Death at Coombe Farm

by Phillip Strang

  ‘Molly Dempsey. The woman was nearly eighty. She had lived in the village all her life, and she was a gossip, but basically harmless. She’s vocal about any changes to the village of Coombe, good or bad. She likes it the way it is, and every time there’s a building application before the Salisbury City Council, she’s there registering a complaint. Not successfully most times, as she strong on enthusiasm, short on facts.’

  ‘Why was Molly Dempsey killed?’

  ‘We’re drawing a blank on that at the present time. We know that Marge Selwood and Molly Dempsey were going to join forces and oppose the development at Coombe Farm. They had met the morning of the woman’s death.’

  ‘What would Marge Selwood gain from forging an alliance with Molly Dempsey, and why would she go against her son?’

  ‘Marge Selwood is a resilient woman. She will never accept Gordon as the owner of Coombe Farm and the house. The house, a listed building, is over two hundred years old. She’s against the development of the land regardless of how much money it could make for the Selwoods.’

  ‘Was Marge Selwood financially secure?’

  ‘She had sufficient money for her needs. With her, it’s not money, but family and prestige. If it were up to her, she’d go back to the past where the locals knew their place.’

  ‘Her background?’

  ‘The same as Cathy Selwood. Both women had sold themselves in the past, but now Marge Selwood is the pillar of respectability.’

  ‘But you know of her past?’

  ‘We’re police officers.’

  ‘Any more?’

  ‘Marge Selwood was attempting to prove Gordon was not the child of Claude.’

  ‘Possible?’

  ‘Yes. She was attempting to check his DNA against one of her sons. What she was doing was illegal, as Gordon had not given his permission. We’re now conducting an independent test in the UK.’

  ‘And if he isn’t?’

  ‘The house and the farm belong to the eldest son of Claude and Marge Selwood. That would be Nicholas, the second born.’

  ‘People could die to prevent that happening.’

  ‘In the past, but not now. Everyone is well aware of our independent testing. The results will be indisputable.’

  ***

  ‘I’m not comfortable with Rose being here,’ Marge Selwood said on entering the main house, realising that her objection to the woman was not the same as it had been with Cathy.

  ‘I’ve asked her to be here,’ Gordon said. ‘And besides, her son is a Selwood. She’s here on his behalf.’

  ‘Let her stay, Mother,’ Nicholas said. He had arrived late at the meeting. William, the youngest son, was still not there.

  ‘Very well,’ Marge said. She looked over at Rose, a woman who had brought up her grandson better than she had her eldest.

  Marge had to begrudgingly admit she liked Rose. She wasn’t as tough as Cathy, but tough enough to keep Gordon under control whether he ran the farm or not.

  The call to the house had come as a shock, but life in the sleepy village and in the Selwoods home always seemed to be long periods of nothingness, and then intense drama.

  William arrived. ‘Sorry, I was in an exam, the final one for the year.’

  On the dining room table, a pot of tea and some sandwiches which Rose had prepared. ‘You’d better help yourself before we start,’ Gordon said.

  ‘Level with us,’ Nicholas said.

  ‘Very well. An event has been precipitated by the death of Molly Dempsey, although it could have occurred at any time due to our mother’s interference.’

  ‘Don’t you go laying the blame on me, Gordon. Just because you can’t handle yourself, there’s nothing to be gained by blaming others.’

  Rose stood up. ‘I believe that I, as an independent member of the family, should outline the situation.’

  ‘Good idea,’ William said. The others in the room nodded their heads in acknowledgement.

  ‘The rezoning of part of Coombe Farm to residential was due to be discussed by the Salisbury City Council in the next two weeks. Molly Dempsey would have put in an impassioned plea for permission not to be granted. Approval would have allowed the area to be subdivided into three hundred residential blocks of land.’

  ‘We know this,’ Marge said.

  ‘Molly Dempsey would have been disregarded with little credence. However, Mrs Selwood offered to help Molly in her objection. This, as we all know, would have changed the situation dramatically. Your mother is a competent woman, and there’s no way the council would have been able to ignore her. At the very least, there would be significant delays, cost overruns.’

  ‘I did what was right. Coombe Farm belongs to the Selwoods, always has, always will,’ Marge Selwood said.

