Mike was silent and she watched him overtake a parked car whose door was suddenly flung wide open before she continued. ‘And while I’m about it, Mike, there are other things puzzling me.’
He risked a swift glance at her. ‘Such as?’
‘How did Andy Carter know Selkirk had been forced to kneel before he was shot?’
Mike’s profile stiffened.
‘And why is a photograph of Rowena Carter missing?’
Again Mike shrugged. ‘Could mean anything. Maybe it needed new glass or a different frame.’
‘Maybe.’
‘Well, ask them.’
‘I think I might.’ She shook her head. ‘Almost a week into the case, Mike, and we still don’t know much, do we?’
‘We’ve got Gallini’
Her face twisted. ‘Pugh’s got Gallini and she knew he was responsible almost before she got here. That’s not exactly something we can take credit for.’
His face darkened. ‘So where now?’
‘Let’s pay a little surprise visit to the Selkirk homestead.’
The Selkirks’ drive was jammed with cars. Pritchard’s Jaguar was there, Sheila’s Peugeot, and Justin’s old banger. They threaded between them.
Joanna touched the Jaguar. ‘He’s got expensive tastes, hasn’t he?’ It was the only remark she made.
Mike’s rejoinder was crisp. ‘All these cars,’ he said. ‘They’re having a party. I don’t bloody believe it!
‘Call it a reunion of a family.’
The autumn sunshine made the old house glow. The windows caught the light and threw out flames of celebration. The front door stood half open. Mike gave a very soft knock and they walked straight in.
The family was in conference, Pritchard and Sheila sitting together on the sofa, Justin in the corner, Teresa perched on the piano stool and the child sitting in the middle of the floor. It was the child who saw them first. She regarded them gravely but said nothing.
Sheila Selkirk must have caught the movement from the doorway. She whisked her head round, startled.
‘We did knock,’ Joanna said pleasantly. ‘You can’t have heard us.’
There was a remarkable stillness in the room, a stage tableau where everyone was frozen. Even the child seemed to stop breathing.
Pritchard was the first to come back to life. ‘Now look here ...’ He began his bluff.
As usual Sheila Selkirk pulled no punches. ‘Do you know what the total arsehole’s done now?’ she demanded. Without waiting for a reply she continued. ‘I shall contest, of course.’
Joanna guessed. ‘It wouldn’t be anything to do with a will, would it?’ It seemed the only means of her husband’s exerting any influence over her now.
Sheila Selkirk looked at her suspiciously. ‘You knew?’
‘We hadn’t got round to checking it. That was just a wild guess.’
Surprisingly it was Justin who spoke up next, breathing hard down his nostrils. ‘After the devastation of my father’s brutal and merciless murder,’ he began in his nasal whine, ‘he has hit us,’ he said, flinging out his arms, ‘from beyond the grave.’
At the sudden movement the child flinched.
Joanna spoke briskly. ‘Would anyone like to tell me what’s happened?’
It was left to Sheila Selkirk. ‘That absolute bastard. You’ll never guess where he’s left his money.’
Joanna raised her eyebrows.
‘To that po-faced, painted bimbo,’ she said, ‘that affected, lying little bitch. If I ever get my hands around her neck. Winding her legs round my husband.’
Mike moved forward. Just for the record, Mrs Selkirk, what would you do when you had your hands around her neck?’
For the first time Sheila Selkirk hesitated, seemed to realize what she was saying. She recovered herself quickly. ‘I shall contest,’ she repeated. ‘Even if her father is a bloody solicitor. So am I’ She Stared at Joanna. ‘For your information, Inspector, and before you hear it elsewhere, my husband decided to leave his money – all of his money – to the Wilde spawn, the woman who masquerades as his mistress.’ Her eyes moved around the room, ‘Thank God I have my family,’ she said quietly and with surprising dignity.
Right on cue Teresa Selkirk struggled to her feet. She moved towards Sheila, put her arms around her and pressed her cheek against Sheila’s face.
Joanna could almost hear the stage direction. This happy family was about as real as the cardboard game. There was a strong scent of manipulation. But who was manipulating whom?
Justin seemed to feel some explanation was necessary. ‘After the awful events and the...’ he passed a hand across his brow, ‘simply disgusting conditions my own family was forced to accept,’ he said, ‘my mother invited us to come and live with her.’
