The DI Tremayne Thriller Box Set

by Phillip Strang

‘Molly Dempsey.’

  ‘Did you kill her? No, you couldn’t have. You don’t have the backbone.’

  ‘Fiona, you’ve got to stop with this paranoia. I’ve done nothing wrong. I’ve certainly not slept around, that’s more for you than me, and as for killing people, I’m innocent.’

  ‘Gordon Selwood’s wife was against your developing of Coombe Farm, so was the Dempsey woman, and they’re both dead.’

  ‘Are you concerned about them, or becoming the next mayor?’

  ‘I’m concerned about us. I’ve guided you over the years, carefully weighed up the pros and cons, and as for my affairs, I’ve always been careful.’

  ‘You’ve made a career out of them. The prodigal daughter returned from sin and back to the path of righteousness, that’s you. And you’ve got all those social-climbing friends of yours kissing your feet. Fiona, you’re pure evil. You don’t care for anyone, not even me, only yourself.’

  ‘You were meant to do what you were told. If you could have resolved Coombe without killing people, then fine, but not you. You kept pushing, riling the natives, hoping they would back off, and they haven’t. And now, they’re dying, and I’m going to have to take the flak for you.’

  ‘Fiona, think about what you’re saying,’ Len Dowling said. ‘You blame me now, but we’ve been through worse than this.’

  ‘Len, you’re a fool,’ Fiona said, her frustration exhausted. ‘It’s up to me again to get you out of this mess.’

  ‘It is a mess, I’ll agree, but I did not kill Molly Dempsey. Her death makes no sense. She had only just made an agreement with Marge Selwood to oppose what we wanted to do on Coombe Farm.’

  ‘Marge Selwood!’

  ‘Yes, Marge Selwood. You know what that means.’

  ‘She’ll hold it up forever.’

  ‘Not forever, but certainly for long enough to make it not feasible.’

  ‘Are we in for much money?’

  ‘Gordon Selwood can take the cost.’

  ‘Has he agreed?’

  ‘He signed the documents.’

  ‘How do we isolate you from Coombe?’ Fiona said.

  ‘And ensure you become the mayor.’

  ‘I’ll take care of that. You can deal with Selwood.’

  ‘We shelve our plans?’

  ‘Get real, Len. Just put them on hold until I’m the mayor. Once it’s in the bag, then you can go back to Coombe.’

  ‘With you as the mayor, it should be easier.’

  ‘It may be, it may not. I suggest you go and tell Gordon Selwood the good news, and the village if they’ll listen to you. Something along the lines of “in consideration of the sad and unexpected death of Molly Dempsey, we’ll be holding back on the development of Coombe Farm to allow a full and consultative approach with all the good people in the village of Coombe”.’

  ‘How long are we delaying?’

  ‘Six months, no more.’

  ‘And the consultative approach?’

  ‘That’s what you tell the country yokels.’

  ‘We’ll make you mayor first, take Selwood for the costs incurred so far, and then we’ll come back with a more obliging council.’

  ‘Don’t mess up, Len. I’m tired of getting you out of your disasters.’

  ‘Disaster, I don’t think so. We’re going to clean up here.’

  ‘You do your part, I’ll do mine.’

  ***

  Rose Goode had incurred the criticism of the village of Coombe once before, but then she had only been fifteen, and she had left the village that same night.

  What she encountered now was far worse. She had seen it the first time she had entered the village store. The scathing attitude of the shopkeeper muted when she had announced that Crispin was legitimate, and where she had become a regular since. On each occasion, the lady behind the counter had been friendly, although always prying for any gossip.

  Inside the store this time, the other patrons giving Rose a wide berth; not so easy, as the shop was only small. ‘What do you want, Rose?’ the lady from behind the counter said.

  Rose had sensed the curtness, the unwillingness to indulge in the usual harmless banter. ‘I’ll look around, see what I need.’

  ‘As you wish,’ the shopkeeper said. Rose knew that in the past, the woman would have been telling her what was on special-offer. ‘You’ve heard about Molly Dempsey?’

  Rose realised it was a dumb question. It was a small village where news travelled fast.