  ‘It was my decision,’ Gordon said.

  ‘It was a bad decision.’

  ‘Can we forget this for the moment and let me continue,’ Rose said. ‘The matter is more serious than petty squabbling. Molly Dempsey was killed, not less than two hours after Mrs Selwood left her cottage.’

  ‘It was nothing to do with me,’ Marge said.

  ‘That’s understood, but the police think your visit and her death are related.’

  ‘This is all interesting, but why are we here?’ Nicholas asked.

  ‘Len Dowling is pulling out of the deal.’

  ‘Isn’t that what we wanted?’ William said.

  ‘There’s a complication,’ Gordon said. ‘Dowling wants me to pay for the costs incurred so far.’

  ‘You’ve done nothing. What costs are there?’ William said.

  ‘There’s the two houses in the village, as well as the costs incurred for the various reports, the experts, the soil analysis, even a check of the local fauna. Believe me, the costs are extensive.’

  ‘How much?’ Nicholas said.

  ‘The final figure’s not in yet, but it will be somewhere in the vicinity of two hundred thousand pounds.’

  ‘Which you don’t have,’ Marge said.

  ‘Nor does the farm.’

  ‘You can refuse to pay.’

  ‘In the short term, but the agreement with Dowling is legally binding.’

  ‘Why are we here?’ Nicholas said.

  ‘If Dowling takes the matter to court and wins, I will be liable for the outstanding money, plus costs. I will have only one recourse but to sell the farm.’

  ‘Over my dead body,’ Marge said. ‘No son of mine would allow such a thing to happen.’

  ‘I’m your son, Mother. The question is, who is my father?’ Gordon said. ‘What did you do before you married him? Do you even know the name of this man?’

  ‘Please,’ Rose said, ‘this is getting us nowhere. Dowling’s wife is running for mayor in Salisbury. She doesn’t want any dirt sticking to her. We think Dowling’s pulling out now to give his wife a clear run.’

  ‘And once she’s elected, then he’ll be back with a tighter deal, and we’ll be forced to comply,’ Marge said.

  ‘It’s probable. We’ve not thought it through fully, as yet.’

  ‘Okay, Gordon, you need me whether you like it or not,’ Marge said.

  ‘What do you suggest?’

  ‘We fight as the Selwoods have always fought. If Dowling’s wife wants to be mayor, she’ll need to deal with us. Gordon, do you have Dowling’s phone number?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Okay, phone him up and tell him to be here within the hour, and to bring his bitch wife with him.’

  ‘Bitch?’

  ‘I know all about her, the sanctimonious tart. That woman’s been around.’

  ***

  Jim Hughes, the crime scene examiner, was in Tremayne’s office. The two men were sitting, Clare outside at her desk.

  ‘Yarwood, in here, please,’ Tremayne shouted through the open door.

  ‘It’s about time you called her Clare,’ Hughes said.

  ‘Not possible, and besides, she’s used to it. She’d think I’d gone soft in the head if I
start calling her by her first name. You’ll have me buying her birthday presents next.’

  ‘And what’s wrong with that?’

  ‘I’m not into birthdays.’

  ‘Starting to feel your age?’

  ‘Don’t tell Moulton, but the joints are starting to creak.’

  ‘You’ll not give in, Tremayne. They’ll have to carry you out of here.’

  Clare entered Tremayne’s office and sat down. ‘What is it, guv?’

  ‘I thought we’d go over with Hughes what we have so far,’ Tremayne said.

  ‘Can we focus on Molly Dempsey. That’s more recent, fresher in our minds.’

  ‘Very well. Hughes, what can you tell us that we don’t already know?’

  ‘It’s all in the report, and Pathology confirmed that she drowned.’

  ‘Could it have been an accident? After all, the woman was old.’

  ‘We’ve been through this before. The angles were all wrong. If she had slipped, banged her head on the edge of the pond, then maybe. But that’s not the case here. She was held under and there’s no sign of bruising.’

  ‘There was violence?’

  ‘Mild. The woman was frail. What more do you want me to tell you? I can’t make this up,’ Hughes said.

  ‘The field at the back, anything there?’

