And he came by car, presumably.’
‘I assume so.’
‘It wasn’t parked outside?’
‘I didn’t notice. I was merely concerned with getting rid of him as quickly as possible.’
‘So he would have left about, what, ten or a quarter past seven?’
‘Around that, yes.’
‘So what did you do, after he left?’
‘What do you mean?’
There was tension in the air again and Thanet sensed that both May and his wife were being careful not to look at each other. Had they quarrelled after Steve left? Thanet could well imagine that they might have. May would have been tense, angry over the commotion which Steve had caused, and his wife might well have disagreed with her husband over his treatment of Steve. It would have taken only a hint of reproach from her for May to have exploded, perhaps even have flung out of the house in anger …
‘Did you stay in, for the rest of the evening?’
‘No. As a matter of fact, I went to see my mother.’
‘What time did you leave?’
‘What are you getting at?’
‘Mr May, I don’t have to remind you that this is a murder investigation. It is a matter of routine that we should find out the movements of everyone connected with your half-brother. Everyone.’
May shrugged. ‘Well, I’ve nothing to hide. I left around eight thirty.’
Well over an hour later. So, if there had been a row after Steve’s departure, it had probably been patched up.
‘And what time did you get back?’
‘About a quarter to ten.’
So May had been out for an hour and a quarter. Plenty of time to have called in at Steve’s flat, either on the way to or from his mother’s house.
‘You visit your mother often?’
According to Geoff, Chris had been his mother’s favourite. All the same, from the little Thanet had seen of either Chris or Mrs May, it was difficult to imagine them having much in common.
‘From time to time. I wouldn’t normally go around two evenings running, but tonight, of course, I thought she might be upset about Steve.’
Thanet wasn’t sure whether he believed this, but he was prepared to let it pass. ‘Last night … Did you call in at Steve’s flat, on the way?’
‘No! Nor on the way back, either.’
Thanet suspected that May was lying, but he decided to leave it at that, for the moment.
Before returning to the car he and Lineham separated to question the neighbours on either side. In both cases May’s story was confirmed, Steve having made enough noise to bring most of the people in the street to front doors or windows. But although there was plenty of parking space, neither remembered seeing Steve’s car outside, and one of them was certain that after abandoning his assault on the Mays’ front door, Steve had walked off down the street and around the corner.
‘Odd,’ commented Thanet, when Lineham told him this. ‘If that was Steve, not Geoff, who was seen leaving Steve’s flat at a quarter to seven, he must have come by car to have arrived here by seven. Unless he got a lift, of course. And why should he have done that, with a car of his own sitting outside?’
‘It could have been temporarily out of action.’
‘It was working all right earlier, when he went to see Sharon. At least, we’ve assumed it was. Perhaps we’d better check with her.’
‘Well, at least we’re a little bit further on with finding out what he did last night. I wonder where he went next.’
‘Back home, perhaps? I shouldn’t have thought he’d have left the lights and the television on in the flat while he came to see Chris May. In which case, he must have gone back afterwards, because they were both on when Frank got there at half past eight. Though I suppose we can’t assume anything. We’d better check, with the neighbours. And another thing … I can’t recall seeing a navy anorak in the flat.’
‘Perhaps he left it wherever he went to later. If he did go out, later.’
‘Possibly.’ It was another small discrepancy.
‘Where now then, sir?’
It was ten o’clock, and there were still reports to be done. Remembering all the interviews they’d conducted today, Thanet quailed at the thought. The impetus which had carried him through the session with the Mays had suddenly ebbed and he wanted nothing so much as to go home, have a hot drink, go to bed and sink into oblivion. His back was crying out for the luxury of a horizontal position. He sighed. ‘Better have another word with May’s mother, I suppose, see if she confirms his story. It would be nice if we could go to bed tonight knowing that the alibi of at least one suspect has checked out.’
