Death Dues

by Evans, Geraldine

  Rafferty gave an ambivalent nod. Found out what? he wondered. He might not know now, but he guessed that if she was referring to some violent incident in her past, he soon would. They should have checked.

  ‘It was ages ago. I was only a kid. I split a girl’s head open when I was in my last year at school. This girl had been bullying me and this one day I just saw red and whacked her with my rounder’s bat. Problem solved.’ She grinned suddenly. It made her look very like her father. There was a hint of mischief there but also an element of ruthlessness. Problem solved indeed. Did her father share such a character trait? And had he decided on a simple if temporary resolution to his family’s problems? If so, would Forbes himself be the next victim?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rafferty was pleased to discover on their return to the station that Tony Moran had decided to come clean and confirm the identities of his fellow assailants. And though he was still adamant that he and his friends had had nothing to do with Jaws Harrison’s murder, he admitted they had also been responsible for the other two muggings as well as the one on Izzy Barber. Rafferty, delighted, was hard put to restrain an ear to ear grin.

  He sent three separate teams to pick up Des Arnott and the two Sterling youths, wanting their opportunity to concoct a tale that stood up better to scrutiny than their previous one, strictly limited. He also told them to be sure the three were wearing their leather jackets and Nike trainers, rather than some other non-incriminating apparel. It would be good to get the muggings cases, at least, wrapped up.

  The three youths were still full of denials and protests of innocence when they were brought in. Followed by yet more “no comments”. However, they failed even to say the latter when Rafferty ordered them to remove their jackets and trainers. With sneers, they simply slipped out of them as though they believed that any protests would give Rafferty exactly what he wanted.

  He rushed the clothing off to the lab for forensic tests with the request that they were processed urgently. Then he went back to Interview Room two and Jake Sterling.

  Sterling looked sullen and not quite so cocky without his leather jacket and sporting the plastic footwear they’d supplied.

  ‘You know your tale about you and your friends being innocent victims of assault are unravelling, don’t you?’ Rafferty asked.

  Sterling said nothing.

  ‘We've now got the CCTV footage of the High Street where you said you and your friends were assaulted. Surprise, surprise, there's not a sign of you, your mates or your assailants. You've been telling porkies, Jake. Not for the first time. So, were you assaulting the opposition for Malcolm Forbes? Putting the frighteners on to encourage the other local loan sharks out of business?’

  ‘No I wasn't.'

  'That's not what your little friend, Tony Moran said.'

  'That little tosser.'

  'That little tosser's said some pretty incriminating things.'

  'I wouldn't believe a word he says. Little knob still believes in fairy tales. I don’t work for nobody, me.’

  ‘Oh, so it was strictly private enterprise mugging you went in for? Is that what you’re telling me?’

  ‘I’m telling you nothing. Only that I didn’t mug anybody.’

  ‘If that’s all you’ve got to say, you can save it for the judge. I’m confident we’ve got you for the latest mugging and we've a fair chance on the other two. The forensic results will confirm it. It’s only a matter of time, so why don’t you confess and make it easier for yourself?’

  ‘Make it easier for you, more like.’

  Rafferty looked at him and shrugged. ‘Suit yourself. All I was thinking was that a guilty plea would reduce your sentence. You’re going down, either way.’

  But Sterling ignored the advice. As did his brother and Des Arnott. Rafferty left them to stew. He would waste no more time on them.

  ‘I reckon we’ve got them for the Izzy Barber mugging,’ Rafferty said after Sterling had been taken back to the cells and he and Llewellyn had returned to the office. ‘Maybe even one of the earlier ones if we get really lucky with forensics, but that still leaves Jaws’ murder.’

  ‘I don’t think that was one of theirs. Different MO for one thing.’

  Rafferty nodded. ‘Shame. It would be nice to get these little toughs banged up for some decent time. But I don’t think it’s going to happen.’ Still, he thought, it was good that he’d made such excellent progress on the muggings investigation as he was due to report to Superintendent Bradley imminently. They’d caught their muggers and all without him really applying himself as diligently as he ought to have done to the case.

