by J M Gregson
‘I played Jason last year. He beat me very comfortably,’ said Bert Hook. He didn’t even need to look at John Lambert. Both of them knew the rules here without even thinking about it. If anyone asked you about the case, you gave them nothing, politely putting up the confidential shutters. If, on the other hand, anyone chose to speak to you about people involved in the case, you let him talk. Nine times out of ten it was no more than extraneous gossip; on the tenth you picked up something useful.
Bowles nodded. ‘He’s done wonders for the place. I’ve eaten there a couple of times, and the food’s very good. Jason was telling me they’ve trebled the number of tables since he started there. I wonder how the death of the owner is going to affect him.’ He took another swallow of his bitter, whilst Lambert and Hook remained reflectively silent. ‘Perhaps he’ll be able to get the say in policy he wants, now that Martin Beaumont’s gone.’
‘Too early to say yet what’s going to happen to Abbey Vineyards,’ said Lambert. ‘Not our problem, I’m happy to say.’
‘No, I suppose not. Jason will be anxious to know, though. He’s ambitious, as well as being an excellent chef. I wouldn’t mind betting that he’ll be having a big influence on the future of Abbey Vineyards.’
‘I expect you’re right there,’ said Bert Hook, studiously non-committal. He sensed that murder was as usual exercising its ghoulish glamour. This pleasant young man, whether he was conscious of it or not, didn’t want to relinquish the subject and his tenuous connection with it.
Tom said, ‘Jason wouldn’t have got very far whilst Beaumont controlled things, as far as I could see. I told him that.’
‘You did?’
Tom Bowles nodded, moving into the anecdote he realized now that he had always been anxious to offer them. ‘I’m an industrial lawyer. Pretty dull stuff, as far as most people are concerned. But Jason was anxious to pick my brains after our match was over. He said he was asking for advice on behalf of a friend, but I suspect both of us knew perfectly well that it was his own situation he was talking about.’
‘We have the same problems as policemen, sometimes,’ said Lambert gnomically. ‘People tend to think we’re experts on all aspects of the law, when we’re often as ignorant as they are. At least you had the benefit of having professional knowledge to draw upon.’
‘Yes. I couldn’t offer much hope to Jason Knight, though. As a key member of the team at the vineyards, he was anxious to get more power for himself, to have a greater share in policy. I told him that he could perhaps buy his way in, but he hadn’t the capital for that. And from what he said, Martin Beaumont had control of the business neatly tied up – I couldn’t see how Jason was going to get the say in things he wanted, unless his employer was willing to give it to him.’
‘Which people tell us he wasn’t,’ said Bert Hook, taking a drink and shaking his head sadly over the obstinacy of autocrats.
‘No. I wonder what Jason would have done about that. He was certainly pretty keen to get more of a say in things. Perhaps he’ll get what he wanted without needing to do anything, now. Another drink, gentlemen?’
‘Sorry, I think we need to be on our way,’ said John Lambert quickly.
Even in this ancient part of England, there are not many thatched cottages left. This one had been little altered externally since it was built in the seventeenth century. Inside, its nooks and crannies retained the essence of its quaintness, but accommodated the fittings now considered essential for modern living.
Vanda North said, ‘I made a pot of tea when I saw you reversing the car into the drive. You need some compensation for having to work on a Sunday afternoon.’ There were biscuits which looked home-made on a china plate beside the teapot. Vanda North did not look to Bert Hook like the sort of lady who made her own biscuits, and Bert was something of an expert on such things. Probably, though, a lady with good taste, who knew where to get the best things in life. Her fair hair was short and expertly cut. Her blue eyes, above a nose which was just a little too prominent, were observant, despite her conventional phrases. He had no doubt that she was measuring them as intensely as they were assessing her.
He flicked open his notebook and retreated into the conventional first question. ‘How long had you known Mr Beaumont, Ms North?’
‘I use Miss. I find the Ms clumsy to pronounce and tiresome to operate. I’d known Martin for just over fourteen years in all.’
Lambert took over the questioning as Hook made his first note. ‘Then obviously you knew him very well. Would you say you were a friend of his as well as a working colleague?’
She smiled at him with her head a little on one side, apparently not at all disturbed to be questioned by the chief superintendent in charge of a murder enquiry. ‘I would, yes. But there’s something you should be aware of from the start. I knew Martin better than most people. I was his mistress for several years.’
She looked at him to see how her little bombshell would be received, but she could not tell from his reactions whether he had already known it. Probably he had, she thought; it was their business to find out such things and someone would surely have told them about it, even though Jane said she hadn’t mentioned it when she’d spoken to the police. It was strange how she now thought of the Mrs Beaumont she had feared to meet as Jane and a friend. Life was very unpredictable.
Lambert’s long, grave face told her nothing. He said, ‘Thank you for being so frank, Miss North. Obviously honesty is helpful to us. The people we talk to normally find that complete openness is the best policy for them too. How long ago did this close relationship end?’