‘Shouldn’t think there’s much hope of that at this time of night,’ said Lineham as he started the engine. ‘I should think she’d be pretty well sloshed by now, on past performance.’
Thanet groaned. ‘You’re right. I’d forgotten. Still, we’d better go through the motions, I suppose.’
There was a light on in the hall of Mrs May’s house, but no answer to their knock.
‘Perhaps she’s working at the pub tonight,’ suggested Lineham.
‘Possibly. Let’s take a look around the back.’
The light was on in the squalid kitchen but they could see through the uncurtained window that the room was empty and once again there was no response to their knock.
‘She’s probably in the living room.’ Lineham nodded at the slash of yellow light which fell across the back yard.
They both moved to peer through the gap in the curtains.
Mrs May, wearing a tight black skirt, frilly red blouse and black tights, was lying in one of the orange armchairs, head thrown back, eyes closed, mouth open. Even from here they could hear her snoring. Her right hand still limply clutched the glass in her lap and beside her on the floor was an almost empty gin bottle.
‘Dead to the world by the look of it,’ said Lineham.
‘It’s pointless to try and talk to her now. We’ll have to come back in the morning.’
THIRTEEN
During the night the last of the rainclouds had finally moved away and when Thanet drew the curtains next morning he saw that it was a clear, crisp, frosty day. Impulsively he opened the window, leaned out, and took several deep breaths of the icy air. Over to the right the orange globe of the winter sun was just beginning to peep over the horizon and the sky was suffused with an apricot glow which became more and more spectacular by the second.
‘What are you doing, Dad?’ Bridget had paused by the open door.
‘Admiring the sunrise,’ he said, with a grin.
She smiled back. ‘I hate to say it, but it is ten to eight, and it’s your turn to take us to school.’
‘Time you started taking yourselves,’ he grumbled, closing the window.
‘When you have to pass the school gates on the way to work? You know your conscience would never allow it.’ She skipped out of the door and down the stairs as Thanet advanced on her in mock anger.
As always the prospect of a sunny day had raised Thanet’s spirits, and despite the fact that for the second night running he had had very little sleep, by the time he had done his back exercises, shaved, showered and dressed, he was eager to get back to work.
Sturrenden was looking its best this morning and people were walking briskly, shoulders back, faces turned to the sun. Just inside the school gates a winter-flowering cherry was coming into bloom, its delicate clusters of blossom sugar-almond pink against the clear blue of the sky. Thanet dropped the children off and arrived at the office in good time. Even so, Lineham was before him.
‘Morning, Mike. What’s new?’ Thanet sat down and began to fill his pipe.
‘Morning, sir. Not a lot. Bentley’s been checking up on Geoffrey Long and Scimitar confirms that he’ll be starting work with them a fortnight on Monday. Also, the estate agents say t
hat the house was put on the market six weeks ago – presumably just after he knew he’d got the job in Staffordshire. The PM report’s in, but there’s nothing there that we didn’t know already. I put it on your desk, in case you want to look at it. Oh, and there’s good news from the hospital. Harry Carpenter is showing signs of getting back to normal and if the doctor who’s been looking after him gives the go-ahead, we’ll be able to talk to him today.’
‘When will the doctor be seeing him?’
‘Later on this morning.’
‘Good.’ Thanet was skimming through the PM report, but as Lineham had said, there was nothing new in it. He tossed it on to the table and sat back in his chair. ‘Well, Mike, I think we’d better try and sum up where we’ve got to.’
Lineham put down the report he was reading. ‘Not very far if you ask me.’ He yawned and rubbed his eyes wearily.
‘Bad night?’ asked Thanet sympathetically. The sergeant was, he thought, looking distinctly the worse for wear. Lineham’s eyes were bloodshot, sunk into dark hollows of strain and sleeplessness. He couldn’t have been in bed before three, and the baby would have woken to be fed at six … Then there was the anxiety over the question of whether his mother would soon be moving in nearby and the strain of waiting to hear about the selection board … Thanet deliberately hadn’t enquired about that this morning. Lineham would be sure to tell him, the moment the news arrived.