  ‘I’m off to get a pat on the head from the super,’ he told Llewellyn.

  ‘I wouldn’t be so sure,’ Llewellyn said. ‘We’re no further on in solving the murder,’ he reminded Rafferty.

  ‘Don’t be such a doom and gloom merchant,’ Rafferty complained. ‘Let me enjoy my moment of triumph. Old Long Pockets Bradley will have forgotten all about it and be on my tail again soon enough.’

  ‘I did suggest we should concentrate on the psychological aspects of the case.’ Llewellyn reminded him. ‘Perhaps we can go through them when you return from basking in the superintendent’s praise?’

  ‘Okay.’ Rafferty, delighted that his clear up rate had just improved, was happy to agree to anything. Even a conversation about an ‘ology’.

  ‘To get back to the psychological angle we were speaking about earlier,’ Llewellyn began when Rafferty returned from having his head reluctantly patted by the super. Llewellyn ignored Rafferty’s sigh and went on quietly. ‘You have to admit your methods haven’t got us much farther forward on the murder inquiry.’

  Rafferty was only too aware of it. Hadn’t Superintendent Bradley’s less than heavy-handed praise for a conclusion to the muggings investigation been interspersed with reproaches for his failure to come up with a solution to Jaws Harrison’s killing? ‘And there was me thinking I was going about finding the answer in a highly logical manner.’

  ‘You have been,’ Llewellyn agreed. ‘But you must admit that logic has never been your forte. You’ve always been better at making wild, intuitive leaps and somehow coming up trumps. Maybe you ought to let the right side of your brain have its head. But while we’re waiting for intuition to kick in, now we’re reduced to only a handful of suspects, maybe it’s time to dig a little deeper into their personalities.’

  ‘Dig away, if you must.’ Rafferty subsided into his chair. ‘Let’s hear it.’

  ‘As I said, if we look at the personalities of the remaining suspects, the most likely to my mind are Leslie Sterling and Harry Jones. Though Peter Allbright is still too much of a dark horse to be completely excluded. I—’

  The phone went just then and Rafferty snatched it up eagerly. He listened, asked a few questions and put the phone down. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘You’re right about one thing at least.’

  ‘And what’s that?’

  ‘About Peter Allbright being a dark horse. That was Harry Jones on the phone. Allbright’s just topped himself.’

  When they got round to Primrose Avenue, it was to find Margaret Jones on the sofa crying softly. Harry Jones was pacing restlessly up and down as though, if he didn’t keep active, he, too, might give way.

  ‘What happened?’ Rafferty asked one of the paramedics who’d been called out to attend Allbright.

  ‘Took a load of Paracetamol. Late last night would be my guess as he was well gone when we arrived. The empty packets were by his bed. He must have been stockpiling them seeing as most chemists won’t allow you to buy so many at one time.’

  From what the paramedic said, it seem Allbright had been planning his suicide for some days. Rafferty wondered if this planning dated back to Harrison’s murder. Maybe a count up of the discarded packets of Paracetamol would tell him.

  ‘We thought he’d gone out this morning when he didn’t put in an appearance. Round to the Job Centre,’ Harry Jones told them. ‘He goes there ever
y day.’

  To the chemists, too, to judge by what the paramedic had said. ‘Was there a note?’ Rafferty asked, having visions of their murder being solved with Allbright’s death confession.

  But the paramedic shook his head. ‘There was nothing like that. He just upped and left this world without a goodbye to anyone. Didn’t leave a thing for his parents or his landlords to say why he did it. Very sad.’

  Even without a note confessing all, Rafferty couldn’t help but wonder if this was the solution to the case. Had Peter Allbright killed himself out of remorse for killing Jaws Harrison and in the expectation of being arrested?

  But when he questioned Harry Jones the man was adamant that neither he nor Allbright had left the garden on the afternoon of Harrison’s death. Though, as he commented later to Llewellyn, he would say that, wouldn’t he?

  With Harry and Margaret Jones in a state of shock, Rafferty had judged it the right time to question them as to why they had lied about not seeing John Harrison on the previous Friday. But Harry had still vehemently denied seeing Harrison. Then Rafferty dropped his bombshell.

