‘Not if he did it,’ said Hubert. ‘The sooner he's behind bars the better.’
I paused, thinking about what he had just said. ‘You are a dear,’ I murmured, as I gave him a hug.
‘What did I say?’ he asked with a grin, half embarrassed, half puzzled.
‘You, Hubert,’ I said, ‘have given me a bargaining point for the CID. I could offer up young Nick as a sacrificial lamb in return for information.’
Hubert frowned. ‘Hang on a minute, if Nick Fenny's mother stops paying you, you haven't got a client. No point in carrying on, is there?’
‘Money isn't everything. Anyway, I just want to find the bastard. He's killed once – maybe twice. It's a question of pride and it's a challenge.’
‘You can say that again. Have you got one single suspect yet apart from Nick?’
‘Well, no. Nick isn't a suspect anyway. Not now. If I can find the connection between Jenny and Teresa, I'll find the killer.’
Hubert shrugged, in disbelief or despair I wasn't sure. ‘There may not be a connection,’ he said pointedly.
‘There already is, Hubert – the same evening class. But there's more to it than that. They must have had someone in common.’
‘So?’ said Hubert, giving me a ‘What the hell are you talking about?’ look.
‘So, I think Jenny met her killer by arrangement. After all, who with any sense would let a strange man into their car?’
‘Maybe she didn't have much choice. Maybe he came from behind and took her unawares.’
‘Possibly, until we know exactly how she died we won't be sure.’
‘There were no clues found in the car park even though they searched for two days. Not according to Bill, anyway.’
‘No, Hubert. Maybe Jenny was attacked somewhere else and then put in the boot of the car.’
‘That could mean two cars.’
‘Precisely, and I think the other car was Teresa's and when it's found she will be too.’
‘What about Bill's account?’
‘As you know, I think he's an unreliable witness, not perhaps intentionally. And I'm not even sure the woman he saw was Jenny.’ ‘Who was she, then?’
I smiled at his frowning face. ‘That, Hubert, is what makes this case so fascinating.’
Chapter Ten
According to my roster I was working three mornings and two afternoons. That suited me. It meant that the following morning I was free to visit Longborough CID. Not that I had any actual friends there but I did have acquaintances, Detective Sergeant Roade being one of them. He looked so young I think I reminded him of his mother, and so he was slightly more friendly than Detective Chief Inspector Hook, who, if he had a mother, had long since forgotten her. Roade had acne, a penchant for Mars bars, and managed to be a bit brighter than he looked.
Longborough police station seems to want to give the impression of being an upmarket dentist's and today it certainly smelt like it. The cleaner had just finished with the reception area floors and the disinfectant reminded me strongly of the smell of mouthwash. The desk sergeant was pleasant and female. I told her I was a close friend of DS Roade. She raised her neat eyebrows in surprise and looked at me with interest rather than suspicion but she showed me through to his office without any searching questions.
Roade sat alone in the office in front of a computer. The door was open and hi
s head moved slightly as if he were conversing with the screen. ‘Detective Sergeant Roade,’ I said warmly. ‘So good of you to see me.’
He mumbled ‘Oh … that's OK,’ whilst looking very puzzled. That was a ploy I could use again, I decided. He obviously assumed now I had made an appointment and he'd forgotten about it.
Now I was on to a winner, all I had to do was win him over. ‘May I sit down?’ I asked, honey-tongued.
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘You can sit here. What can I do for you?’
‘Well … I was hoping I could do something for you.’
‘Such as?’
I was beginning to think any charm I was trying to drum up was being lost on him but his pupils did dilate a fraction when I crossed my legs and hitched up my skirt to expose my rather fine knees, which was one part of my body I couldn't fault.
‘I thought I could be of some assistance with the Martin and the Haverall cases.’
‘How?’
I could sense from his tone I'd irritated him already but I smiled sweetly. ‘I've heard you're really making good progress and I thought if I could give you some information, then you might be able to tie up the loose ends.’
