Murder at Benbury Brook: An absolutely gripping English cozy mystery (A Melissa Craig Mystery Book 9)

by Betty Rowlands

  ‘Of course. How are you this morning?’

  ‘All right, thank you.’

  ‘Good. It’s a lovely day, I hope you enjoy it.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  His voice had the same dead quality that she had noticed the previous evening. Poor chap, she thought as she went indoors and began to prepare her breakfast. She tried to think of some way of cheering him up. He really needed another man to talk to; suddenly, she thought of Sam Rogers, a down-to-earth, sympathetic character, an experienced and dedicated teacher himself who would surely understand what he was going through. From one point of view he was hardly the ideal person, being the deputy of the woman who had so cruelly put an end to Graham’s hopes for the future, but he might be able to help him come to terms with his situation and even suggest some other avenue he might explore when he had recovered from the trauma. She checked Sam’s number and was relieved to find him at home.

  ‘Just getting myself organised for school—term starts on Wednesday but we poor staff have to go in a day early to get ready for the little darlings,’ he said breezily. ‘What can I do for you, Melissa?’

  ‘Not for me.’ Briefly, Melissa explained her mission. To her surprise, Sam knew nothing of Graham Shipley’s arrest, or of the letter withdrawing the offer of a post at his school.

  ‘We’ve been on holiday in Turkey, only got back last night,’ he explained. ‘There’s probably a copy of Millie’s letter in the post, but I haven’t had a chance to go through it. You know,’ he went on, ‘I find this hard to believe—Shipley seems such a decent sort. A bit down-beat at times, but he’s had a rough time by all accounts. Are you saying that Millie sacked him just because he’s been questioned by the police?’

  ‘I’m afraid there’s more to it than that. He had a bad experience a couple of years ago with a randy little teenager who set out to ruin him … and it seems she’s succeeded,’ she added bitterly.

  Sam clicked his tongue in sympathy, but said, ‘Look, there isn’t a lot I can do. I mean, Millie may have appeared a bit brutal, but she’s got the kids to think about, and the parents—’

  ‘I know, and I’m not suggesting you can do anything to make her change her mind. I just thought it might help if you were to call round and have a chat with him, try and cheer him up a little. At the moment I think he feels utterly desolate and without any hope for the future. Having another man to talk to might help.’

  ‘Well, I suppose I could do that. I’ll drop by later on.’

  ‘I wish you would. I’m really very concerned about him. I hope you don’t think I’m interfering.’

  ‘Not a bit, I’m glad you told me. I’ll have to be thinking about arranging cover for him while we look for someone else.’

  Greatly relieved, Melissa finished her breakfast and made a few notes about her encounter with Gary Tanner before setting off to call on the Daniels family.

  Twenty-Three

  The door of the neat, brick-built semi in Lower Benbury was opened by Billy’s mother, a thin, anxious-looking woman in her forties, prematurely lined and grey-haired. She peered at Melissa with an expression of vague enquiry on her face.

  ‘Yes?’ For a moment she did not recognise her caller. Then she said, ‘Oh, it’s you, Mrs Craig. Good morning.’

  ‘Good morning, Mrs Daniels. Is your Billy in?’

  ‘He’s still in bed. I’ve been trying to get him to come down for his breakfast.’ Mrs Daniels jerked her head round and shouted over her shoulder. ‘Bill-ee! A lady to see you!’ She stood aside and held the door wide open. ‘You’d better come in, I’ll go up and rout him out. He’s not been in any trouble, has he?’

  ‘Not that I know of. I just wanted to ask him something.’

  ‘Come in the kitchen, d’you mind? The front room’s a bit of a pigsty.’ Mrs Daniels led the way along a short passage into a small, square room fitted with shabby but clean units and work surfaces. A frying pan containing rashers of raw bacon and slices of tomato stood on the top of a gas stove, evidently awaiting Billy’s appearance; the remains of other breakfasts, presumably those of his parents, were stacked on the draining board. Four wooden chairs were ranged round a table covered with a plastic cloth and laid for one. Mrs Daniels pulled out one of the chairs, saying, ‘Sit down, Mrs Craig. I’ll give him another call.’ Her footsteps went thumping up the stairs, accompanied by repeated shouts of ‘Bill-ee!’

