by Carol Wyer
‘When did this happen?’
‘Friday morning. The day before Fiona went away.’
‘Am I right in saying, when you returned the following Thursday to borrow the mower, you were no longer working for him?’ asked Kate.
He sighed again. ‘No, I wasn’t.’
‘And yet you still had the keys to the shed and the garage?’
‘Yes.’
‘In effect, you had no right to enter his property.’
‘In hindsight, probably not. Look, I turned back to ask his permission. I wasn’t going to steal it, only borrow it.’ His voice had become indignant.
‘You stole his machine, Rory,’ Kate insisted.
‘I borrowed it.’
‘Why didn’t you leave your keys to the garage after the confrontation with Alex?’
‘I forgot, and he didn’t ask for them.’
‘How convenient,’ muttered Morgan.
‘I forgot,’ Rory repeated.
Morgan snorted lightly then said, ‘So, this encounter with Alex last Friday – what happened?’
‘Yes. Alex was on his way out when I turned up. He got out of his car and confronted me. As soon as he’d said his piece, he climbed back into his car and drove off.’
‘Did you mention this to anyone?’ said Kate.
‘No.’
‘Not even to Fiona?’
Kate wasn’t fooled by the wide-eyed look that accompanied his denial. ‘You didn’t tell Fiona Alex had dispensed with your gardening services?’
‘She had enough on her plate, preparing for the trip, and she already had plenty on her mind. Besides, I was convinced she’d decide to leave the stupid bastard so I really didn’t give a stuff whether or not I worked for him. Alex might have believed money would keep Fiona manacled to him, but the truth was, she didn’t want him. She wanted me.’
‘Did you attack Alex Corby?’
‘No. I didn’t.’
‘Did you threaten him in any way?’
‘Absolutely not. He didn’t answer the door when I knocked. I swear, I didn’t set eyes on him the entire time I was there. I didn’t kill Alex. I had no reason to kill him. I already had his wife.’
‘Thank you, Mr Winters. That will be all for the moment. We’ll most certainly wish to speak to you again. In the meantime, please don’t make any plans to leave the area.’
On the way back to the station, Morgan was agitated. ‘I’m not entirely convinced he’s innocent. What if the argument he and Alex had was more heated than he suggested, and Alex threatened to ruin Rory and his business?’ Kate had already considered those possibilities, but it was good to hear Morgan’s reasoning. ‘Rory would then have motive, not to mention a shitload of money when Fiona inherited Alex’s estate. He knew the family was on holiday.’
Kate shook her head. ‘There’s only one flaw in that argument. Rory didn’t expect Alex to be at home when he went around to collect the sit-on mower.’
Morgan persisted. ‘What if he contacted Alex, demanding to meet him at the house? What if the whole thing had been planned to give him an alibi?’
‘He had no way of knowing Mrs Lancaster would ask him to cut the field that day. He went with the sole intention of clearing her overgrown garden.’
‘He might have suggested it himself. Or dropped hints, or subliminal messages that she picked up on.’
‘That’s a huge amount of supposition, Morgan.’
‘What else do we have? Most murders are committed by a spouse or by somebody who knew the victim.’
‘That’s true, and you’re correct. I can’t put my finger on exactly what’s wrong with this scenario, but if Rory’s elaborate plan was to do away with his lover’s husband, it hinged on too many coincidences. And why not give himself a more concrete alibi, not some wishy-washy one about borrowing a sit-on mower?’
Morgan pumped the accelerator pedal. ‘I don’t like him.’
‘You know we can’t be prejudiced in this line of work, Morgan. We can’t judge people and decide whether or not we like them. We stick to facts – plain and simple facts.’
‘Understood,’ he muttered.
She sensed the fight drain from him. He was young and zealous. It was only natural he’d be feeling some frustration, especially since Kate insisted on a more softly, softly approach than he might have preferred. She let it drop and allowed the silence to wash over them.