He stared at me. He was still playing it cagey; the expression on his small face didn't change but his nostrils flared slightly. I hoped he wasn't smelling a rat. I smiled inwardly. Roade had got an animal's face, with small eyes and a snub nose. It wasn't ratlike but it wouldn't have disgraced an anorexic guinea pig.
‘What loose ends?’ he asked.
I smiled knowingly. ‘Nick Fenny for one. Is he still a suspect?’
‘Yes. We would like a word with Nick.’
‘I think I could find out where he is.’
‘In return for …?’
‘You're quick, DS Roade. It's no wonder you've made sergeant so young.’ That seemed to please him and he tried not to smile. ‘In return for my telling you where Nick is, you'll share some of your information with me.’
‘How do I know you do know where Nick is?’
‘You don't. But I'll only give the information to you and then you can do what you like with it. It's a bit of one-upmanship.’
Roade nodded. ‘It's a deal – where is he?’
‘Not so fast. I'll tell you in a day or so. After all, he is meant to be my client …’
‘And you're shopping him?’ Roade queried in a tone of mild disgust.
‘It's not as simple as that. I believe he's innocent and I think it would be better for him just to plead guilty to taking and driving away …’
‘Don't forget he set fire to the car as well. Those poor sods who got to it were in shock for days, you know. When the car boot flew open with the heat, there in the smoke and flames was the body and suddenly … it sat up!’ He paused for the full weight of this pronouncement to affect me. I merely nodded. I did know that extreme heat can cause a body to sit up. So I simply said, ‘He didn't kill her.’
‘I never said he did,’ agreed Roade. ‘He's just a mindless yob.’
‘Be an angel,’ I urged him softly, ‘and tell me more about Teresa Haverall.’
Roade shrugged. ‘You'd better be on the level. If Hook finds out I've been giving you info he won't be pleased.’
‘I'll do my best, Sergeant, to give you all the credit.’
Roade stared at his computer screen. ‘You win. I was just looking at her details on the screen.’
I tried to move my chair closer but Roade said sharply, ‘You just stay where you are.’
I angled my head but he moved the computer so I couldn't see at all. ‘Now then,’ he said, well satisfied he was still in control. ‘Mrs Teresa Haverall. Address, 4 Kingdom Grove, Longborough. Age, forty. Next of kin, technically the husband but divorce proceedings in progress. One child, son aged eighteen, at university but living with father during the holidays in the village of Lampton. Worked as a hotel receptionist at the Grand Hotel. Separation of the couple, relatively friendly, husband now has new girlfriend.’
He paused then as if I needed time for this information to sink in. I did.
‘Why did you say “worked” in the past tense, Sergeant?’
He smiled, savouring the moment.
‘A decomposing body was found this morning in the boot of a car in an isolated wood. The number plate had been removed but the car has been identified, from registration marks, as belonging to Teresa Haverall. We don't know any more than that at the moment.’
Although I had suspected she was dead it still came as a shock. I knew this was my moment to get as much information as I possibly could but I couldn't think of a si
ngle question. DS Roade, sat back, satisfied with my silence, sensing no doubt that I was struggling to dredge up an intelligent query. Finally I asked, ‘Any news on the cause of death?’
‘I don't think we can overlook marks of strangulation with a ligature of some sort, maybe a tie. And the pathologist has noted a strange bruise on the back of her neck. He thinks it may be due to a karate chop which may or may not have been fatal.’
‘Where was this wood?’
‘'Bout five miles from Dunsmore.’
‘Did anyone see anything?’
‘Nope, not that there was anyone around. It's in the middle of nowhere way off the beaten track. We're guessing she was murdered the same night as Jenny Martin.’
Anything found in the car?’ I asked.
DS Roade shook his head. ‘Forensic say a good clean-up job was done but they think she was murdered elsewhere.’
‘At Teresa's home?’
‘No. The Scene of Crimes have been all over the house – nothing. Nothing at the Martin house either.’
The murderer was obviously clever, controlled and devious. As dangerous as a mad dog but well disguised. Someone you might pass in the street and not notice. But what the hell was the connection between the two women – because I was still sure there was one. It was my final question, I could see Roade becoming restless and glancing at his watch.