  After an interval, during which the sounds of scolding from the mother and surly grumbles from her son came floating down through an open door, Mrs Daniels reappeared with Billy trailing in her wake. He was not an appealing sight; his hair, normally tied in a pony-tail, hung in greasy wisps round his unhealthily pale face and his shirt and jeans were rumpled and stained. He directed an unfriendly stare at Melissa before going to a teapot standing beside the stove and peering inside. He helped himself to some of its contents, added milk and sugar and stirred the mixture as if he was trying to bore a hole in the bottom of the mug with the spoon. He brought it to the table, slumped into a chair and took a couple of noisy gulps.

  ‘Where’s your manners? Aren’t you going to say good morning to the lady?’ scolded his mother with the weary air of one pursuing a hopeless cause.

  ‘Morning,’ Billy grunted without raising his eyes.

  ‘Good morning, Billy,’ Melissa replied briskly. ‘I just wanted to ask you one or two questions about old Mr Judd. You know he’s in hospital, I expect?’

  At the mention of the name, Billy started. Mrs Daniels looked at Melissa in surprise. ‘No, we didn’t know, did we, Billy?’ There was no response from her son, who ran the back of one hand across his nose and then continued drinking his tea. ‘What’s wrong with the old gentleman?’

  ‘“Gentleman”, that’s a good one!’ sniggered Billy. ‘He ain’t no gentleman.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ his mother demanded. A crafty gleam appeared in Billy’s pale eyes, but he ignored the question. She turned back to Melissa with a frown. ‘Is that why you’re here, Mrs Craig? I don’t see what Mr Judd being ill has got to do with us—we’re very sorry to hear it, of course—’

  ‘He isn’t ill, he’s in hospital because on Thursday morning he was beaten up in his own cottage,’ said Melissa.

  ‘Beaten up! That’s terrible—but I still don’t see … here, you aren’t suggesting that my Billy had anything to do with it, are you?’ Mrs Daniel’s attitude underwent a subtle change and she gave Melissa a defiant look as if to say, He might be an ill-mannered layabout, but he’s my boy and I’m not having him accused of that sort of thing.

  ‘I’m not saying that for a moment,’ Melissa assured her. ‘I’m sure Billy wouldn’t hurt anyone, but I think he might know a little more about Mr Judd than you might think. That’s true, isn’t it, Billy?’ she said. ‘Isn’t it?’ she repeated, and this time he reluctantly met her eye. His face had turned a dull red and for the second time in two days she knew that a random shot had found a home.

  ‘Sort of,’ he muttered.

  His mother gave him a sharp poke in the ribs with a forefinger. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ she snapped for a second time. ‘Come on, out with it!’

  The lad’s colour deepened. ‘He’s a right dirty old sod,’ he said after a pause.

  ‘Billy Daniels, just you watch your language!’ She aimed a slap at his head, but he anticipated the blow and took it on his arm.

  ‘She asked me and I told her,’ he protested.

  ‘That’s all right,’ Melissa assured her. ‘Just let him tell me in his own words.’ She turned back to Billy. ‘How do you know this?’ she asked gently.

  ‘Saw him, didn’t we?’

  ‘Who’s we?’

  ‘Me and Gary Tanner and Dave Potter.’

  ‘You saw him doing what?’

  There was another pause before Billy, by this time scarlet to the ears, answered, ‘Looking at a dirty book while he was …’ He broke off, too embarrassed to go on, but it was not difficult to gue
ss what he left unsaid.

  ‘When was this?’ she asked.

  Bit by bit the story came out. The boys, finding themselves hard up and wanting five pounds each for their tickets to the barbecue, conceived the notion—planted in their heads by Dave Potter—that Tommy Judd might have money concealed under his floorboards. The three of them had managed to get a look through the window of Tommy’s cottage while the old man was in there and had actually seen the rolled-back rug in front of the grate, which convinced them that they had guessed correctly. They had also witnessed Tommy Judd performing the sordid act at which Billy had hinted, but it had not occurred to them that there was a connection between the two. Their sole interest was in the money they were convinced lay concealed in a hiding-place under the rug.