Emma drew up in the staff car park at exactly the same time as them, bounded from her vehicle and made a beeline for Kate. ‘Security CCTV footage at Palm Leisure Centre clearly shows the white Mini registered to Bradley Chapman parked in the leisure centre car park at ten o’clock Thursday morning. The camera alters position every ten minutes, moving from left to right and back again. Every time it returns to its original position it focuses on the Mini, which remains in situ until 11.10 a.m., after which it disappears and is not seen at 11.20 a.m., when the camera next returns to that spot. There’s no sign of Gwen crossing the car park, or the Mini driving away. I also checked with reception to see if she had a massage and they said she didn’t, nor did she attempt to book one. Furthermore, there were slots available, so she fibbed.’
‘How long would it take for her to drive to Lea Lane from the leisure centre?’
Emma gave her a smug look. ‘It took me twelve minutes.’
Kate nodded her approval. The timings would place Gwen’s Mini at the turning to Lea Lane around the time the cyclist went past. They trooped through the front entrance and into reception, where the desk officer stopped Kate.
‘You’ve got a visitor in interview room D. She wouldn’t give a name but insisted she wait for you. Said it was very important. Refused to discuss it with anyone but you.’
Kate shouted over to Emma and Morgan, ‘I’ll be up in a minute.’
She dashed to the room and opened the door, only to come to a surprised halt. The woman standing by the window was none other than Gwen Chapman.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
SUNDAY, 6 JUNE – AFTERNOON
Gwen’s puffy eyelids were so swollen they almost obliterated her bloodshot eyes. Her lipstick had smudged, leaving a crimson slash below her bottom lip and, together with the sooty mascara streaks, the appearance of a sad clown.
‘My family don’t know I’ve come here.’
The woman shuffled from one foot to the other.
‘Would you like a cup of tea or anything?’ Kate asked.
She shook her head. ‘No. I just want to get this over with.’
‘You’ve been under considerable stress the last few days. None of it has been easy for you.’ Kate kept her voice calm and soothing while Gwen remained standing by the window, twisting the handles of her shoulder bag around her knuckles. Kate pulled out a seat, dropped on to it. ‘Why don’t you join me?’
Gwen shuffled forward and took the chair facing Kate, hugging the bag on her lap. She spoke in a breathy whisper. ‘I visited Alex on Thursday and I spoke to him. But I certainly didn’t kill him.’
‘Take your time. You can stop whenever you need to.’ Kate shifted to a more relaxed pose. In the past, this had worked for her, with witnesses and even suspects, who unconsciously emulated her stance. Gwen, however, let go of her bag, dropped her face into her hands and sobbed. Kate waited. She had time. Time was fluid. It seemed to last a second or an hour, depending on the circumstances.
Eventually Gwen ferreted in her bag for a tissue, blew her nose and then spoke, her words laboured and thick. ‘Fiona rang me on Wednesday evening. She was terribly upset because Alex hadn’t joined them in France . . .’
‘Don’t cry, sweetheart. This isn’t like you.’
‘I’ve made such a horrible mess of things. I needed to feel loved. I felt so . . . empty.’
‘What have you done, Fiona?’
‘I got involved with another man.’
‘Oh, Fiona!’
‘I know. I know. It was a huge mistake. He was attentive and we got on well, and he made me fee
l desired and wanted, and he also made me appreciate how much I love Alex. I was going to end it. I just didn’t seem to find the right time to tell him and then, last Thursday, I stupidly left my mobile on the bed while I took a shower. When I came back to the bedroom, Alex was in bed, and the look on his face gave him away – he knew. There’d been a message while I’d been in the bathroom. Alex hadn’t opened it, but he’d undoubtedly read the first few words when it flashed up on the screen and seen who sent it.’
‘Oh goodness! What happened?’
‘He didn’t say a word. He put down his book, turned over and went to sleep. He didn’t bring it up the following morning either, but he was distant and only answered me in monosyllables. I didn’t know how to tackle the subject and so I begged him to come to France again. I thought it would be easier to talk to him away from home and the business, and tell him how much he means to me. He refused. Said he was too busy. I’ve been waiting all week for him to ring and say he’s changed his mind and has booked a flight here, or even surprise us with a visit, but there’s been nothing. He hasn’t even called the boys to ask how they are. I’ve screwed up completely. He’ll be getting divorce papers ready while I’m here and, when I go home, it’ll be over.’