Sheila nodded. ‘And as soon as the dust has settled,’ she gave a fond glance at Pritchard, ‘Tony and I will get married.’
Pritchard stared at the floor.
‘The dust won’t settle, Mrs Selkirk,’ Joanna took great delight in the tide, ‘until your husband’s killer has been brought to justice.’
Sheila Selkirk gave a smug smile. ‘But you already have him, don’t you? The Italian?’
‘We have him, Mrs Selkirk,’ Mike said. ‘We don’t have the person who paid him to murder your husband, and we don’t have the person responsible for the murder of Yolande Prince – yet.’
‘Oh, the nurse.’ Sheila looked bored.
‘Yes, the nurse,’ Joanna echoed.
Something in Sheila’s eyes flickered. She swallowed. ‘Look,’ she said irritably, ‘you saw the letter Jonathan received that precipitated his heart attack. He’d had them before. It’s obvious the whole business was connected with that unfortunate little girl he knocked down.’ The family all nodded in agreement.
‘We’re certainly pursuing all enquiries,’ Joanna said calmly. ‘So, while I’m here, where were you all on Tuesday?’
‘I was here,’ Sheila said first, ‘as you well know. I stayed here all bloody day, waiting for news of my husband.’ She had great difficulty saying the words.
‘Mr Selkirk?’
‘I was at work. Lots of people saw me.’
‘People like Lou-lou?’ Mike was having trouble keeping his face straight.
‘She, and others,’ Justin said haughtily. The public school education hadn’t been a complete waste of money, then. He could still turn on the autocrat. For the second time Joanna had caught a glimpse of his father in him. It was no prettier a sight this time round.
Teresa flicked a length of cigarette ash into the dish. ‘I was at an ante-natal appointment,’ she volunteered quietly, ‘at the hospital.’
'What time was your appointment, Mrs Selkirk?’
‘Eleven o’clock, but you’re there all bloody day. Ask any of the midwives.’ She ground out her cigarette and gave the police officers a secretive smile.
‘And you, Mr Pritchard?’
‘Golf.’ He gave an embarrassed laugh. ‘Round of golf, lunch, another round of golf. Plenty of witnesses.’
Joanna frowned. How the hell did Tony Pritchard make his living?’
‘Why are you asking about Tuesday?’ Sheila barked. ‘My husband was dragged from his hospital bed on Monday, in the night.’
‘And the nurse was strangled a couple of hours after talking to us on Tuesday morning,’ Mike put in.
Joanna studied the ring of faces. They were waiting and watching. Alert like little foxes who hear the distant baying of hounds. Ready to start running and dodging. Even the child had scrambled to her feet now and was leaning slightly forward as though waiting for the starter’s pistol.
The thought flashed through Joanna’s mind. They had all wanted Selkirk dead. Everyone in this room had hated him. The question was, had any one of them wanted him dead enough?
Justin Selkirk, with his pale face, bent shoulders, nervous, twitching eyes? Had he been the one to tease his father with that letter?
Joanna’s eyes swive
lled round to take in the calm, Madonna-like Teresa, her hands still cradling her unborn child. Had she hated her father-in-law enough to arrange for a killer to visit him, showing no pity even after he’d suffered a heart attack?
And Sheila Selkirk, with her strong, confident features, so sure of herself except in the area of her marriage.
Tony Pritchard, a man Joanna suspected of having expensive tastes without the visible means to pay for them?
For sure, none of them would betray the other. There was tangible solidarity in this room that even extended to the child, Lucy, now sitting quietly on the floor, her saucer eyes fixed on Joanna.
She cast around for some wedge to divide the family. Surely that was the answer – to somehow separate their individual self-interest? In desperation she lunged blindly. ‘Did you know Michael Frost?’
‘We didn’t know him.’ Sheila spoke angrily for all of them. ‘We knew who he was. This is a small town, Inspector Piercy. Bad news travels. The entire Carter case was given full coverage for a second time. His suicide gave rise to yet another avalanche of lurid headlines ... second tragedy and all that.’
