A Dog's Life (The Romney and Marsh Files Book 4)

by Oliver Tidy

  ***

  19

  Romney was in early and in obvious good spirits. He came out of his office rubbing his hands and smiling. Marsh managed to smile back and was spared comments about her appearance by the arrival of Grimes and Harmer entering loudly and laughing behind her. She’d done her best with her eyes but they were still puffy and red and her face was blotchy. She hurried over to her desk and tried to look busy. Her story, if anyone asked, was that she had a cold.

  Seeing Romney in a good mood, Grimes was encouraged to start the day off with one of his stories.

  ‘Isn’t technology amazing these days? I was at the bar in my local last night and this bloke next to me was talking to his hand. When he’d finished, I asked him why he was doing it. He said he’d had this little communications device embedded in his palm that allowed him to make and receive telephone calls. Blimey, I said, that’s amazing. Ten minutes later I wandered into the Gents’ for a jimmy and there he was assuming the position up against the wall, trousers round his ankles and all this paper hanging out of his arse. “Don’t mind me,” he said, “I’ve got a fax coming through.” ’

  Even Romney was laughing with them and Marsh wondered what good news he’d had to put him in such a genial frame of mind. She realised Romney was approaching her. She tried to ignore him, but in the end she had to look up to see what he wanted.

  ‘Blimey, are you all right? You look like crap.’

  She was forming her lie when Grimes appeared and said, ‘How’s your mum, Sarge? Any better?’

  *

  Romney had told her to get herself into his office and help herself to the tissues on his desk. He gave her a couple of minutes under some pretext and then came in to speak with her. ‘Two questions: Why didn’t you say something and what the hell are you doing at work?’

  ‘It’s my personal life, sir, and I don’t want to sit at home on my own all day staring at the walls crying.’

  Romney sighed heavily. This was not something he was used to. ‘Shouldn’t you be with your close family?’

  ‘She was my close family.’

  ‘Is this what’s been wrong with you for the last few days?’

  Marsh nodded and blew her nose.

  ‘How did she die?’

  ‘I don’t honestly know. She’s been unwell for a while. Heart trouble and cancer. She died in hospital yesterday. My sister was there. She... she and I don’t get on so well. I was going to go up and see mum last night after work, but...’

  ‘You can have some time off, you know?’

  ‘And do what? Sit at home and mope. Maybe take a train up and stare at my dead mum?’

  Romney didn’t know what to say so he said nothing.

  ‘Look, I do know my options, sir. I want to be at work. I want to be busy. There is nothing I can do for my mum now and there is nothing I can do about any of it. Yes, it’s upsetting but she’s dead. She’s gone and that’s it.’

  Romney didn’t think that sounded very healthy. She was her mother, after all. And then he remembered something of his feelings when his own mother died. He didn’t push her because part of him also understood what she was saying. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘Have it your way, but if you want some time off just take it. Is there anything you need? Anything we can do to help?’

  Marsh smiled at him for that. ‘Just treat me normally,’ she said.

  Romney tapped a folder on his desk. ‘In that case, those dog hair samples you sorted out for forensics turned out to be a perfect match for the hairs recovered from Rachael Sparrow’s clothing.’

  ‘Is that why you’re in such a good mood this morning?’ said Marsh, emboldened by the sight of Romney’s usually well-hidden nice side.

  ‘That’s half of it. You want the other half?’

  ‘If it’s good news. I could do with cheering up.’

  ‘It’s not good news for you, but it’s very good news for me and CID historically.’ Marsh creased her eyebrows. ‘Save me telling it twice, I’d better get Grimes in. Actually, maybe I should get Boudicca down here as well. She’ll probably want to hear it too.

  ‘Before we go down that road, though, let’s talk about developments around Rachael Sparrow’s death. I’ve been thinking about things and the more I think the less I like the way things have been presented to us.’ Marsh sniffed hard but was otherwise silent.