‘Shh! It won’t be as bad as you think.’
‘It’ll be worse. This is all my fault. What about Hugh and Jacob? They adore their father. They’ll hate me for ever.’
‘No, they won’t. There’s still time for Alex to ring you. It’s only Wednesday. Maybe he’ll come out for the weekend.’
‘You think so?’
‘He won’t want to lose you, Fiona. Trust me. I’m your mother.’
Gwen looked Kate in the eyes. ‘Do you have any children?’
‘No, I don’t.’ Kate had to consciously dispel the cloud she was sure flitted across her features.
Gwen appeared not to notice. ‘Fiona was premature and spent the first six weeks battling for her life in an incubator, fed by tubes. She was so tiny and helpless, I was convinced we’d lose her. But we didn’t. She proved to be a fighter and she survived and grew into a beautiful woman with babies of her own. Her happiness is paramount. I can’t express how important she is to me, and I’d do anything for her and my grandchildren. After our conversation, I couldn’t sleep for worry. If she was right and Alex was planning to divorce her, I don’t know how she’d have coped. It would have shattered her, and there were those precious children of hers to consider too.
‘I made up my mind to interfere. Bradley had little time for Alex, but I always respected him. He was good to my Fiona over the years, and I know he cared hugely for her and the boys, but I didn’t dare tell Bradley what I intended to do. He’d have stopped me because . . . well, nothing would have pleased him more than to see Fiona and Alex break up.’
‘I take it he didn’t approve of their relationship?’
Gwen heaved a sigh. ‘He made it clear from the start he disapproved of Alex, but quite honestly, he disliked all Fiona’s boyfriends, and frightened most of them off. Alex was the exception. He wasn’t discouraged by Bradley’s sour temperament or caustic comments and rose above the snide remarks. He stood up to him, and I respected him for loving Fiona enough to take on her father, treat him with respect and put up with him. Bradley didn’t dislike Alex, he hated anyone who had the audacity to replace him in Fiona’s affections. You see, Fiona is the most important person in his life, too.’
Kate understood what she meant. Bradley had been jealous of his son-in-law.
‘I went to Palm Leisure Centre as planned on Thursday morning, but on the way there I rang Alex and asked if I could visit him at his office. He told me he wasn’t there and was working from home, and suggested I drop by around eleven thirty, when he’d be free to talk. I’m afraid I couldn’t concentrate on the exercise class and I didn’t want to tell my friends what was going on, so I fabricated a headache and told them I’d catch up with them later.
‘Alex was expecting me, and I didn’t waste time getting to the point. I relayed the conversation I’d had with Fiona and begged him to go to France, talk to her and resolve the problem.’ She wetted her lips. ‘He promised he’d book a seat on the evening flight for later the same day to patch things up, and the last I saw of him, he was waving me off.’
‘Did either he or Fiona tell you who she was having an affair with?’
‘No, and to be honest, it didn’t matter who it was. My only concern was to get them back together again.’
‘How long were you at the house?’
Gwen hesitated. ‘Fifteen . . . twenty minutes, tops.’
‘What did you do afterwards?’
‘I drove to the butcher’s shop in Uttoxeter – Reynolds and Sons. I got there around quarter past twelve. Archie Reynolds, who we’ve known for years, was annoyed because the delivery was late, and he commented it was no use pies arriving in the afternoon when he needed them for the morning rush. He’ll most likely remember me being in the shop around that time.’
‘Why didn’t you come forward before? You could have saved us a lot of trouble.’
‘I didn’t want Bradley to find out I’d interfered. He . . . doesn’t like it when I meddle, especially in Fiona’s life. And Alex . . . well, as I said. He didn’t like Alex. He’d have been . . . cross.’ She stared at her hands and Kate understood in a flash: Gwen was afraid of upsetting or angering her husband.
