by P. F. Ford
‘You’re sure?’ asked Norman. ‘And you’re sure Eddie Smith was there?’
‘How often do you get to play Manchester United, at home, in the FA Cup? I’m certain, and I’ll tell you why. Eddie started a fight after the game, and we all got arrested. That was the last straw for me, and it was the last season I was a regular. By the next year I had discovered better things to do, you know?’
‘What did Eddie think of that?’
‘He didn’t like it, but then I didn’t give a damn what he thought.’
Chapter 22
Amy Pritchard was a small, graceful woman with enough streaks of silver and grey in her hair to suggest she might be somewhat older than she first appeared.
‘When we spoke on the telephone you said you’d like to ask me some questions about Julie Harris,’ she said as she handed each of them a cup of tea.
‘That’s right,’ said Norman. ‘Some new evidence has been found, and we’ve been asked to investigate further.’
‘New evidence?’
‘I’m afraid we’re not at liberty to say what that evidence is.’
‘No, of course not,’ said Mrs Pritchard. ‘But I’m not sure how I can be of much help. My memory’s not what it was, you see.’
‘I understand Julie was your husband’s secretary. I was wondering if you could tell us anything about her. It will help us get a better picture of her and her life.’
‘She wasn’t only my husband’s secretary, she worked for James Harkness too. In fact, I understood she worked more for him than for John.’
‘But wasn’t it your husband who interviewed Julie and employed her initially?’
‘I seem to recall there were always two interviews, one with John and one with James, then they’d compare notes, but, to be honest, I was never really a part of the business, so I couldn’t say for sure who had employed her.’
‘I thought you were a director?’ said Slater.
‘Well, yes, I am, but I don’t have anything to do with the day-to-day running of the company.’
‘You have shares, is that right?’
‘Yes, I do. Lots of people have shares in companies. It’s not unusual.’
‘No, of course not,’ said Slater.
‘What about Julie herself?’ asked Norman. ‘Can you tell us anything about her?’
‘I think I only met the poor girl once or twice at social events, so I hardly knew her. I think I liked her. I’m sure I would have remembered if I hadn’t. I’m sorry, I’m not much help, am I?’
‘Can you recall your husband ever talking about Julie, Mrs Pritchard?’ asked Slater. ‘Did he ever mention her having trouble at home or anything like that?’
Her eyes creased as a mischievous smile flitted across her face. ‘Are you working your way around to asking about John and Julie at the caravan?’ she asked, surprising Slater so much he almost sprayed tea everywhere.
‘You didn’t know?’ she said, once the spluttering had ceased.
‘Know what?’ asked Norman.
‘I take it you know about the caravan?’
Norman nodded.
‘There was a nasty rumour going around at one time that my husband had arranged to meet Julie at the caravan on the weekend she died. It was complete rubbish, of course.’
Norman looked at Slater, but it seemed neither of them could think what to say.
‘My husband was a good man, who made sure I never wanted for anything,’ she continued, ‘but he met me on the rebound. His heart always belonged to another woman. The thing is, it wasn’t Julie Harris. He was smitten with Sandra Harkness.’
‘Ah,’ was all Norman could think to say.
‘Oh, I knew I was always going to be second best,’ she continued, wistfully. ‘I knew that from the day I met him. Sandra had just chosen James over him, you see. She was their secretary at the time. I suppose she was what you might call attractive, if you like that sort of thing. I got the impression she used to play one against the other and had come between the two men so much the business almost fell apart as a result.’
‘That can happen,’ said Norman.
‘Fortunately, James had the sense to take his prize and remove her from the business before it was too late. He may be an absolute genius when it comes to running the business, but James Harkness isn’t a very pleasant man. He’s very selfish, and rarely made decisions for John’s benefit, but that was one occasion when he did.
‘I met John shortly before James and Sandra married. He used to tell me he owed everything to me because I stopped him from falling apart, but John was a painfully honest man and could never tell me he loved me because he never did. He only ever loved her.’
Slater was surprised to find he was feeling slightly embarrassed by the turn this conversation had taken, and he could see Norman looked pretty uncomfortable too.
She saw the look on their faces. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to embarrass anyone. I suppose that’s not really what you came to hear, is it?’
‘Anything we can learn about that time could prove useful,’ said Norman, hoping he didn’t sound too insincere.
‘How did this rumour about the caravan start?’ asked Slater.
‘Julie was responsible for keeping track of the bookings, not that they had many. It seemed the people who worked for them didn’t find a caravan down by the coast as appealing as James had thought, so it was empty most of the time.’
‘I’m sorry to interrupt,’ said Slater, ‘but did you say it was James Harkness’s idea to buy the caravan?’
‘Oh yes. John thought it was a waste of money, but he went along with it because he was a twitcher and he believed he would be able to use the caravan for birdwatching on some of the weekends it was empty. Because she looked after the bookings, Julie knew when it was empty, and she kept him informed. When her body was found there was some suggestion John was there that weekend too, but it wasn’t true, he was actually in Scotland.’
‘Did you go with him?’ asked Slater.
