The Fethering Mysteries 10; The Poisoning in the Pub tfm-10

by Simon Brett

  “Oh yes. I told them about both times he came.”

  “Both times? You told me he came here before Ray died, but when was the other time?”

  “He came that evening, the evening Viggo died.”

  Jude’s brown eyes sparkled with amazement. “Really? And was he still here when you heard the shot?”

  Kelly-Marie shook her head. “No, he had left about half an hour earlier. I was in the kitchen when he went. He talked to me.”

  Jude’s mind was racing as she pieced the scenario together. Derren Hart had come to see Viggo, primed him with beer and put the suggestion of Russian roulette into that most suggestible of minds. He had also perhaps loaded the revolver, telling the poor deluded victim that Russian roulette should be played with all the chambers full, or maybe only one empty. The ex-soldier hadn’t actually done the killing, but he had set it up.

  But surely he hadn’t done it off his own bat? Derren Hart must have been obeying orders, just as surely as Viggo had obeyed orders to kill Ray. A trail of orders which had to lead back – though probably not in a way that could be traced – to Will Maples at Home Hostelries.

  Suddenly Jude remembered details of Viggo’s rambling fantasies, tough-guy talk about orders arriving by text on a mobile phone, the mobile phone being jettisoned and the job done. Was that how he had received the order to kill Ray? And maybe, after Derren Hart’s visit, it had been another text message that had finally persuaded him to pull the trigger of the revolver pointing at his temple?

  Hard on the heels of that came another recollection, of something Kelly-Marie had said, about how Viggo had always been throwing away perfectly good stuff, clothes and things, as he underwent his latest makeover. And how the girl had salvaged some of his cast-offs and taken them to the Oxfam shop.

  Scarcely daring to hope that her intuition was right, and yet at the same time robustly confident, Jude asked, “Kelly-Marie, did you ever see Viggo throw away a mobile phone?”

  “Yes, I did,” came the most welcome of replies.

  “When?”

  “It was a Sunday. I remember. Because I’d been to have lunch with Mummy and Daddy and they’d just dropped me back here.”

  “Do you remember which Sunday it was, Kelly-Marie?”

  “Not last Sunday…” She looked confused as she tried to work it out. Then her face cleared. “It was the Sunday that Ray was going to see Dan Poke from off the television.”

  Ray Witchett’s last day on earth.

  “I remember,” Kelly-Marie went on, “as I came into the hall that Sunday from saying goodbye to Mummy and Daddy, I saw Viggo coming downstairs. And he looked, I don’t know, like he was doing something wrong…there’s a word…?”

  “Furtive?”

  “Perhaps. I don’t know that word. Anyway, when I got back up here, I looked out of the window and I saw Viggo walking along the street, down that way. And there was one of those big boxes for rubbish…”

  “A skip?”

  “Yes. A skip. Like in skipping.” Kelly-Marie smiled, pleased at the notion.

  “And you saw Viggo drop something in it?”

  “Yes. And I thought it was probably something that was still valuable, because Viggo was always throwing away good stuff. So later in the evening, I went down to the…skip…and I found what he’d dropped. It’d had gone quite deep down the side, but I managed to pull it out.”

  “It was a mobile phone?” asked Jude, hardly daring to hope.

  She was rewarded with a huge beam and a nod.

  “I don’t suppose, Kelly-Marie…that you’ve still got it?”

  The beam grew broader as the girl crossed to a drawer and produced from it a brand-new-looking mobile phone. She handed it across to Jude. “I wasn’t sure what to do with it. I know Oxfam take clothes, but I don’t know whether they take mobile phones. I was going to ask Mummy and Daddy, but I forgot.”

  Jude looked with disbelief at the phone in her hand. Could it be that she finally held in her hand the evidence she had despaired of ever finding?

  She was initially frustrated, because, of course, the phone, sitting in a drawer for over a fortnight, had no power. But fortunately it fitted the same charger as Kelly-Marie’s mobile, so they soon had the handset plugged in and active.

