by James Andrew
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Rose was preparing for the matinee performance when Blades and Peacock came upon her. She was a young woman with pretty red hair, who wore a lurid lipstick, and whose lips curved into a perennial half-smile. She was seated at the piano, perusing sheet music as she did finger exercises on the keys.
The Odeon was a marvel of gaudy velvet curtains and curving rococo plaster figures of cherubs. The red of the curtains and the gold of the cherubs added to the impression of decadent ostentatiousness. The piano itself was a sweeping grand, if the notes sounding out from it were obviously not coming from a Steinway. One or two members of the audience had started to trickle in and were seated together, talking in quiet tones.
Blades and Peacock were striding down the central aisle towards her, with Blades feeling embarrassingly sombre for the setting. She looked up at him from her piano sheets, lips half-open with surprise, eyes gawping as Blades proffered his card.
‘Inspector Blades,’ he said, ‘and this in my colleague, Sergeant Peacock.’ Rose continued to stare at them both. ‘We’d like to question you about some information you gave to one of our constables.’
‘Oh, that,’ Rose said, as her expression hardened.
‘You’ve stated that on the Saturday the fifteenth you spent all day in the company of a Mr Russell Parkes.’
‘That one,’ she said.
‘That’s right,’ Blades said.
‘A tall man, with dark hair and a gold tooth on the top right of his mouth,’ Peacock added.
Rose give Peacock a quizzical stare in return.
‘I remember what he looks like,’ she said. ‘I don’t go out with loads of them.’
‘There’s something you haven’t remembered properly though, isn’t there?’ Blades said.
‘Is there?’ Rose was alarmed now and looked as if she might like to make a bolt for it. ‘I remember where we went,’ she said. ‘We had lunch at Pierre’s and a very nice lunch it was too. Sole meunière. That Russell Parkes doesn’t half give you a good treat. He’s no skinflint, I’ll say that for him. Followed by a very nice piece of lemon tart. Then we had a walk in the park and listened to the band. It was playing a lovely medley of tunes. Very patriotic some of them were too. Stirring. It was a pleasant day for the park, even if it was so chilly. It was sunny and I was glad I had a broad-brimmed bonnet on. My skin’s that pale. It really catches the sun. I’m all freckly now, if you notice.’
‘You’ve got that pat,’ Peacock said. ‘Did he write all that down so you could learn it up?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Rose replied. ‘You ought to treat me better than that. I haven’t done anything.’
‘Not yet,’ Blades replied, ‘but if you appear in court saying all that, you will be committing perjury and liable to prosecution.’
Rose gaped but said nothing, wisely, Blades thought.
‘You work Saturdays,’ Peacock said. ‘How can you be playing the piano here at the same time that you’re going for a walk in the park?’
‘Oh,’ Rose said.
‘It’s not even a well thought out alibi,’ Blades said. ‘Bands don’t even play in the park on a Saturday. Who came up with that one? Russell Parkes, I suppose? He can’t be bright. Why are you bothering with the likes of him?’
‘I must have got the days mixed up,’ Rose replied. ‘Wasn’t it the Friday you were asking about? That’s the day we went to the park. And the band was playing that day. I’m off on Friday. I only work the evening then. You can ask anyone. A girl can get mixed up, can’t she? That’s not breaking the law. You can’t charge me with that.’
‘So – not the Saturday. You mistook the day in your previous statement.’
‘I must have done, mustn’t I?’ Rose said.
‘So, you’ll give another statement to that effect,’ Peacock said.
Rose was close to tears now, Blades thought.
‘If I have to, yes,’ she said.
‘How did Parkes persuade you to give that alibi?’ Blades asked.
‘He said it was the Friday. Honest. I thought that was the day you were all talking about. I wouldn’t tell any lies to the police.’
Oh really? Blades thought. He looked at Rose carefully. He didn’t suppose she earned very much from her stints at the front of house, playing a cinema piano. It might not take very much of a present of money to persuade her to help a friend out when he was being wrongly accused.
