Death at Burwell Farm

by Betty Rowlands

  ‘Is that right? She wants you to go with her?’ said Trudy in surprise as the door closed behind her.

  ‘She claims to have no friends in the neighbourhood and a mother who was dead against the marriage and I gather is unlikely to give the poor girl much support. I’ll have to check in first and let George Barnes know what’s happened, but I’m sure it’ll be OK. Hopefully Mandy will be able to deal with any other jobs that come in.’

  ‘Fine.’ After a moment’s thought, Trudy said, ‘Any idea why the mother was so against it?’ She glanced round the room, taking in the expensive-looking furnishings. ‘It doesn’t look as if there’s a shortage of money. That kitchen must have cost an arm and a leg to install.’

  ‘Something to do with the age difference – she implied that he was a lot older than her.’

  ‘She told you a lot about herself in a short time.’

  ‘She was already worried about his unexplained absence and I was just someone to talk to.’

  ‘She seems to have taken a liking to you. If you’re not careful, you’ll end up acting as an unofficial counsellor.’

  The words were to prove prophetic in more ways than one.

  The ordeal of identification was over. One glance, as the mortuary attendant drew back the sheet and exposed the dead face, was enough; Jennifer gagged, put her hand to her mouth and turned away with a barely audible, ‘Yes, that’s Oliver.’

  Trudy nodded to the attendant, who replaced the sheet. ‘Thank you, that will be all,’ she said.

  Sukey, who had been standing beside Jennifer, caught a glimpse of dishevelled silvery hair above an unnaturally pink face. At a quick estimate, she judged that there was a good thirty years’ difference in age between the dead man and his widow. She noticed that the chin and cheeks were covered in a heavy growth of greyish stubble; Oliver Drew, it seemed, had spent his final days living rough, wrestling in solitude with some as yet unidentified problem for which he had finally concluded there was only one solution.

  Back in the anteroom, Jennifer said, ‘Is it all right if I go home now?’ Her face was drained of colour, but she was outwardly composed.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ said Trudy. ‘I’ll arrange transport and I’ll come and see you tomorrow. As I said earlier, I’m afraid I have to ask you a few questions, but I’ll make it as easy for you as I can.’

  ‘Thank you. Sukey said she’d take me home.’

  ‘If you don’t mind coming back to the police station and waiting while I write my reports,’ Sukey reminded her. ‘It’ll take a little time.’

  ‘I’ve got plenty of that now, haven’t I?’

  Back at the station, having installed Jennifer in a spare interview room with a cup of tea and a young police cadet to keep an eye on her, Sukey made her way upstairs to the SOCOs’ room. George Barnes was there on his own, sitting back in his chair with a mug of coffee in his hand.

  ‘You’re looking relaxed, Sarge,’ she said as she dumped her bag on her desk. ‘Things must be pretty quiet.’

  ‘Heaven be praised, they are. A couple of radios snatched from cars in the Brunswick Road area – Mandy’s dealing with them so, barring a sudden emergency, it’s OK for you to take Mrs Drew home when you’ve finished here. Tell me more about this drama at Marsdean.’

  ‘Tell you in a minute, when I’ve made myself a cuppa. I haven’t had a chance to eat my lunch yet.’

  On the way back from the vending machine with a plastic cup of tea in one hand and a chocolate bar in the other, Sukey almost collided with DI Jim Castle as he emerged from his office.

  ‘Just the person I wanted to see,’ he said. ‘The minute I got back from Birmingham, Andy Radcliffe was on the blower telling me about a break-in at a house in Marsdean and the owner being found dead in his car. He was in George Barnes’s office when your call came through, but he was in a rush and didn’t have time to get any details.’

  Sukey followed him back into his office and closed the door. ‘There’s no reason to believe there’s any connection,’ she said. ‘The body of a man called Oliver Drew, who owns Marsdean Manor, was found early this morning in his fume-filled car.’ She gave Jim a brief account of the chain of events which led to her accompanying Jennifer Drew to the hospital morgue to identify the body of her husband. ‘I’ve promised to take her home,’ she said when she had finished. ‘She’s waiting downstairs while I write up my reports.’