  Jude went into the ‘Short Messages’ menu and selected ‘Inbox’. There were two messages. Jude opened the more recent one first, the last communication Viggo had received before he threw the mobile away. It was timed at 15.17 on the Sunday of Dan Poke’s gig at the Crown and Anchor, and couched in the sort of espionage-movie language which held such a fatal attraction for Viggo.

  AGENT 217 IS BECOMING A DANGER TO THE PROJECT. LIQUIDATE HIM. KNIFE, NOT GUN. THE MONEY WILL GO INTO THE USUAL ACCOUNT. JETTISON THIS MOBILE. K.

  Now perhaps they had some proof.

  ∨ The Poisoning in the Pub ∧

  Thirty-Nine

  Then Jude checked the first text message. It had been sent the day before the poisoning in the Crown and Anchor that had started their investigation. It read:

  TIME TO ACTIVATE AGENT 217. SCALLOPS PLAN AS DISCUSSED – DELIVERY AT TEN-THIRTY TOMORROW MORNING. RELYING ON YOU TO PERSUADE HIM TO DO IT. K.

  So who the hell was ‘K’?

  As she walked back to Woodside Cottage, Jude was aware of a huge temptation. The enquiries she and Carole had made so far in this case had been deeply frustrating. They had been reacting to events, to new information. Rarely had they been proactive.

  And now Jude had a chance to be just that. She switched on the precious mobile and checked its power. Yes, it had just enough juice from its time on Kelly-Marie’s charger. She summoned up one of K’s text messages and, before she had time to change her mind, keyed in a reply.

  THE NET IS CLOSING IN. I AM ON TO YOU.

  That should flush him out.

  ♦

  In previous investigations Carole and Jude had had a somewhat unsatisfactory relationship with the police. They had either been warned off or patronized. The impression had certainly been given that the police were quite capable of doing their job on their own, and the last thing they wanted was offers of help from enthusiastic amateurs, particularly from women of a certain age.

  But the detective Jude was put on to when she rang the Hollingbury Major Crime Unit was polite and, even more gratifying, interested in what she had to tell him. His name was Detective Inspector Wilson, and he was absolutely up to speed on the investigations into the deaths of Ray Witchett and Viggo. He knew about Copsedown Hall and Kelly-Marie, and he responded instantly to the mention of Derren Hart. “Yes, he’s someone we very definitely want to speak to. He’s gone to ground for the moment, but don’t worry, we’ll track him down.”

  Jude felt a little silly. The detective’s knowledgeable manner reminded her that, all the time she and Carole had been stumbling in the dark, the official enquiries had been proceeding, using the full resources of manpower and forensic expertise. Though Detective Inspector Wilson remained polite, she didn’t get the feeling she was telling him anything that he didn’t know.

  Until she came to Viggo’s mobile phone. That was a surprise, and it interested him very much. He wanted her to spell out exactly how it had come into her possession. Then he asked where she lived, and said he would be with her in as long as it took. As soon as she ended that call, Jude rang Carole. It was their joint investigation, they should both be present to hand over their findings to the police.

  When he arrived, Detective Inspector Wilson was courteous, but didn’t want to hear too much about their theories of the crimes. It was only the mobile that interested him. He asked again how Jude had discovered it. By now feeling rather childish about the text reply she’d sent, she didn’t mention that. But they’d surely find a record of it when they examined the mobile. She was only putting off the inevitable rapping of her knuckles.

  Detective Inspector Wilson took the mobile away, with assurances that he’d keep Carole and Jude updated on any new developmen
ts on the case. This they did not really believe. They reckoned, if they did hear more, it would be from the news media along with everyone else, rather than in a personalized call from Detective Inspector Wilson.

  As a result, after his departure, both Carole and Jude felt extremely flat. They had ridden the roller coaster of the investigation and, now they were so close to the end of the ride, someone else was going to enjoy the fun of the denouement. Rotten life sometimes, being an amateur detective.

  They went back to their separate houses. At a loose end, unable to decide what to do next, Jude put a call through to Kelly-Marie. Just to assure the girl how much the police had appreciated her discovery of the mobile phone. And to warn her that they were quite likely to come to question her again.

  “Oh, that’s all right,” said the girl. “The policemen were very friendly when they talked to me before.”