She smiled at his use of that anodyne phrase. ‘You mean when did I stop going to bed with Martin? Eight years ago now. When I was past forty and he decided that I was getting a little long in the tooth. Men like young flesh between the sheets, when they can get it, don’t they?’ She heard her bitterness come out in the question. Before they arrived she had been determined to be cool and detached, so as to distance herself from this killing. That hadn’t lasted very long – perhaps it was something to do with Lambert’s congratulating her on her honesty. She had better treat this man with his reputation as the Great Detective with due care, if she was not to make herself even more of a suspect.
‘You’re telling us that Mr Beaumont had other women, which confirms what others have suggested. Was there someone particularly close to him at the time of his death?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve made it my business over the last few years to know as little as possible of his private life. It seemed the best policy once I had recognized that our affair was over and that I had been no more than one of a series of bits on the side for Martin over the years.’ She heard again the asperity she had been resolved to conceal. ‘Incidentally, I have no wish to emerge to you as an expert on sexual matters. I did not take Martin into my bed casually, and it is not in my nature to flit from one man to another.’
‘Thank you, but it is no part of our brief to take moral stances in these things. We need the facts, but in the main we confine ourselves to those.’
‘Of course you do. But it was also no part of my brief to come over to you as a high-class tart.’
She grimaced a little on her last phrase, and Lambert felt a sudden sympathy for the spirit and courage of the woman. He said quietly, ‘I’m surprised you stayed around to work with Mr Beaumont over the last few years, in view of the circumstances.’
He was studiously polite, but he wasn’t going to let her get away with anything. Vanda found herself warming unexpectedly to this grave-faced opponent, enjoying the excitement of the contest a little despite herself. ‘You’re asking the question I’ve asked myself a few times over the years, though not recently. There are practical considerations, Chief Superintendent. All my capital is tied up in Abbey Vineyards. It was in my interests to see that the company succeeded, as Martin was often pleased to remind me. Over the last few years, the development and the management of residential accommodation at the vineyard has b
een in my hands, and we have been very successful.’
‘Nevertheless, there must have been a time eight years ago when you felt like withdrawing your investment and leaving Beaumont to it.’
She gave him that knowing smile again, partly to conceal her irritation at his probing of this area and partly out of respect for his intelligence in fastening upon it. ‘There were indeed. There are two reasons why I am still around at Abbey Vineyards. The first is that Martin had tied things up legally so that it proved very difficult for me to withdraw my capital from his company. I only have about a fifth of what he has invested in the company, and my junior partnership was drawn up very much on his terms. I could not withdraw my funds, or even sell on my share in the company to someone else, without his permission. I do not need anyone now to tell me that these are very foolish terms to accept. I signed all the agreements when I was completely infatuated with Martin, in the early stages of our relationship. I trusted him to look after my interests. He took very good care to look after his own.’
‘You’ve investigated the possibilities of withdrawal?’
‘Indeed I have. The latest occasion was only last month. The lawyers tut-tutted and told me as lawyers delight in doing that I should never have signed such documents without their expert advice. The legal expertise was all Martin’s; the stupidity in trusting him to safeguard my interests was all mine. That left me in a situation where I couldn’t afford to take on a legal case with no guarantee of success and with Martin able to employ the best lawyers. It was his habit to ensure that he had the big artillery on his side. He was usually at pains to let his opponents know that.’
Lambert let her bitterness hang in the quiet, low-ceilinged room like a tangible thing, making sure that all three of them appreciated the strength of her motive to murder. It was Hook who eventually looked up from his notes and reminded her, ‘You said there were two reasons why you had continued to work with Martin Beaumont. What was the second one, Miss North?’
Vanda measured her reply carefully. It was important to her that she should convince them of this. ‘I do not think I am without ability, but I have no formal qualifications to speak of, other than a secretarial diploma acquired a long time ago in another life.’ She was silent for a moment, as if contemplating the person she had been in those vanished years. ‘I have enjoyed developing the residential wing at Abbey Vineyards. I think I have a skill in recognizing what the people who stay with us want and how much they are prepared to pay for it. I enjoy managing the staff involved, who are even more vital to success in residential work than in other fields, and I think they are happy with the way I handle things. To use a phrase that now seems to be overworked, I have job satisfaction. I also have a generous salary, which I could certainly not command if I moved away from the company. So long as he remained in control of things, Martin always recognized efficiency and was prepared to pay for it. I think the other senior staff at Abbey Vineyards would agree with that.’
Hook nodded, then without any change in his quiet tone, asked, ‘Where were you last Wednesday night. Miss North?’
She smiled as she set her cup and saucer back on the tray, as if it were important to show them how unruffled she was at this key point. ‘I expected you to ask that, of course I did. I am not the only one with a motive, but I clearly stand to gain by having Martin out of the way. There would be a better chance of withdrawing my stake in the firm, if I wished to. The irony is that with Martin off the scene I may not wish to do that.’ She looked from Hook’s reassuringly ordinary face into the intense grey eyes of Lambert. ‘The answer to your question is embarrassing. No, not embarrassing – I’ll change that to surprising. I was with Jane Beaumont. The woman I had gravely wronged during the years when I was Martin’s mistress.’
