The DI Tremayne Thriller Box Set

by Phillip Strang

  ‘The sign out the front says open 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. I’m here as a member of the general public.’

  ‘Not to us, you’re not. You’re just a shameless hussy aiming to take our Gary from us.’

  ‘From what I can see, it’ll be your maker taking you first.’

  Gary Barker stood to one side, observing the spectacle. He’d taken enough abuse from them over the years. It was good to see them getting some back.

  ‘How dare you mock the Lord.’

  ‘I could tell you more about your religion than you’ll ever know. You’re a hypocritical bastard, you and that fool Mason.’

  ‘Gordon Mason was a God-fearing man.’

  ‘He was a misogynist bigot. I assume you know what a misogynist is?’

  ‘Don’t get smart with me. Get off my property.’

  ‘It’ll be Gary’s soon.’

  ‘You can’t wait, can you, to get your hands on his money?’

  ‘I can get my hands on him anytime. His money’s not important, although we’ll gladly accept it.’

  ‘Over my dead body, it’ll be.’

  ‘Not long to go then,’ Cheryl said.

  ‘You’d better go, Cheryl,’ Gary said.

  ‘I’m off. See you later, lover.’

  The two lovers shared a passionate kiss and embrace in front of the father. The man seethed. For once, Gary was not concerned.

  ***

  Phillip Dennison arrived home to find his wife sitting quietly in one corner of the sitting room; she was reading a book. ‘You’re not going out?’ he said.

  ‘Looking like this?’

  ‘No one will notice.’

  ‘A black eye and a cut lip, they will.’

  Dennison was in a good mood. He had checked his latest trades on the drive back from Freestone’s office to the house: his luck had changed and he had recouped his losses. Also, his wife had received what was long overdue: a good beating.

  It had been the same with his previous women. At first, they were grateful they had been lifted from the mediocrity of an office or a shop, the mediocrity of men with no money, the mediocrity of suburbia. With them, as with Samantha, their gratitude had lasted for a few months, a few years, and then came the demand for a better life, the ability to forget where they had come from, and then they were off and spending, not willing to give him the time he required.

  With Samantha, he felt an affinity, a desire to keep her, but they had come at a cost. He had had to threaten her with a letter from Chris Dowling, a couple of smacks across the face, and the separation from her beloved Aston Martin. He hoped it was sufficient.

  ‘We’re going out tonight,’ he said.

  ‘What for?’ the woman replied, without much enthusiasm.

  ‘To celebrate. Our troubles are over.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. I want you to stay, that’s all.’

  ‘I’ll try to be more careful in future,’ Samantha said.

  Phillip Dennison knew she would not, but it did not matter. A solution had been found, not of his own doing. From now on, he’d keep a watch on his wife. If she stepped out of line, then he knew the answer. If she considered being unfaithful in future, then he would know how to stop it. He thanked Fiona Dowling for inadvertently providing the solution.

  ***

  Peter Freestone visited Bill Ford at his place of work. The man, as usual, was busy. ‘You didn’t meet with us,’ Freestone said.

  ‘Geoff Pearson’s dead,’ Ford said.

  ‘Len Dowling must have known about him and Fiona.’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘I’ve known Fiona a long time. The woman has needs. Len’s a braggart, not much substance,’ Ford said.

  ‘You know Fiona better than I do.’

  ‘I do. And Cheryl.’

  ‘Did Geoff Pearson kill Mason?’

  ‘For what reason? Geoff may have been playing with fire, but I don’t see him killing the man.’

  ‘Mason may have known about him and Fiona.’

  ‘He may have, but Geoff was a young guy making out with an older woman. It’s not something for him to worry about. Fiona would have been more concerned to keep the relationship secret, but as I said, I’ve known her a long time. She’s smart, weighs up the pros and cons.’

  ‘The police said that Pearson’s death may have been an accident,’ Freestone said.

  ‘She’d be capable of anything to protect her life. Back when she was younger, she enticed Cheryl into our bed.’

