‘We've found it, Hubert,’ I announced triumphantly. Hubert, silent at first, soon said, ‘I'm not hanging around outside like a stray dog. I'm coming in with you.’
‘Of course you are, Hubert. I wouldn't leave you outside in the rain.’
Firs Farm had long since become derelict, the roof was gone from the farm house and the outbuildings were door-less and with crumbling walls. Only the mud seemed fresh and new. We drove past the farm and on about half a mile and there to the left of a small orchard was Firs Barn Cottage. The lights were on. Helena Amroth, alias Helen Chadwick, was in. Behind thin curtains I could see shadows moving. Two shadows.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Mesmerized for a few moments Hubert and I watched the tableau as the rain slipped unchecked down the windscreen; the figures still, then moving away, coming back, standing together, hugging.
Hubert suddenly moved into action, snatched up my car blanket to shelter us from the rain and as he held it over our heads for protection we began to walk towards our quarry.
The cottage was one storey, stone built, but not particularly smart or cosy. Even in the gloomy rain I could see there were no roses or ivy creeping around the porchless door, and no flowers grew beside the path. Our footsteps crunched damply in the rain and the door was opened after one knock.
I don't know who was more surprised – him or me. For there in the doorway stood Charles Amroth, his mouth open until he managed to stammer, ‘Good God – Kate! What on earth are you doing here?’ He then saw Hubert emerging from the shadows.
‘Who's he?’ he demanded.
‘I think we have some explaining to do,’ I said mildly, amazed at my outward composure.
‘If you must,’ said Charles coldly. ‘You'd better come inside.’
Helena stood by the window. The room matched the thin curtains. The furniture consisted of an ancient brown mock-leather settee, one floral geriatric-style chair and a drop-leaf table containing the remains of a meal, an empty bottle of wine and two glasses.
‘Who are these people?’ she asked Charles sharply. She looked much older than her photograph. Her fair hair had been tied back loosely, she wore no make-up and she had obviously been crying.
The introductions were made. I explained that nursing was merely a way of funding my investigation agency and that though I was once involved in the murder case, now, I had no client and had merely tracked Helena down to warn her that she could be next in line.
The atmosphere remained as frosty as an ice bucket's bottom. Finally it was Helena who spoke. ‘I'm well able to take care of myself, Miss Kinsella. And always have been. Nothing has gone on that I don't know about. I've been persecuted and so has my husband for matters over which we've had no control.’
So carefully did she speak it was almost as if she had prepared her speech – a quality of resignation was there, almost a summing up for the defence. Charles Amroth smiled sadly at his wife.
‘My wife and I have a lot to discuss, Kate. I'd be grateful if you'd go now. And it may seem harsh but I'd prefer it if you didn't return to Riverview – we'll employ an agency nurse until … we're more organized.’
Hubert and I left then completely silent and demoralized. As we drove away I said, ‘Well, that's that. I don't understand what's going on. How long has he known she's been living there? Do you think she's about to confess to the police? Did you notice how cool she was? Lots of determination, that woman—’
‘She scared me,’ interrupted Hubert. ‘I reckon she killed Jenny and Teresa because they knew about her hit-and-run driving. I suppose she thought that was the end of it but of course Geoff knew too, so he had to die.’
‘What about Charles though, was he in on all this? He's let the police think he killed his wife simply to take suspicion and interest away from her, but why?’
‘What do you mean, Kate?’
‘I mean, Hubert, their marriage wasn't on the rocks it was in quicksand. Why would he risk everything to protect a wife he didn't love any more, who had a drink problem, who'd left home anyway and who was having an affair with his partner?’
‘Well, I don't know,’ said Hubert miserably, ‘and to be honest I'm past caring. I'm tired, hungry, thirsty and it's all far too complicated for me. But …’
‘But what?’
‘Just because he didn't love her any more didn't necessarily mean he would want her to go to prison. Maybe it was a bit of self-interest, he wouldn't have wanted the practice to fall into disrepute, would he?’
