The DI Tremayne Thriller Box Set

by Phillip Strang

  ‘Sherlock Holmes had a crusty doctor for an assistant, you’ve got Clare,’ his former wife had said.

  ‘She’s a good police officer,’ Tremayne had offered in his defence, but it wasn’t necessary, he knew that. He had two women in his life who cared about him, two up on what it had been for many years.

  ‘We know the same weapon killed the two people, and then, there’s Claude Selwood’s accident which resulted in his death.’

  ‘It doesn’t necessarily point to just the one person.’

  ‘But who gained from their deaths?’

  ‘No one, at least not legally. Marge Selwood has benefited to some extent that she’s back in the main house, and she’s back to mothering the family.’

  ‘A strong enough reason to kill Cathy Selwood?’

  ‘She’s a driven woman.’

  ‘So was Cathy Selwood.’

  ‘A battle of the Titans, is that it?’

  ‘Why not? Mind you, it doesn’t explain the death of Old Ted.’

  Tremayne knew the situation in Coombe was raw and the murders could well continue, and then, there was the issue of a new owner of the farm and the house, if Gordon Selwood died. The two police officers got back into Clare’s car and drove to Coombe.

  The main house was empty apart from Marge Selwood. ‘They’ve taken Gordon down the pub.’

  ‘Nicholas and William?’

  ‘Yes. There was no point him moping around here.’

  ‘Have you moved back in?’

  ‘I have for Gordon.’

  ‘Mrs Selwood, Gordon was married once before, there was a child. Do you know where they are?’ Clare said.

  ‘It’s been a long time. Claude agreed to Gordon marrying the girl. Nicholas and William don’t know the full story.’

  ‘What do they know?’

  ‘Not a lot, only that Gordon made a local girl pregnant.’

  ‘They must have known the girl.’

  ‘Not really. Gordon was older, and William was just approaching puberty. Nicholas was starting to be interested in women, a few posters on his bedroom wall, but that was it.’

  ‘Do you know where this woman is now?’

  ‘She was talking to Sergeant Yarwood at Old Ted’s funeral. I could see them up the road.’

  ‘You recognised her?’ Clare said.

  ‘There’s a mysterious woman in conversation with a police officer, keeping a watch on us going and coming. Who else could it be? Where did you find her?’

  ‘We didn’t find her, she found us. Someone tried to kill Gordon’s son. Was it you, Mrs Selwood?’

  ‘How dare you! I love Gordon. Why would I do such a thing?’

  ‘Because you love Nicholas and William more. If Gordon dies, who inherits this place?’

  ‘The eldest son, Nicholas.’

  ‘But he’s not the eldest son of the eldest son, is he? If Gordon and Rose Fletcher were legally married at the time of the child’s birth and the child were male, then he would inherit. Is this how it works?’

  ‘That is what Claude’s last will and testament said.’

  ‘And you did not manage to change it in time, did you?’

  ‘Gordon’s not cut out for the farmer’s life. His bitch wife would have run the place, but Nicholas and William are the best people to look after the family’s inheritance. If Gordon changes his will, then the son is excluded.’

  ‘But if he dies before, then Rose Fletcher’s son takes control.’

  ‘Do you have a copy of Gordon’s will?’ Clare asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Does Gordon?’

  ‘Probably not, but he’s hardly likely to leave anything to a child he’s never met,’ Marge said.

  ‘Then without a will, the law will probably decree that the child of Gordon and Rose is entitled to inherit, and you know this.’

  ‘I know it, but Gordon wasn’t listening to me, not with Cathy around.’

  ‘You have the best motive for her murder.’

  Clare looked over at Tremayne; she could see that the man should be convalescing, not out in the field. Without anyone else, it was for her to look after him.

  ‘It was in that damn churchyard where he made her pregnant.’

  ‘Cathy?’

  ‘No, Rose,’ Marge Selwood said. Clare was pleased. The woman was becoming rattled. Tremayne lifted his head, looked at Clare. She could see that he wanted her to keep up the pressure.