‘You’ll come in tomorrow morning to Birtleby Police Station to give that new statement,’ Blades said.
‘All right,’ Rose said. ‘But that’ll be it, won’t it? You won’t be charging me with anything? I don’t know what my mum would say, and I might lose my job too.’
‘You should have thought of that,’ Peacock said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
When Duggan turned up at the police station again, Blades did not know how to react. They weren’t following leads on him at the time but rather on Russell Parkes. Was Duggan trying to point the finger in his own direction?
‘I’m sure,’ he was saying, ‘I’m sure she was seeing someone besides me.’
This was well established, so what was Duggan doing turning up with this?
‘You’ve already suggested she might be seeing Russell Parkes,’ Peacock said.
‘And I’m saying it again. Look, there were loads of times when I wanted to see her and she was evasive, and, OK, I could see her job took up a lot of time, but–’
‘What?’ Blades said.
‘You didn’t know her. You don’t know what I mean. She had a way of glancing sideways when she was being caught out on something. If there was a good reason why she couldn’t see me, she just looked straight at me, as if teasing me. “Can’t see you then. You’ll just have to wait” sort of thing.’
‘You might be right, I suppose,’ Blades said, ‘but that sounds hard to verify.’
‘I always knew she would come into money.’
‘She would?’ said Blades, to whom this was news.
‘She had an aunt in Leeds, her Aunt Effie; she married late – to a man with a business. When he died, she inherited, and she’d been ill herself for years. Emma was her favourite and she’d always said she would leave everything to Emma.’
‘So, why haven’t we heard this from her family?’
‘She only ever said it to Emma. Only she knew she would inherit everything. Her aunt was afraid of causing jealousies.’
‘And how much was everything?’
‘How would I know? I don’t, but it was thousands.’
Peacock whistled. Blades blinked – several times. It was Peacock who pointed out the obvious.
‘So, he killed her for money she hadn’t inherited yet? How does that help him?’
‘You don’t see it. Her aunt died a month ago.’
‘She did?’ Blades said. ‘Emma already had the money?’
‘It hadn’t come through yet.’
‘Which still doesn’t help any paramour of Emma’s if he’s already killed her,’ Peacock said.
‘You say she was seeing someone else,’ Blades said. ‘Could there have been someone besides Russell Parkes?’
‘I don’t know of anyone else. I’ve seen her and Russell together.’
‘Where?’ Blades said.
‘I saw them walking along the front.’
‘When was this?’
‘A couple of weeks ago.’
‘Not the Saturday of her disappearance?’
‘No. You know he was heavily in debt?’
‘We’d worked it out,’ Blades said. ‘You’ve proof of it?’
‘Word on the street. Not proof. No.’
‘So, what form did the word on the street take?’
‘He was in debt to a turf bookie.’
‘Who had a name?’
‘Rawlins.’
‘I’ve heard of him. The amiable Geoffrey.’
‘That’s the one. What I heard was he’d told
Russell he would break both of his legs if he didn’t pay up by this Friday.’
‘I still don’t see how Russell can get the money from Emma if she’s dead,’ Peacock said.
‘Unless some money already had come through to her?’ Blades said. ‘Had it?’
Duggan shrugged his shoulders in a gesture that looked false to Blades. Then Duggan repeated it. ‘If it had, she didn’t tell me.’
‘Would you expect her to be open about things like that?’ Peacock said.
‘She could be. She was a funny sort. She’d believe anything you said if it was romantic and the sort of thing she wanted to think about you. Like if I told her I was a hero in the war, or my family was descended from the aristocracy, it made her feel good about herself to think she’d attracted a catch like that. And she’d talk non-stop about the things she wanted out of life. And she had her dreams, that one. The moving pictures have a lot to answer for. She’d have loved to travel, see Europe and sail to America. She’s not been out of Birtleby much that I know of. And she could clam up about herself if she wanted. Didn’t want to put me off I suppose. Or maybe she didn’t trust me enough.’
