by J M Gregson
‘I think Morton’s might be prepared to approach you, if I said you were available. I’d have to plant the idea subtly, of course, let the MD think it was his notion. I’m only a humble PA who is at present without a boss.’
Brian grinned at her. ‘Behind every successful man there is a clever woman. And you’re the clever woman I want behind me, Jean Parker.’ He squeezed her small hands between his, pouring more emotion into that small contact than into many a coupling between sheets.
‘The MD’s going to pop in to see me at the end of the day. I’ll suggest tentatively that there might be a man available who’s already enjoyed success at Morton’s and knows the ways of the firm. And who’s gone on to broaden his experience through success with another firm. Or let him come up with those ideas for himself.’
‘This man sounds the ideal candidate, whoever he is. I can’t see how Morton’s could turn him down.’
‘I can only plant the thought. My humble station doesn’t allow more than that. But there’s nothing to be lost, is there?’
‘Nothing at all, my darling. You go ahead and be the clever woman behind me!’
She left discreetly before him. Brian Jacobs looked at his watch, bought himself another drink, and settled back comfortably into his chair. He’d told that bastard at the time that he’d suffer for what he’d done. Well, you couldn’t have more complete revenge than this. Your enemy lying stiff and cold in the mortuary, his widow bedding another man, and you yourself about to step into the job and the partnership he had left behind. Cheers, Mr Dominic O’Connor!
They were becoming familiar with the impressive modern mansion where James, the elder O’Connor brother, had lived. Drugs and prostitution were lucrative industries to add to your more respectable portfolio, thought DCI Peach, as he and DS Northcott drove past the gardener and up to the main entrance of the house. Well, James O’Connor would never have to answer to the law for his sins now.
His widow seemed even more composed than when they had seen her previously. Her long dark hair was lustrous and impeccably groomed. Her face was skilfully made up and had more colour in its cheeks than when they had seen her on Tuesday. Peach wondered whether she had chosen the bright blue dress especially for them. It looked to him elaborate for this time of day, but perhaps it was her habit to dress to impress. Lucy would have had an opinion on that; he wouldn’t ask for Clyde Northcott’s view.
He said once they were seated, ‘We shall be able to release your husband’s body in the next few days. You can begin to plan the funeral.’
‘Thank you. Both I and my daughter will be glad to have closure. For different reasons, of course. I told you on Tuesday that I’d ceased to be close to Jim by the time he died.’
‘You told us that you’d taken to sleeping with his brother. It’s Dominic’s murder we are now investigating.’
‘It wasn’t a casual shag, as you imply.’ She watched him for a moment, as if assessing the impact of the harsh word from her well-groomed lips. ‘As far as I was concerned it was a serious relationship. Dominic apparently thought differently. But he isn’t here to defend himself, so you have only my account of the liaison.’
‘Precisely. And it’s my opinion that you were very bitter when Dominic O’Connor chose to end it. He may well have known things about your husband’s death when you met last week, as you claimed. But I think you were also hoping to revive your affair when you met Dominic at the Grouse Inn last Thursday evening.’
‘I can’t prevent you thinking whatever you choose to think. It hardly matters, now that Dominic is also dead.’
‘He died within twenty-four hours of that meeting.’
Sarah O’Connor showed the first signs of strain she had allowed them to see. ‘You’re surely not suggesting that I had anything to do with that? Not the old “Hell hath no fury” cliche, for God’s sake. Don’t waste my time and yours!’
‘It’s a cliche because it is so often true, Mrs O’Connor. We’ve seen it operate many times. Where were you on Friday night, please?’
‘I’ve told you that before. I was here. My daughter Clare was with me during the day, but she went out in the evening.’
Peach looked at her steadily. ‘I’m giving you the opportunity to revise that statement, in the light of information we have now received.’
‘I have no wish to revise it. You can’t change the truth.’
‘And you’re still telling us that your car didn’t leave the garage on that night.’
‘I am.’