  Castle frowned. ‘Surely uniformed could have arranged transport? Marsdean’s miles out of your way.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. As it happens, I think I might learn something useful. She claims to have no idea what drove her husband to top himself, but I have a feeling she’s holding something back.’

  ‘What makes you think that?’

  ‘One or two things she let drop suggested there have been problems. I might get her to tell me a little more… she seems to find me sympathetic.’

  ‘Which you are.’ In a show of affection rare during office hours, he leaned forward and brushed her cheek with his fingers.

  ‘Thank you.’ She acknowledged the gesture with an affectionate smile. ‘Shall we see you this evening?’

  ‘I hope so, but I might be held up here. Can we leave it open?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Keep me posted on the Marsdean affair, won’t you?’

  As she left the city behind and drove along an almost deserted A38 towards Marsdean, Sukey said quietly, without taking her eyes off the road, ‘Jennifer, are you sure you have no idea what made your husband take his own life?’

  ‘No, I haven’t – truly.’

  ‘You hinted there had been problems.’

  ‘Yes, but not bad enough to…’

  Sukey took a quick sideways glance at her passenger and noticed her colour had risen slightly. ‘If you don’t want to talk about it—’ she began.

  ‘But I do,’ Jennifer said urgently. ‘I need to… I’ve never discussed it with anyone, not even Maureen… we thought we had it sorted…’

  ‘We?’

  ‘Oliver and me. It was difficult, when we were first married, I mean. He couldn’t seem to…’ Her voice cracked and died, drowned in a fresh wave of emotion.

  Sukey pulled into a convenient lay-by and waited until she was calmer. Then she said, ‘Look, the last thing I want to do is upset you further. WPC Marshall will be coming to see you tomorrow, if you’d rather wait till then?’

  ‘No, please, I’d rather talk to you.’ After a moment’s hesitation, Jennifer said in a low voice, ‘It was Oliver’s problem really… he couldn’t… not at first. And then I found this place advertised in a magazine, offering some kind of therapy for people with problems.’

  ‘You mean, sexual problems?’

  ‘All sorts of problems related to stress. I sent off for the prospectus; I can’t remember everything that was in it, but it claimed to help people to escape what they call their internal shackles. I showed it to Oliver and he was sceptical at first, but he was getting pretty desperate and in the end he agreed to give it a try.’

  ‘And did it help?’

  ‘Not immediately… at least, things got a little better but nothing spectacular. Then one night he came home from a session on such a high – the change in him was unbelievable. He said he’d been liberated, he’d progressed to the Outer Wheel and was on the way to the Unlimited. It all sounded a bit weird, but the main point was that it had worked. Everything was wonderful for several weeks… and then last week something happened. I don’t know what it was, he wouldn’t tell me, but one day I came home to find him sitting in his chair in the office staring out into the garden. He seemed miles away – he never heard me come in and he nearly jumped out of his skin when I spoke to him. I asked him what was wrong; he insisted there was nothing, but I was sure there was. He was very quiet for several days, not himself at all. And now…’ This time, Jennifer made no effort to hold back her tears. ‘I don’t understand,’ she sobbed. ‘If only he’d told me… whatever the trouble was, we c
ould have shared it.’

  ‘Just have your cry,’ Sukey said gently. She waited until the young widow became calmer, then restarted the engine. ‘I’ll take you home now.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I wonder,’ Sukey remarked as she turned off the main road and headed for Marsdean, ‘whether it might be worth asking the people who run these sessions if they can shed any light. Who are they, by the way?’

  Jennifer gave a wan smile. ‘They use the initials of their slogan “Release Your Cosmic Energy” as an acronym – Oliver used to say it sounded like a scheme for feeding the Third World. They call themselves the RYCE Foundation.’

  Four

  ‘I’m afraid it’s all out of the freezer this evening,’ Sukey apologised. ‘I got home too late to cook anything fancy.’

  ‘No problem,’ said Jim, helping himself to crisps. ‘Where’s Fergus?’