She dismissed them with the tilt of her head. ‘We knew the name, nothing more. Certainly not one of us ever met the man’ There was not a trace of emotion towards the dead man or his predicament even though her own husband had been indirectly responsible. Joanna would gain nothing here.
She gave up. ‘Well, thank you, all of you,’ she said pleasantly. ‘It’s been most interesting.’
Chapter Sixteen
They sat outside the house for a full five minutes before Mike made his comment. ‘Well, that was a right waste of time, wasn’t it?’
‘Really, Mike?’ She raised her eyebrows mockingly. ‘I’m surprised at you. We’ve learned something all right. We’ve learned where Jonathan Selkirk left his money, haven’t we?’
‘And what does that tell us?’
‘Well, it’s worth following up at least.’
He started up the engine.
Selkirk & Wilde looked no less prosperous today than it had on their first visit, with its elegant, Georgian façade.
‘It looks about the last place on earth to be investigated by the Fraud Squad,’ Mike remarked.
‘Which only proves how deceptive appearances can be.’ Joanna pushed open the door.
Apparently the death of one of its partners had not had a detrimental effect on business. A couple were sitting in the foyer facing Samantha.
She was no longer dressed in mourning but in a scarlet miniskirt and lots of gold jewellery.
She met Joanna’s eyes boldly.
‘I feel I ought to congratulate you, Miss Wilde,’ Joanna said smoothly, ‘on your excellent fortune. Now can we go somewhere private, please, to talk?’
The blonde’s eyes flickered and suddenly she looked younger, less sure of herself. And Joanna wondered how big a part Daddy had played in her luck. She led the two officers to a small ante room.
‘Tell me, how much do you think your inheritance is worth?’
“I don’t know. I really haven’t a clue.’ Her innocent eyes met Joanna’s. ‘I didn’t think ... Not for a moment. It was a complete surprise.’
‘I’m sure.’ The girl pouted. Sticky red lips dropped. From beauty to the grotesque in one swift move. Joanna watched her curiously. Glamour, not beauty, had been this girl’s calling card. She was not a natural. She would need that money.
The girl blinked. ‘Mrs Selkirk ...’ she began.
‘Ah yes, Mrs Selkirk,’ Joanna said. ‘I don’t think she’s very pleased with you.’
Mike spoke from behind her. ‘Says you were having it off with her husband.’
The girl was quick to defend her honour. ‘No,’ she protested. ‘No, absolutely not. We never did.’
‘Just a little harmless flirtation?’ Joanna ploughed on ruthlessly. ‘Titillation?’
‘You’ve no right to say that.’ Rufus Wilde was standing in the doorway, wearing a threatening solicitor’s hard face. If you’re insinuating ...’
‘I’m just curious,’ Joanna said, ‘about why Jonathan Selkirk left all his money to your daughter.’ She was past caring about people’s feelings. ‘What was she giving him that was worth so much?’
‘I don’t like your tone, Inspector.’ Wilde’s eyes narrowed. ‘He was fond of her. We were far more of a family to him than ever his own were. He liked my daughter.’
‘Liked?’ Mike’s jaw squared. ‘I like lots of people,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t dream of leaving them my money.’
Joanna cleared her throat. ‘You see, Mr and Miss Wilde.’ And again she was reminded of the game of Happy Families. Mr and Miss Wilde. But they wouldn’t be cast as solicitors, would they? ‘Selkirk leaving all his money to you is an anomaly,’ she paused, ‘if you were no more to each other than friends. After all, this is a double murder we are investigating.’
Father looked at daughter. ‘Did you know Mr Selkirk was intending to leave his money to you?’
She shook her head and couldn’t resist a swift glance at her father. For what? – approval?
He gave an almost imperceptible nod.
‘And where were you both the morning of last Tuesday?’
‘Here,’ they answered swiftly in unison.
Rufus Wilde cleared his throat. ‘With Jonathan in hospital we had a lot of extra work here,’ he explained. ‘Someone had to manage the business.’
‘Ah yes,’ Joanna said. ‘The business.’ She watched Rufus Wilde carefully. ‘The business currently under investigation by the Serious Fraud Office. Tell me, Mr Wilde, as a solicitor. If Mrs Selkirk were to contest her husband’s will, would she stand a chance of winning the case?’