Lineham grimaced. ‘The baby woke us at five, and I couldn’t get back to sleep again. I started thinking about the case … In the end I got up and came in to work early.’
‘Did you reach any conclusions?’
‘Not really. As I said, I don’t really feel we’ve got very far, yet.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. We’re beginning to get some idea of what Steve was like, and of the various people involved.’
‘Yes … Sounds to me as though he was a pretty miserable sort of bloke, one way and the other. Seems as though he had everything going for him – he was a first-rate mechanic, which meant he’d always be able to find a job, he had a nice wife who by all accounts was pretty fond of him … but he just couldn’t seem to make it work. It’s almost as though …’ Lineham trailed off, sat frowning into space.
‘As though what?’
‘I’m not sure. As though … Well, as though he had to make it go wrong, somehow.’
‘Yes, I’d come to pretty much the same conclusion myself.’
‘And he seems to have had a real talent for putting people’s backs up … Look at what he did to Frank, for example. I mean, he wasn’t stupid, he must have known he’d be putting Frank’s job at risk, with that business of the television set … And Chris, too. I can’t say I liked the man, but some of the tricks Steve pulled on him must have made him feel pretty sick. You couldn’t blame him, really, for washing his hands of him … Then there’s Howells. Oh, I know Steve had every reason to be jealous of him, but to walk in on Sharon with that birthday cake as if Howells didn’t exist … I just can’t make up my mind whether he was simply unaware of his effect on people, or if he did it on purpose to needle them, or if he knew what he was doing but simply couldn’t help it.’
‘I know. But the interesting point is, that whatever the reason for his behaviour, the effect was the same. The question is, was that effect sufficiently drastic for any of them to have killed him?’
Lineham frowned. ‘If so, I would have thought it probably happened in the heat of the moment. I can’t really see any of those three deliberately setting out from home with the intention of killing him – with the exception, possibly, of Howells. But what I can imagine is that if either Frank or Chris went to have it out with him, his attitude might have goaded them into violence. I can just see him sitting there refusing to take them seriously, trying to laugh it off, and them getting more and more angry …’
‘I agree.’
‘And I don’t know what you think, sir, but it sounds to me as though the situation had steadily been getting worse ever since his wife left him. I think the separation hit him pretty hard. His behaviour became more and more extreme …’
‘Except with Geoff.’
‘Yes, that’s true. Though by all accounts they didn’t get on all that well.’
‘Maybe. But Geoff himself seemed quite sympathetic towards him, I thought.’
‘Perhaps it’s something to do with the fact that they’re twins. Anyway, it was easy enough for Geoff to feel sorry for Steve. He was the one who got the best of the bargain, by far.’
‘And Steve resented it, by the sound of it.’
‘Can you blame him, sir? After all, it must have been pretty galling to compare their circumstances, and to know that it was pure chance that their positions weren’t reversed.’
‘All the same, there seems to be general agreement that there weren’t any major rows between them, and we’ve heard nothing about Steve playing Geoff up in the same way as the others.’
‘True. Anyway, now we know that Steve didn’t leave Chris May’s house until around seven fifteen, it looks as though Geoff’s in the clear.’
Lineham got up and began to leaf through the reports stacked on the corner of Thanet’s desk. ‘I forgot to tell you. Carson interviewed the girl, and Geoff’s alibi checked out. Here we are.’
Thanet glanced through the report. As Geoff had claimed, he had picked up Caroline Gilbert from her home at half past seven. He had taken her out to dinner at the String of Beads, a new restaurant out on the Canterbury Road. They had returned to Geoff’s home for coffee and brandy, and had listened to records until just before midnight, when he had driven her home. She was most emphatic that they had been together all evening. There was no question that she was lying to protect him through long-standing loyalty, as they had only met the previous week and had gone out together for the first time on Sunday. Carson was as sure as he could be that the girl was telling the truth.
