“How did you guess it was Darrell?” Penny asked Rex.
“Everything pointed to Father Brown, in retrospect. You saw a person whom you assumed to be Timothy in his costume walking towards the building earlier on Friday evening than you would have expected. Then Timothy’s bike went missing. How could that be if he had arrived on foot? A pair of prop glasses were left behind in the dressing room, but Timothy wore his own glasses for the part. No doubt the imposter left them by mistake. Now, it had to be someone of similar height. Height is one thing that is not easy to disguise. All of you, with the exception of Timothy, Dennis, and Ada, are on the tall side. But those three had at least two people who could vouch for them at the time the shot was fired. Bill and Ben are of medium height. So, who was our phantom? It had to be someone who not only could pass himself off as Father Brown, but who knew the play backwards and where everybody would be at any given moment. You told me early on, Penny, that Timothy was a replacement, and as soon as you showed me Darrell’s headshot, I thought he might fit the bill for our killer. But everyone thought he had gone to LA. When it transpired he was obsessed with Cassie, I felt it prudent to check. Furthermore, his grandfather had served in the RAF and might conceivably have owned a revolver like the one retrieved at the scene. Means, motive, and opportunity.”
“Sherlock would be proud,” Snyder remarked. “In fact, all five of our characters would,” he added, indicating the four other fictitious detectives.
“Damn fine sleuthing,” agreed Andrew Forsythe, applauding Rex, the antique cane hooked over his wrist.
Everyone joined in the ovation, and Rex felt well rewarded for his efforts. He held his hands out in appreciation and then raised them for silence. There were more revelations to come.
twenty-seven
“Darrell made that call, pretending to be me, to try to convince you Cassie had killed herself,” Trey reminded Rex when the clapping had died down.
“Aye, I discovered his mother has a car matching the one described by the eyewitness at the petrol station. He must have known I was taking part in the investigation.” Rex glanced over at Paul Reddit briefly and folded his arms. “Mrs. Brewster told me Darrell had lost his father recently, which I’m sure contributed to his state of mind. He must have thought he was losing everything, especially when his LA audition fell through. Whereas Trey, in his eyes, had everything.”
“Including the lifestyle,” Holden agreed. “The Beemer, the family house in the country, the prestigious job.” He looked at Trey and shrugged in resignation. “You have it all, mate.”
“Not Cassie,” Trey replied bitterly, flexing his knuckles.
“Darrell Brewster is a selfish young man with a fragile ego, who had to be in the spotlight at any cost,” pronounced Ada. “To think he was acting out his own role all along … ”
“And played me for a fool,” Susan said with stoic indignation.
“All of us,” Trey amended.
Paul Reddit lifted his hands in a gesture of disbelief. “He said his agent was truly optimistic about his part on American TV. Hur-rum. Rex, do you really mean to say he fabricated all that as his alibi?”
“Up to a point. His talent agency informed my wife he ultimately lost the part and was still in England, but taking time off in the wake of Cassie’s death.”
“Bloody hypocrite,” Ben swore in disgust.
“I lent him the money for his airfare,” Reddit persisted. “He was confident he could pay me back. His prospects looked good.”
“They’re not looking good now.” Rex was pleased Paul Reddit had brought up the matter of the loan of his own volition, but he had to wonder: did Paul like helping people in general or Darrell in particular? He recalled the conversation at the solicitor’s office, where Paul had waxed sympathetic about gay rights. Of course, any romantic interest Paul had in Darrell might have gone unrequited. “You acted as Darrell’s solicitor two years ago, did you not?”
Reddit cleared his throat in his customary way and cast a nervous look around his silently curious audience. “Yes. I already knew him from community theatre. We’re a close-knit group here in Derby.”
Rex refrained from commenting. “Did Mrs. Brewster call you after my visit to her house?” he asked with mounting suspicion.
“She wanted to let me know that she had told you about the loan for the ticket.”