  ‘Mrs Selwood, Rose Fletcher has been living not far from here for many years, and you’re telling me you never knew,’ Clare said. ‘I put it to you that you not only knew her whereabouts, but you were also keeping a watch, assuming that one day, her son would cause trouble.’

  ‘Those are scurrilous accusations.’

  ‘They are not scurrilous. Mrs Selwood, you run this house as if it was your own fiefdom with your children as lackeys to do your bidding. Nicholas and William are your favourites, don’t deny it. And they do what they’re told. With them, you’re safe, even if Nicholas has the title to this house and the farm.’

  ‘This is slanderous. I’ll sue.’

  ‘For what? This is a police investigation, and there has just been a murder, the second in as many weeks, and the guilty party is you. Maybe you didn’t pull the trigger, but Nicholas and William could have. Should we take them to the police station and interview them? They’re not up to your deviousness; they’ll break, and then the whole sorry saga of what you’ve been doing will become clear.’

  ‘Please leave my house.’

  ‘Are you willing to confess to the murder of Old Ted and Cathy Selwood? Can you offer anything in your defence?’

  ‘I did not kill them. Yes, okay. I did know that Rose Fletcher, although she calls herself Rose Goode, is not far from here, and that her son is bright, no doubt a credit to his mother, but he is the spawn of two teenagers in a churchyard. The child has no right to this place.’

  ‘Yet, the children of someone who prostituted herself is?’

  ‘That was a long time ago. It’s something I regret.’

  ‘Do your children know of your dubious past?’

  ‘No, and that’s how I want it to stay. I have served this family, this community, all of my adult life, and Claude had no reason to complain.’

  ‘Is Gordon Selwood the child of Claude Selwood? The dates of your marriage and his birth are very close.’

  ‘He is. I was pregnant when we married.’

  ‘Back of the churchyard, the same as Gordon and Rose, is that it? Mrs Selwood, you’re not handling yourself very well here.’

  Clare looked over at Tremayne. The man was looking better, enjoying the spectacle of the two women. He knew that his sergeant had the woman on the ropes. He was waiting for the knockout blow.

  ‘I admit to what I’d done in the past, it is not something that I’m proud of.’

  ‘Please don’t give us that nonsense. You’re a woman who does not regret. To you, sleeping with men for money did not concern you, although it probably did Cathy. She was a good woman, better than you. You wanted her dead, the same as you wanted Old Ted, although we don’t know why he had to die, or maybe he knew that Gordon wasn’t your son. Had he found out something that you had not? If Gordon is not the legitimate son, then Nicholas may well have a stronger claim. You could have argued the case in court, maybe even won, but now, you’re going to jail for murder. How do you plead, Mrs Selwood?’

  Tremayne knew he could not have done it better.

  Marge Selwood sat down at the kitchen table. She placed her face in her hands. ‘Gordon is Claude’s son, and I did not kill Old Ted, nor Cathy, and yes, she was a capable woman. I did not fire pellets at Claude. I may be many things, but I’m not a murderer. You will need to look elsewhere for an answer.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Selwood. We will be back,’ Clare said.

  Tremayne and Clare walked out of the door and towards Clare’s car. ‘You were tough in there,’ Tremayne said.

  ‘Not as tough as I inten
d to be with you. I’m taking you home and putting you to bed. I don’t want to see you in the office until tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Who’s in charge, you or me?’ Tremayne said half-heartedly. He had seen the mettle of his sergeant, and he had been impressed.

  ‘You’re not fit for duty; you’re being stood down.’

  ‘I’m in your hands, Sergeant. What about Marge Selwood?’

  ‘She’s felt the heat. We need to keep a watch on her from now on.’

  ‘Murderer?’

  ‘You can think about that in your bed,’ Clare said.

  Chapter 11

  Clare looked around the office at Bemerton Road, realising that without Tremayne it was a dreary place. She had liked Cathy Selwood, and now the woman was dead. It was unlikely that it was either Rose Goode or her son who were responsible, Clare thought. He was still too young and had only just been released from the hospital. And Rose Goode had no history of involvement with the family for many years; in fact, she had gone out of her way to keep her distance from them.