  ‘Mrs Allen didn’t mention anything about the sister coming to the party. I know she didn’t have to know about the women’s arranged reunion but I find it hard to believe she wouldn’t have. I can’t imagine Stephanie wouldn’t have mentioned it, can you?’ Marsh made a face indicating non-committal. ‘Even when it transpired it was not Stephanie Lather on the floor, she didn’t say anything about a sister. Also, how would Rachael Sparrow have managed to get that particular dog’s hairs all over her clothes? You heard her husband – she couldn’t stand them for one thing and if she had that dog’s hair on her she must have come into contact with it and therefore she must have come into contact with Mrs Allen.’

  ‘If Mrs Allen knew something why wouldn’t she volunteer it? What would have been her reason for keeping that kind of information back?’

  ‘To let Stephanie get away?’ said Romney. ‘And now it’s all gone from bad to worse she’s decided to keep her gob shut.’

  ‘Maybe the dog had been in Stephanie Lather’s room earlier,’ said Marsh. ‘That could account for the dog hairs on Rachael’s clothes.’

  ‘Possible, but the way it was shut up in the bathroom and the hotel regulations that were clearly being flouted, I doubt it.’

  ‘We could just ask Mrs Allen and see what she says.’

  ‘We will, don’t worry about that.’

  The way Romney said this gave Marsh to leap to a conclusion of her own: ‘Do you suspect Mrs Allen of being involved in some way?’ She didn’t sound at all convinced.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Romney tapped a biro against his teeth. ‘Why would she be?’

  ‘If she was then that would make her complicit in something,’ said Marsh.

  ‘Or guilty.’

  ‘Of what? Murder? How? Why?’

  ‘Don’t know yet. Maybe nothing, but I’m going to find out. There is something about this whole affair that doesn’t smell right. And then there’s this business about the Temazepam. We know Stephanie Lather wasn’t getting the drug on prescription. I got in touch with the team in charge at her place. There was no trace of the drug in the house anywhere. No bottles lying around near the body or tucked away in a medicine cabinet. Why not? Because the drugs weren’t hers. So where did Stephanie get them from?’

  ‘If the dog had access to them they must have been Mrs Allen’s. Maybe she gave them to her. Or maybe Stephanie helped herself.’

  Romney made the sort of face that indicates an occurrence of a puzzling notion. ‘Temazepam is a prescription drug, right? So how would they come? Probably in a bottle with a childproof top. How would the dog have got the lid off that?’

  ‘That would need checking, sir. Maybe they were in sealed pockets in strips.’

  ‘We still have to take Mrs Allen’s formal statement. Fancy a drive up to see her?’

  ‘Sure. Why not? What about this other bit of good news, sir?’

  ‘Oh, that can wait. Some things are best served cold.’ And he smiled. ‘Call Mrs Allen. Sound routine. Sound bored if you like. I want to catch her at home though.’

  Marsh was back in fifteen minutes. ‘Mrs Allen is working from home this morning. She said she’s meeting a client at eleven and probably won’t be back until the evening.’

  ‘Perfect,’ said Romney. ‘Phone her back and tell her you’re on your way. Don’t mention me.’

  ‘She asked if I was taking her dog back to her.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said I’d have to see. Does she know why the dog was dug up and whisked away under blues and twos?’

  ‘I don’t know. Boudicca dealt with it. One of those things she’s good for I was tel
ling you about. When I collected it we were in a bit of a hurry. I didn’t stop and chat. Now you mention it, I do remember her being quite agitated.’

  ‘I can imagine. Maybe we should be prepared for some awkward questions and an unhappy former dog owner.’

  ‘She’s the one should be worried about awkward questions. Give me a minute to let Boudicca know where we’re off to. She likes to know where I am. I think she’s developing a bit of a thing for me.’

  *

  The journey up to Beckenham was uneventful. This was mostly down to Marsh asking if she could drive. Because of her obviously fragile state of mind, Romney let her, despite finding her driving a little too sedate and conventional for his liking.

