by J M Gregson
‘Yes, sir. Pity, that. There’s a brother: Luke Cassidy. Spends a lot of time looking after his old dad, whom Adam Cassidy severely neglected. Seems a decent sort of bloke, to me.’
‘Treat him with suspicion. Remember, most murderers come from within the family.’
‘Yes, sir. It’s good to have your overview of criminal trends in the nation offering us such valuable insights.’
Tucker glared at him suspiciously over his rimless glasses. ‘Has this Luke Cassidy got himself a good alibi?’
‘Good, sir, but not yet cast-iron. We shall check even more carefully, now that we have your views.’ Peach leaned confidentially towards the man behind the big desk, as if offering a clinching piece of confidence. ‘He’s a highly respected history teacher at the comp.’
Tucker looked with distaste into the round, eager face beneath the baldness. ‘Who else?’
‘The others are mostly actors from the Call Alec Dawson series.’
‘I’ll bet they’re a rum lot! Actors are, you know.’
Another epithet from the past. Peach nodded. ‘Decidedly rum, sir. And bounders too, some of them, I should think!’
He waited for a reaction, but all he got from Tucker was, ‘Motives?’
‘Indeed, sir. Two of them had just lost big parts in the next series of Call Alec Dawson. And with them remuneration which would make even a chief superintendent’s income seem puny.’ He paused to allow the magnitude of this anomaly to be processed by the slowly moving abacus which was Tucker’s brain. ‘One of them is an actor who knew Cassidy right from his early days in the theatre until his death. Chap by the name of Dean Morley. He was to be the main villain opposing Alec Dawson throughout the series, until Cassidy stamped on the idea.’
‘Alibi?’
‘Morley has an alibi, of sorts. It’s as suspect as the old wifely assurance that a villain was at home with her at the crucial time – and just as difficult to disprove. He claims to have been at home with his male partner when Cassidy died.’
‘This man Morley is queer?’ Tucker’s tortoise speed of comprehension had been restored.
‘Bent as a hairpin, sir. But he—’
‘They’re devious, those people. I’ve always found them devious.’
But nothing like as devious as some senior CID men in pursuit of promotions and pensions, thought Peach. ‘I’ll bear that in mind, sir. But we have to be careful to treat gay people in the same way as heterosexuals, don’t we, sir?’
‘Eh? Oh yes, I suppose we do. This bloody political correctness is a damned nuisance. But you and I are old-fashioned policemen, Peach. We know the score.’
‘Yes, sir. For what it’s worth, DS Northcott, a man not prone to the sentimental view, thought that Dean Morley was a decent sort of chap.’
Apparently it wasn’t worth much. Tucker looked thoroughly bemused for a moment, then said, ‘Isn’t Northcott that tall black officer?’
‘That’s the one, sir. The man you’d want to have beside you if and when things turn ugly.’
Tucker shook his head in a bemused fashion and muttered, ‘Political correctness gone mad!’ It wasn’t clear whether he disapproved of Northcott’s height or his colour.
Peach said hastily, ‘There’s also an actress exciting our attention, sir. Attractive, dark-haired woman – you may have seen her on screen. Name of Michelle Davies.’
‘Cherchez la femme, Peach!’
Tucker looked as satisfied as if he had produced an original thought. But that might have needed a Caesarean, thought Percy. ‘Like Mr Morley, Ms Davies had a highly lucrative role in the next series snatched away on what seems to have been little more than Cassidy’s whim.’
Tucker shook his silvering head sagely. ‘She could well have done this.’
‘We thought it a distinct possibility, sir.’ The man’s now forcing me to be a Jeeves to his Wooster, Percy realized with a shock. He said hastily, ‘She had been to bed with Cassidy, sir. On how regular a basis, we are still not sure.’
‘Well, make yourselves sure, Peach! Do I have to do everything for you? Surely you can complete the straightforward legwork for yourselves.’
‘Indeed we can, sir. And it’s high time I was about it!’
Percy Peach went briskly back down the staircase from the ivory tower. He told himself firmly that he couldn’t exclude Michelle Davies from suspicion just because Chief Superintendent Tommy Bloody Tucker thought she was a killer.