  The following day Dave, who had obviously masterminded the whole enterprise, summoned the others and told them that Tommy had caught the ten o’clock bus into Stowbridge and his cottage would therefore be empty until it returned at two. Thinking that there would be no one around in the middle of the day, they had gone there at twelve o’clock, got in through an unfastened window and quickly discovered Tommy’s secret hoard. To their disgust, it did not consist of money. Instead, piled up between the floor joists, were a number of magazines containing pornographic photographs, many of them featuring young girls. Disappointed at failing to find cash, the lads nevertheless spent some time sniggering over their find when, to their dismay, Tommy Judd appeared and caught them red-handed.

  Mrs Daniels, who had sat in open-mouthed horror at this catalogue of misdemeanours, could contain her indignation no longer. ‘Serves you right!’ she exclaimed. ‘I suppose you forgot the time while you were reading that filth!’

  ‘It weren’t like that, he came home early,’ said Billy. ‘Someone must’ve given him a lift.’

  ‘What’s the difference? You got caught breaking and entering, didn’t you? I’m surprised he didn’t hand you over to the police.’ Mrs Daniels seemed unaware of the penalty attached to the possession of pornography, especially of a paedophile nature, but her son was better informed.

  ‘Then he’d have been in dead trouble himself, wouldn’t he?’ Billy gave a smirk. ‘Our Dave knew how to handle it. He said, “Give us a fiver each and we won’t tell on you”. And it worked, didn’t it? We got our ticket money.’

  Mrs Daniels threw up her hands in despair. ‘Blackmail as well! Just you wait till I tell your father!’ she wailed. ‘Mrs Craig, I don’t know what to say, I’m that ashamed. We’ve tried to bring him up decent—’

  ‘I know you have,’ said Melissa gently. ‘You can’t be behind your kids all the time.’ She turned back to Billy. ‘Just a couple more questions. Did you or either of the others take any of those magazines away?’

  Billy shook his head. ‘I never. Don’t know about the others.’

  ‘Did you know that Dave Potter’s been caught with some pornographic material? Dirty books,’ she explained as Billy gave her a puzzled look.

  ‘Yeah, did hear something,’ he admitted. ‘Dunno where he got it.’

  ‘Could it have been from Tommy’s cottage?’

  ‘Suppose so.’

  ‘Billy, look at me.’ Reluctantly, he complied. ‘Have you ever been back to the cottage, or taken any of Mr Judd’s magazines?’

  ‘No.’ He looked at her beseechingly. ‘Truly, Mrs Craig.’

  ‘All right, Billy, I believe you.’

  ‘You goin’ to tell the Old Bill?’

  ‘I’m afraid I’ll have to, but if Mr Judd hasn’t complained they won’t be arresting you.’ To Mrs Daniels, Melissa said, ‘They’ll want to talk to him, of course, but I’ll tell them how helpful he’s been and I don’t think they’ll be too hard on him.’

  ‘I hope not. I don’t know what his Dad’s going to say.’

  ‘Try not to worry.’

  Some hopes. I wouldn’t care to be in Billy’s shoes, thought Melissa as she headed for home, eager to write up her notes on the interview and to consider how the information she had just acquired fitted into the puzzle. The picture was not yet completely clear, but it was beginning to take shape.

  At about the same time that Melissa rang the doorbell of the Daniels’ house in Lower Benbury, DCI Holloway and one of his detective constables were being admitted to Benbury Manor by a startled and flustered Judith Waghorne. She led the way to a small sitting-room, invited them to take a seat and fled to the kitchen, where Esther was loading the breakfast things into the dishwasher.

  ‘Essie, the police are here again. They want to talk to Giddy.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘How do I know? Oh Essie, what can he have been doing?’

  ‘Let’s hope it’s just a routine enquiry. I’ll go and call him. You continue with this.’ Esther handed her sister the cereal bowl she had been rinsing at the sink and left the kitchen. Upstairs, she knocked on her brother’s bedroom door, but did not wait for him to respond before bursting in. He was at the window with his back to her; as she entered, he gave a start and thrust something into his pocket before turning round to face her with a childlike expression of guilt on his face.

  ‘It’s usual to wait until you hear someone say, “Come in”,’ he said in an attempt to regain his dignity.

  ‘Never mind the social niceties. There are two policemen here to see you.’

  ‘What?’ Gideon’s expression registered acute anxiety. ‘What do they want?’

  ‘They didn’t say, they just asked to speak to you. They’re waiting in the blue room.’