  They took the opportunity to churn over the aspects of the case that both interested and puzzled them. They made some idle chit-chat. Nearing the area in which Mrs Allen lived, Romney checked the time and said, ‘You said she’s got an appointment?’

  ‘That’s what she said.’

  ‘Could be we’re going to put pressure on her timetable. Maybe she’ll be in a hurry to get rid of us. That might be to our advantage.’

  ***

  20

  Mrs Allen answered her front door wearing a sharp, black, business trouser suit, a scowl and heels. Her hair was pulled back tightly and fixed behind her head in a bun, giving her features a harsh countenance. She was not an unattractive woman and Romney found himself reflecting on the idea that she had made an unwanted approach of a sexual nature towards Stephanie Lather. It was something that his imagination pounced upon to wonder whether it might have had something to do with the situation that everyone now found themselves in. He’d known lesser reasons for violence and it was common force lore that hell hath no fury like a lesbian scorned.

  After she’d got over her obvious surprise at seeing Romney standing there she said, ‘You’ve left it late, Inspector. Very late. I did tell Sergeant Marsh I have a business appointment. With a very important new client.’ She switched her idea of an intimidating stare between the pair of them as they laboured dumbly on the path two steps below her. Mrs Allen seemed used to being listened to.

  Romney smiled and in the absence of a proper welcome countered with, ‘We’d better get on with it then, Mrs Allen.’ He dropped the cigarette he’d treated himself to after the drive and trod it out. ‘What shall I do with that?’ he said.

  Mrs Allen looked as though she’d like to tell him exactly where he could stick it but settled for, ‘Just leave it.’

  With a huff she moved aside to admit them, told them to wipe their feet, shut the door and led them down a narrow passage towards the kitchen at the rear of the property. There were three other rooms off the hallway and all the doors had been shut, leaving Romney to feel that Mrs Allen didn’t want unwanted visitors prying into her home and her life. What he did see encouraged him to believe she liked order and cleanliness without clutter. If appearances were not intended to deceive, she also wasn’t short of money.

  There was no suggestion anywhere in the hallway or kitchen area that they wandered into to suggest Mrs Allen had children or a significant other in her life.

  Like most people who found the police in their kitchen seeking information and in no tearing hurry for it, she said, ‘You’d better sit down.’ And like many before her the offer seemed grudging. Such receptions were water off a duck’s back for seasoned detectives. She indicated a table for eight in the spacious, contemporary, light and pleasant dining area.

  Romney took his time removing his overcoat, which unsurprisingly seemed to further irritate their hostess. Romney believed he caught her tutting behind him. This did not displease him. Mrs Allen did not offer refreshments.

  When they were settled and Marsh had the necessary paperwork and her digital recorder arranged on the table in front of her, Mrs Allen said, ‘Before we start, Inspector, I would like some answers regarding what the police wanted with my Chloe and when I can expect to have her back for a proper re-burial. I must say I find that whole episode somewhat baffling, intensely upsetting and quite unnecessary. I have had no responses to my enquiries and I am losing what little patience I have left by being continually fobbed off.’

  Romney had decided he would not be entirely truthful with Mrs Allen regarding the matter of Chloe’s seizure by the authorities. He felt that to do so could undermine his own authority and position by making him seem, for want of a better expression, foolish. Hindsight was a wonderful thing when one was cleared of the threat of dying like a mad dog. ‘Your dog is helping the police with our enquiries, Mrs Allen.’

  Mrs Allen looked suitably stunned by this. ‘What can you mean, Inspector? She’s a dog and she’s dead. How on earth can she be helping you with your enquiries – and with regard to what, might I ask?’

  ‘Can we get to that in a minute? It is something I want to discuss with you but before I do I’d very much like to hear what you have say on a couple of other matters.’

  Mrs Allen looked between them but got little out it. She seemed more guarded when she said, ‘Go on.’

  Romney smiled. ‘Can you talk us through your Saturday from the time you and Stephanie came back up to your rooms after the non-event, if I can call it that?’