  ‘She harmed no one. She only cared for this village, and now, that bastard developer and your boyfriend have murdered her.’

  Rose did not intend such a slur to go without a response.

  ‘Mrs Golding, you have a foul mouth. Gordon Selwood, who’s not my boyfriend, did not murder Mrs Dempsey, and I doubt very much if Len Dowling did, either.’

  ‘It’s suspicious, that’s what everyone is saying.’

  ‘And who’s everyone? You and the other frustrated women in this village. Is this how you get your kicks, sticking your nose in where it’s not wanted, accusing people of crimes without proof? It’s slander, you know. You could be charged with a criminal offence.’

  ‘Your threats don’t hold sway with us.’

  The other patrons in the shop left, although not without offering whispered comments as they brushed past Rose.

  ‘Gordon would not kill anyone,’ Rose said. She had not expected such hostility in the village that she had come to appreciate. However, as she stood there, she realised that nothing had changed since she had left the village seventeen years previously.

  At that moment, standing in front of that shopkeeper, she realised that she hated them all: Gordon, his mother, the shopkeeper, the women who had brushed past her. She regretted returning to the village; she regretted sleeping with Gordon on the night of Crispin’s friends visiting. She left the store without purchasing anything and drove up to see Gordon.

  Gordon opened the door to her at Coombe Farm. ‘Rose, it’s all gone wrong,’ he said.

  Rose, angry with him before, calm now on seeing the downcast expression on his face. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Dowling’s pulling out.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘He says that with Molly Dempsey’s death, public sentiment would be against the development of Coombe Farm.’

  ‘The village is blaming you for her death. I’ve just had an altercation with the woman down at the store. The mood on the street is ugly, and they’re making every effort to shun me, and all because of you.’

  ‘Dowling, he wants me to pay my share of the costs.’

  ‘Can he?’

  ‘He says it’s legally binding. I don’t have that sort of money, and he’s stopping work on the two houses in the village.’

  ‘What for? They’re half-complete.’

  ‘That’s Dowling. Tremayne told me to be careful.’

  ‘We need to get you out of this.’

  ‘You’ll help?’

  ‘You’re Crispin’s father. What else would you expect?’

  ‘You were always a better person than me,’ Gordon said.

  ‘What sort of costs are you up for?’

  ‘I don’t know yet.’

  ‘Then you’d better find out. Your brother’s an accountant. Phone him up.’

  As Gordon sat on a chair phoning Nicholas, his brother, Rose realised that he needed someone to look after him. She saw it as her duty, not out of love, but for Crispin. He could not have the ignominy of reconnecting with his father, only to find out the man was a fool, and that if life had not given him a privileged upbringing, he would have struggled to find his way in the world.

  ‘Nicholas will be here within the hour,’ Gordon said.

  ‘How much, more or less?’

  ‘One to two hundred thousand pounds.’

  ‘You don’t know with any more accuracy?’

  ‘Dowling was keeping the account. I just needed to know that it was in safe hands.’

  ‘Gordon, argue with
your mother, shun your brothers, but never forget, they’re Selwoods. Whatever happens, they’re your family, Dowling is not.’

  ‘Tremayne warned me the other day when we were looking at the Aston Martin. He also said to be careful of his wife; she’s running for mayor in Salisbury.’

  ‘She’d not want any dirt sticking to her. That’s why Dowling’s pulling out.’

  Rose picked up her phone and made a call. ‘We need you at the main house,’ she said.

  ‘Who did you call?’ Gordon asked.

  ‘Your mother. She’s the best person to deal with this, not you.’

  ‘If it hadn’t been for my arrogance.’

  ‘Don’t go soft on me and pretend you’re the little boy lost. You’re a man. Stand up to your mother, take her advice when it’s given.’

  ‘You’ll be here?’

  ‘I will, on Crispin’s behalf. You’ll need someone to handle the family discussion for you. If your mother wants me out, you resist. Is that clear?’

  ‘It’s clear. Thank you.’

  ‘Don’t thank me. I’m doing this for Crispin, not for you.’

