by A L Fraine
“Would you like me to get anyone for you?”
Snapping out of his reverie, he looked back up at her. “Well, we’d like to talk to Spencer again,” he replied.
“Spencer? I’m sure that can be arranged,” she replied and offered to bring him to the morning room if they wanted to go and get settled.
“Don’t say it,” Kate said, as they walked into the now-familiar room.
“Say what?” Jon asked, doing his best to sound offended.
“You know what.”
“I’m quite sure I have no idea what you’re talking about, Barry.”
“And I’m quite sure you do, Tea Nazi.”
“Well, what can I say? We all know that how you make your tea says an awful lot about your character. There’s no denying that.”
“In your world, perhaps.”
“I mean, if there was ever something that screamed, ‘I eat babies for breakfast,’ it’s putting milk in the mug first. That’s just an incontrovertible fact.”
“And there’s nothing that says grumpy old git better than obsessing over how someone makes their bloody tea,” Kate countered.
“Bloody tea. That’s right. I bet her tea is bloody. Bloody with the life essence of innocent children, splattered around the room.”
“Jesus, Jon, you went dark with this metaphor. Are you sure you’re alright?”
“Just ramming my point home.” He shrugged.
“With a feckin’ five hundred tonne battering ram!”
Jon laughed, enjoying the banter with her. “Noted.”
“You wanted to see me?” Spencer said as he walked into the room, seeming quite bright and energetic.
Jon didn’t really trust morning people and eyed Spencer suspiciously as he walked in. “We did. Come, sit down, please.”
He nodded and joined them in the seating area towards the middle of the room. “What can I do for you?”
“We spoke to Harold last night,” Jon began.
“Oh?” Spencer replied, and Jon noted the furtive glance he gave the nearby door.
“Yeah,” Jon replied, smiling to himself, feeling sure Spencer knew where this was going and the revelation it would lead to. “We talked about a few things.”
“Good, good,” Spencer replied, still not giving anything away.
Jon narrowed his eyes at the man. He must surely know what he was getting at. Very well, he thought. He needed to spell it out because Spencer wasn’t going to admit to anything, it seemed.
“You went to see Harold yesterday morning, and you wanted to know what Lizzy had told him, didn’t you? You got quite aggressive about it too. Aggressive enough, that Harold got worked up into a state that put him in hospital.”
Spencer stiffened where he sat, his jaw set as he stared back at Jon. For a moment, Jon thought that Spencer might actually attack him, judging by the look on the man’s face, but he seemed to calm after a few moments and then released the breath he’d been holding. His body seemed to deflate as he exhaled, and his head lowered as if the shame of what he’d done finally hit him.
“You’re right, I did go and see him,” Spencer admitted. “And I did get a little upset. But I didn’t mean to do that to him. I didn’t want to put him in hospital. That was the last thing I wanted. But I guess I just got a little too worked up over all this. Stupid, really.”
“I see. So, Harold said you’d heard that Lizzy had something to tell him. So I’m wondering, what exactly did you hear?”
“Not much more than that, really. I was hoping Harold could shed some light on it.”
“But, you must have heard that from someone?”
Spencer lowered his head. “I did.”
“Then you know what my next question is going to be, and I hope I don’t have to drag it out of you.”
He looked up and stared Jon in the eye for a moment, before he shrugged. “I heard it from Chester.”
“Chester?” Jon remarked. “Cecelia’s son?”
“Lizzy told him, apparently,” Spencer replied. “Said she had some stuff to talk to Harold about.”
“And you thought it was about you, did you?”
“I thought it was a possibility.”
“Why?”
He shrugged again. “I’ve not always been an angel.”
“We know. But, isn’t that all in the past for you now?”
“It is, but in this game, you never really leave it all behind.”
“I see. But you know, I’m not sure how much I believe you. I have to wonder if maybe this isn’t all in the past for you. You got quite angry at Harold to hear him tell it. You were aggressive. That doesn’t sound like something that’s in the past to me.”
He looked uncomfortable, shifting around in his seat, a frustrated look on his face. “Well, it is,” Spencer protested.
“No need to get upset,” Kate cut in. “All we want is the truth, and you clearly didn’t kill Harold.”
“I didn’t kill Lizzy, either,” Spencer added.
“It does seem that you were here at the time of her death,” Jon admitted. “But, you see, there are other things that make me wonder.”
“Like what?” Spencer asked.
“Like why you were trying to blackmail Piers.”
Spencer groaned and rolled his eyes.
“So, you don’t deny it?” Kate asked.
Spencer shrugged but said nothing, clamming up. His defences were up, and his jaw set.
“Why would you do that, hmm?” Jon asked. “Why would you try to blackmail Piers into giving you money? Do you owe someone? Is that it? How did you find out about the affairs?”
“I don’t know, from some friends,” Spencer replied, crossing his arms and legs as he shifted position again.
Jon nodded, noting how Spencer was biting his lip and fidgeting more than ever. “I think you need to be careful who you mix with, Spencer. I don’t think these friends of yours have your best interests at heart.”
“And how would you know?”