He cleared his throat. ‘My daughter had considered making some sort of a settlement...’ he began.
‘To shut her up?’ Joanna said sharply. ‘Just answer the question, please.’
‘Under current law,’ the solicitor began, ‘a person’s will is carried out, unless it can be proved he or she was of unsound mind when making out the will.’
Joanna derived some satisfaction from the fact that Rufus Wilde was patently uncomfortable. Good. It suited him.
‘And was he?’ Mike asked brusquely. Wilde stared at them. He opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again.
‘I see,’ Joanna said pleasantly. ‘The three monkeys – see, hear, say nothing. But we both know, don’t we, Mr Wilde? Selkirk was not of unsound mind when he made that will and you know it will be contested in a court of law, don’t you?’
Wilde nodded.
‘A wife can surely claim half, can’t she? So any sum you gave Sheila Selkirk would be a token – nothing else – something to try to keep her away from the courts.’ Joanna thought for a minute, her brain working overtime. ‘And of course your daughter, I presume, is an employee of Selkirk & Wilde rather than a partner. And as such could not be liable for the firm’s debts of corruption. Neat trick,’ she said blandly. ‘Provided Jonathan Selkirk’s assets were not seized by the SFO.’
‘Now look here.’ Wilde was rattled now. Joanna could not suppress a quick, triumphant grin at Mike. ‘Jonathan was entitled to leave his money wherever he liked,’ Rufus Wilde said. ‘He chose to leave it to my daughter, someone he had grown very fond of in the course of his work.’
The blonde was blinking rapidly, her head turning from one to the other in an attempt to follow the conversation. ‘When was the will dated, Mr Wilde?’
‘Last month,’ Wilde said a little less confidently.
‘I see. Well, thank you very much. You’ve been a great help.’
‘Is that all?’ Wilde demanded. ‘I’ve got a business to run.’
‘Yes, that’s all.’ But she couldn’t resist a Parthian shot. ‘Good luck with the SFO,’ she said. ‘I’ve heard they like to cook their pound of flesh before they eat it.’ She didn’t even look back to see what effect her words had had but left the doors swinging behind her.
She fe
lt good.
They headed back to the station.
Joanna settled behind her desk and spoke to Mike and Dawn Critchlow. ‘I’ve plenty of ideas now,’ she said. ‘I’d just like one more detail. Have we got the forensic report on the letter sent to Wilde the morning he died?’
He handed it to her. ‘Arrived this morning,’ he said. ‘Confirmed it was done on a different machine from the original letters. That’s the official verdict.’
‘Good,’ Joanna smiled. ‘I was hoping it would be.’
She had both their attentions now. ‘The boys have done a bit of probing into Justin Selkirk’s financial affairs. He sold his house six months ago.’
‘Negative equity,’ Mike muttered, but Dawn had something up her sleeve.
‘That isn’t true,’ she said. ‘He sold the house for thirty- eight thousand pounds. His mortgage was only thirty.’ Joanna gaped. ‘But ...’ She was conjuring up the sordid, cramped interior of the caravan.
‘You tell me,’ Dawn said, ‘but according to Constable Phil Scott there aren’t eight thousand pounds in his bank account now.’
‘Well, well, well.’ Mike looked pleased. ‘Looks like we have someone wriggling in the bag’
Joanna shot him a warning glance.
Dawn hesitated before pulling something out from behind her back. ‘There’s something else you should see. I saw it at the local newsagent’s.’
She dropped a magazine on the desk. A woman’s magazine with a photograph on the front of a pretty, laughing child. Slashed across the picture was a caption. Rowena Carter, five years old, another child killed by a drunk driver. And underneath in smaller black letters was added, And he got away with it – or did he? Read inside for full story.
Joanna looked up. ‘So that’s where the picture of Rowena Carter had disappeared to. I was wondering.’
She opened the magazine. The article bore Ann Carter’s name at the bottom, a picture of her tearful face, her husband’s arms wrapped around her. Joanna read through the article twice. There was a certain tone to it, gloating, malicious but less vindictive than she would have imagined. At the end was a picture of Selkirk and a brief description of the events at Gallows Wood. The last sentence contained the predictable words, ‘just desserts’.
And None Shall Sleep Page 19