  ‘He left a note to say he was going swimming. He’ll be back any time.’ Sukey spread frozen chips in a dish and slid it into the oven. ‘I didn’t really like leaving Jennifer on her own,’ she went on. ‘I offered to contact one of the voluntary care organisations and arrange for someone to keep her company tonight, but she refused point blank, said she didn’t want a stranger in her home. A bit illogical, really, since that’s exactly what I was until a few hours ago, yet there she was, pouring her heart out to me.’

  ‘It’s your sweet, sympathetic nature that makes people take to you.’ Jim put down his glass of wine, took her in his arms and nuzzled her cheek. ‘I do love you, Sook,’ he murmured in her ear.

  She nestled against him. ‘Love you too.’

  They clung together for a few seconds before she disengaged herself, took a dish of chicken breasts from the microwave where she had put them to defrost and began brushing them with oil. He perched on the corner of the kitchen table to watch her at work. ‘You don’t reckon she’ll do anything foolish, do you?’ he said after a moment’s thought.

  ‘That’s what was worrying me at first, but once she was back she seemed to calm down and became quite practical – went straight to the kitchen and began taking stuff out of the freezer for her supper. That was when I asked her whether she needed company for the night, but she was quite positive she’d be all right on her own.’

  ‘Maybe she thought you were fishing for an invitation to stay for a meal,’ Jim suggested.

  ‘Cheek!’ She gave him a playful thump on the chest. ‘Anyway, I’d already made it clear I had a hungry son to feed.’

  ‘You didn’t mention a hungry DI, I take it?’

  ‘Hardly.’ Sukey chuckled, then became serious again. ‘She said something about needing time by herself to figure things out, yet on the way home she’d been saying how badly she’d been needing someone to confide in.’

  ‘Maybe, having got it off her chest, she now feels she needs time to reflect on how to organise her life from now on.’

  ‘It’s a bit early for that. I’m more inclined to think that what’s uppermost in her mind at the moment is the sudden change in her husband’s attitude. She spoke as if everything was going swimmingly up to a short time before he took off. It was after she mentioned the RYCE Foundation that she suddenly clammed up. You know’ – Sukey finished seasoning the chicken breasts and put them in the oven with the chips – ‘by an odd coincidence I was hearing about this RYCE Foundation only yesterday. Fergus’s girlfriend, Anita, has a slightly dotty elderly relative who’s one of their clients – “initiates” they call them. According to Gus, they have what he describes as “touchy-feely” sessions, chanting mantras and listening to music. It sounds a bit weird but he says their Auntie Vera laps it up. Anita’s father, Adrian, thinks they’re a catch-penny outfit conning her out of her money – I understand she’s got plenty.’

  ‘And he’s worried about losing his inheritance, I suppose.’

  ‘So worried that I gather we’re shortly to be honoured with an invitation to dinner and, reading between the lines, I suspect he wants us – or rather you – to try and find out if anything is known about them. From what Gus says, it sounds a bit eccentric, but it doesn’t seem to be doing the old duck any harm. If that’s how she wants to spend her money I don’t see how Adrian can stop her – unless he has her declared of unsound mind or the organisers can be shown to be crooks. I rather think he’s hoping for the latter.’

  ‘You reckon he’s taking it that seriously?’

  ‘It sounds like it, but we’ll have to wait and see. The invitation hasn’t been issued yet. Are you game to accept?’

  ‘I don’t see why not.’

  ‘You know,’ Sukey remarked as she tipped frozen peas into a pan of boiling water, ‘you do hear about these odd cults whose devotees are persuaded to cough up for what are claimed to be charitable or religious purposes, but in fact the money goes straight into the pockets of the leaders. They practise all sorts of mind control techniques to get people to do what they want.’

  ‘Oliver Drew was a successful businessman,’ Jim reminded her. ‘He doesn’t sound the sort to fall for that kind of con-trick.’

  ‘It depends on how badly he wanted to believe it. It does seem to have worked in his case, of course – until it all fell apart again.’

  ‘There might have been a totally unconnected reason for that. Maybe he had business worries that he couldn’t find a way round.’

  Sukey adjusted the heat under the saucepan of peas, took a mouthful from her glass of wine and began loading cutlery on to a tray. ‘Given the time scale, I don’t think that’s very likely,’ she said. ‘Jennifer insists that he was in great spirits until shortly before he disappeared.’

