Death at Coombe Farm

by Phillip Strang

  Tremayne and Clare were not informed as it was a local matter. In the end, a team of uniforms came and lifted the protesters from their seated positions and moved them to one side.

  Len Dowling and Gordon Selwood could see a halt to the day’s operation; Gordon keeping his distance, Len down at the site.

  After the situation had calmed, Dowling drove up to see Selwood. On the way, he saw Marge Selwood walking up the street. He stopped his car and wound down the window. ‘Can I give you a lift?’

  ‘I see you’ve started. There’ll be trouble.’

  ‘We have permission. If they want to protest, that’s their right, but the police will intervene.’

  ‘They’ll be a nuisance.’

  ‘For a few days. It’s factored into the development’s cost.’

  ‘And Gordon? Is he with you on this?’

  ‘Yes. How about you?’

  ‘It’s nothing to do with me now.’

  ‘I wouldn’t know. Gordon’s the signatory for the Selwood family, the same as Claude was. If you’re not involved, then there’s not much I can do for you.’

  ‘And if I was?’

  ‘We’d make a deal. Claude wanted to diversify.’

  ‘We would have come to an arrangement.’

  Dowling had to admit the mother was smarter than the son and she would drive a harder bargain. If she regained authority – he knew she would try – then he would convince her of the worth of the housing development at the top of the hill. The costing showed that a fifty-fifty division would nett each party ten million pounds.

  ‘Don’t mention our conversation to Gordon,’ Marge said as she walked away.

  ***

  The Coombe Action Committee met again. The bulldozing of the first of the houses had been completed, the second was in progress. Molly Dempsey, the stalwart of the committee, a woman who remained passionate for the village of Coombe, even though her advancing years meant she would not see it for much longer, knew that passive resistance would not work. A visit into Salisbury, a last-minute attempt at an injunction to halt the degradation of the village, had come to nought.

  ‘We need to continue to resist,’ Molly said to the committee. It surprised her that she had the energy and the drive. Until Dowling had shown up in the village and had convinced Claude Selwood to go in with him, she had spent her days baking or tending to her garden. She enjoyed the thrill of what she was doing; she knew the others on the committee did as well, but none as much as she did. She opened the window of her cottage. In the not so far distance, the sound of demolition. ‘Listen to that. There was a time when the only sound was a bird. This is our present and our future, and what will happen when they build on Coombe Farm? I want to spend my remaining days in peace and serenity, not bombarded by noise.’

  ***

  Gordon Selwood walked around the two houses being built in the village. He could see others at work, as well as the curious onlookers.

  ‘You’re meant to wear a hard hat,’ one of the construction team shouted. Gordon had studied the plans, seen the costs for the project, understood there was an element of risk. Dowling had schooled him well in the benefits to them both, benefits that he was willing to accept. Cathy had been the person who would have taken control of the farm; he was confident that she would approve of what he was doing. He knew that he missed her, and whereas Rose was back in his life, the bond between the two of them was no longer there. Cathy was fun, even if her past had been turbulent; Rose was dependable, but she was a woman who looked and acted as if she were a lot older.

  ‘You’ll not get away with this,’ Molly Dempsey shouted from the other side of the barrier.

  ‘Mrs Dempsey, it’s progress,’ Gordon said.

  ‘It’s vandalisation. You’re only interested in money, the same as your father.’

  ‘I’m sorry you feel that way, but we have the necessary permissions.’

  ‘And who did you pay?’

  ‘Nobody. The village is dying, you know that. What we are doing is to revitalise it.’

  ‘Rubbish. Dowling and your father used that one on us before, in that somehow you’re doing it for the community, not to line your pockets.’

  ‘There is no denial. We intend to make money. We benefit, the village benefits.’

  ‘And after this, Coombe Farm?’

  ‘We have further plans for the village. My father had agreed; I’m just carrying out his wishes.’

  ‘Rubbish. Your father was a grub of a man. You, at least, were a good child, even used to help me carry my shopping home sometimes.’

  ‘The child grows up.’