Now I'd started thinking in the right way there was so much more I wanted to ask but I couldn't afford to irritate Roade. He was taking a risk, after all. I placed two Mars bars on his desk as I stood up. He looked at them in surprise. ‘You still like them?’ I asked.
‘You bet,’ he said.
‘Thanks a million,’ I said. ‘I'll be in touch about Nick.’
‘We'll catch him anyway,’ said Roade. ‘But I'd like to be in on it.’
I was at the door when he muttered from the side of his mouth, as if the walls had ears, ‘By the way, we do have a suspect.’
He smirked then and faced his computer. You cunning little tyke, I thought, but I didn't show my surprise. I just walked out with my head held high.
I arrived at Riverview early that afternoon for the baby clinic. I had a feeling it could be traumatic. I needed an update on immunization and current trends in baby care. I'd worked on children's wards in my training and for a short time once qualified, and nothing since has quite equalled the awful responsibility of caring for sick children. I reminded myself, though, that these were not sick children but well ones.
Each bungalow had its own treatment room but the one on the Amroth-Holland side seemed more cramped. Another work diary was open on a dressing trolley. Three babies were due for immunization plus two mothers listed as general advice regarding weaning. I felt I could cope – just.
I was reading through my practice nurse handbook when the door opened and a tall young man walked in. He was good looking, wearing denim jacket, jeans and Reeboks and sporting his long black hair in a pony-tail. ‘Hi. You must be Kate. I'm Neil Amroth. Odd-job man extraordinaire!’
‘You're Dr Amroth's son?’
He smiled handsomely, his brown eyes watching me closely. He had a wide attractive mouth, great teeth and a slight tan. He also appeared to have a good body. He didn't look a bit like his father. He perched his neat bottom on the edge of the examination couch and said in his deep, well-modulated voice, ‘I came in to fix a leaking tap. But it appears to have stopped.’ I smiled, he smiled again, and I wasn't quite sure what to say. After a few moments' silence I asked, ‘Have you worked here long?’
‘I manage to find odd jobs all over Dunsmore and its environs. Much, may I say, to my father's chagrin. I'm one of life's drop outs. I started reading PPE at Oxford but when my mother left home … well I got somewhat depressed and decided to call it a day. I haven't regretted it. In fact I feel quite proud I can turn my hand to most things. Not that my father would ever approve, even if I was earning more than him.’
‘Do you live with your father?’
His mouth tightened slightly. ‘Oh yes. He has a super house, but of course it's not really a home without my mother. But … we're company for each other.’
‘No other siblings?’
He smiled. ‘Not that we talk about.’ He stood up, flexed his shoulders and then looked over to the tap saying, ‘It's still not dripping.’
I couldn't let him go without asking about Jenny. ‘I've been hearing about my predecessor Jenny – you must have known her?’
‘Indeed I did. I had quite a few chats with her. She was a nice girl, I liked her. But then I like you too. Au revoir, Kate.’
As he closed the door I thought: Well, well … there goes a smile that could dissolve concrete. For a mere boy in his early twenties he was all man. The tap had been an obvious pretext to meet me and I couldn't help feeling his nonchalance over Jenny was forced. If she had been having an affair, it could have been with him or indeed any of the doctors or Alan, Mr Practice Manager. She'd had plenty of choice …
My train of thought was interrupted by the sound of a crying baby and my heart sank. They would all by shrieking by the time I'd wielded the needle. When mother and baby actually came in I was all oohs and ahs and Aren't you gorgeous, until – the jab. There always seems an age when the poor baby's mouth opens silently in shock before the wail of protest begins. The mother's eyes fill with tears and it's guilt all round and yet you know how essential it is.
The last mother of the afternoon was a welcome sight. She had come for weaning advice and her baby slept contentedly in her arms. She was young and pretty, in her early twenties, wearing a miniskirt and figure-hugging T-shirt – here was someone who had done her post-natal exercises. Her name was Bethany Lake and she seemed to know far more than I did about weaning. What started out as advice turned into a general chat and it was then that she mentioned Jenny. ‘She was so brave, you know. How anyone could want to hurt her I can't understand. My first baby died and she spent ages with me. I don't think I could have coped without her.’