Peach glanced at Northcott, who said immediately, ‘Your car was seen at eight fifty-five on Friday night, Mrs O’Connor. It was reported as being less than a mile from Dominic O’Connor’s house at the time.’
‘There must be a mistake. Did your observer note the number of the car?’
‘A blue BMW Z4 was reported. It is a very distinctive motor car.’
‘Yes. That is one reason why I was attracted to it. Distinctive, but not unique. My car was safely garaged here on Friday night, DS Northcott. And now, unless you have any more relevant questions, I shall bid you good day.’
‘I think we should go to the Lake District. Have a long weekend together to celebrate our freedom. I’m a good walker, you know. You’d be surprised. You might think I’m a fragile little thing, but I can put on my boots and tackle the fells. You haven’t seen that side of me yet!’ Ros O’Connor stretched her slim legs out in front of her in the passenger seat of the car and inspected them.
‘I’m sure I will, my darling. And I can limp along with the best of them on the hills: it just takes me a little longer. But not yet. We don’t want to excite too much interest, do we?’ John Alderson tried not to look as nervous as he felt.
‘I don’t see why not. Let the old biddies gossip all they want! Give them something to occupy them, I say. Father Brice might not approve of the way we got together, but he’ll have to marry us in church, when we choose to ask him. I shall enjoy watching his face!’
John grinned. He would rather enjoy upsetting Father Brice and any other representatives of Holy Mother Church. But it was too soon for that. ‘We need to be confident the police have finished with us before we make any moves, don’t you think? And I was divorced, you know. It’s a long time ago, but the Catholics might not want me to have a church wedding.’
‘Oh, things have changed a lot in the last twenty years. I’m sure I’ll be able to square it. If Father Brice doesn’t cooperate, we’ll go over his head. Perhaps I should sound him out now, so that we know where we stand.’
‘I don’t think you should do that, Ros. Really I don’t. I want you to trust me on this.’ He took her hand in his and looked earnestly into the small, feline face, trying to still the round eyes which were so mobile. ‘We’ve nothing to lose by waiting. The police are anxious to make an arrest. If we excite their interest, they won’t leave us alone. And who knows, they might even decide that one of us killed Dominic, if they can’t get anyone else for it.’
‘Oh they wouldn’t do that, I’m sure. This is England, not Russia, you know.’ The blue-green eyes fastened on his, the small, humorous mouth creased into the winning smile he found so hard to resist. ‘I feel quite guilty. I’m glad Dominic’s dead and out of our way, you see, and I don’t really care who knows it.’
‘You mustn’t go round saying things like that. You really mustn’t.’
‘Only to you, my darling. Those thoughts aren’t for public consumption.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. But it’s better that you don’t voice them at all. Better that you don’t even think them.’
She took his hand. ‘You’re a cautious old thing, aren’t you? But I wouldn’t have it any other way. I wouldn’t change anything about you.’ She rubbed her small, chiselled features hard against his shoulder.
The sun was setting brilliantly over the sea twenty miles west. They were sitting in John Alderson’s car on Jeffrey Hill, high above the vale of Chipping, which looked at its serene best in the light
of evening. He looked round, making sure they were unobserved, that they had the spot to themselves. Then he slid his arm round Ros’s shoulder and held her hard against him. ‘I wouldn’t change anything about you, either. Except maybe your impulsiveness. I’m just afraid you might get yourself into trouble if you celebrate our freedom too obviously. We live in an imperfect world, you know.’
‘You sounded almost like a priest when you said that, John. But you’re right, of course, you always are.’ She kissed his cheek softly, then looked at the long, soft shadow on the other side of the valley. The late spring night was stealing in slowly over a scene which had changed little in centuries.
Ros O’Connor allowed a small, silent giggle to shake her slim body, to show this was not a serious thought. ‘It wasn’t you who put Dominic out of our way, was it, John?’
FIFTEEN
Jean Parker surveyed herself in the mirror and decided she looked as composed as ever. That was the way a good PA should always look, and she was jealous of her reputation as a good PA. You should be like a swan moving serenely along, Dominic O’Connor had once said. However frantically your limbs were working beneath the surface of the water, you shouldn’t let the watchers see them.