  ‘Why are you telling me this?’

  ‘I know you’ll keep it confidential. What Fiona wants, she gets.’

  ‘You think she’ll get off a murder charge?’

  ‘We’ve walked around the old cathedral in the past, you and I. Maybe she pushed him, a gentle shove, slap around the face, or maybe she pushed him hard.’

  ‘We’ll never know, nor will the police.’

  ‘She couldn’t have killed Gordon Mason.’

  ‘I agree with you on that. If there were two men on that stage, then two had a reason. I wouldn’t discount Fiona having some involvement, even if it was in the background.’

  ‘Len?’

  ‘It’s possible.’

  ‘Jimmy Francombe, Gary Barker, Trevor Winston?’

  ‘Even us two,’ Bill Ford said.

  ‘It’s not one of us,’ Freestone said.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I’ve no reason to kill him.’

  ‘Would you know if you had stabbed him with a real dagger?’

  ‘I’m certain I would have. And besides, he was still alive when he staggered over to me.’

  ‘I know that, so do the police.’

  ‘But he spoke?’

  ‘Did he? You could have uttered the line. Would anyone have known?’

  ‘Bill, you’ve spent too long in here with these bodies. That’s just fanciful nonsense. I had no reason to kill him, and I was not after Fiona or Dennison’s wife. I’ve been happily married for too long.’

  ‘So you keep telling us. Are you trying to convince yourself, or did you fancy Fiona? She’s a good-looking woman, and Dennison’s wife is a knockout. I fancied her, I know that.’

  ‘I thought you were a one-woman man?’

  ‘I was,’ Ford said, ‘but the nights get lonely sometimes.’

  ‘Get out of this place,’ Freestone said. ‘It’s making you crazy.’

  ‘Maybe it is, but I have my suspicions.’

  ‘What are they?’

  ‘I’ll keep them to myself for now.’

  ***

  Fiona Dowling, finally released on her own surety, retreated to her house. Tremayne still had his suspicions that she had known what she was doing, and there had been some moonlight that night.

  Superintendent Moulton was suitably displeased at what had happened, as one murderer had been better than none. It was clear that Pearson’s death, unfortunate as it was, was not related to the primary death of Gordon Mason. Pearson, whereas he may have been involved in the murder of Gordon Mason, had not died as a result of that, although knowledge of his affair may well have been the catalyst for Mason’s death.

  Clare was willing to give Fiona Dowling the benefit of the doubt, as in her teens she had experienced the anguish of being discarded by a young man at her school. She had not contemplated either hitting him or pushing him to his death, but she remembered the hurt she had felt. Fiona Dowling was married, supposedly happily, but then, Clare wondered, what was happiness: an illusion or was it tangible? She had felt happiness with Harry, but would it have been eternal, or was that just a fleeting fancy?

  She realised that she had been in mourning for long enough. It was time to embrace the world again; hopefully to find love.

  Fiona Dowling, keeping a low profile after her release, was quiet for a few days. The local newspaper had recorded Pearson’s death as an accident, and it was likely that the coroner would as well, the altercation mentioned but not deemed relevant. There�
��d be an inquest, but it would not last long. Jim Hughes, in his role as the crime scene examiner, would be required to give evidence. His report had shown that there was clear evidence of two people standing on the lip of the drop and that the shoe prints indicated that one was facing towards the other in a stance that was suspicious. Apart from that, there was no proof. The woman, her shoe prints checked and found to match those at the scene, would be required to give evidence. Clare wondered how she’d be able to square that with her friends, although she assumed she would.

  After an absence of a few days, Len Dowling was back in his office, his agency signs visible around the city. Clare had received a price for the cottage she had been leasing in Stratford sub Castle. The purchase would not need Dowling, and she was anxious to keep his grubby hands away from the deal.

  The Deer’s Head, Harry’s pub, reopened with the appropriate fanfare. Neither Tremayne nor Clare attended the ceremony, although Clare realised that she could drive past the place without feeling the tears welling up in her eyes.