  ‘And what about Rose Fletcher? I’ve seen her around here. The young man with her, is he yours?’

  ‘It was a long time ago.’

  ‘I know that. Two silly people who couldn’t wait till they were married and look what it got you, got her.’

  ‘Rose has turned out fine, so has her son.’

  ‘She’s had it tough, the daughter of a doctor. Her parents were good people, destroyed by the Selwoods. How does it feel to know that you’ve become what your father was, your mother is, and I’ve heard she’s living in Old Ted’s cottage?’

  ‘Mrs Dempsey, you appear to know too much about my family. I suggest you mind your own business.’

  ‘The village is my business, so is your farm if you intend to destroy this village.’

  ‘The law is on our side. I’ll wish you goodbye, Mrs Dempsey,’ Selwood said as he moved away and over to his car.

  ***

  Tremayne and Clare were, not for the first time, uncertain on how to progress. The weapon that had been used to fire the shots that had killed Old Ted and Cathy Selwood had not been found. Forensics had not been able to offer any more ideas, other than the bullets were fired from the same rifle. Len Dowling’s appearance in the affairs of the village brought in an uncertain element, both police officers knew that, but he wasn’t a murderer.

  ‘Dowling might know something,’ Tremayne said.

  'Clutching at straws, guv?’

  ‘We’ve plenty of motives now, plenty of suspects. What are your thoughts, Yarwood?’

  The two were sitting in Tremayne’s office. For two days, they had not left the police station, an unusual occurrence in itself.

  ‘Dowling’s not involved in the Selwood family dispute.’

  ‘We know that Reverend Walston took a shot at the father due to the man’s interference in church matters, although it was probably to do with the developments planned.’

  ‘Why is the mother so desperate to remove her son from the house?’

  ‘She’s a resolute woman. She kept Claude Selwood in check; no doubt she sees it as her duty to do the same to her son.’

  ‘Cathy Selwood was in the way.’

  ‘And she died for it. We’ve always regarded the mother as the most dangerous. Why is that?’

  ‘Why is what?’ Tremayne said.

  ‘Why would a mother act in such a way with her son? What about motherly love?’

  ‘She may see that she is showing love. To her, he’s infirm, not physically, but emotionally, and Cathy was the disease, as is Rose now.’

  ‘Is there a romance there?’

  ‘It’s premature, but they have a shared history. Maybe in time,’ Clare said.

  The two walked outside of the station. Tremayne to smoke a cigarette, Clare to maintain the conversation. ‘Rose Goode always comes across as a good person. Is she?’ Tremayne asked.

  ‘I believe so.’

  ‘But her son will inherit the farm and the house if Gordon dies. It must be a temptation.’

  ‘She’s never shown interest in it.’

  ‘Her parents’ lives were affected by the Selwoods. Resentment may run deep. She could have contacted Gordon at any time in the last few years, even before he met Cathy, even before she married Derek Goode, but she didn’t.’

  ‘Maybe we should ask her, but it doesn’t help with the case, does it?’

 
; ‘Why not? She reappeared after Claude Selwood died. Why not before?’

  ‘She only contacted him after her son had been hit by that car.’

  ‘No one’s reported a hit and run, no one’s seen the car.’

  ‘But he was hit by a car.’

  ‘Agreed, but what if it was just an accident, and Rose used it as an excuse to worm her way back into Selwood’s life?’

  ***

  Nicholas Selwood did not like Tremayne and Clare in his office in Salisbury. He wanted to tell them he was too busy, and they should make an appointment. He did not, realising that the two police officers would have considered his rebuff as obstructionist. ‘What can I do for you,’ he said.

  He had to admit that he found the police sergeant very attractive. If it weren’t for his current girlfriend, he would have asked her out, not sure if she would have accepted, even though she was the same age as him.

  ‘We’ve always seen you out at the farm. We thought it was about time we came to your office in Salisbury,’ Tremayne said.

  ‘What can I do for you? I believe I’ve told you all I know.’