“Is that why you divulged just now that you had paid his airfare? Because you knew I knew about it? Are you by any chance harbouring a fugitive, Mr. Reddit?” Rex glanced over to Inspector Fiske, who acknowledged with a nod that he had taken note.
“Of course not!” countered the solicitor. “I thought, like everyone else, he was in LA.”
Rex turned his attention to Reddit’s niece. “Bobbi, you were friendly with Darrell. Any idea where he might have gone?”
“I don’t. I’m sorry. We didn’t hang out off the set.”
“Most elucidating.” Forsythe raised his cane off the floor, pointing it and missing Rex’s nose by an inch. “But, much as we deplore his action, we must admire the fellow’s steely nerve, what? To follow through with his dastardly plan and carry it all off in disguise! And almost get away with it!”
Christopher Ells, his ghoulish face expressing similar dark admiration, finally broke his silence. “Yeah, sorry mate,” he said to Timothy Holden, “but that underbite … I bet you Darrell used rubber inserts in his jaw. And since he had to wear specs and a hat for Father Brown, it couldn’t have been hard for him to pass himself off as you with a bit of extra padding.” He closed his eyes and gave a groan of relief. “At least we’re off the hook now.”
Holden regarded him with disdain and said nothing. Clearly, he had not forgiven his friend for dropping him in it over the snuff films.
Inspector Fiske stood up from his chair in the back and joined Rex. “Persuasive as Mr. Graves’ demonstration has been,” he told everyone, “it remains a matter of conjecture as to whether Darrell Brewster is our man until we can find concrete evidence. I shall be seeking a warrant to search his home. In the meantime, I implore you all to keep this among yourselves. We don’t want him fleeing these shores if he hasn’t yet. He may well already know he’s a person of interest. Thank you all.” Fiske shook Rex’s hand and said he would keep him apprised of developments.
“You not coming with us to the pub, inspector?” Ben asked. “We’re all going.”
Fiske smiled. “Duty calls.”
“Rex, you coming to the Bells?”
Rex glanced over at Helen, still in her seat. She acquiesced with a nod. “Just one pint, then,” he said gladly, in loving anticipation of a draft Guinness.
“Should we ring old Ron?” asked Bill. “Ee’s probably out of his meeting by now.”
“Nah,” replied his fellow stagehand. “If he couldn’t make it here, screw him.”
Nobody objected. Trey said he couldn’t make it either, since he had to pick up his mother at Manchester Airport.
“Some of us have to change first, so we’ll meet you over there,” Susan Richardson told Ben.
“Susan, just one minute.” Rex took her arm and led her aside. “A mere loose end, but could you explain how blood came to be on the purple corduroys you were wearing on Friday?”
She looked up at him in shock. “How did you know about that? I cut myself on a tin of baked beans.”
“Care to elaborate?”
Susan’s eyes narrowed at him. “Well, if you must know, I was in bits when I got home on Friday night, not surprisingly. Rob was away on business as usual and the kids were being uncooperative. My youngest, who is quite old enough to fend for himself, was clamouring for baked beans on toast. I cut my thumb on the tin when I opened it. See here?” She thrust her right hand towards Rex, palm upwards, and he could make out a thin pink line, half an inch long, of healed flesh in the V of her thumb and forefinger.
“I held it under the cold tap and must have dried it on my trousers without thinking. I had to run a wash that night and threw them into the machine, only realizing they had a stain on them after I pulled them out of the dryer, otherwise I would have soaked them first. It wasn’t that visible, but to me they were ruined, not to mention I would always associate them with Cassie’s death. I decided to add them to the pile of donations I was getting ready for Oxfam.”
“Which is where I found them.”
“You were following me?” Susan Richardson’s green eyes flashed at him in accusation.
“I assure you I wasn’t. Helen is moving out of her house and had some items to give away. I came across your trousers purely by chance.”
“And decided to have them tested for blood, no doubt,” Susan finished for him. “You’ll find that it’s my blood, if the detergent didn’t destroy all my DNA. And I gave you a perfectly reasonable explanation for it being there. You do think it’s reasonable, don’t you?”