‘Caught you out on one or two of your stories, then?’ Peacock said.
‘When she did that, she just talked herself into believing them again.’
‘Someone ripe to be taken in by a rogue like you?’ Peacock said.
‘She was a person who could be taken in, but it wasn’t by me. That’s what I’m telling you. Look at Russell Parkes.’
‘I see.’ Blades gave Duggan some thought. ‘Thank you for coming forward with this,’ he said. ‘Is there anything else you can tell us?’
‘Not off-hand. But, I repeat, I would look at Russell Parkes.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
Then Duggan left, and Blades tried to digest what he had just been told.
‘It’s a bit garbled and muddled,’ Peacock said.
‘Does that suggest it’s true?’
‘Only if Russell Parkes wasn’t thinking straight when he did the murder – if he’s the one who did it.’
‘Opens up that line of inquiry again properly though. We’ve Russell to question about this – and his bookie.’ Blades was pondering it all though. He was irritated by this. It wasn’t as if they had been questioning Duggan. He had just turned up and provided more ammunition against Russell Parkes. How suspicious was that?
‘Duggan always was questionable,’ Blades said. ‘Either he has difficulty thinking straight, or he’s right about Russell Parkes, who does have a track record for violence.’
‘If Parkes doesn’t get his own way, he strikes out. Maybe he wasn’t going to get the money he wanted from Emma, lashed out and killed her.’
‘He wouldn’t be able to get it from her if she didn’t have it yet,’ Blades repeated.
‘We need to talk to the solicitors working on that estate as well.’
Blades paid no attention to that as his mind was elsewhere. ‘Russell Parkes,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘We’ll have to interview him.’
Blades reached for his coat and Peacock stood up ready to grasp his. Then the door opened and Moffat strode in, which surprised Blades. He sometimes wondered if Moffat just didn’t have the energy to travel as far as this office. He always summoned Blades. Yet here he was, as self-righteous and uptight as ever, looking around him as if disliking everything he saw.
‘Good morning, sir,’ Blades said, giving Moffat his most affable smile.
CHAPTER THIRTY
‘I want you to lay off Russell Parkes,’ Moffat said.
‘Really?’ Blades and Peacock said almost in chorus. Everyone had been taking pains to point them at Parkes, Musgrave and Duggan at least, Blades was in the process of taking him seriously as a suspect, and now Moffat was placing him off limits.
‘We haven’t seen him in a while, sir,’ Blades said, neglecting to say they had just been about to look him up. ‘What makes you say that?’
‘He has turned up in your investigations,’ Moffat replied.
‘As have others,’ Blades replied.
‘Yes, but Parkes is a dead end.’
Blades stared at Moffat. He had come over specially to say that? What was happening here?
‘He has an uncle on the police board.’
‘He does?’
‘And he has expressed concern.’
‘Should that make any difference?’
‘If you value your job and I value mine, yes.’
‘I can’t believe you’re saying that, sir. No one has impunity to commit murder.’
‘No, but Russell Parkes hasn’t committed any crime. I’ve spoken to his uncle and he’s vouched for him. He’s known the lad since he was knee-high, and he’s never exhibited any nasty streak whatsoever. In fact, he’s a young man who showed quite an interest in religion at one time. His family had hoped he might go in for the ministry. And he volunteers for charity work at his church regularly. He has quite the wrong character to be mixed up in anything like this. You’re barking up the wrong tree, it’s going to get you nowhere, and will have embarrassing political consequences. So, leave him alone.’
Blades had often wondered how someone like Moffat had become a Chief Constable. He had never noticed any real instinct for police work, a feeling for finance, possibly, but not the nitty-gritty of winkling out truths and villains. Perhaps he had advanced through managing not to offend anybody, something officers whose interest was in solving crimes couldn’t help doing.