‘Would you murder someone to protect Humberstones'?’
There was silence while Hubert thought about it. And the silence said it all – he was giving the question serious consideration.
‘I'd like to say I wouldn't commit murder but I might be tempted. After all, Kate, what else do I have?’
‘Hubert, I'm surprised at you. I thought you were a very moral man.’
‘I am,’ he agreed, sounding crestfallen as though he'd disappointed himself. ‘I'm just saying I might be tempted, that's all.’
‘Of course they do have Neil to think about. How will he feel when he finds out his mother has been living locally and not seeing him.’
‘Did he go to boarding school?’
‘Yes. From the age of eight …’
‘Well, then. Public-school kids get very self-reliant.’
‘Yes, but his mother leaving home like that has obviously affected his career. He was at Oxford and it disturbed him enough to have to give up his degree course.’
‘Perhaps he was looking for an excuse to leave.’
‘Maybe …’
‘Can we please stop talking now, Kate,’ said Hubert. ‘I just want to sit back and relax and know you're concentrating on your driving.’
As I drove towards Longborough I tried not to dwell on the fact I'd lost my job. I had quite liked it. I would miss the patients. And my improved social life. I remembered then about Neil. With all this going on probably it was best I didn't see him again. I'd give him a ring later and … report sick or something.
Hubert began cooking omelettes on our return and I dashed up to my office to collect my notes on the case. The phone rang just as I closed the office door. Ignore it, I thought, but I couldn't. It was Neil.
‘Kate, I have to see you tonight. Can you come over? I'm worried sick about my father. I really do need someone to talk to.’
‘I'm just about to eat, Neil, but I'll come later if you're that desperate to see me.’
‘Thanks, Kate. See you soon.’ His voice rose a little in what sounded like relief.
Hubert wasn't pleased when I returned. ‘Omelettes have to be carefully timed, Kate – but you wouldn't know that, would you?’
‘I can cook omelettes,’ I said. ‘I was delayed by a phone call.’
‘Who from?’
‘Neil Amroth.’
‘I'd stay away from that family, if I were you. In some families ill luck runs through the generations as fast as rabies and I reckon it's catching.’
‘I'm seeing him later. The poor lad sounds really uptight.’
‘“Poor lad”, indeed,’ sneered Hubert. ‘You just want to hold him to your bosom, but not for maternal purposes.’
I feigned indignation and told him I had to go for the sake of the case.
‘Sake of the case! Come off it, Kate. Leave it to the police now. They must be quite near to arresting someone.’
I thought about that as I chewed my leathery omelette. ‘I don't think they've got the evidence, Hubert. Perhaps they know but they can't prove it. I'm convinced they were both killed in the grounds of the college. By the time they found out where the car had been parked that night any real forensic evidence would have been destroyed by the coming and goings of students, cars, bikes, et cetera. Forensic evidence isn't of much use if it's been trampled on by a hundred clumping feet.’
‘Fingerprints?’ asked Hubert.
‘I'm not sure, but the police would be cock-a-hoop, wouldn't they, if they'd found any? Someone
was waiting for them – expecting them. Nick said the car was open with the keys inside. I've got it!’ I broke off excitedly. ‘The murderer was already in the car. He gave Jenny a karate chop to the neck and …’
‘Hang on, Kate, wouldn't Teresa have seen this?’
‘Not necessarily. She would have been concentrating on unlocking her car, starting the engine … She looks sideways to wave goodbye to Jenny and sees her slumped in the driver's seat. She switches off the engine, rushes over to her friend's car and … it's curtains for poor Teresa.’
‘That's all guesswork though, Kate. Couldn't he have been waiting in the bushes?’
I nodded. ‘You're right, Hubert. It's all guesswork. But maybe I can get some info from Neil. They alibied each other for that night. I think maybe Charles had grown weary of Teresa or maybe she was too demanding. We assumed he didn't love Helena but maybe he did, perhaps he wanted her back. Knowing that Jenny suspected Helena of killing her son and having lost interest in Teresa, he followed them—’
I broke off, realizing there were some basic flaws in this argument and before Hubert cottoned on I made a hasty exit.