“As reasonable a reason as I’ve ever heard,” he agreed, which appeared to mollify her, for she smiled.
“I suppose I should just be grateful you were on hand to solve Cassie’s murder.” She made a move to follow the last of the actors into the dressing room. “We’ll drink to you at the pub,” she added over her shoulder. “See you there.”
“Let’s not jinx it,” Rex replied. “We still have to find Darrell and get proof he did what I’m accusing him of. Are you not just a wee bit upset he might end up in prison?”
Susan turned around with a graceful shrug. “Not especially. Obviously, he was only paying attention to me to make Cassie jealous. I thought he was a bit immature, to tell the truth. I still find it hard to accept that he shot Cassie, but the way you laid it all out makes perfect sense.”
Rex decided, out of delicacy, not to ask about her feelings for Trey. He crossed to where his wife was waiting and, holding out his hand, pulled her to her feet, and together they left the building.
“That was quite a performance you put on back there,” Helen said as Rex drove them through the car park of the community centre. “Mike told me he was impressed.”
“He’s a very decent man, is Mike.” Rex glanced across at her in the beam of car headlights passing on the road. “Not wanting to overstate my case, but don’t you see certain parallels between Penny’s play and Darrell’s plan?”
“As in, Darrell picked up a few ideas from the plot? Yes. Penny’s villain conceals his true identity and hides in the attic. Our villain disguises himself and lurks in the wings. Lady Naomi is stabbed, Cassie is shot, but in each case her privileged young fiancé is left to grieve for her. However, in Peril at Pinegrove Hall, it takes five sleuths to solve the murder, whereas in real life you did it all on your own!”
“Not entirely on my own,” Rex countered.
Helen leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. “Anyway, what I really meant to say is that you are, without question, the big hero in all this. And my hero forever.”
twenty-eight
At the Bells, Ben had explained that Darrell Brewster forwarded the digital recording of the dress rehearsal to him before allegedly catching his plane to the States, and the sound engineer had burned the audio-visual file to a DVD and given Penny a copy. Had Rex known who shot the video before Trey told him, he would have been on to Darrell sooner, but that was the nature of investigations; they rarely took the course of a straight line.
He fumbled with the key under the porch light and was just stepping through the front door with Helen when Trey called him in a panic.
“Speak up, lad, and slow down,” Rex said in a calming tone of voice.
“He’s here! Darrell, I mean. At Manchester Airport, Terminal Three. I spotted him a minute ago, checking in at the KLM desk for the next flight to Amsterdam. I’d dropped my sister off while I went to park, and the little ninny got lost. But it’s as well she did, or I would never have seen him.” Trey was talking a mile a minute, and Rex had put a finger to his mouth to motion to Helen not to make a sound as she followed him into the hall. “I sent Abby over to listen in at the desk,” Trey went on explaining. “He has a one-way ticket. What should I do? I want to kill him!”
“Don’t do anything rash, lad,” Rex urged, concerned by the anger mounting in Trey’s voice. “Let the police do their job and justice take its course.”
“But he might get away! He took Cassie from me. I don’t care what happens to me now.” Trey’s tone had become desperate.
“You still have your whole life ahead of you. You won’t believe it now, but you will love again. I did. Trust me on this, Trey.”
The young man said nothing for a moment, and Rex feared the worst. “Okay,” Trey finally said, his voice thick with emotion.
“So just stand by,” Rex instructed. “Keep eyes on him but don’t let him see you. I’ll alert Inspector Fiske.”
“What about my mother? She’s at Baggage Reclaim. She just flew in from Hong Kong.”
“I’m sure she’ll understand under the circumstances. I’ll ring you as soon as I’ve spoken to Inspector Fiske. Stay put,” Rex repeated firmly before he cut the connection to call the inspector.
Fiske answered immediately. “What’s new, Rex?”
Rex told him.