‘You’re right,’ said Thanet. ‘Steve couldn’t have got home from the Mays’ house, even by car, until twenty-five to half past seven. So if Geoff collected this girl from – where was it? Hillside Road – at half past seven, and stayed with her all evening, there’s no way that he could have committed the murder. All the same, I think we’d better interview the girl again. This timing is pretty crucial, if we’re to eliminate Geoff as a suspect, motive or no motive.’
Lineham made a note. ‘Right, sir. Will we go and see her ourselves?’
‘Possibly. It depends on what else we have lined up today. Which brings us back to Carpenter. All this,’ and Thanet waved his hand at the stack of reports, ‘may prove to have been unnecessary. Of all the possibilities, the likeliest, on the face of it, is that Carpenter, distraught after his daughter’s death, went round to Steve’s flat and killed him. Then he went out, sat in his car and drank himself into a stupor.’
‘Maybe. But it could still be tricky proving it. So far forensic haven’t come up with any sign of Carpenter’s prints in the flat. And where’s the murder weapon? The ashtray or whatever it was the murderer grabbed to hit Steve with? It hasn’t turned up in the garden or along the road, and it wasn’t in Carpenter’s car.’
‘True. Make a note, Mike. When we send someone to check with Sharon whether or not Steve took his car when he went to see her after work that night, we must also find out exactly what it was that fitted that clear patch in the dust. It would be useful to know if we’re right about it being the murder weapon, and if so, exactly what we’re looking for.’
‘Right, sir.’
‘Meanwhile, we’ve got a lot of checking to do. I want someone to check timings with the friend Howells claims to have helped move furniture, and I also want Sharon asked about the time he arrived home. I want the names of the friends they had a drink with and details of the evening. I want details of his car, Frank’s car, Chris’s car, and I want further house-to-house visits to ask more questions about that anonymous phone call, about all the cars seen in Hamilton Road that night, and whether
or not anyone noticed lights and noise coming from Steve’s flat and when. I want someone to check on the movements of Cooper, the man Steve swindled over the television set …’ On and on it went, the endless list of queries, a boring but essential part of any murder enquiry. Every good policeman is aware of the fact that many a difficult case has been solved by just such meticulous attention to detail, and it is the constant hope of alighting upon such a crucially important but apparently insignificant piece of information that keeps many a policeman on his toes, especially since the cases of the Yorkshire Ripper and the Railway Rapist.
Thanet came to the end at last and Lineham laid down his pen and massaged his aching hand.
‘We need three times as many men as we’ve got,’ he said gloomily.
‘Well, there’s no prospect of getting them,’ said Thanet. ‘So we might as well resign ourselves to doing the best we can. I’d like to see the mother myself, and I want you to come with me, but after that we can split up, if necessary. Apart from that, well, let’s see how we can best get this covered.’
Both men were pouring over Lineham’s list when there was a knock at the door and Mallard poked his head in.
‘Busy?’ he said, with a beaming smile. He didn’t wait for an answer but advanced into the room. Once again, this morning, he was looking distinctly pleased with himself. ‘Brought you a present,’ he said to Thanet. ‘Well, a temporary one, as I’ll want it back.’ He held up a book. ‘The one you said you’d like to read. On twins.’ He handed it over.
‘Thanks, Doc. It’s very kind of you to remember.’ Thanet opened it at random. ‘Looks fascinating.’
Mallard gave a gratified smile. ‘Oh, it is, it is. Er … how’s it going?’
‘So-so. Nothing very startling at the moment. We’re just plodding on with all the routine stuff …’
Mallard nodded. ‘Good, good … Well, I’ll leave you to it, then. Hope you enjoy the book.’
If I ever get time to read it, thought Thanet gloomily.
‘I must say I never thought the day would come,’ said Lineham, when Mallard had gone.
Dead on Arrival Page 11