  Eventually, Fiona Dowling reappeared in the city. Clare first saw her in Guildhall Square parking her car, and then she was at Winston’s getting her hair done. From what Clare could see, the woman was without shame. The dramatic society knew about her affair, as did her husband, and no doubt there were others.

  Clare decided a visit to the woman’s house was in order. ‘I’ve just a few questions,’ she said, after being invited in.

  ‘I’ve moved on from Old Sarum.’

  ‘You’ve admitted to an altercation.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How have you explained that to your friends?’

  ‘They understand.’

  ‘Understand what? That you had an argument with your ex-lover?’

  ‘It gives me a sense of mystique.’

  ‘If they accept that, then they’re not worth your time.’

  ‘You’ll not understand. I need them, even if they are vacuous and empty-headed.’

  ‘And loaded with money.’

  ‘As you say, loaded with money. Cheryl may be willing to live like a pauper, I’m not.’

  ‘Your husband’s business?’

  ‘It’s doing well.’

  ‘And your husband?’

  ‘He understands.’

  ‘Is he willing to accept that you were having sexual relations with another man?’

  ‘He was angry, but I’ve fixed it with him.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I’ve promised to devote myself to him.’

  ‘Will you?’

  ‘He’s a weak man. He needs a strong woman. Whatever I say, he will agree.’

  ‘Even if it’s not true.’

  ‘Even then.’

  ‘Did Geoff Pearson kill Gordon Mason to protect you?’

  ‘I didn’t need his help.’

  ‘Did he know that Mason was trying to blackmail you?’

  ‘I never told him. I don’t need a man to do my dirty work. If Mason had persisted, I would have dealt with him.’

  ‘Murder?’

  ‘Not murder. The man may have convinced other people that he was honest, but I knew him for the charlatan that he was.’

  ‘Will it implicate your husband? Is it to do with the land deal?’

  ‘It cannot be proved.’

  ‘We’ve found no evidence.’

  ‘You won’t. And besides, I’ve no intention of telling you any more.’

  ‘Why did you tell me?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe I’m upset by recent events. Maybe I needed to clear my conscience.’

  ‘Or maybe you want to pre-empt my questioning, knowing full well that you knew about the drop over the side of the old cathedral at Old Sarum, that you wanted Geoff Pearson dead for the hurt he had caused you. Is this talk of Mason’s blackmail just a red herring, aiming to divert the blame from you? To make you look like the victim instead of the villain? Mrs Dowling, I put it to you, that you murdered Geoff Pearson for no other reason than anger at the man who had spurned you.’

  ‘That’s a scurrilous lie. I invite you into my house, show you cordiality, and then you accuse me of murder.’

  ‘Why not? You’re a devious woman. You could have been the instigator of Mason’s death, if not the person holding the dagger.’

  ‘Leave, leave this house immediately. I will need to talk to my solicitor about this. I’m a private citizen being subjected to police brutality.’

  ‘Mrs Dowling, this is not police brutality. And if you feel the need to take action, and we subsequently find you guilty of the murder of Geoff Pearson, and an accomplice in the murder of Gordon Mason, it will reflect badly on you.’

  ‘It wasn’t me.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I didn’t kill Gordon Mason. I wasn’t involved.’

  ‘Then who was?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Chapter 21

  Clare found Tremayne sitting at his desk on her return to the station. The man for once was quiet. ‘What is it, guv?’

  ‘This weekend. I’m meeting up with my ex-wife.’

  ‘What’s the problem?’

  ‘I’ve been on my own for a long time. I’m used to doing as I please.’

  ‘Too long being selfish. If you’re both free, both lonely, then there’s no harm done?’

  ‘I’m not lonely.’

  ‘Of course you are. What have you got in your life? A television, a pint of beer, a few old horses that can barely run, and me.’

  ‘You?’

  ‘This department then. You’re getting on. It’ll be good to have company.’