It was strange that the image should come back to her now, when she was trying to put Dominic out of her mind. The police would be here again soon, though what they wanted to come back to her for she couldn’t imagine. The woman who’d arranged the time with her on the phone had refused to give her any details. No idea what it was about, that neutral voice had said. Jean had used the tone and the idea often enough herself to recognise that she wasn’t going to learn anything. She opened a sales file on her computer and busied herself solemnly with its details.
They came precisely at nine thirty, the time that impersonal voice had specified. The bouncy little man with the bald head and the tall black man, the same pair who’d come here on Monday. She wished obscurely that different officers had come. That would have made it seem more impersonal and more safely distant, as if they were starting again. She said breezily, ‘Here after more information? I’ll help in any way I can, of course. I suppose I’m not allowed to ask how the case is going?’
‘You’re allowed to ask. We might be more inclined to answer if you’d been frank with us four days ago.’ Peach’s refusal was calm but uncompromising.
‘I can’t think what you mean by that. I gave you all the information about Dominic O’Connor which I had available.’
‘Maybe you didn’t tell us lies. But you withheld certain facts. That can impede an investigation just as effectively as lies. You intended to deceive.’
‘I was frank with you. You have taken away my computer files which relate to Dominic’s business dealings, as well as the contents of my filing cabinet. And I told you that he had conducted a series of affairs — I gave you whatever I could of his private life.’
‘But not of yours.’
The grey eyes hardened beneath the soft brown hair. ‘I am entitled to my privacy.’
‘I’m afraid that isn’t so. No one is entitled to privacy during a murder enquiry. Not if his or her private life has a bearing on the case. Whatever the rules say, that’s the way it works out.’
‘What I choose to do away from here has nothing to do with your case.’ She was trying desperately to keep calm; it was a long time since anyone had spoken to her so aggressively.
‘We need to be satisfied about that before we leave you to get on with your life. When you take a deliberate decision to conceal things, it excites the suspicion of cynical coppers like DS Northcott and me.
She suddenly hated this odious little man, with his immaculately creased trousers and his highly polished shoes and his confident, overbearing manner. Yet she was obscurely conscious that he might be delighted by that. If she lost her temper, she was likely to give him more than if she remained calm. ‘Perhaps you had better make yourself clear instead of speaking in riddles. What is it that I am supposed to have concealed?’
‘I think you know that perfectly well. I think you’re playing a little game with us. I should warn you that the stakes for you might be dangerously high. And also that you might endanger Mr Jacobs rather than help him by trying to conceal his involvement in this.’
‘I don’t understand. I specifically cited Brian Jacobs to you when you asked me if Dominic O’Connor had any enemies.’
‘You did. You prompted us to interview him. It was an interview for which he seemed well prepared.’
‘Brian is a very well organised man. I don’t see why he should apologise for that. It’s been an asset to him in his work for many years now. You need to be well organised, if you’re handling a company’s finances.’
She hadn’t known she was going to say that. She heard her pride in her man coming out in her words. Peach gave her what she regarded as an odious smile before he said, ‘No doubt Mr Jacobs was well briefed last week on the actions and movements of our murder victim. No one was better placed to give him that information than Dominic O’Connor’s PA.’
‘You’re barking up the wrong tree.’ She felt the lameness of the cliche even as she delivered it. But more original and effective words wouldn’t come to her. ‘Brian Jacobs didn’t kill Dominic O’Connor.’
She lapsed into ‘Dominic’ for her dead employer whenever she was under stress. Peach wondered if at some time she had been one of the string of women everyone said O’Connor had bedded. ‘You won’t expect us simply to accept a statement like that, Mrs Parker. Especially as you chose to conceal your relationship with a man whose bitter and permanent enemy has now been brutally murdered.’
‘Brian was certainly his enemy. But I didn’t disguise that. I gave you Brian’s name when you asked me for enemies of your murder victim.’