‘I apologize that this meeting had to be at five o’clock. I know it’s an awkward time, but I know also that you want the mystery of your husband’s death solved as quickly as possible.’
Peach watched Jane Cassidy’s face closely for her reaction to this, but she gave him nothing. The winter darkness had dropped thickly over the countryside outside, but the light in the hall of the big new mansion was bright and clear. The widow’s face held the welcome of conventional, automatic hospitality, but showed no reaction to his mention of Cassidy’s murder. She said, ‘The time is no inconvenience to me, Detective Chief Inspector. I’ve been relieved over the last few days that we decided to employ a nanny – I was in two minds about it when Adam suggested it, but it’s been a boon since he died.’
She looked much better than she had on Monday. Her dark-blonde hair had been neatly cut and the colour was back in her cheeks. She was lightly but expertly made up. Her clear blue eyes had now no sign of the puffiness which tears had brought to them in the aftermath of her husband’s death. She looked if anything younger than her thirty-seven years. She had made a remarkable recovery from her initial grief. Or perhaps that grief had not been so deep after all, thought Percy Peach; policemen were paid to think uncharitably.
There was a pot of tea and rich fruit cake on the table between her armchair and the sofa where she had invited them to sit. She poured the tea with a steady hand and handed them plates and cake. She could have been an actress playing out a scene in a comedy of manners, thought Peach. Maybe she was doing exactly that. She made a comfortable, composed remark about life having to go on when there were children around. He was emboldened to ask her, ‘Will we see you on our screens again, as the children grow up?’
‘I always intended to take up my career again. Now I might do it sooner rather than later. Curiously enough, my agent rang me today. The strange thing is that what has happened might make it easier for me to get parts.’
Peach thought he knew what she meant, but he wanted her to talk about herself, wanted to see just how far she had recovered from the death of the man who had been her husband and her children’s father. ‘In what way would it be easier, Mrs Cassidy?’
She smiled sadly. It seemed to him that she knew just what he was doing but was content to play along with it. ‘Adam’s death has brought me back into public notice. Every account I’ve seen mentions “the actress Jane Webster” as the wife of the victim. There will be a certain ghoulish curiosity about whatever roles I undertake. The people who cast for television are aware of such things. They realize the publicity which I would get would help to kick-start audience figures.’
‘That old saw about there being no such thing as bad publicity.’
‘Precisely. Although I’m sure casting directors and producers would prefer to say they were harnessing public sympathy.’
‘You’ve already thought this through pretty thoroughly.’
She looked at him for a moment. She had a more quizzical smile now, with her head a little on one side. He wondered how many hundreds of men over the years had been influenced by those glistening light-blue eyes. She picked her words carefully as she said, ‘I’ve been forced to do that by circumstances, Mr Peach. I expect Adam will have left me comfortable for money, but that isn’t the point. Hopefully, I have up to fifty years left to live and I need to make a start on that. I always intended to act again: this merely brings forward the date when it will happen.’
‘How are the children coping with this?’
‘Very well. We had a nasty
incident on Monday when a press photographer turned up as they were coming out of school – hoping to get a shot of grieving widow and children together, I suppose. The rest of the parents were pretty angry about it. But the headmistress told me how resilient children are and she was right. They’ve chatted to me at nights, as you’d expect, but they seem to have taken it pretty well. It’s proved to be a blessing in disguise that they’d seen so little of Adam in the months before his death.’
‘Yes. You mentioned that on Monday. Has that been a help to you as well?’
It was startlingly direct after the preliminary fencing. Jane tried not to be affected by the way the man’s black pupils never seemed to leave her face. ‘I suppose it has, really. The manner of the death was an awful shock, but the fact that we’ve almost led separate lives in the last year or so must have been a help, I suppose.’
She seemed to be inviting him to push this further, almost willing him to press for details of her own life. Instead, he said, ‘Would you care to tell us more about the people Adam associated with during the last year of his life?’