  “Well, you definitely did the right thing keeping that mobile of Viggo’s.”

  “Thank you.” Kelly-Marie sounded disproportionately grateful for the commendation.

  “Incidentally, you said you’d forgotten to tell your parents about the mobile. Did you mention to anyone else that you’d got it?”

  “No, I don’t think so.” Then she remembered. “Oh, just one person.”

  “Who was that?”

  “The scarred man.”

  “The one who came to see Viggo?”

  “Yes. That night, before Viggo died, I told you I was in the kitchen, and he talked to me. He asked if I’d ever seen a mobile of Viggo’s and I told him.”

  So Derren Hart knew of the mobile’s existence. Which almost definitely meant that his paymasters did too. An icy chill spread over Jude’s shoulders as she asked, “Did he ask to see it?”

  “He did, but then a couple of the other men from the house came into the hall, and he went away.”

  “Kelly-Marie, just stay where you are.” Jude tried to keep the panic out of her voice. God, she’d been so stupid. Her impulsive text reply had alerted ‘K’. If Derren Hart was K, then he’d reckon the text had come from Kelly-Marie, who so far as he knew still had Viggo’s mobile. If Derren wasn’t K himself, then he’d pretty soon pass on the information to the person who was.

  “My friend and I are coming to see you straight away,” said Jude, as calmly as she could. “And I’m sure the police will be there soon too.”

  “There’s someone arriving now,” said Kelly-Marie casually. “There’s a car parking outside.”

  “A police car?”

  “No,” the girl replied. “It’s pale blue.”

  ∨ The Poisoning in the Pub ∧

  Forty

  There was no mistaking Will Maples’s BMW, conspicuously outgleaming the other shabby vehicles parked on the Downside Road. Its presence at least meant that he hadn’t abducted Kelly-Marie. But that small bonus was wiped out by the deduction that he was still inside the building with her.

  The main door to Copsedown Hall was on the latch, which, while convenient for Carole and Jude, was also potentially worrying. Maybe Will Maples had left it like that for reinforcements to arrive. He had a habit of delegating his dirty work. Was Derren Hart about to arrive? Or was the ex-squaddie thug already in the building?

  Carole and Jude sped up the stairs. There were voices coming from Kelly-Marie’s flat. Jude flung the door open.

  The scene revealed looked surprisingly unthreat-ening. Kelly-Marie was sitting in her usual chair. On the sofa sat Will Maples, still dressed in the suit they had seen that morning. Beside him, to the women’s surprise, was Dan Poke. Though none of the three actually had drinks, Carole and Jude got the incongruous feeling that they had interrupted a polite tea party.

  Will Maples made no attempt to pretend that he was pleased to see them. “My God, you two busy-bodies get everywhere, don’t you?”

  But Kelly-Marie beamed welcome. “It’s good that you’ve come, Jude. These gentlemen want Viggo’s mobile. And you’ve got it, haven’t you?”

  “Not any more. I’ve handed it over to the police.”

  Will Maples let out a dry laugh. “Yes, I’m sure you have. Jude, I suggest you just give it to me. Then this whole affair can be ended without anyone getting hurt.”

  “Without anyone else getting hurt, you mean,” said Carole combatively.

  “Oh, more allegations do we have here?” asked Will Maples sardonically. “I thought you’d exhausted all of those this morning. I also thought you had taken on board what Melissa Keats told you. If you persist in this kind of slanderous behaviour, you could both be looking at a very long custodial sentence.”

  “Not as long as the one you could be looking at,” snapped Carole.

  He spread his hands wide in an insufferable gesture of calming. “As we established this morning, you have not a shred of evidence against me, no proof of my involvement in any wrongdoing.”

  “I would say the fact that you’re here,” asserted Jude, “the fact that you’re trying to get Viggo’s mobile, is proof of your involvement.”

  “And we also,” said Carole, “now know about Melissa Keats’s involvement. Very altruistic of her, wasn’t it, to offer to help poor Sylvia Crisp with her divorce?”