  ‘That’s true, but certain facts still concern us.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘The appearance of Rose and Crispin Goode. How much did you know about their history?’

  ‘I was twelve when Gordon got into trouble with Rose. I can remember my parents being upset, but as to what Gordon had done, I didn’t really understand.’

  ‘You were twelve, approaching puberty,’ Clare said.

  ‘And interested in girls, although naïve.’

  ‘It would be normal for boys of ten and twelve, your younger brother’s age and yours, to be titillated.’

  ‘We were. Gordon and Rose Fletcher. She was an attractive young woman, still is by all accounts.’

  ‘She’s only four years older than you, four years older than me.’

  ‘I’ve not seen her yet. I’ve heard from my mother, though.’

  ‘Gordon?’

  ‘He’s treated our mother abysmally.’

  ‘Family loyalties aside, did she deserve it?’

  ‘Mother? She should not have been so difficult with Cathy.’

  ‘You liked Cathy?’

  ‘Gordon was always a loser, but she was shaping him up. She had a lot of energy.’

  ‘Your mother said some wicked things about her.’

  ‘Even if it was true, she was married to Gordon. Cathy was a Selwood, the same as us.’

  ‘It was true,’ Tremayne said.

  ‘I’m not judging someone by their past,’ Nicholas said.

  ‘It was important to your mother.’

  ‘It’s invariably those who marry into the family who become the most zealous to protect it. I don’t know why. It never meant much to me.’

  ‘And your mother wants it all back, and not with Gordon.’

  ‘She was the driving force behind my father. Cathy was the driving force behind Gordon, and now she’s gone, and there’s Rose.’

  ‘Any thoughts about that?’

  ‘Coincidental, nothing more.’

  Nicholas Selwood pretended to be busy, but Clare could see he wasn’t, only tapping the keys on the laptop, pretending to look at the screen.

  ‘Do you wish to speculate as to why Rose Fletcher would reappear now?’

  ‘Not me. I’m not wedded to Coombe Farm, although Gordon inheriting instead of my mother makes no sense.’

  ‘It’s normal for the wife to inherit, in preference to the son.’

  ‘The eldest son has always inherited. It’s a family tradition, and my mother is all for tradition. But with Gordon, and then with Cathy, my mother was determined to make another decision.’

  ‘Because of Cathy?’

  ‘My mother recognised in Cathy a capable person, saw her as a threat.’

  ‘Even after she defamed her in the village.’

  ‘That’s our mother. Cathy was a recent arrival in the Selwood family, we were not. The bloodline is all important to our mother. Gordon is tainted by the bad blood of some of our ancestors. William and I are not. Whatever happened, Gordon would have been well rewarded, and if he stayed with Cathy or did not, he’d not have to worry about somewhere to live.’

  ‘Money?’

  ‘Money enough for most people. There’s no way the farm can support his extravagant lifestyle indefinitely.’

  ‘So eventually he will be forced to sell the farm.’

  ‘Not with Cathy alive, but now, who knows?’

  ‘Gordon’s there now, he’s got a son. Where does that place you? What will your mother do?’

  ‘She’ll challenge the will in the courts.’

  ‘But why? If there’s a will with Gordon as the inheritor, there’s not much she can do about it, and what if Gordon dies? What then?’

  ‘It will go to me.’

  ‘Not if Gordon has a son. That’s how it works, isn’t it?’

  ‘It depends if Gordon has a will.’

  ‘And if he doesn’t, then by default it’s Gordon and Rose’s son.’

  ‘It would be disputed.’

  ‘Cathy stood in the way of your mother; Crispin Goode stands in the way of you.’

  ‘When you heard about the son, what did you think?’

  ‘Not a lot. I’ve no need of the farm. All I want is what’s owing to me.’

  Chapter 19

  Coombe Farm had remained virtually unchanged for centuries, and now there was a planning application with the council in Salisbury. Len Dowling was prepared for trouble.

  The first that Tremayne and Clare heard of it was when they received a phone call from Rose Goode. Not that it was anything to do with her, as her renewed romance with Gordon Selwood had not occurred, not likely to either, she had confided to Clare.