“Amsterdam, eh? Well, you can get a cheap flight there. And most of them speak English in the Netherlands, if he’s planning on staying there. But at this point, there’s probably more panic than planning going on in Brewster’s head. Right, then. I’ll let you know when we nab him.”
After an hour and a half of anxious pacing in the sitting room, during which time Helen managed to get him to eat a sandwich and drink a mug of strong coffee, Rex finally heard back from the inspector.
“We got Darrell Brewster, and in the nick of time. Airport Police arrested him at the gate about to board his flight. He had Cassie’s mobile on him. We’re taking him to Derby North. Should take us ninety minutes to get back there. Care to watch the interview, always assuming he doesn’t cry for a lawyer?”
“Oh, I’ll be there, never fear.” Rex turned in elation to Helen after the call ended. “Mike is bringing him in.”
“Good,” she said from the sofa. “It was lucky Trey spotted him or he’d be over the Channel by now.”
“I think I’ll take advantage of Julie’s absence to have a shower before I head to the station,” Rex said. There was only the one bathroom.
Helen glanced at the mantelpiece clock. “She shouldn’t be long, assuming she doesn’t end up staying the night with Jeff. I do hope she doesn’t go rushing into things.”
“What’s this coach like?”
“Younger,” his wife stated.
Oh, dear, Rex thought, and headed up the stairs.
The shower felt relaxing on his tense shoulders, and he would have stayed under it longer had he not been worried about using up all the hot water. He dressed in a shirt, jeans, and pullover, and went back downstairs, where he found Helen watching a TV interview with Prime Minister Theresa May.
“Julie just called from her car,” she told him.
Rex settled in beside his wife. “I’ll wait until she gets here. I have bags of time yet, and I’ll fill up the tank so we don’t have to stop tomorrow on the way to Edinburgh.”
Helen lowered the volume on the television and they chatted about the trip. A quarter of an hour later, they heard Julie enter the house.
“Hello, you two.” She strutted into the sitting room in black suede ankle boots and a short skirt, and threw her handbag with abandon into an armchair. “Jeff is so fantastic! And dishy,” she gloated. “And he has this really wicked sense of humour.” She giggled at some remembered joke.
“Are you hungry?” Helen asked.
“We ate at the pub and talked for ages. And then we snogged in the car park, but I didn’t
let it go any further.”
“Right, well, I’ll leave you girls to it,” Rex said, getting up from the sofa, wishing to be spared further details. “I’m off to the station. Inspector Fiske has made an arrest.”
“Helen told me on the phone. Haven’t we all had an interesting time tonight?”
Rex thought it might get a lot more interesting yet.
twenty-nine
Inspector Fiske sat across from the suspect in an interview room. It was now past one in the morning. Darrell Brewster’s left wrist was cuffed to the bar bolted on top of the table, his photogenic features blanched and drawn. DS Antonescu, an intimidating presence in his cobalt blue suit, had pulled his chair a short distance away. Rex watched and listened from the other side of the blind window.
“I want to speak to my mum before I say anything else,” Darrell stated, with one hand zipping up his brown bomber jacket over a white tee-shirt. “Then I’ll tell you everything.”
Rex recognized the voice from the phone call, much as Darrell had managed to make himself sound like Trey.
“You’re telling me you wish to confess?” Fiske asked.
Darrell bowed his dark blond head. His words came out muffled. “I meant to end it right there onstage, holding Cassie in my arms, but I couldn’t go through with it. I thought of my mother, all alone now with my dad gone.”
“So you left Cassie lying there on the floor after you shot her, and fled. Is that what you’re saying?”
Darrell bit on his knuckles. “I wish I had died with her!”
“Now that you’ve been caught,” Antonescu suggested.
“What was going through your head when you shot her?” Fiske questioned.
Darrell raised his face heavily, revealing a tortured expression. “I’d rehearsed what I was going to do over and over in my mind. Up until the moment I stepped onstage none of it seemed quite real. Then I saw the look on her face …” He shook his head in wondering despair. “There was nothing there but shock, and fear.”
Upstaged by Murder Page 18