  That prompted a reaction. The two men on the sofa exchanged looks, and Dan Poke murmured, “I always said that was going too far. We – ”

  “Shut it!” hissed Will Maples. For the first time he did look discomfited by what was being said. But as he turned back to the two women, his expression became threatening. “Look, I’ve had it up to here with you two. And if I were capable of even a quarter of the crimes you accuse me of, I’d have thought you would realize how very stupid you’re being by constantly hounding me. If I was actually responsible for the death of Ray Witchett, or this character called Viggo, do you think I would have any compunction about adding a couple of middle-aged snoopers to my list of killings?”

  A thin smile played about Carole’s lips, as she said, “You’re getting into a rather dubious area of logic here, Will. For your threats to have any validity, we must believe that you did have something to do with the two deaths. If, as you insist, you’re innocent, then we have no cause to be frightened, do we?”

  There was a silence. Kelly-Marie looked around her rather full flat in bewilderment. “I’m not sure what’s happening. Would anyone like some tea?”

  But her instinct as a hostess was ignored. Will Maples dropped his threatening manner and came in on another tack. He sounded very reasonable as he said, “Look, I can to some extent see where you’re coming from. The recent sequence of events at the Crown and Anchor could look suspicious, as though there actually were a campaign to get Ted Crisp out. The food poisoning, the bad newspaper headlines, the bikers, the fight…yes, it does look a bit too organized to be coincidental. But if you imagine that a company of the public profile of Home Hostelries would get involved in dirty tricks of that kind, you have very little knowledge of the business world. On the other hand, it is possible that someone inside the company might have acted off their own bat, might have hoped to advance his career by helping to acquire new properties for Home Hostelries…”

  “Who’re you talking about?” asked Carole.

  Will Maples looked pityingly at the man next to him on the sofa. “I always said it was a bad idea, Dan.”

  “What?” The comedian’s eyebrows shot up in amazement.

  “But you insisted. You said you could do it undercover, and nobody would ever find out what you were up to.” The Acquisitions manager turned to the two women. “Yes, I’m afraid you were right about some of the dirty tricks – and there you see the man responsible for them.”

  “You mean he’s ‘K’?” asked Jude coolly.

  That did stop Will Maples in his tracks. “What?”

  “The ‘K’ who gave instructions to Viggo to set up Ray – and to kill him.”

  He tried to recapture his former insouciance, but the shot had hit home. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
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  “She is talking about the fact,” said Carole, “that she found Viggo’s mobile, which still had K’s texted instructions on it. Instructions sent by ‘K’.”

  “If you’re looking for ‘K’, then there he is!” Will Maples swung round and pointed at the comedian.

  “You bastard! I had nothing to do with it!” Dan Poke’s words came out like a hiss of steam. Suddenly his hands were around his colleague’s throat. The two of them struggled awkwardly to their feet. Then there was a quick movement from Will Maples’s hand, and Dan Poke recoiled, clutching at his face. Blood spurted through his fingers from a slashed cheekbone.

  “You bastard!” he repeated. “I told you you were going too far. Yes, Home Hostelries has always been in a competitive market, but we didn’t have to go to the lengths you took us to. We didn’t have to get involved in murder.”

  “I was never involved in murder. Viggo may have been. Derren Hart may have been. None of it can ever be traced back to me.”

  Blood was pouring down the comedian’s hand, soaking into the fabric of his shirt and suit sleeve, but he wasn’t about to back off. “No? I think if I stand up in court and give evidence, something might be traced back to you. And if Derren Hart does the same, your position could look decidedly precarious.”

  “And,” said Carole, “since the police have Viggo’s mobile in their possession, I shouldn’t think it’d be long before they come looking for you.”

  “Shut it!” shouted Will Maples. Carole and Jude had been watching Dan Poke, so it was only then that they noticed the Stanley knife in the other man’s hand. They also saw him move swiftly across the room, lift Kelly-Marie out of her chair and hold the bloody blade against her neck.

  He had given up on denials. He’d made a quick assessment of his position, and, with the police having been alerted, decided his only option was escape. He edged the girl towards the door. Kelly-Marie, not quite sure what was happening, smiled hopefully, but with an edge of anxiety.

  “You three stand by the window,” ordered Will Maples. “If I can’t see you there when I get into the car, I’ll kill the girl.”