  ‘You might as well. That’s what it was. A bloody farce.’ She sent an accusing look in Marsh’s direction and got a blank stare back. ‘Stephanie was very upset. Her big day in her hometown had been completely ruined by those spiteful women. She said that she wanted to be alone in her room. I tried to persuade her to share my company. A problem halved and all that. I thought I could help her rationalise what happened; to understand that she was simply the victim of intense semi-professional jealousy, but she was adamant. The best I could get out of her was that we might meet up later, maybe go for a walk on the seafront.’

  Romney was nodding his encouragement while Marsh scratched away. ‘But that never happened?’ said Romney.

  ‘No.’ Mrs Allen allowed the police to see how upsetting the memory was for her.

  ‘Did you take your dog out for a walk at all?’ said Romney.

  ‘Naturally,’ she said, and she looked a little surprised at the question. ‘She had to do her business when I came back upstairs.’

  ‘How did you get her in and out of the hotel without her being seen?’

  ‘I have a big bag and she was always most cooperative. She was an intelligent girl. Why are you so interested in Chloe, Inspector?’

  ‘Did she go into Stephanie’s room,’ said Romney, as if he hadn’t heard her.

  ‘Good lord, no. She’d have had a fit.’

  ‘Didn’t she like dogs?’

  Mrs Allen’s features adopted a look of disdain. ‘She did not.’

  ‘Must’ve run in the family,’ said Romney.

  ‘Pardon.’

  ‘Nothing. Just thinking aloud. So, tell us what happened for you to call the manager.’

  ‘After I got back from my walk with Chloe, I waited in my room – I had some paperwork to busy myself with – and then I went along and tapped on Stephanie’s door. I got no answer and I banged harder. Still nothing. I can’t articulate why, even now I’m not sure what concerned me so, but I was worried that something might have happened, that she might have done herself some harm.’ Mrs Allen permitted a look of sadness at what she had foreseen to trouble her expression. ‘I just had a feeling,’ she said. Romney didn’t press her on that. Mrs Allen sighed heavily, presumably at the curse of her ‘gift’. ‘I tried the door but it was locked. So I went back to my room and called down to reception for the manager. He came quickly with a pass key, opened up and as soon as we saw that poor woman lying there… well, you know the rest.’

  ‘Not really,’ said Romney, seeming inappropriately quite cheerful now. ‘Did you go into the room?’

  ‘Barely. I saw the blood and the damage to the back of her head and, well, I just couldn’t. She was so still. She just looked dead. And there’s nothing I could have done for her even if she�
��d been alive. I’m no good at all in that sort of situation.’

  ‘I suppose if you’d got a closer look you’d have seen that it wasn’t Stephanie,’ said Romney, but it wasn’t a question. Mrs Allen just nodded. ‘Did the manager go in?’

  Mrs Allen shook her head. ‘Hardly. A step or two and then he withdrew and said we should call an ambulance. He secured the door and disappeared downstairs.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I went back to my room and locked the door. If there was some lunatic on the loose in that hotel, as I thought then, I didn’t want to get in his way.’

  ‘Did you know Stephanie had invited her sister along for the day?’ said Romney. Marsh glanced up to see that Romney’s hitherto friendly demeanour had been replaced with something more professional and critical.

  ‘No. She never mentioned it to me. Hang on. Are you saying that the dead woman was her sister?’ Mrs Allen’s eyes were wide with disbelief.

  ‘Yes. Sorry, I thought you knew.’

  ‘But how could I have known? I had no idea Stephanie had a sister. She never said anything to me about one. Oh, it’s terrible. Stephanie killed her sister. But why? Do you know? If nothing else it certainly helps to explain why she was moved to take her own life. What must she have been going through?’

  ‘I really can’t imagine,’ said Romney. ‘I was going to ask you if you’d seen the woman at the hotel, whether she might have visited your room looking for Stephanie. Apparently she was quite late through no fault of her own.’

  ‘Clearly not. I’d have recognised her, wouldn’t I?’

  Romney smiled with great understanding and said, ‘Yes. You would, of course.