  ‘For when I become old and senile, is that how you see it, Yarwood? You and Moulton, both of you see me as past it.’

  ‘A little bit of fire there, guv.’

  ‘Are you winding me up?’

  ‘You know I am. Anyway, we need to talk.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Fiona Dowling, the death of two members of the Salisbury Amateur Dramatic Society.’

  ‘What about Fiona Dowling?’

  ‘I’ve been to see her.’

  ‘What does she have to say for herself.’

  ‘She’s a tough woman. If she had been on that stage, she could have killed him.’

  ‘But she wasn’t.’

  Tremayne raised himself from his seat. Clare’s comments had struck home. He was the person who created the action, not her. ‘What’s first, Yarwood?’

  ‘Len Dowling. We need to understand the man. His wife has spent time in custody, has been accused of murder, and he must know that she had been sleeping with Pearson.’

  ‘He’d be an odd individual if he accepted his wife sleeping around. Where is he?’

  ‘We’ll find him back at work.’

  The two police officers left the police station, Tremayne driving for once.

  They found the estate agent in his office. ‘Mr Dowling, a few questions,’ Tremayne said.

  ‘Don’t you ever give up? I’ve got a busy schedule,’ Dowling said.

  ‘So do we. We need to talk to you about your wife.’

  ‘She’s at home. You can talk to her there.’

  ‘It’s your views that are important.’

  ‘Okay, twenty minutes.’

  The three retreated to an office at the rear of the agency. Out front, three agents were on the phone or talking to anyone who walked through the door.

  ‘Mr Dowling, your wife was arrested on suspicion of murder.’

  ‘Yes, I know this.’

  ‘Do you know why she was suspected?’

  ‘If you want me to say that she was involved with Pearson, then I will.’

  ‘Was she?’

  ‘I know about it.’

  ‘How do you feel that your wife is unfaithful?’

  ‘What do you want me to say?’

  ‘It’s not what we want you to say. We want to know your reaction.’

  ‘Angry, bloody angry. Does that satisfy you?’

&
nbsp; ‘You’re not very convincing,’ Clare said. ‘Did you know or did you suspect?’

  ‘I know Fiona. I’ve always been hopeful that she’d stay faithful, but I’ve never been certain.’

  ‘When it was confirmed, it did not come as a big shock.’

  ‘It was a shock, but I was not surprised, or not much. No man wants to know that his wife is cheating, it’s a blow to the ego, but I will tell you one thing, I will not give up on my wife.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I love her. We built this business up together, and she was here in the early days working horrendous hours. Our history runs deep, and if the cost is the occasional infatuation, then I must accept.’

  ‘That’s a magnanimous attitude,’ Clare said.

  ‘It’s not magnanimous. It’s the reality.’

  ‘Were you aware that Gordon Mason was attempting to blackmail your wife?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What would you have done if you had known?’

  ‘Are you asking if I would have killed him?’

  ‘Would you?’

  ‘I would have threatened the man. I’d have asked my brother to pressure him.’

  ‘And what does your brother think of your forgiving your wife?’

  ‘I’ve not forgiven her; I’ve been forced to accept it.’

  ‘Your brother?’

  ‘He thinks I’m a fool and that I should get a backbone.’

  ‘Do you agree with him?’

  ‘He’s right, no doubt, but I’m not going to give up on Fiona.’

  ‘If you had known that Gordon Mason was pressuring your wife, that would be a motive for murder.’

  ‘I didn’t know, and I didn’t kill Mason.’

  Tremayne and Clare left the office, walking past Harry’s old pub. They could see the patrons inside, a new publican behind the bar. Neither made a comment.

  ‘Why would the woman continue to go to the rehearsals, take part in the play, if one of the men was blackmailing her? It makes no sense,’ Tremayne said.

  ‘You’d think she would have kept away,’ Clare said.

  ‘And even then, she was maintaining cordial relations with him.’

  ‘Do you think she had given in to his demands?’

  ‘With Fiona Dowling, who knows?’