‘Yes. It seemed very frank and helpful of you at the time. As it was no doubt intended to be. But you deliberately withheld the information that you had a close relationship yourself with Brian Jacobs.’
‘I’m not ashamed of that! I’ve been divorced for three years. One of the things everyone tells you is that you have to pick yourself up and live the rest of your life. That’s what I’m doing, and you aren’t going to stop me, DCI Peach!’
Clyde Northcott regarded her steadily as she glared furiously at his boss. ‘Where were you last Friday evening, Mrs Parker?’
For some totally illogical reason, she found she wanted to explain why she’d kept that name, wanted to tell him defiantly that she would be changing it soon to Jacobs, wanted to tell him that Brian would be back in charge of the financial division at Morton’s if everything went according to plan. She swallowed hard and controlled all of these impulses. ‘I was at home in my own house, the one I have lived in since my marriage failed and I received it in the settlement. I live there with my son, but he was out on Friday evening.’ She piled on the irrelevant details, as if hoping she could convince them of more vital facts by accuracy with this useless surrounding data.
‘Is there anyone who could confirm this for us?’
‘No, there isn’t! You’ve got me down as a suspect for Dominic’s murder now, have you? Just because I chose to regard my relationship with Brian Jacobs as a private matter when we spoke on Monday?’
Northcott responded with a calm smile. ‘We’d like to eliminate you from all suspicion, if we could, Mrs Parker. It would make our job easier, as well as helping you.’
‘Well, you can’t!’ She heard herself sounding like a petulant child and knew she wasn’t doing herself or Brian any good here. ‘Look. Brian hated Dominic O’Connor and in my view he had good reason to do that. I’d even be prepared to admit that Brian was a little unbalanced about it. But that doesn’t mean he killed him.’
Peach came back in immediately on that. ‘It gives you both a good motive. Having Dominic O’Connor off the scene is convenient for both of you. Perhaps more than convenient. Is Brian Jacobs hoping to replace this man he hated here?’
She thought furio
usly. They or their team had talked to lots of people in the firm in the last couple of days, including the MD. Probably someone had told them about this idea she had planted on Brian’s behalf, so she had better not deny it. ‘He may well do that. I’ve spent the last few days stalling callers on my phone, so that I know better than anyone that the firm needs someone urgently. I can’t think that they are going to get anyone better than Brian, who knows this business well and now has experience elsewhere to add to that knowledge.’ She said it defiantly, making a case for her man because it was what she wanted to do, irrespective of whether that was the right strategy here.
‘And where was Mr Jacobs last Friday?’
‘I expect he was at work in the afternoon and on his own in the evening. You’d better ask him.’ Suddenly, she wished she’d said they were together at the time of the murder, but it was too late for that now.
Peach smiled at her, as if she had made some kind of mistake. ‘Someone will ask him that, Mrs Parker.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Someone may be asking him that at this very moment.’
And checking whether our stories tally, she thought. She was a novice at this game, whereas this man had played it many times. She tried to force confidence into her voice. ‘Brian’s got nothing to fear from you. He didn’t kill Dominic O’Connor.’
But for the first time, Jean Parker had a small, secret doubt about that.
The Vice Squad moved in like a small army. It had been a huge operation and it had gone on for several months. But on Friday, May 10, the Asian men who had been luring and sometimes virtually kidnapping under-age girls from care homes into prostitution and worse were taken into custody. On the same day and at the same time, there were arrests not just in Brunton but in two other towns, one in Lancashire and the other in Yorkshire.
The Asian men looked thoroughly sinister in the photographs secured by the press. As the men who had fronted the operation, they received most of the publicity, which was appropriately damning. These were shocking crimes, involving multiple rape for the most unfortunate of these girls and dreadful suffering for all of them. It was the most despicable sort of crime, practised on some of the most vulnerable members of a troubled society. It was right that the criminals should be seen in the harshest spotlight, however untypical they might be of the Muslim community which had harboured them. But these arrests and the accompanying publicity weren’t going to do much for race relations in Brunton, with its thirty per cent Asian population. Percy and Lucy Peach were glumly aware of that.