“I know that you’ve worked with some members of a Russian organised crime group, Spencer. I know that those guys are extremely dangerous, and I know a lot about what they’re involved in. We could help you, if you would just help us. We could protect you.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I recommend you stay away from them, Spencer.”
But he didn’t reply, and stared off into the corner of the room, biting his nail again.
Jon sighed, frustrated by Spencer’s loyalty to the group he worked for. He needed to know how these people were involved.
“Can I go?” Spencer asked.
“Spencer,” Jon began, staring at him, “how did they know about Lizzy? I presume they knew somehow? Did they find out she was snooping around? Did she discover more than she bargained for? Did they kill her?”
“I just, I don’t know. I’m sorry, I wish I knew more. Can I go?”
Jon sat back and glanced over at Kate, who shrugged. “Yeah, sure. Can you send Chester in?”
Spencer stood, paused, and then briefly met Jon’s eyes. He looked terrified, and it was a look he’d seen far too often before, usually in the eyes of those lower down in a criminal group, the ones who would take the brunt of the revenge when they screwed up or said too much.
He was scared, but there wasn’t much they could do for him if he wouldn’t accept their help.
“Yeah, sure,” Spencer said, answering Jon before turning and walking out.
“Don’t leave the house,” Jon called out as he left the room. And then he was gone.
“He’s still involved,” Kate said, looking back and talking quietly.
“I agree. I bet they somehow got wind of Lizzy snooping around and told him. Maybe they asked him to deal with it?”
“He’s in over his head,” Kate said, and Jon nodded in agreement.
16
It was several minutes before Chester wandered in, one hand in his trouser pocket and the other holding his phone. He stared at
the device, his thumb scrolling as he walked in and sat down without once looking up.
Jon watched him, shocked at the rudeness on display before he turned and glanced at Kate. She bugged her eyes at him but kept her opinions to herself.
Returning his attention to the kid, Jon coughed. “A-hem.”
Chester glanced up briefly, just a flick of his eyes before his attention was back on his phone.
“Chester Lockwood?” Jon pressed.
“What?” the teenager mumbled.
“Put your phone away, for a start.”
“Why?”
In no mood to play nice with this kid, he decided to play hardball. “Because I told you to, and if you don’t, I’m going to haul you down to the station and throw you in a cell for the night.”
Jon could almost feel the look that Kate was no doubt giving him.
Chester let out a long, deep sigh that spoke volumes about how inconvenienced he was feeling as he stuffed his phone in his pocket. “There, happy now?”
“Ecstatic,” Jon replied sarcastically. “You’re sixteen, right?”
“Yeah?”
“I think we should have an appropriate adult in here with you.”
“Whatever,” he muttered, a look of contempt on his face.
“Can you get her?” Jon pressed.
“I don’t know. Can I use my phone, or are you going to have a fit again?”
“You may message your mother,” Jon replied, only to be answered with a sigh that was even more dramatic than the first.
Chester pulled his phone out and composed a message. “There, done,” he replied and returned his phone to his pocket. Slouched in the chair, he looked off into the corners of the room. Anywhere but at them.
“How have you been, since Lizzy’s death?”
“You mean, her murder? Fine. Alright, I suppose. What’s it got to do with you?”
Jon sighed, and made sure to make it as dramatic as Chester’s had been. “Look, kid. This will go an awful lot smoother and quicker if you just cooperate and answer our questions. If you mess us about and time waste, it will only take longer, much longer, and if I’m really lucky, I might get to drag you down to the station and remove that phone from you. Understand?”
Chester screwed up his face, twisting his mouth around as he frowned at Jon.
Then he seemed to relax and shrug. “Whatever.”
“Do you care that your cousin has been killed?” Kate asked.
“I suppose.”
“You suppose? So, you’re not sure if you care?”
He shrugged again.
“Hello, hello,” Cecelia said as she strode into the room and walked over to Chester. “Hello baby, how are you?”
“Fine,” he replied, as his mother hugged him. He returned it half-heartedly without leaving his seat.
“So, how does this work?” Cecelia asked.
“Hello, Mrs…” Jon began.
“Lockwood-Blythe, but just call me Cece, please,” she interrupted.
“Cece, sure. You’re here as Chester’s responsible adult due to his age. You’re to make sure he understands everything we ask him and basically look after his rights, okay?”
“Yes, that’s fine.”
“Please don’t answer his questions for him, or try to influence him in any way.”
“Of course not. I wouldn’t dare,” Cece replied.
“Good, thank you.”
“Are you ready, Ches?” Cece asked him.
“Ugh, yes!” he snapped.
Cece looked momentarily uncomfortable before she brushed it off and sat back and smiled at them. Jon got the impression he was continuously rude to his mother.
“The night of the murder, you were out on the porch with Portia, right?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
Jon grimaced. He could see where this conversation was headed before it even got going. “Were you or weren’t you?”
“Yeah, alright, I was. So what?”
Jon was about to snap back with another aggressive response, only for Kate to jump in, taking a more diplomatic tone.
“We’re just trying to confirm where everyone was and what you were doing that evening,” Kate said. “We’re not trying to catch you out, or anything.”
“Okay,” he replied.
“So, then what?” Jon asked.