‘I told you almost as much as I know on Monday. I’d seen very little of him during the filming of the latest Call Alec Dawson series. I’m sure Adam wasn’t lonely when he wasn’t on the set. He never had to work hard to get women. Once you achieve fame, it’s easier than ever. It’s the way the world works, as I’m sure you must be aware.’
Peach nodded, enjoying as he always did the challenge of a woman who wished to meet him head on rather than retreat into the conventional banalities. ‘You don’t seem to be very resentful about that.’
‘It was a fact of life if you chose to live with Adam. If he went beyond a certain point with other women, he knew I wouldn’t tolerate it.’
‘You must have been lonely whilst he was so busy. You were at home with two children in this beautiful but rather isolated setting.’
‘I’m lucky. We could afford whatever help we needed. The nanny in particular has given me independence and freedom. As I say, I was doubtful whether we needed her at first, but Ingrid is a friend as well as an employee now.’
‘And her presence has allowed you to make your own friendships.’
He had the feeling that she was gently contesting the control of the interview with him. She paused, then said, ‘You must have some particular friendship in mind.’
This time it was Peach who allowed himself the small, enigmatic smile which was a replica of hers. ‘Two of our DCs talked to a Mr Paul Barnes this morning. DC Brendan Murphy is very keen. He has his own version of shorthand, which enables him to keep a very full record of his interviews.’
‘How enterprising of him! And for some reason you obviously find that significant.’
‘I was struck by one thing in his report. When you were mentioned, Mr Barnes denied more than a casual friendship at the school gates. But he knew the names of both of your children. In my experience, other women might know those names, but very few men would remember such details, from the casual and surface acquaintance he claimed.’
‘Very perceptive of you. I hardly think you could make it stand up in a court of law.’
‘I’m sure I couldn’t. But fortunately, I am not in a court of law, but discussing these things informally with a woman who is anxious to give every assistance to police enquiries.’
‘Of course you are.’ She offered them more cake, refilled Northcott’s cup for him; the delicate china seemed ridiculously fragile in those large, careful hands. Having given herself time to think, she said, ‘You’re right, of course. I should have known we couldn’t conceal it, but Paul was anxious to protect my reputation. Paul and I did meet at the school gates, exactly as you’ve heard. But I was lonely, as you’ve suggested, and Paul is divorced, with custody of his son. The friendship grew rapidly. For the last three months, we’ve been lovers. I told you how convenient it is to have a nanny!’
It seemed characteristic of this very direct woman that once she had made up her mind to tell them, she not only gave them the full details but made a sharp joke against herself. Peach said, ‘You should have told us this on Monday, Mrs Cassidy. But better late than never.’
‘I’m sorry. You can appreciate that we didn’t fancy being the subject of everyone’s gossip. But you did say there couldn’t be secrets, when murder was the crime.’
Peach looked at her grimly for a moment; he couldn’t condone concealing facts, however understandable the wish for privacy might be. ‘I think we’d better have anything else you were holding back from us, hadn’t we?’
‘I don’t think there is anything else. I was genuinely upset on Monday, whatever you might think: I loved Adam, however confused my feelings might have been about him at the time of his death. Perhaps if you recall to me whatever it is that is puzzling you, I can confirm or deny it for you.’
Peach looked at her steadily for a moment, then gave the briefest of nods to his companion, who already had his notes ready to hand. Northcott’s calm, deep voice said, ‘You told us that on Friday night you came back into this house after waving goodbye to your husband at about seven thirty and did not leave it again. Your nanny, Ingrid Lundberg, has confirmed that. Would you like to assure us now that you did not leave your house again?’
That small, involuntary smile flashed quickly across the light-skinned face. She took a deep, measured breath. ‘Ingrid is very loyal; I think she would say whatever I wanted her to. But I don’t think she lied to you: she no doubt believed I was here, particularly when she was told that that was what I had said. Her room is at the other end of the house from the garage; she probably didn’t hear me driving out.’
Clyde Northcott’s ebony features showed no sign of surprise. ‘What time would this be?’
‘The children were already in their pyjamas when they waved goodbye to their daddy. I saw them into bed and left Ingrid to read their stories. I must have been away by quarter to eight, or ten to eight at the latest.’