  For one thing, it was premature, and secondly, Rose wasn’t sure that she wanted to become involved again, although Crispin did.

  Clare met Rose in a restaurant in Salisbury. ‘You’ve heard about Molly Dempsey?’ Rose said.

  ‘Her action committee?’

  ‘That’s it. They caused trouble when Gordon started knocking those houses down in the village.’

  ‘That’s Len Dowling, not Gordon. Do you know the man?’

  ‘I’ve heard of him.’

  ‘He’s sharp, always looking for an angle. He’s behind the application, and he doesn’t care who’s hurt or inconvenienced.’

  ‘Gordon was harmless when he was younger, full of ambition, wanting to get away from the farm.’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘He’s changed and not for the better. He moves slowly unless he’s driving his car. And he’s dulled. The young girl who fell in love with him is no longer the same, I suppose, but then I’ve had Crispin. He’s kept me going, gave me focus. Gordon only had a farm and a family that he did not like, but now he seems committed to Coombe.’

  ‘Would you go back and live there?’

  ‘It’s not what I wanted, but I probably will. The memories, even after so many years, are still raw. Each time I go into Gordon’s house, I can see my parents, my mother in tears, my father attempting to stay strong, and there were Gordon’s parents, the mother angry, and the father, almost wanting to pat the son on the back. And then, it’s us who left the next morning.’

  ‘Is the family house still in your name?’

  ‘I’ve not been inside it for a long time, but yes. It’s rented out.’

  ‘You could always move back in,’ Clare said. ‘Is it a better house than where you’re living?’

  ‘Much better.’

  ‘It seems better to swallow your pride and live back in Coombe, doesn’t it?’

  ‘I’ve given notice to the tenants, not sure why.’

  ‘Maybe subconsciously you want to go back.’

  ‘I don’t think so, but who knows? I thought about it before Gordon reappeared with Cathy, and then it became too difficult. I’d seen him a few times at a distance over the years, and the memories
always came flooding back. When we were children growing up together, and then as teenagers, there seemed to be a bond between us.’

  ‘Is it still there?’

  ‘I don’t like what Gordon’s become, but when I’m with him… It’s hard to explain. Maybe it’s fate, karma, I don’t know.’

  ‘You’ll not find out by staying in Salisbury while you have a house in Coombe.’

  ‘Crispin will like it. I only hope he’s old enough to avoid picking up too many of Gordon’s bad habits.’

  ‘You’ve brought him up well. He should be okay.’

  ‘I hope you’re right.’

  ‘While we’re here,’ Clare said. ‘DI Tremayne and I don’t believe the situation has resolved itself in the village. The deaths of Old Ted and Cathy are still unsolved.’

  ‘Will you find whoever did it?’

  ‘In time we will. Whoever is guilty will make a mistake, commit another murder.’

  ‘Could it be Marge?’

  ‘She certainly has the intelligence, the ruthlessness to do it, but Old Ted makes no sense, especially now the plan to convert part of the farm to residential is known.’

  ‘Cathy?’

  ‘She confused the situation.’

  ‘It always comes back to Gordon’s mother, doesn’t it?’ Rose said. Both of the women had finished their lunch and were preparing to leave.

  ‘Logically, yes.’

  ‘Which means it’s probably not her.’

  ‘What do you reckon, Rose? You’re an independent observer, someone who knows the people and the village.’

  ‘Marge would not have wanted Cathy to be there, and if she’s in Old Ted’s cottage, she’s there under duress. She sees herself as the lady of the Manor, not as the dowager.’

  ‘That’s what she was with Cathy.’

  ‘But not any more. Although, if I moved in with Gordon, she would be again.’

  ‘Would you move in with him?’

  ‘I’ll do what’s best for Crispin, but nothing’s been said. For me, I’ll need at least a few months.’

  ‘The two younger brothers, capable of murder?’

  ‘They were only young when I left. I wouldn’t know.’