  Chapter 27

  ‘You’ve got your murders in Coombe now,’ Superintendent Moulton said as he walked into Tremayne’s office.

  ‘More than I expected.’

  ‘Anything tying them together?

  ‘Coombe Farm’s the key.’

  ‘It’s always you and Yarwood, isn’t it?’

  ‘We work best that way. We had a young constable once, but he was killed in the line of duty.’

  ‘Yes, I remember. We never found a murderer.’

  ‘It wasn’t murder. It was an unfortunate chain of events that killed him and the woman in the passenger’s seat.’

  ‘Sergeant Yarwood always thought it was more than that.’

  ‘That’s not why you’re here, is it? You’re not into reminiscing.’

  Clare came into the office and gave both men a cup of coffee. She left straight afterwards.

  ‘You’ve done a great job with her.’

  ‘She’s a fine police officer,’ Tremayne said.

  ‘Praise indeed from you. You were never keen on a partner before.’

  ‘Maybe I wasn’t, but I’m fine with Yarwood.’

  ‘Run the motives past me, Tremayne.’

  ‘Coombe Farm, as I said, is the crux. Claude Selwood, the patriarch of the Selwood family, was the first to die.’

  ‘Patriarch?’

  ‘You’ve read the reports.’

  ‘Humour me.’

  ‘Okay. The Selwood family goes back several hundred years. The land was originally bequeathed by a grateful king for services rendered by an ancestor. A murdering bastard if the stories about him are true.’

  ‘More violent times back then.’

  ‘I only deal with the present. Anyway, Claude Selwood is killed in a riding accident, the horse trod on his throat. His death is accidental, although he’d probably still be alive if the Reverend Walston hadn’t started shooting pellets from an air rifle at the man and his horse.

  ‘Why not murder?’

  ‘The pellets wouldn’t have killed Selwood.’

  ‘So why does a man of the cloth shoot at someone?’

  ‘He said it was a warning to leave him and his church alone.’

  ‘Do you believe him?’

  ‘Not totally. We should interview him again in light of Molly Dempsey’s death.’

  ‘After Claude Selwood?’

  ‘Old Ted, the farmhand.’

  ‘He was shot?’

  ‘A .22. The motive for his death still remains unclear. The man knew all of the Selwood family’s secrets, but the man was the soul of discretion.’

  ‘Soul of discretion?’

  ‘Old Ted minded his own business, never spoke unless spoken to. He had the dirt on everyone, but, even to us, he wouldn’t talk. And then we find out that Claude Selwood had an affair with Old Ted’s wife around the time of the birth of the eldest son, Gordon.’

  ‘Good God, Tremayne. Where do you find these people?’

  ‘They may be a little extreme, but most families have plenty of secrets. It’s just that we’re paid to find them. It’s a good job I’m able to go home at night and switch off.’

  ‘Yarwood?’

  ‘She’s not learnt to detach totally, not yet. She’ll get there.’

  ‘And become old and cynical like you,’ Moulton said with a smile.

  ‘I’d prefer mature and realistic.’

  ‘I’ll accept that. Old Ted’s wife and Claude Selwood, what happened?’

  ‘The affair ended, and nothing is said by Old Ted, not even to Claude Selwood.’

  ‘This Old Ted appears to be an odd character.’

  ‘Out of time, I’d say. But he killed no one. He was the first murder victim. After that, there is Cathy Selwood, the wife of the current owner of Coombe Farm. Here’s where it becomes more complicated. There’s a battle royal between Gordon Selwood and his mother, Marge, the widow of Claude. Gordon, he’s a decent man, not as smart as the others in the family, and definitely not a farmer. Claude Selwood was showing the early stages of dementia. The tradition in the family was that the eldest son would inherit. The will, however, been drawn up some years earlier when Gordon was younger. Marge Selwood realised that with her husband’s health ailing, she needed to go against tradition and to draw up another will, making her the beneficiary.’

  ‘And she did?’

  ‘It was drawn up, but Claude died before he could sign it. After that, Gordon attempts to take control, the law’s in his favour. Marge, his mother, a tough woman, attempts to as well. And then, you’ve got Cathy Selwood, Gordon’s wife, and she’s as strong-willed as Marge. She would have made a go of the farm with Gordon’s blessing. All he wants to do is to mess around with old cars.’