  As Superintendent Moulton came down the corridor, no doubt delighted to hear that Tremayne was starting to show his age and had taken a day off, Clare took off in the other direction.

  Too late. ‘Sergeant Yarwood,’ Moulton shouted.

  Clare stopped, turned to face Tremayne’s nemesis. ‘What’s this I hear about Tremayne?’

  ‘He had a tooth out, a few fillings. He’s just a bit sore.’

  ‘Who’s in charge of Homicide?’

  ‘I’m in constant communication with DI Tremayne. He’ll be here in the morning.’

  ‘If you’re covering for him.’

  ‘I’m not, sir. He came with me out to the murder scene. I took him home to convalesce.’

  ‘Very well. If he’s here tomorrow, then no more will be said. Otherwise, I’ll need an independent check of his general health.’

  ‘He’s as fit as you and me, sir.’

  ‘Sergeant Yarwood, I know a good story when I hear one. Tremayne’s feeling the years, and you know it.’

  ‘He’s good for a few years more.’

  ‘When are you ready for a promotion?’

  ‘Anytime, sir.’

  ‘Right. I’ll look into it. Someone needs to take over Homicide when Tremayne finally retires.’

  ‘Thank you for your confidence, sir.’

  ‘I recognise ability. Tremayne’s taught you well.’

  Clare left the station, feeling pleased with herself. She was on a roll; she needed to keep it up. She found Rose Goode at the house she shared with her son. The woman was pleased to see her.

  ‘Crispin’s a lot better. He should be back to school within a few days.’ Rose said.

  ‘Marge Selwood recognised you out at Coombe.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘That time you were with me.’

  ‘At that distance? Or did she assume that I’d be there?’

  ‘I’m not sure, but she knew about you and Crispin.’

  ‘About us being here?’

  ‘Yes. She’s admitted that much.’

  ‘She’s not been near us, although we’re here in Salisbury. It’s not that big a place, I suppose she could have seen me around.’

  ‘It’s probably the same with her. And Crispin wasn’t important back then, only a minor, but now, he’s sixteen and smart. He’s a threat, so are you.’

  ‘Do you think it was her who tried to kill Crispin?’

  ‘The police are treating it as a hit and run. It’s only DI Tremayne and myself who are speculating that it may have been attempted murder.’

  ‘It was,’ Rose said. ‘I know it was.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘When Crispin was young, no more than four, he nearly died after someone gave him a sweet.’

  ‘You’ve not mentioned this before.’

  ‘I only just remembered it. At the time, I thought it was a faulty batch, imported probably. It happens from time to time, but now with Crispin hit by a car, it seems possible.’

  Clare could see that suspicion lurked everywhere. All the key players were nervous, seeing conspiracy and mayhem when there was probably none. Tremayne had been on the phone three times since she had left him wrapped up in bed. He had attempted a few wisecracks about him not being a child.

  She had even made him hot soup to keep him nourished. With him not phoning for the last hour, it indicated that he had fallen asleep. She knew he’d be in the office the next day; no point in telling him about her conversation with Superintendent Moulton.

  ‘It was a long time ago, as you say. A sweet that makes a child sick is hardly likely to be a murder attempt,’ Clare said.

  ‘I heard about Gordon’s wife. It was on the news.’

  ‘I’ve been there, seen her.’

  ‘Gordon?’

  ‘He’s the only one upset.’

  ‘We were always friends, even when we were children. I used to go up to his house a lot.’

  ‘His parents?’

  ‘They were always friendly. I used to like his father, even though he was a stern man.’

  ‘That’s been said. His wife?’

  ‘She was more standoffish, but I was only young, the same age as Gordon, so I didn’t take much notice.’

  ‘Was there a romance?’

  ‘Not then, we were too young, but we used to pretend that one day we would get married.’

  ‘And then you did.’

  ‘It wasn’t the way we intended. When I got pregnant, we weren’t dating, at least not seriously. He was taking out other girls. I was with other boys.’