On the way to Weston-Cumby I noticed for the first time it was en route for Naresworth. Was that significant? I wondered.
As I drove into the village itself with its two miniature street lamps, one either side of the duck pond, I was as pleased as if I'd found an oasis in the desert. Really, to call Weston-Cumby a village was an exaggeration. There didn't appear to be a shop or even a church. The Amroth house wasn't overlooked and the other few cottages were small as though they were once part of an estate and the Amroth house belonged to the squire.
The lights were on downstairs and I drove straight to the front of the house and stopped. I was about to close the car door when Neil appeared. ‘Good of you to come, Kate, park your car round the back near the summer house – just lately we have callers at all hours.’
The path at the side of the house went on and on until eventually I could see the shape of the summer house raised up on huge concrete slabs and lit by a carriage lamp. I'd imagined something approaching the standard large shed. This was a Tyrolean-style ‘shed', with a balcony and hanging baskets, brass cowbells and painted wooden tubs of glorious flowers. I parked in a small gravelled parking area and could see that to the right of the summer house was a garden pond. I walked towards it, ignoring the rain, and stood for a while staring at the pond lush with reeds and greenery. Lily pads floated on top and a garden gnome had cast his tiny fishing line in the rain-speckled water. I was childishly fascinated by the whole atmosphere of the place and stood trying to imagine it on a warm moonlit night … ‘Lovely, isn't it, Kate?’
Neil slipped an arm round me and pulled me close. ‘Come on I'll show you my castle.’
The inside was lit by candles, some in bottles some in holders. The room was large with partitioned areas. A round pine table with two chairs in one corner. Two black single futons folded up and ready for use as chairs took up the centre of the room. A free-standing bookcase against one wall was packed so full that it overflowed as books stood in piles beside it.
‘I'll show you round,’ said Neil.
He led me, still with his arm round my shoulder, to the kitchen area. ‘The galley,’ he said. ‘I put the sink in myself.’
To the left of the sink was a Baby Belling oven and cupboards above and below. On the right was a small fridge from which he took a bottle of white wine.
‘You'll have one, Kate?’ I nodded; rarely do I refuse a drink. Wine in hand, he led me to another partition and his bedroom, a threequarter bed alongside a line of boxes covered with white sheeting.
‘Unfortunately I have to keep most of my gear in here. I've got a small van but that's not big enough for everything I need. Still it's home.’
‘What about the loo and bathroom?’ I asked.
‘Just here,’ he said, opening what I'd thought was a cupboard but was in fact a loo and shower.
We sat down then on opposite futons and Neil said, ‘I'm so pleased you've come, Kate. I knew you would in the end.’
‘You sounded worried on the phone,’ I ventured. He shrugged his wide shoulders. He was wearing a navy track suit and Reeboks. I'd worn my black track suit and I couldn't help wishing I looked a little more alluring.
‘The police have harassed us continually. It's lucky I suppose they don't come during surgery hours but someone in the practice is questioned every day. The CID have been here this evening looking for my father. I told them we lead separate lives but they continue asking the most stupid questions.’
‘Like pigs sniffing truffles,’ I suggested.
He laughed. ‘Exactly. I couldn't have put it better.’
‘What are they most interested in?’
‘They suggest that we're lying when we say we didn't leave the village the night of the murder. The impression they give is that my father and I cooked up our alibis between us. That one or both of us killed all three victims. Meanwhile the real killer must be far away by now.’
‘What's your theory?’
‘My theory for what it's worth is that the murderer's real victim was Geoff Martin. Jenny and Teresa were a warning.’
‘A very heavy warning,’ I said swiftly. ‘And why should Geoff be a victim?’
‘His job.’
‘Journalist?’ I said in surprise.
‘Jenny used to tell me he often got pretty hot news items.’
‘I thought he dealt mainly with business articles – making the most of your building society, that sort of thing.’