  ‘Not really. It was in the afternoon, the grass in the paddock was short, and it was dry. Also, some of the local kids get in there to kick a football around.’

  ‘Could one of them have come in through the gate at the bottom of the woman’s garden and killed her?’

  ‘The ones we saw were only children. I’d rule that out.’

  ‘How do they get into the field?’

  ‘There’s a gate on the far end. It leads into a lane at the back of the village. You’re asking me to say how someone could have got in unseen, but I can’t. It’s the afternoon, the village is quiet, and anyone could have ambled down the lane, up through the field and into the woman’s garden.’

  ‘But why? Did someone know of Marge Selwood visit earlier in the day, and if they did, why Molly? Marge Selwood is the one person who could cause trouble.

  ‘Unless Molly Dempsey knew something about the Selwood family history. Something she revealed to Marge, and that it was Marge who returned through the field and killed her.’

  ‘But what? We know about Gordon Selwood’s uncertain parentage, but that’s about to be resolved once the results come back. Is there anything else we don’t know?’

  ‘The reason Old Ted died,’ Clare said.

  ‘The man’s a mystery. He accepts his wife’s affair with Marge Selwood’s husband, he says nothing unless asked, and he could keep secrets.’

  ‘But how do you find out the reason?’

  ‘We question Marge again. If she’s the murderer, then she knows the secret. If she’s not, then she tells someone who makes a decision to kill the old woman.’

  ‘Am I driving?’ Clare said.

  Tremayne did not answer Clare. Instead, he looked over at Jim Hughes. ‘Thanks, you’ve solved this case.’

  ‘Have I?’

  ‘You’ve clarified the investigation into Molly Dempsey’s death. Yarwood and me, we’ll take it from here.’

  ‘I’m glad to have been of assistance.’

  ‘Yarwood, I hope the neighbours will feed your cat. We’re not coming back from Coombe without a murderer. And make sure there are some uniforms at Coombe Farm.’

  ‘What if some of the family is not there?’

  ‘We’ll deal with it in Coombe.’

  Chapter 28

  Fiona Dowling did not appreciate being summoned to Coombe Farm. There was a function that night at the council chambers, a chance to further cement her hold on the mayoral robes.

  ‘It’s Gordon Selwood,’ Len, Fiona’s husband, said.

  ‘Tell him you’ll talk to him tomorrow, through our solicitor if necessary.’

  ‘He says his mother’s willing to sully your name throughout Salisbury.’

  ‘My past is not a secret.’

  ‘It is to most, and it’s not fresh in the mind of the others. Have you met Marge Selwood?’

  ‘On several occasions. She’s a vexatious woman.’

  ‘She could reopen old wounds, denounce you.’

  ‘Okay, we’ll go, but don’t expect me to be agreeable.’

  ‘Nor me,’ Len said.

  Fiona did not enjoy the drive out to Coombe Farm. She liked even less knocking on the back door of the main house, only for it to be opened by Marge Selwood.

  ‘Please come in,’ Marge said.

  ‘We only came because of scurrilous comments you intend to spread about me,’ Fiona said. The two women had met before, that was clear to those assembled.

  ‘Your mother attended one of my motivational talks,’ Fiona said to the Selwood family. ‘Where I opened up about my imperfect life, my husband and his forgiving nature, and that with time, a loving relationship can be regained.’

  ‘No wonder they’re making you the mayor,’ Marge said. ‘If you can come up smelling of roses as well as that down at the council meetings, they’ll have no option but to give you the job.’

  ‘My elevation to the position of mayor is an acknowledgement of my good service to Salisbury and the area.’

  ‘We’ll bypass your saintly aspirations for now. We’ve got to resolve this hold you have on my dim-witted son.’

  Gordon rose to comment, but Rose placed her hand on his knee to stop him from replying.

  ‘There is no discussion. Your son signed of his own free will. The terms of the agreement were clear. Three months after commencement of the two houses in the village, Gordon would take responsibility for all costs incurred. It further stated he would then ensure completion of the project while I focussed on marketing,’ Len said.

  ‘They can’t be sold the way they are,’ Gordon said.

  ‘The contract is clear in that you would take responsibility for all costs.’