  ‘Old cars?’

  ‘Vintage. They don’t do much for me, but supposedly they’re worth a fortune to those who are interested.’

  ‘They are. Carry on.’

  ‘Cathy’s shot, a bullet to the head. The motives start to become obscured. On the one hand, Cathy’s taken over Marge Selwood’s position as the lady of the house and of the farm, and also, unknown at the time, she’s attempting to talk Gordon out of progressing with a residential development on the farm.’

  ‘The last murder?’

  ‘Molly Dempsey. The woman was nearly eighty. She had lived in the village all her life, and she was a gossip, but basically harmless. She’s vocal about any changes to the village of Coombe, good or bad. She likes it the way it is, and every time there’s a building application before the Salisbury City Council, she’s there registering a complaint. Not successfully most times, as she strong on enthusiasm, short on facts.’

  ‘Why was Molly Dempsey killed?’

  ‘We’re drawing a blank on that at the present time. We know that Marge Selwood and Molly Dempsey were going to join forces and oppose the development at Coombe Farm. They had met the morning of the woman’s death.’

  ‘What would Marge Selwood gain from forging an alliance with Molly Dempsey, and why would she go against her son?’

  ‘Marge Selwood is a resilient woman. She will never accept Gordon as the owner of Coombe Farm and the house. The house, a listed building, is over two hundred years old. She’s against the development of the land regardless of how much money it could make for the Selwoods.’

  ‘Was Marge Selwood financially secure?’

  ‘She had sufficient money for her needs. With her, it’s not money, but family and prestige. If it were up to her, she’d go back to the past where the locals knew their place.’

  ‘Her background?’

  ‘The same as Cathy Selwood. Both women had sold themselves in the past, but now Marge Selwood is the pillar of respectability.’

  ‘But you know of her past?’

  ‘We’re police officers.’

  ‘Any more?’

  ‘Marge Selwood was attempting to prove
Gordon was not the child of Claude.’

  ‘Possible?’

  ‘Yes. She was attempting to check his DNA against one of her sons. What she was doing was illegal, as Gordon had not given his permission. We’re now conducting an independent test in the UK.’

  ‘And if he isn’t?’

  ‘The house and the farm belong to the eldest son of Claude and Marge Selwood. That would be Nicholas, the second born.’

  ‘People could die to prevent that happening.’

  ‘In the past, but not now. Everyone is well aware of our independent testing. The results will be indisputable.’

  ***

  ‘I’m not comfortable with Rose being here,’ Marge Selwood said on entering the main house, realising that her objection to the woman was not the same as it had been with Cathy.

  ‘I’ve asked her to be here,’ Gordon said. ‘And besides, her son is a Selwood. She’s here on his behalf.’

  ‘Let her stay, Mother,’ Nicholas said. He had arrived late at the meeting. William, the youngest son, was still not there.

  ‘Very well,’ Marge said. She looked over at Rose, a woman who had brought up her grandson better than she had her eldest.

  Marge had to begrudgingly admit she liked Rose. She wasn’t as tough as Cathy, but tough enough to keep Gordon under control whether he ran the farm or not.

  The call to the house had come as a shock, but life in the sleepy village and in the Selwoods home always seemed to be long periods of nothingness, and then intense drama.

  William arrived. ‘Sorry, I was in an exam, the final one for the year.’

  On the dining room table, a pot of tea and some sandwiches which Rose had prepared. ‘You’d better help yourself before we start,’ Gordon said.

  ‘Level with us,’ Nicholas said.

  ‘Very well. An event has been precipitated by the death of Molly Dempsey, although it could have occurred at any time due to our mother’s interference.’

  ‘Don’t you go laying the blame on me, Gordon. Just because you can’t handle yourself, there’s nothing to be gained by blaming others.’

  Rose stood up. ‘I believe that I, as an independent member of the family, should outline the situation.’

  ‘Good idea,’ William said. The others in the room nodded their heads in acknowledgement.