Chester sighed again. “I don’t know. I think Lizzy came to talk to Portia.”
“And…?”
“I left them to it, walked off.” Chester shrugged.
“Walked off, where?”
“Inside.”
“And did what?” Jon pressed, getting annoyed by his answers.
“I don’t know,” Chester answered, sounding annoyed again. “Hung about, waited. Went for a wander.”
“I see. Why did you walk off when Lizzy turned up?”
“Because I hate Lizzy, the bloody lezza. She’s an ungrateful cow.”
Jon couldn’t help the look of surprise he felt wash over his face. He was honestly shocked that someone his age would think like that and then state it so plainly. Pulling his face back into a more neutral expression, Jon forced himself not to reply with a line about stuck-up, self-entitled brats.
“I see,” Jon remarked, calmly. He could hear Kate making notes beside him.
“Can’t stand being around her for long. Kind of have to, though, what with her being family an’ all.”
“Okay. Well, it’s come to our attention that you possibly heard Lizzy say she had something to tell Harold. Is that right?”
“Yeah, I heard that. That was earlier, though, during the day. So what?”
Jon regarded Chester for a moment, with his floppy mousey blond hair and superior expression. He did not like this obnoxious child.
“So, who do you think killed Lizzy?” Kate asked.
Chester looked over at her as if offended that she’d dare ask him a question. He answered a beat later. “Spencer, I guess. He’s nothing but a common criminal, after all.”
“Chester,” Cece exclaimed. “Don’t be so silly. Why would Spencer do something like that? I won’t hear such things said about my brother.”
Chester had looked like he was about to carry on with his little rant, but he clamped his mouth shut as he looked up at his mother, and fell silent again. Jon wondered what else he might have said if he’d been let off the chain and wondered if they’d ever find out.
“I’ll tell you who you should be looking into,” Chester said, suddenly animated again.
“Go on,” Jon replied.
“The bloody scroungers and illegals. The immigrants, people like that. They’re the real criminals, not us. They shouldn’t be here, you know, right? They need to piss off back to their own country and get a job there, and not nick all ours.”
“I see,” Jon replied, incredulous.
“People like Roza. That’s who you should talk to.”
“Chester, please,” Cece said in an attempt to calm him. “You can’t say that.”
“I’ll say what the hell I bloody well like. It’s a free country.”
“Chester.”
“No, shut up, Mother, let me talk for once. You should talk to Roza. She’s involved in all this too. I saw her talk to Lizzy several times at the party, I bet she knows all about it. I bet she’s involved, somehow. Maybe she killed her with Spencer. They’re all twats as far as I’m concerned, and the sooner you throw ‘em behind bars, the better.”
“I’m sorry,” Cece said, and then turned to Chester. “Stop it right now. You’re being silly.”
“Oh, do shut your bloody cake-hole, Mother. Like you’re any better?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me.”
Cece stood, furious. “I’m sorry, Detectives, but I can’t stand this. This is over,” she snapped and stormed out of the room.
Jon watched her go, surprised by the turn of events and what they’d said to one another. Chester had been outright cruel and didn’t seem v
ery bothered that she’d basically ended the interview by walking out. In fact, he seemed pleased about it. Turning and smiling at Jon, Chester stood.
“Well, I think that’s all over then, for now.”
He didn’t seem at all worked up or upset. In fact, he appeared calm and smug as he smiled down at them. “I’ll see myself out.”
With that, he turned and wandered out of the room at a leisurely amble, pulling his phone out of his pocket as he went. There wasn’t much Jon could do, and while he did think that Chester had more to tell them, he also felt he had enough to go on for now.
“What an obnoxious, spoilt brat,” Kate remarked once he was gone. “I’d die of embarrassment if a child of mine acted like that to other people, especially the police.”
“He is certainly a piece of work, that’s for sure,” Jon agreed.
“You’re not kidding,” Kate said. “So, now what?”
“Well, I certainly want to talk to Roza,” Jon said as he stood and stretched. “Oh dear,” he sighed, as he tensed and released, trying to shake the lethargy from his body. “I’m getting too old for this shit.”
Jon heard a clatter of footsteps, and a moment later, Ingrid appeared at the door, a little out of breath. She gasped and took a moment to catch her breath before speaking. “Spencer’s gone,” she said.
“Gone?” Jon replied. “Gone where?”
“I don’t know. But he’s driven off.”
“Did he say where he was going?” Kate asked.
“Err, I don’t think so.”
“Crap,” Jon remarked.
“I’ll call it in,” Kate said and pulled her phone out as she stepped away.
“Good idea,” Jon replied as he wondered what on earth Spencer was playing at. They’d need to find him, and quick. “What’s the number plate of the car he was driving?” he turned and asked Ingrid.
“I, um, I don’t know,” Ingrid admitted. “I can find out, though. I know he was in his BMW. The dark blue one. I’ll go and find out his number plate for you.” With that, she turned and left the room.
Jon listened to Kate calling it in, describing both Spencer and the car, until Ingrid finally returned and dumped a file on the desk. She started to go through it, pulling out all kind of various car records from the family, until she finally found what she was looking for, and gave Kate the number plate for the BMW.