  ‘Well, I suppose I’d better go and see what they want. I’m sure it can’t be anything too awful.’ He assumed a jaunty air and made for the door, but Esther blocked his way.

  ‘What was that you put in your pocket?’ she demanded.

  ‘I didn’t put anything in my pocket,’ he protested, but he refused to meet her eye.

  ‘I saw you hiding something. Show it to me!’

  ‘I tell you, it’s nothing—’

  ‘If it’s nothing, why the fuss? Come on, let me see it.’ She stretched out a hand and, as had been the case almost from birth, he found himself powerless to defy her. Scarlet with embarrassment, he pulled a photograph from his pocket and gave it to her.

  ‘Where in God’s name did you get this?’ she demanded, her tone a mixture of censure and amazement.

  ‘She gave it to me.’

  ‘Don’t lie to me.’

  ‘It’s true, I swear it.’

  ‘Why?’ He did not answer. He was a pitiable spectacle, like a schoolboy awaiting a whipping, his head bent and his face burning. ‘We’ll discuss this later,’ Esther declared. ‘You’d better pull yourself together before you talk to the police. I’ll tell them you’ll be down in a minute … and I’ll take care of this.’

  Half an hour later, after the police had gone, Gideon found himself seated at the kitchen table facing his sibling inquisitors.

  ‘Why did they come here?’ Esther demanded. ‘Exactly what did they want?’

  ‘They said that I’d been seen in the lane round about the time they thought that girl died, and asked me why I hadn’t mentioned it.’

  ‘And what did you tell them?’

  ‘I didn’t deny it, of course, but I explained that when they questioned me before, I thought they meant actually in the woods near the brook, and that’s why I didn’t say anything.’

  ‘What else did they want to know?’

  ‘That was all, really. I suppose they have to tie up all the loose ends, as they say in mystery novels.’ From appearing uneasy and apprehensive before them, Gideon looked both his sisters almost defiantly in the eye. ‘I can’t for the life of me think what all the fuss was about,’ he finished sniffily.

  ‘It took half an hour for them to ask one question?’ Esther’s tone was sceptical.

  ‘Well, they put it several times in different ways—you know how it is.’

  ‘Not having been questioned by the police, I don’t know how it is. Are
you sure they didn’t ask you about anything else? What happened at Warefield, for example?’

  ‘Essie, how on earth would they know about that?’ Judith protested. ‘Even the Warefield police never questioned him—and that’s all behind him anyway. He never really hurt anyone and he’s given us his word he’s turned over a new leaf.’ She linked one arm through Gideon’s and gave it an affectionate shake.

  ‘Turned over a new leaf, has he? Then how does he account for this?’ Esther pulled open a drawer in the table and took out an envelope. She extracted the photograph she had confiscated earlier and showed it to her sister. ‘I caught him sneaking it into his pocket.’

  Judith gave a horrified gasp and rounded on her brother. ‘Giddy, whatever were you doing with this? How did you come by it?’ Without waiting for a reply, she turned a bewildered face to Esther. ‘Essie, what on earth shall we do?’ she wailed. ‘We’ve done everything we possibly could for him … we’ve given him all our love and support … we’ve prayed for him … Giddy, how could you do this to us when we trusted you?’

  He looked beseechingly from one to the other, his mouth working and his eyes moist. ‘You aren’t going to tell the police?’ he whined. ‘Essie, Judy, it was just a solitary lapse. I promise not to do anything like this again.’

  ‘I’m beginning to understand just how much faith we can place in your promises,’ Esther said coldly. She replaced the photograph in the envelope, got to her feet and took the car keys from a peg near the back door.

  ‘Essie, where are you going?’ cried Judith. ‘Please, not to the police—let’s give him one more chance!’

  ‘I’m not going to the police, but there is something else that has to be done.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’ll tell you when I return—I shouldn’t be very long,’ said Esther. With a contemptuous glance at Gideon, she added, ‘Keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn’t get into any more mischief.’

  Left on their own, Gideon and Judith sat in silence as the slam of the front door closing behind Esther echoed through the house, followed by the crash as she flung open the garage doors and drove out. When the sound of the car’s engine had died away Gideon said, his voice full of apprehension, ‘Where do you think she’s gone?’