‘I should tell you we have a witness, a cyclist who unintentionally filmed your car turning into Lea Lane on his helmet camera. We believed it was Bradley’s car and spoke to him about it. At the time, we were unaware there was a second identical car, and he refused to comment.’
She let out a small groan. ‘I remember the bike. The cyclist waved me past but there seemed little point when I intended turning a few metres down the road.’
‘Bradley will surely have worked out it was you behind the wheel. Has he not challenged you about it?’
Gwen clamped her hands between her legs. There it was again, thought Kate: acute anxiety. ‘No. I only came here because your officers found a hole in my alibi. Why didn’t he explain that I sometimes drive it?’
‘I can’t answer that. He’ll have to tell you himself. I can only assume he was protecting you.’
‘Protecting me from what? He can’t possibly imagine I had anything to do with Alex’s death!’
‘We’ll need to speak to him again about it, because he refused to tell us anything earlier.’ Kate had made a mental calculation and, if Gwen’s version of events held true, she would have had no time to murder Alex. Kate had one more question to ask. ‘Your husband told us he headed from Abbots Bromley to Lichfield just after eleven o’clock, but his car wasn’t picked up by a safety camera until an hour later on the B5014 outside Hamstell Ridware, halfway to Lichfield. Have you any idea why that might be the case?’
Gwen’s face turned white.
Kate continued smoothly, ‘There were several discrepancies in his story, but he refused to cooperate. He might not have liked Alex, but he loves you all. Surely he’d want us to get to the bottom of the investigation, so why do you think he wouldn’t open up to us?’
Gwen blinked back tears. ‘I can only think of one possible explanation – Alex wasn’t the only one being betrayed.’
‘You think your husband is having an affair?’
‘He’s had them in the past. He vowed that sort of behaviour was behind him, but I can’t think why else he’d have disappeared for a whole hour and refused to tell you where he was.’
‘Have you any idea who he might be seeing?’
‘If he’s gone back to his old habits, it’ll be a pupil. His past lovers were driving-school students.’ She chewed at her lip. Tears brimmed again. ‘It would certainly explain his recent behaviour – he’s been more . . . aloof than usual, and then there are the phone calls he always takes alone. Sometimes he’ll go out after one of them, without any explanation as to where he’s going or for how long. Now I underst
and . . . He’s seeing somebody, for certain.’
‘Why didn’t you confront him about any of this?’
A tear broke free of her eyelashes and trickled down her cheek. ‘I didn’t pick up on the signs. I was preoccupied with other mundane matters and, more importantly, I trusted him. He swore it would never happen again.’ She wiped away the tear and lifted her head high. ‘I’ve told you everything I know about Alex. I can’t tell you anything more about my husband’s whereabouts on Thursday morning. You’ll have to question him yourself.’
Kate gave a sympathetic nod. ‘Thank you for coming in and clarifying things for us. I hope you don’t mind, but I will require an official statement from you about the last time you saw Alex. It won’t take long.’
‘And then can I leave?’
‘Certainly.’
Kate asked the police officer in the corridor to arrange for a statement to be taken and was halfway up the stairs when Emma came bounding down.
Her voice was urgent. ‘Kate, there’s been a fresh development.’
‘What is it?’
‘Derbyshire Forensics have been in touch. They’ve got Alex’s eye.’
‘What?’ Kate pounded up the rest of the stairs and strode along the corridor with Emma, who talked rapidly as she kept pace with her.
‘It was recovered from a cottage near the Peak District on Friday evening. The local police received a phone call from the householder, claiming the place had been broken into. When they got to the scene, they found nothing had been stolen but a jam jar filled with formaldehyde and containing the eye had been left on a desk. They suspected it was a practical joke and assumed at first it was an animal’s eye. The jar was sent to Derbyshire Forensics, where some cock-up over weekend cover meant it didn’t get examined until today. DNA testing proved it to be Alex’s. They contacted us as soon as they identified it. The senior officer apologised and has launched an enquiry as to why this happened.’
‘Bloody hell! We can do without these sorts of setbacks. Okay, who’s the house owner?’