  ‘We know John Harrison was here that afternoon,’ he told them. ‘We have proof. He made a non-payment entry against you and your wife's name and against that of your lodger, so we know he called. So why did you lie about it?’

  Slowly, the colour drained from Harry Jones’s face till he looked as pale as cream cheese. But this time he didn’t deny the accusation. Instead, he just slumped down on the settee which, luckily, was just behind him and stared at Rafferty from sad eyes, then asked, ‘How did you find out? His payment records book wasn't by the body.’

  For a moment, Rafferty didn’t answer. Instead, he studied Margaret Jones. She didn’t seem to have taken in Rafferty’s words. She still sat clutching her tissue and staring at nothing. ‘We found John Harrison’s payments record book. Mr Forbes collected it off Harrison himself and handed it to his accountant. It shows he visited you on the afternoon of his murder. Mr Jones? I’d like an answer, please. Why did you lie?’

  The seconds ticked away. Finally, Jones answered. ‘I know it looks bad. We knew Harrison’s payments book was missing. And given our debt problems, I suppose we just hoped it would never turn up We took a chance when we said we hadn’t seen him that day. But I’m sorry we lied. I suppose it makes us look suspicious?’

  Rafferty said nothing for a moment, then he said. ‘No more suspicious than some of the other residents. You’re not the only ones who lied to us. But I imagine you already knew that?’

  Harry Jones gave a doleful nod.

  ‘How did you know his payments record book was missing?’ Rafferty asked. ‘It wasn’t a piece of information we gave out to the media.’

  Harry Jones’s brow furrowed. He shook his head. But then his brow cleared and he said, ‘I remember now. Eric Lewis must have mentioned it. Him as found the body.’

  ‘We suspected there might have been collusion. Who suggested you all deny seeing Jaws Harrison?’

  Jones shrugged. ‘I think it was a mutual decision. We were most of us in the same boat.’

  ‘Yet Eric Lewis, who found the body, wasn’t in debt to Forbes. Or at least he had all but cleared the debt. Why would he fall in with the story that none of you had seen Harrison that afternoon?’

  ‘I don’t know that he did. I’m not even sure that he was aware of our hurried decision. He was in shock, of course, after finding Harrison’s body. He said he’d started back up the alley to go home, but before he got there he decided to cross the road to Jim Jenkins and tell him what he’d found. Emily Parker came out while he was on the doorstep and also heard the tale. After that, it just snowballed down the street. We had a confab here and decided to deny seeing Harrison. It seemed the simplest thing to do. All I can say is that it seemed like a good idea at the time.’

  ‘So who was it who put forward the idea of lying in the first place?’

  Jones shrugged.

  ‘Surely you remember? It wasn’t that long ago and must have been quite a momentous decision for you all.’

  Harry Jones shook his head in a bewildered fashion. ‘I don’t know. It was all a bit muddled and hysterical. But Margaret and I were just glad to go along with it. We didn’t have the money to pay Harrison last week. I know my wife said she had put the money behind the clock, but she hadn’t. All she had was an empty envelope. But Harrison had made such alarming threats the last time we couldn’t get the money together that all we felt at his death was relief at the respite. That sounds dreadful, I know. But that wretched man hounded poor Peter to take his own life, so I can’t be sorry he’s dead.’

  'I'd like to see your lodger's room, please. If you can tell me which one it is?'

  Jones nodded. 'It's first left at the top of the stairs.'

  Rafferty and Llewellyn went up to Peter Allbright's room. It was the box room. Fortunately, Allbright must have been the tidy sort or the necessity to be neat had made him so. He hadn't been a hoarder — unless you counted the stockpiled packets of Paracetamol, which he had dropped on the floor after removing their contents. Rafferty had a quick count up. The number of packets tallied with the number of days since Harrison had been murdered. So the deaths were connected, though whether the connection was that Allbright was their killer or just that each day after the murder Allbright had got closer to despair, he didn't know.