‘When my husband was birdwatching, I became invisible. I’d rather be invisible in my own surroundings than in some lodge up in Scotland.’
‘Does that mean you were here?’
‘Am I a suspect or something?’
‘We’re starting with a blank canvas, Mrs Pritchard,’ said Slater. ‘So, everyone’s a suspect and no one’s a suspect.’
She gave him a disapproving look.
‘Did he go away every weekend?’ asked Norman.
‘Mostly,’ she said, sadly. ‘Sandra came first, then the wretched birds, and then me. I was an afterthought.’
‘Err, I’m sorry to have to ask,’ said Norman, ‘but didn’t your husband commit suicide?’
‘Yes, he did,’ she said. ‘And yes, he did leave a note, saying how sorry he was and how he couldn’t live with the guilt any longer.’
‘Guilt?’ asked Norman.
‘Yes, guilt about the way he had treated me.’ She made the statement as if it was an incontrovertible truth.
‘Ah, right, I see,’ said Norman, doubtfully.
There was the briefest of hesitations, and then she got to her feet. I found an old photo album I thought might be of use to you. The photos are taken from the year before Julie died. They include the firm’s Christmas party, and the summer barbecue.’
She opened a drawer and handed the album to Norman, who carefully opened it and began to thumb his way through the photos.
‘There’s no delicate way of asking this,’ said Slater, carefully, ‘but do you think your husband could have been having an affair with Julie Harris? You did say he was away nearly every weekend.’
She gave Slater an indulgent smile. ‘I obviously haven’t made myself clear. I can assure you the only affair my poor husband would have been interested in would have been with Sandra Harkness, and I never had reason to think that had ever happened.’
‘Do you think we might borrow this album, Mrs Pritchard?’ asked Norman. ‘There are one or two phot
os here that might be useful, and they will certainly help us put faces to names. We can copy the photos we need, and then we’ll return it.’
‘Of course. You can keep it for as long as you need it. I’m not sure I even want it back.’
* * *
‘I have to say, I liked Amy Pritchard very much,’ said Norman, as they drove away.
‘There’s a “but” in there, Norm,’ said Slater. ‘Is it the same “but” as mine?’
Norman sighed. ‘I’m afraid she was just a little too insistent about her husband being some sort of saint, wasn’t she?’
‘And way too sure his guilty note was about his love for Sandra Harkness,’ said Slater. ‘It could as easily be guilt about Julie Harris.’
‘Harkness hinted much the same,’ said Norman.
‘There was no love lost there, was there? She certainly doesn’t like James Harkness.’
‘Maybe he tried the old wandering hands thing with her.’
‘Or maybe he knows something about her old man and Sandra that she would rather be kept quiet,’ said Slater. ‘Harkness also said it was John Pritchard’s idea to buy the caravan. Now Pritchard’s wife says it wasn’t. Somebody’s lying somewhere.’
There was short silence while they thought about this.
‘Are you going to tell me what you found in the photo album that made you want to keep it?’ asked Slater.
‘Well, it’s funny you should mention liars. You remember James Harkness said he hardly knew Julie Harris?’
‘What did you find?’
‘There’s a photograph of John and Amy Pritchard dancing together. Guess who’s dancing up close and personal in the background?’
‘Harkness and Julie Harris?’
‘So close they’re almost as one,’ said Norman, ‘and Sandra Harkness is right there too, looking daggers at the happy couple.’
‘And so, the plot thickens,’ said Slater. ‘I had my doubts about Harkness when we met him, but now you’ve found the photograph I think we might have to reconsider every single word he said.’
‘I’d love to know what Sandra Harkness had to say about this,’ said Norman.
‘So, why don’t we go and ask her?’
‘What, right now?’
‘There’s no time like the present.’
‘But it’s half an hour away, and we’re supposed to going to Wales.’
‘Don’t worry, Wales will still be there. Why don’t you call her now, and make sure she’s at home. If she is, we’ll do it now.’
Chapter 23
Sandra Harkness lived in the sort of country house that would cost millions to buy. When she opened the door, Slater thought Sandra had hardly aged from the photographs in the album, and they had been taken twelve years ago. She was apparently used to the more elegant things in life, and the interior of the house looked like something straight out of a magazine.
‘What was it you wanted to ask me about?’ she said as she led them into a luxurious living room. ‘I know you told me over the phone ...’
‘We’re here to ask what you can tell us about Julie Harris, who used to work for your husband. She was murdered ten years ago,’ said Norman.
‘Ah, yes, that’s right, I remember now. What is it you want to know?’
‘Anything you can tell us will help.’
‘I’m not sure I can remember her,’ she said.
‘Maybe this will jog your memory,’ said Slater.
He handed her the photograph of James Harkness dancing with Julie Harris. Sandra took a quick look at the photo and then did a double take.
‘I think that’s you watching the dancers, isn’t it? Remember her now?’
‘Ah. Yes, I remember her.’
‘We thought you might,’ said Norman. ‘What can you tell us about her?’
‘She was trouble right from the start.’