‘And where did you go?’
‘You can probably guess that. I went to Paul’s farm.’
‘And were you there overnight?’
‘Oh, no! We don’t do overnight. We don’t want the children to know about us.’ She was suddenly careful of her children’s sensibilities, where her own conduct had seemed to concern her not a jot. But that was quite a normal convolution: people became more sensitive when children were involved. And in any case, cynical CID men thought, once a young son and daughter were aware of an affair, Adam Cassidy would have learned of it very quickly.
‘So you left Mr Barnes’s residence at what time?’
‘It must have been around eleven. I was back here before half past.’
Northcott made a careful note of the times. There was a cutting edge to Peach’s voice as he said, ‘Is there anything else in your previous statement which you wish to revise, Mrs Cassidy?’
‘No.’ For the first time, Jane Cassidy looked a trifle embarrassed. ‘I take your point that I should have told you this at first. I’m sorry I acted so foolishly. But will it be possible to keep it confidential that I was with Paul on Friday night? I don’t want Damon and Kate to find out about it through gossiping neighbours.’
Peach gave her the standard reply with his face as inscrutable as a Buddha’s. ‘We treat all information as confidential, Mrs Cassidy. Of course, if it becomes evidence in a court case, the matter passes out of our hands.’
SIXTEEN
Peach drove as they made their way back to Brunton from Jane Cassidy’s house. He had an intimate knowledge of the lanes around here, which were little changed from the days when he had walked and cycled over them as a boy. These roads were actually easier to negotiate at nights, when the headlights of approaching vehicles gave notice of their arrival on blind bends.
It was not until they were running into Clitheroe on the B road, that he said thoughtfully, ‘I’m beginning to see things about this case. But through a glass darkly; I’m not sure what they mean as yet.
’
Clyde Northcott waited for him to enlarge upon this rather gnomic thought, but nothing else came from his DCI. So Clyde checked his mobile phone messages and decided one of them was significant enough to demand an immediate response. ‘Delroy? Clyde Northcott here. What have you got for me?’
‘Not on the phone, Mr Northcott.’
‘Where, then? Behind the Fox and Pheasant?’
‘No. You’ll need to come here. Back door, through the yard.’ There was a sudden fear in the thin voice that Northcott would ring off. ‘I’ve got something worth your while.’
‘OK, Delroy. What time?’
‘Tonight. Nine o’clock.’
‘You got it.’ He rang off, stared at the road ahead through the windscreen for thirty seconds, then responded to Peach’s unspoken query. ‘A snout. About this case.’
‘Tread carefully, lad. There are some nasty sods involved in this case.’ The warning was as near as Percy Peach would come to voicing affection for his new DS bagman.
Unless he is very new and very junior, every CID officer has his snouts. These are usually pathetically small fish, swimming in the dangerous pools of the criminal underworld, supplementing the income they make there with useful but erratic payments from police officers for information they pick up and retail. For a man in his mid-twenties, Detective Sergeant Clyde Northcott had a surprisingly extensive range of snouts. It was a range which would only have been available to a man who had once been among the villains himself.
Five years ago, Clyde had been a small-time dealer in illicit drugs with a reliable source of supply. In those days, given forty-eight hours, he could get his hands on heroin, cocaine, LSD, ecstasy and even Rohypnol, the sex drug which was in constant demand. With his physique and the talent for violence he had developed through his teenage years, he had been able to look after himself on the dangerous paths he chose to tread.
Then, before he had any serious criminal record, he had become a murder suspect in a case handled by the then Detective Inspector Peach. He was totally innocent, but things looked bad for him for a while. At the conclusion of the case, Peach, recognizing his qualities as well as his talent for the wrong sort of company, had encouraged him to join the police force. Two years later, Percy had recruited him to his CID team. When marriage necessitated the departure of DS Lucy Blake from this elite group, Clyde Northcott, who had shown many more talents than the ‘hard bastard’ ones which Peach always instanced, was promoted to detective sergeant alongside his mentor.