  He found a diary in the drawer of the bedside table. Rafferty riffled through the pages until he came to the Friday of Harrison's death. But, not unexpectedly, there was no confession on the page. Nor on any of the others. It was just a sad little catalogue of gradually increasing despair and the worthlessness of life.

  The other debtors, when questioned about their lies, made similar excuses to Harry Jones. As the old soldier, Jim Jenkins said, when they spoke to him and questioned him about what he knew of the affair, ‘If Harrison hadn’t been killed when he was, there might have been another death. Another suicide, like Peter Allbright. Maybe with the breathing space his murder has provided, anyone thinking of following his example will think again.’

  Rafferty could only hope Jenkins was right.

  With Peter Allbright dead and any secrets gone with him, Rafferty and Llewellyn resigned themselves to the investigation turning into a long haul rather than the easy option murder then suicide that Rafferty, at least, had hoped for. If Allbright had been the murderer, it seemed unlikely they would ever prove it. But even with his death the other suspects weren’t exonerated and they returned to the station to thrash out possibilities.

  'I've been thinking,' said Rafferty after a silence of some minutes’ duration. 'What if our killer bought a new hammer in order to kill Jaws but kept their old hammer and was able to produce it when we hunted for the murder weapon?'

  'You're talking serious premeditation.'

  'Yes, but there must have been a certain amount of premeditation, surely? Jaws' killer must have lain in wait for his arrival, hammer poised.'

  'Well, whether the weapon used was a new one or an old one, it's disappeared, so it doesn't much matter either way.'

  'Only in so much that as it has disappeared we should perhaps be concentrating more on those who left the avenue that afternoon and had the opportunity to get rid of the weapon – the three women: Margaret Jones, Josie McBride and Emily Parker.'

  'Of course, it doesn't necessarily mean that one of them committed the murder.'

  'No.' Rafferty conceded, 'but it does point to possible complicity by one of them with whoever did kill Jaws.'

  Llewellyn nodded slowly. 'Do you want to question the three women again?'

  Rafferty shook his head. 'Not yet. I can't see there's much point. They've none of them admitted anything so far. I can't see them doing so now when silence has served them so well.'

  'So what do you want to do?'

  Rafferty contemplated the skin coating his now cold tea and pulled a face. 'You tell me. I've been through everything in my mind any number of times and
I can't see a way forward. Perhaps something will break of its own accord,' he said with an attempt at optimism.

  'Surely it's our job to do the breaking, not to sit around in the blind hope that the fates will do our breaking for us?'

  'Go on, then' Rafferty invited. 'You can start.’ When Llewellyn failed to take up his invitation, Rafferty grinned. ‘Okay, that being a non-starter, let’s turn to another tack. What do you think of Tony Moran’s insistence that he and his pals had nothing to do with Harrison’s murder? You still believe he was telling the truth?’

  Llewellyn, dignity restored after his failure to put his conclusions up there to be knocked down, said, ‘The MO’s not the same. And he’s not a very good liar. He admitted his and their involvement in the non-fatal muggings; if he’d had anything to do with the murder I think he’d have been too shocked to tag along behind his friends on another mugging.’

  ‘Mmm. That’s your psychological assessment, is it?’

  Llewellyn opened his mouth to reply, but Rafferty forestalled him before he could get a word out. ‘As it happens, I think you’re right. Though we forgot to ask Moran if he’d seen Leslie Sterling on the street that day. Have we still got him in the cells?’

  Llewellyn shook his head. ‘Moran and the other three have all been charged and released on bail. Do you want me to have him picked up again?’

  ‘No. Don’t bother. I’ll pop in and question him again on the way home. I imagine after the day he’s had, he’ll be lying low in case his friends also want a word.’

  Given his lack of conversational skills, Peter Allbright had found an outlet for his feelings about his life, his debts and his inability to get a job in the diary. Rafferty read through it again when Llewellyn had gone off. He could imagine Allbright sitting hunched over in his bedroom pouring all his misery into the diary pages. He read through some more of the entries for the last few weeks and the sense of a growing despair was palpable. Clearly, Allbright’s mind had been disturbed enough for suicide. Had it been disturbed enough for murder also?