‘The history of the courts throws up a lot of examples of apparently well-meaning people with lofty moral ambitions who have gone wrong – and committed extremely serious crimes,’ Blades replied.
‘Not Russell Parkes. The boy is innocent.’
‘He has a police record,’ Peacock said.
‘Which involves violence against a woman,’ Blades said.
‘Only under great duress and provocation. You ought to study that case in greater depth than you have before commenting on it.’
Blades and Peacock had now fallen into silence. Blades did not know what to make of this visit from Moffat. The only conclusion he could come to was that behind that impressive exterior of Moffat’s lay a surprisingly weak man.
‘The search for the body,’ Moffat said. ‘How does that progress?’
The search Blades had been forced to ignore while he concentrated on other things, like Russell Parkes – and the Roots – at Moffat’s behest. Blades cursed inwardly. He had been hoping to liaise with the officers in charge of the search again. His lack of control of his own investigation was frustrating him.
‘The search is still unproductive.’ He did know that, unless something had turned up in the last hour or so.
‘Which means you’re pursuing what sort of case?’ Moffat asked.
‘Murder?’ Blades replied. ‘And we know it was Emma who was killed.’
‘She’s a missing person. That’s all you have.’
‘Considering what we found in the bath in the Roots’ house–’
‘You’ve formed an assumption. It does look as if someone has been seriously wounded but you don’t know who and you have no body, which means you have no means of proving murder against anybody. Unless something approaching tangible evidence turns up about a murder and about the person who might have committed it, you’re conducting an investigation on a scale and at an expense that’s difficult to justify. And it’s not just you who has to defend it. I have to do that too.’
‘I beg to disagree,’ Blades said. ‘Emma Simpson has been murdered in that house, and, if we keep on searching for proof, we’ll find it.’
‘Have you made any further inquiries into Thomas Root?’
At least Blades did have a reply to that one.
‘We interviewed him, sir, but couldn’t elicit anything incriminating.’
‘At least you’ve got round to talking to him again. I thought you were never going to follow up on that angle. Who are you going to interview next
?’
‘We’d thought of Russell Parkes but you’ve just told us to lay off him.’
‘Which leaves Duggan, and you say you’ve nothing on him?’
‘We haven’t. No.’
‘So, this is winding down. As far as the search is concerned, you have two more days to spend on that, and then it’s called off, and you can concentrate on other cases, ones where there’s a chance of securing a conviction against someone for something tangible. Now, overtime and holiday allowances, have you prepared the figures there for me to look at, yet? I’ve been asking you for those.’
Blades gave Moffat what he supposed was a weary look.
‘You’ve been wasting your time chasing rainbows instead. Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork. That can’t be emphasised enough. The fundamentals of administration are the building blocks of efficient policework, and you’re always behind with yours.’
Blades supposed that was why they had to spend too much time in the office and not enough out questioning people, but all he said was, ‘Yes, sir,’ as he stood and tried not to look sullen. Peacock, he noticed, was inscrutable, though Peacock never looked like that unless he was furious.
After Moffat strode out just as grandly as he had arrived, Blades uttered an expression his wife would have been critical of. Then Peacock said, ‘The speed he’s closing this case down, you’d think Moffat had done it.’
‘You might wonder,’ Blades said, then muttered something else to himself before saying, ‘but we’ve police work to do, and we’d better get on with it.’
‘Reports?’ Peacock said.
Blades grunted. ‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s time we interviewed Russell Parkes again.’
‘Do you think that’s wise?’
‘No, but I say it has to be done.’
Blades reached for his cigarette packet, changed his mind, strode to the window and stared out. After some time, he returned his gaze to Peacock.
‘In my entire police career, I’ve never been told something like that,’ Blades said.
‘It was surprising,’ Peacock said. ‘Somebody must have a lot of belief in Russell Parkes.’