Neil smiled. ‘Business stories cover more than that: drugs, stocks and shares, takeovers. I think he was on to something really major, or at least according to Jenny he was.’
‘You and Jenny were quite friendly then?’
‘I did work at her house from time to time. Geoff wasn't much of a handyman. I put up some shelves, fixed a leaking tap, even did a bit of point work on their side wall.’
‘What do the police think about your theory on Geoff?’
‘I think they were grateful I'd given them another line of enquiry. More wine?’
I nodded. It was the best wine I'd ever tasted. So good that I knew this glass should be my last.
When Neil came back with the bottle he seemed in lighter mood.
‘Let's stop all this heavy stuff, Kate. I live with it. Let's talk more about you. What were you like as a schoolgirl?’
I was a bit surprised by the question and hoped he wasn't going to suggest I wear a school uniform.
‘As a schoolgirl I was ravishingly beautiful, it's only the passage of time that's withered me.’ He laughed at my little joke. ‘No, actually, Neil, I was mousy and nondescript. I wasn't much of a student either. I went to an all girls' comprehensive in North London where the science teacher was so hairy that each lesson I would sit with my best friend Liz trying to count the number of hairs on the parts of her body we could actually see. Consequently I don't know a fulcrum from my elbow or a molecule from an amp. The maths teacher merely told us to read the maths textbook and so anything beyond single digits also remains a mystery.’
‘You were happy, though?’
‘Not exactly happy, Neil. Obsessed.’
‘What with?’
‘Our future sex lives. So much anticipation and I can't help thinking we were conned. What about you, Neil?’
His eyes clouded suddenly. ‘I was sent to boarding school at the age of eight—’ He broke off and stared ahead.
‘That's young,’ I said, ‘but when you were older it was OK, wasn't it?’
‘No, it was never … OK. I was depressed, though no one recognized it. I only cried once when my mother left me there – “You're a man now,” she said. So I went through years of misery, pleading with my parents to allow me home. It fell on deaf ears. Academically I was doing well and my father wanted me to go into medicine but I couldn't do it just to please him, could I?’
I nodded in agreeme
nt. Neil's blue eyes now looked as bleak as his father's. ‘You came home in the end though,’ I said, trying to offer vague and rather crude consolation. He stared at me; beneath his lips I could tell he was gritting his teeth in anger as the muscles of his mouth began to twitch slightly. He stood up abruptly and began pacing the room. ‘I came home because I was disturbed by my mother leaving. She hates me, she always has.’
‘I'm sure that's not true.’
He stopped pacing for a moment and glared at me. ‘And what do you know about this family? You and your jolly pleb school with a kind mother waiting at home with tea and scones. What do you know about anything?’
I didn't answer. He was getting angry now like a drunk gets angry and there's no arguing with that sort of anger. I just sat there, like one of Hubert's corpses. He began pacing the room again, up and down like a demented animal in a zoo.
‘Why did you have to mention school days, why couldn't you have been miserable at school? What were you hoping to do? Amuse me? Make me jealous? Can't you see my parents hate me? I had to build this place to stay here. He said there was no alternative – I had to go. I said there was. So I built this place, it was my idea. And the job. I like him to see me walking round with spanners and hammers – it pleases me to humiliate him. I don't like to be thwarted, Kate, in any way.’
A little voice whispered in my head then but it wasn't issuing instructions it was saying: oh God oh God, he's stark staring mad. I took a deep breath. He was a human being, sick but still fairly rational.
‘Neil, sit down, take it easy, we were enjoying ourselves before. Don't get so upset. We can talk about something else if you want.’
He continued to pace up and down but more slowly now. His features contorted occasionally but his mouth had relaxed slightly. Eventually he came to rest beside me on the futon. And I knew I'd left it too late to do a runner.
‘I feel better now, Kate,’ he said as he put his hand on my knee. I tried to ease away from him.
‘I'll make some coffee, shall I, and then I must be going.’
‘Why must you be going?’
‘My landlord expects me home. He's waiting.’
Deadly Practice Page 20