  ‘He could have been keeping his worries to himself, putting on an act.’

  ‘There are some acts a man can’t put on,’ she pointed out meaningly. ‘No, I’m more inclined to think that it’s got something to do with this RYCE Foundation we keep hearing about, and I have a feeling Jennifer Drew thinks so as well. Maybe Adrian Masters has got a point.’

  There was the sound of a key being turned in the front door. ‘That’ll be Gus,’ said Sukey. ‘Perhaps it would be better not to mention today’s adventure. It’ll go straight back to the Masterses and Adrian will seize on it as adding weight to his case against RYCE.’

  ‘Good thinking.’

  The kitchen door was flung open and Fergus appeared. He exuded youthful health and high spirits; his eyes sparkled, his face had a rosy glow and his fair hair clung damply to his head like a smooth coating of honey.

  ‘Hi, Mum! Hi, Jim! Had a good day?’

  ‘Busy.’ Sukey answered for both of them. ‘How about you?’

  ‘Fine. We played tennis and then had a swim. I got your message, Mum. What was the hold-up?’

  ‘The lady of the house where I was working on a break-in was called on to identify a body found in her husband’s car.’

  ‘Gosh, how awful for her. Did you have to go with her?’

  ‘I didn’t have to, but she asked me to.’

  ‘Was it her husband?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Had he been murdered?’ An anticipatory gleam appeared in the lad’s eyes.

  ‘No, he’d run a pipe from the exhaust into the car and left the engine running. Look, Gus, it was all a bit stressful and I really don’t want to talk about it, OK?’

  ‘OK.’ Fergus helped himself to crisps and took a can of Coke from the refrigerator. ‘How was the inquest, Jim? Any gory details?’

  ‘You are the most bloodthirsty young man I’ve ever met,’ Jim replied with a chuckle. ‘And no, it was all very tame by your standards.’

  ‘Oh well, I suppose you can’t have exciting cases every day.’

  ‘Thank goodness. Here.’ Sukey picked up the tray of cutlery and handed it to him. ‘Do something useful – go and lay the table.’

  ‘OK.’ As Fergus took the tray the telephone rang. ‘That’ll probably be Anita’s mum – she said she’d call this evening.’

  ‘I’ll take it
in the sitting room. Will you turn the peas off when the pinger goes, Jim?’

  The voice that greeted Sukey with the words ‘Mrs Reynolds? This is Catherine Masters – Anita’s mother’ was warm and friendly, with a musical intonation and a cultured accent that spoke of elocution lessons at an expensive boarding school. ‘I dare say Fergus mentioned that I’d be getting in touch?’

  ‘Good evening, Mrs Masters. Yes, he did – and before we go any further, I’d like to thank you for inviting him for the weekend. He did so enjoy it.’

  ‘My dear, it was a pleasure to have him with us.’ It sounded as if she really meant it. ‘As I’ve been saying to Adrian for a long time, with our children being such close friends, it really is time we got to know one another properly.’

  ‘Yes, that would be nice,’ said Sukey politely.

  ‘So perhaps you’d like to come for a meal with us one evening? Are you free on Wednesday? Your friend, too, of course – Mr Castle, isn’t it?’

  ‘Wednesday’s fine for me, but I’m not sure about Jim. He’s here, as it happens – if you wouldn’t mind holding on?’

  So far as he could tell, Jim was free on Wednesday, and the call ended with polite expressions of mutual pleasure at the arrangement.

  Sukey and Jim left Anita and Fergus arguing good-naturedly over whether to fetch Indian or Chinese from one of the nearby take-away establishments and set off in Jim’s Mondeo on the short drive to Churchdown, where the Masterses lived in an old farmhouse on the outskirts of the village. On the way, Jim remarked, ‘I wonder at what stage in the evening they’ll raise the subject of RYCE? What’s your guess?’

  Sukey thought for a moment before saying, ‘Probably towards the end – over the coffee and liqueurs, perhaps. Not that you’ll be having any of those as you’re driving.’

  ‘I expect it will be dropped in casually, to try and kid us that they’ve only just thought to mention it.’