If she had expected amazement, she was disappointed. Hook’s expression changed not a muscle as he made a careful note of the fact in his round, surprisingly swift hand. Lambert’s eyebrows lifted the merest fraction before he said, ‘I take it, then, that the two of you are now friends.’
She weighed the word with a small smile, her face softening a little with the thought. ‘We are. If you think that an unlikely situation, I can only say that a month ago the notion would have surprised me too.’
‘This is a recent development, then?’
‘Very recent. Jane came to see me two and a half weeks ago.’ She stopped for an instant, wondering why it mattered to her that she should be so precise about this. ‘She wanted to warn me that she was proposing to sue Martin for divorce and that I might find myself cited as a co-respondent.’
‘That must have given you a shock.’
‘It did. But it was fair enough. I’d hardly thought about his wife during the years I was with Martin. It seems quite odd now, but I was besotted with him at the time.’ She shook her head, as if the recollection of that time still amazed her. ‘Jane and I had scarcely seen each other, and I suspect scarcely thought about each other, until she came to see me here. We got on well, which must have been a surprise to her as well as to me. I said she could cite me if she needed to – I could scarcely have denied it – but that I could probably provide her with evidence of more recent women, if she wanted it. I’ve seen her a few times since then. Last Wednesday night, she was a little upset and I agreed to stay the night with her.’
‘A fortunate decision for both of you, as it turned out,’ said Lambert dryly.
He didn’t pull any punches, this man. But Vanda didn’t resent his comment. She felt again the thrill of the contest, the excitement of pitting her wits against this seasoned campaigner. That elation was a warning to her to be careful, however. ‘I suppose in the light of what happened to Martin, it was indeed a fortunate decision. Neither of us could have seen it as that at the time.’
‘You say Mrs Beaumont was upset. In what way was that?’
It sounded impertinent, but she knew it wasn’t. He had to ask about the time when Martin was killed, and it was important to Jane and to her that she got this right. ‘Jane has a bipolar disorder. I don’t know whether your police machine has yet discovered that. It is one of the reasons why even those who have seen the firm develop over the years have never seen much of the boss’s wife.’
‘And it was affecting her on Wednesday?’
‘I’m no medical expert, Chief Superintendent Lambert. I wouldn’t pretend to understand the condition, though I’ve read up a little about it in the last few days. All I know is that Jane was jumpy and unpredictable on Wednesday. I offered to stay the night with her and she seemed very grateful. She accepted immediately.’
Lambert nodded. It seemed to Vanda that his eyes never blinked as he studied her. ‘And you didn’t think that she was simulating this distress?’
‘No, I’m sure she wasn’t. Jane was jumpy and unable to concentrate – unpredictable in what she would say next, as though her mind was flitting from subject to subject. Why on earth should she be pretending that?’
‘This is a murder investigation, or I wouldn’t be questioning you in this detail, Miss North. If Mrs Beaumont knew that her husband was going to die – if, for instance, she had employed the services of a professional killer to dispose of him – she might well have been anxious to establish an alibi for herself. You are the only one who can confirm for us that she was many miles from him at the moment of his death.’
‘But if she’d used a hit man, she wouldn’t need to establish that, surely?’
‘Without your presence in the house overnight, we could not be certain that either one of you wasn’t in the car with Beaumont when he died.’
He seemed to her to have put just a little emphasis on that ‘either one of you’. Perhaps she was becoming too sensitive to his changes of tone. She took care not to react to the phrase. ‘I know enough of Jane Beaumont to be quite certain that she wasn’t involved in his death. But I understand that you have to make your own mind up in these things, that you have to assume that we’re all liars until you know for certa
in that we’re not.’
Lambert was not at all put out. He smiled grimly. ‘Not everyone involved will be lying, Miss North. But one person will be quite determined to deceive us. Have you any idea who that person might be?’
She was used to his directness now. ‘I’ve thought about that a lot in the last couple of days. I’m happy to say that others have motives as well as me. But I can’t imagine that any of us would have killed Martin. It would be wrong if he came across to you as a monster. He had an obsession with his company and his direction of it, but apart from that he had a lot of good qualities. He could be a good friend, and he was a fair and generous employer. And I have got to know the people I work with pretty well over the last few years. We all have our strengths and our weaknesses, but I can’t imagine that any of them is capable of murder.’
Just when she had got used to fencing with Lambert, to parrying his thrusts and preserving her position with him, it was Hook who now took up the attack. He said quietly, ‘You said earlier that you might have been able to provide evidence of further and more recent sexual adventures to assist Mrs Beaumont in her divorce petition. You will appreciate that such information has to be of interest to us.’
She smiled at his open, rubicund face. ‘Sex and money. They’re the great motivators to murder, aren’t they? And hatred, I suppose – but I’ve just told you that there wasn’t much of that around. Well, both Jane and I are sure Martin was still putting it about, if you’ll excuse the crudity. He isn’t the man he was, of course, in looks at least. You might not believe it now, but there was a touch of the Greek god about him when I first knew him.’ She paused for a moment, her mind abstracted for an instant to that time long ago. ‘I’m sorry, I’m trying to explain away my conduct from all those years ago, when it has no relevance whatever to this death. What was it you wanted from me again?’