I murmured that it was indeed a tragedy. ‘It's strange,’ Bethany said, ‘I think she had a premonition, you know. She had a fall and her face was a bit bruised and I commented on it and she said, “I don't think I'll make old bones, Bethany.” I said something about not being silly and she laughed and said, “I must enjoy the danger.”’
After Bethany had gone I tidied up like an automaton. So she did know her killer, of that I was convinced. And so did Teresa. Their point of contact was the college. Maybe calligraphy was a more dangerous occupation than I had supposed. Perhaps the answer did lie at the college and not at Riverview.
I stayed behind for a while writing up notes and just as I was about to go I heard raised voices and then doors opening and closing. Something was definitely going on.
Chapter Eleven
I came out of the treatment room to see Neil and Alan going into a consulting room. As I stood there Doctors Thruxton and Wheatly turned up and marched in and as voices became raised I knew for certain that something quite important had happened or was about to happen. I stood there for a while toying with the idea of actually putting my ear to the door but decided that if I was caught it would be nearly as embarrassing as seeing my mother doing a can-can up Longborough High Street.
After I'd been standing there for about ten minutes straining to hear any morsel of the obvious intrigue Alan suddenly swung the door open and called out, ‘Kate – come here – you may as well know what's going on.’
All eyes were upon me as I walked into the small consulting room. Alan closed the door behind me. Dr Wheatly, sprawled on the examination couch, managed to flutter one of his delicate hands at me. Thruxton scowled, Neil stood staring out of the window, his shoulders slumped, and Alan seemed more excited than disturbed. Thruxton muttered: ‘Sit down. This is a bloody mess. We may have to close for a few days … that might be best in the circumstances.’
‘I don't think that will be necessary,’ said Alan. ‘We can easily ride this throug
h.’ Then he smiled at me and said, ‘We have a problem, Kate: Dr Amroth has been taken in for questioning by the police.’
I paused, surprised. Murder, I thought, needed a degree of passion. Dr Amroth seemed to have as much passion as a plate of cockles. ‘Surely,’ I said, ‘they can't really suspect him of murdering two women?’
‘Only one woman,’ answered Alan. ‘His wife.’
‘But what about …’ I began and then seeing Neil turn and flash me an anguished expression I simply ended on a whispered ‘Oh'. After a while I asked, ‘Why do the police think Dr Amroth had anything to do with his wife's disappearance?’
This time it was Dr Thruxton who answered. ‘Unfortunately they always had some suspicion that … an accident had befallen Helena but of course there was no evidence. Now they seemed to have a revived interest in her whereabouts. There is some suggestion they may want to dig up the gardens here and at Charles's house.’
‘I think it's best if everyone just carries on as normal,’ suggested Alan. ‘This … upheaval is obviously going to be short-lived and I think the police are just trying to detract everyone's attention from the real issue, which is who killed Jenny and Teresa.’
‘I suppose Dr Amroth does have an alibi for the night in question?’ I asked.
I could tell I'd dropped the proverbial clanger when they all stared at me in a prolonged silence. ‘I only meant …’ I blurted out nervously, ‘that with an alibi he … well, they wouldn't suspect him of … anything else.’
‘He was with me that night,’ said Neil sharply.
‘Oh, I see. I didn't know that.’
I kept my mouth firmly shut after that. Not much else was said other than the practice should try to keep home visits down and that everyone should work that bit harder until Dr Amroth returned to the fold.
Thereafter the day was punctuated with patients by visits from most of the staff. Neil was the first to come in.
‘Have you got a minute, Kate?’ he asked. He looked really unhappy.
‘Of course,’ I said.
He sat down on the chair by my table and said quietly, ‘Thanks for not saying anything before – about my mother. I lied when I said I'd seen her … I—’ A knock at the door interrupted him. ‘Kate, be an angel,’ he said hurriedly, ‘let me take you out and I can explain everything. Tomorrow? Eight o'clock – I'll pick you up—’
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