‘Oh, really? We were getting the impression she was well liked.’
‘Well, I didn’t like her. Coming into the office half-dressed. It’s not the behaviour of a professional secretary. It’s no wonder my husband and John Pritchard were drooling all over her.’
‘Your husband told us he hardly knew Julie,’ said Norman.
‘Yes, well, he would, he’s a liar.’
‘So, you’re saying he did know her, quite well?’
‘No, I’m saying knew her very well.’
‘We were getting the impression she wasn’t like that.’
‘You don’t have to be “like that” with my ex-husband. If he takes a shine to you, it’s tough to say no. He’s not averse to groping and pawing.’
‘Is that what he did with you?’ asked Slater.
‘What does that mean?’
‘Didn’t you work there as a secretary? I understand you turned one or two heads back then. Surely a man like that would have had his hands all over you.’
‘I would have slapped his face if he had,’ she said, vehemently. ‘When I first met him, he was a complete gentleman. It was after we married that he turned into an animal.’
‘Why don’t you divorce him?’ asked Norman.
She looked around the room. ‘And give up all this?’
‘The money makes up for the groping? It must be hard to live with a man like that,’ said Slater.
‘I don’t live with him. He lives in a flat close to the office in Winchester.’
‘That must be an expensive way for a couple to live.’
‘There’s no shortage of money to pay for it, I can assure you. It works just fine for us, and it’s not as if I’m a kept woman. I’m one of the company directors, and I’m a shareholder.’
She gave him a smile that suggested she was going to say no more on that particular subject.
‘Okay, let’s talk about something else, then,’ said Slater. ‘What can you tell us about John Pritchard?’
‘What do you want to know?’
‘Anything you can tell us. If you were the secretary when you met your husband, you must have known John.’
She smiled fondly. ‘Poor John, he thought he had a chance with me.’
‘Wasn’t he married?’
‘This was before he met Amy,’ she said. ‘He was delightful at first, very charming, but he became rather like a puppy following me around all the time. It was a pity, but he was much older than me anyway.’
‘Isn’t your husband older than you?’
‘Not as much as John was. Besides, John was a bit soft. I wanted someone with a bit more about them.’
‘You mean you dropped him and took up with his business partner instead.’
‘Oh, get over yourself,’ she said. ‘People meet, they decide they’re not right for each other, and they move on. It happens.’
‘Do you think John Pritchard could have been having an affair with Julie Harris?’ asked Slater.
‘Good heavens, no!’
‘You seem very sure about that,’ said Norman.
‘Who on earth told you that?’
‘I heard there was a rumour he was with Julie the weekend she died.’
‘He couldn’t have been with her, he was ...’ She stopped mid-sentence.
‘He was where, Mrs Harkness?’ asked Norman.
She shifted awkwardly in her seat and licked her lips. ‘Wasn’t he in Scotland watching stupid birds or something?’
‘You tell us,’ said Slater.
‘He was in Scotland, birdwatching.’
‘At the lodge your company owns.’
‘I’m sure Amy can tell you exactly where he was. She used to watch him like a hawk.’
‘Now, why would she do that?’
‘Because she thought he was seeing me. She always thought he was seeing me.’
‘And was he?’
‘I don’t see what that has to do with Julie Harris getting murdered.’
‘But if you could say with certainty where John Pritchard was, we could eliminate him from our enquiry. He can’t speak for himself, you see, and there is thi
s rumour ...’
‘Well, I’m sorry, I can’t help you with that. As I said, Amy will know where John was.’
‘And where were you that weekend?’ asked Slater.
‘I don’t think that’s any of your damned business!’
‘This is a murder investigation.’
‘I think you’ll find the police conducted that investigation ten years ago, and a man was found guilty. I was never a suspect then, and I’m not one now, and you’re not the police. If you must know, I was here with my husband.’
‘Well, then, you have nothing to worry about,’ said Slater.
‘Can you tell us anything about the caravan owned by your ex-husband’s company?’ asked Norman.
‘If you mean that horrible little place in the back of beyond, I only ever went there once. It wasn’t my cup of tea at all.’
‘Can you recall whose idea it was to buy the caravan?’
‘That would have been James,’ she said, very definitely.
‘You’re sure about that? It couldn’t have been John’s idea?’
‘John told me he only went along with it because he thought it would be a good place to do his twitching, or whatever it’s called.’
‘You mean birdwatching?’
‘Yes, that’s it.’
‘You don’t think he would have gone there for any other reason?’
‘If you mean would he have taken a woman there, definitely not. John was the sort of man who would make sure a woman only had the best.’
* * *
‘What did you make of that?’ asked Norman as he drove away.
‘She sure doesn’t have much time for her ex-husband.’
‘Yeah, she didn’t leave much room for doubt about that.’
‘What about her and John Pritchard?’ asked Slater.
‘You mean you think there’s only one way she could have been so sure how he would treat a woman if he took her away for a weekend?’
‘You picked up on that, too? It’s an intriguing possibility, but she could have found that out before she agreed to become Mrs Harkness, so it doesn’t necessarily mean anything.’