  ‘Any risk that Crispin is not his child?’

  ‘None. No doubt Gordon was sleeping with the other girls, but I was still a virgin. Gordon can lay claim to that. Crispin is his, no question.’

  ‘And after you gave birth to Crispin?’

  ‘I was young, full of energy, but I had a child. There were a few men, purely flings, until I met Derek. He had no issues with Crispin, treated him well. We were married for eight years, and then he left. Nothing more to say. He keeps in contact, sends a card at Christmas, but apart from that, nothing.’

  ‘Do you have a boyfriend now?’

  ‘Not now. Once Crispin is finished with school, and then at university, maybe.’

  ‘You’ve driven through Coombe on several occasions. Has it ever been more than that?’

  ‘Not really. I may have driven past my old house, the churchyard, Gordon’s place.’

  ‘And stopped to have a look.’

  ‘Maybe, but no one ever saw me.’

  ‘It may not be important, but the car that hit Crispin is. We’ve checked the CCTV cameras in the city centre, but nothing that helps, and his friend who was standing there couldn’t tell us much.’

  Clare left the mother and went to speak with Crispin. He was sat in front of a computer monitor playing a game. ‘Your mother says you’re on the mend,’ Clare said.

  ‘Another few days and I’ll be back at school.’

  ‘We’ve not found the car that hit you.’

  ‘It could have just been an accident.’

  ‘It’s always possible.’

  ‘Mum’s told me about my father if that’s what you want to talk about.’

  ‘I never asked her if she had. How do you feel about it?’

  ‘I don’t feel very much. I’d like to meet him at some stage, but not now. Mum doesn’t want me to. I’ll respect her wishes.’

  ‘You understand the significance?’

  ‘It’s on the internet. I’ve checked. And now my father’s wife has died.’

  ‘Murdered. That’s why you need to be careful.’

  ‘But why me? I never knew about them before.’

  ‘They knew about you. You confuse them, and someone in that family is irrational. We can never know what will happen next.’

  ‘I’ll be careful.’

  Clare knew that Crispin Goode’s idea of careful was not hers. He was a young man, anxious to make
his mark. She knew he’d be fishing around Coombe within the week, regardless of what was said. It had been important for Crispin to know his birthright, although it made his situation more precarious.

  Clare left the Goode’s house and drove back to the police station, diverting to Tremayne’s house. The man was awake and looking for updates. She found him downstairs, a blanket around him, the television on the sports channel. ‘There’s no hope for you, guv,’ Clare said.

  ‘I’m feeling better. I thought I might place some bets on the horses.’

  ‘You lose enough when you’re well. You could have given it a break for the day and stayed in bed.’

  ‘Don’t go on, Yarwood. A cup of tea would be nice.’

  Clare could see that Tremayne enjoyed being fussed over. ‘Anything to eat?’

  ‘I could manage some chicken.’

  ‘Just this once. Is there any in the fridge?’

  ‘I doubt it. There’s a shop down the road, takeaway.’

  ‘If I’m feeding you, then you’ll eat healthily. I’ll go and buy some chicken breast and prepare it here. You must give Jean hell when she comes to stay.’

  ‘With Jean, she has me cleaning the house.’

  ‘It’s looking better for her influence.’

  Clare left the house. She returned in fifteen minutes and prepared Tremayne a meal. In that time, he had lost money on his latest sure-fire winning horse.

  ‘What are the updates?’ Tremayne asked as he ate the first homemade meal that he had eaten in a couple of weeks.

  ‘Superintendent Moulton waylaid me, enquired after your health.’

  ‘Did he have his latest retirement package in his pocket?’

  ‘Not this time.’

  ‘What else?’

  ‘Rose Goode suspected that someone tried to poison the young Crispin when he was four.’

  ‘Is it likely?’

  ‘I don’t think so. Just bear it in mind for future reference, and Mr Goode, Derek, he’s divorced from Rose, but they keep in infrequent contact. No reason to suspect him.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘He didn’t know about Crispin’s father, and Rose wouldn’t have told him.’