  ‘That wasn’t the agreement. The plan was for the houses to be finished and on the market.’

  ‘Verbally we may have discussed such a possibility. Unfortunately, your lack of attention to the contract is not my concern.’

  ‘Len, we’re wasting our time here,’ Fiona said. ‘We can still make it in time to the council chambers if we leave now.’

  ‘Fiona, dear Fiona,’ Marge said. Rose remembered such words said to her parents in that room all those years before. Back then, they had been directed at her parents, now they were focussed on Fiona Dowling.

  ‘Please don’t pretend to be my friend,’ Fiona said. ‘You’ve nothing on me, and we’ve got better things to do than listen to your lies.’

  ‘Fiona Dowling, you’re a nasty piece of work who can fool others with your heartfelt confessionals, somehow pretending to be pious and contrite, but you don’t fool me.’

  ‘And you Marge Selwood, I’ve seen through you. I did the first time we met.’

  ‘Then we know where we stand.’

  ‘Your reputation is still important to you, mine is shattered,’ Marge said. ‘If you want to be the mayor of Salisbury, then I suggest you sit down with your pathetic excuse of a husband and discuss the situation sensibly.’

  Len Dowling looked over at his wife. He could see that she had met her match. He had to admit he enjoyed the spectacle.

  ‘We need a resolution,’ Gordon said, not because he had anything to add to the discussion, just the need to exert his influence as the man of the house.

  Rose nudged him in the ribs. ‘Be quiet. Let your mother deal with this for now,’ she whispered.

  Nicholas and Williams Selwood, the younger sons, sat quietly, not sure how the night was going to unfold.

  ‘My position on the Salisbury City Council is secure. My past indiscretions are well known,’ Fiona said.

  ‘They’ll not be so keen when they find out that you’ve been complicit in cheating my son out of this farm.’

  ‘O
n the contrary, they will applaud both mine and Len’s business acumen. The fact that your son has no clue is not our concern.’

  ‘You bitch. You’ve no right to talk about my son in that manner.’

  ‘Why not, you do?’

  ‘He is a Selwood. We do not allow you or anyone outside of this family to cheat or badmouth us.’

  ‘A Selwood? What makes you say that? From what I heard you were trying to prove that he wasn’t.’

  ‘Scurrilous lies. Who told you that?’ Marge said.

  ‘Gordon, sounding off about you to Len.’

  ‘Is this true?’ Marge said turning to Gordon.

  ‘I may have.’

  ‘You’re a disgrace.’

  ‘Maybe I am, but I don’t go murdering people.’

  Len Dowling turned to his wife. ‘It looks as if this house is about to sink into the ground. They’ll not address the deal I have with Gordon tonight.’

  ‘Don’t you think of leaving,’ Marge said. ‘We’re not finished yet. My late husband negotiated a deal with you against my better judgement. However, it was legally sound. After his death, you negotiated another one with Gordon. Apart from his ability to marry whores, he doesn’t understand much else. You, Len Dowling, took advantage of him. And you, Fiona Dowling, made sure that he did.’

  Gordon wanted to climb across the table and hit his mother. Rose held him back. ‘Let it go. We’ve got to deal with the Dowlings first.’

  ‘He signed of his own free will,’ Fiona said.

  ‘He signed as a Selwood.’

  ‘Are you willing to disown him to get out of the agreement. My husband staked a lot of money in Coombe. We didn’t, however, count on all the murders.’

  ‘I’ve enough dirt on you, Fiona Dowling, to cause those who will elect you mayor to waiver.’

  ‘You’ve nothing on me.’

  ‘How about innuendo, unfavourable reports in the local newspaper and on social media. A reawakening of your tawdry love affairs, the attempt by the police to charge you with murder. What do you reckon your chances will be after that?’

  ‘They’re all lies. I’ll sue you for slander, libel.’

  ‘None of it will be attributable to me, or any of my family.’

  Fiona Dowling sat back, not sure what to say. The woman opposite was using scare tactics, tactics which could work. Fiona knew that Marge Selwood would be able to destroy her. The need for a man other than her husband still continued, and she had slept with his brother on more than one occasion, and there was that man in Southampton. She shuddered at the thought.