Detective Inspector Skelgill Boxset 2

by Bruce Beckham

  ‘Wow.’ She exhales and seems to take a couple of deep breaths as she returns to her seat. Her colleagues look on expectantly. ‘That was the station, Guv – there’s a preliminary report from Forensics on the examination of Mullarkey’s bedroom here at Crummock Hall. They found a balled up strip of packing tape at the back of his fire. He must have intended to burn it – but it rolled down behind the grate, and just melted superficially. It’s got Mullarkey’s prints on it – and on the sticky side, traces of varnish and wood fibre that exactly match the bottom of Thwaites’ bedroom door, and the floorboards below it.’

  Skelgill is nodding – he looks like this is a confirmation rather than a revelation.

  ‘So that’s how he did it. He blocked the chimney during the day – then taped up the door after Thwaites had gone to bed. Must have gone back for the tape in the early hours, and switched it for the door-stopper on the inside – to make it look like an accident caused by Thwaites trying to keep himself warm.’

  DS Jones has more to add.

  ‘We think the nest material came from the chimney in the attic room that Edgar was using as an office. There were similar remnants of twigs and straw in the hearth.’

  ‘Aye – he had a fan heater, remember? Probably because they couldn’t get a fire to draw properly in there.’

  The team becomes introspective for a few moments. Though they have solved the crime it is a source of dismay that they were unable to prevent what is almost certainly the murder of Thwaites. However it is some consolation that they intervened when they did – Fergal Mullarkey had more than enough evil intent – and bullets – to bring an entire dynasty to its end on Friday night. Who knows what staged internecine killings he had planned for the five siblings. Might the police have arrived to discover four of them shot as they slept, and a fifth – their ‘killer’ – having apparently committed suicide down at the lake?

  Now DS Leyton breaks the silence.

  ‘Once he thought he was in the clear, Guv – over Declan and Thwaites – why do you reckon Mullarkey didn’t just sit tight – maybe even wait until the books were transferred to Dublin?’

  Skelgill shrugs and looks hopefully for tea – but DS Jones indicates there is none left.

  ‘I suppose there was always the chance of the family digging their heels in – it would have made it more difficult for him if the collection was kept here. Plus there’s other things that must have rattled him – like I said, the photo – and then me rocking up unannounced in Dublin. I reckon he spotted me on the ferry – and kept quiet about it. There was something odd about him that niggled me. And Toby Vellum – don’t forget. He appears out of the blue – and not only is he an old chum of Edgar’s – but also his firm is Declan’s long-standing supplier of books. Mullarkey puts two and two together and makes five – he’s probably thinking that Vellum and Edgar are in cahoots – that they know something about the diamond and are preparing to act.’

  Again they each consider this explanation – and it is DS Jones that makes a supplementary observation.

  ‘I also believe, Guv – that Fergal Mullarkey was not a sane person – this obsession must have been eating at him for decades – I think by the end of it his mind was running riot.’

  Skelgill nods.

  ‘Aye – you’re not wrong there, Jones. Greed got the better of him and he showed his hand.’

  Skelgill’s phraseology does not go unnoticed by his colleagues – for, thus far, they have not directly asked him to what extent he suspected it would be Fergal Mullarkey that fell foul of their stakeout. Or was it was just an optimistic shot in the dark? After all, the group was back together for Thwaites’ funeral, and the time was ripe for the guilty party to make some move. So now DS Leyton seizes his chance – in a tactfully oblique fashion.

  ‘I must say, Guv – Mullarkey was the last person I expected – he had me convinced he was totally above board.’

  Skelgill grins generously.

  ‘The lake, Leyton, the lake. And good old Greenwell’s Glory. I had this powerful feeling that Declan was the target of the drowning – ‘The Accident’ – and if that was right, then this crime wasn’t about the family clearing Declan out of the way to speed up the inheritance of Crummock Hall – or even for some perverse revenge – it was about Declan, and his will. And there was all this background noise about the books – even Mullarkey overdid it – pressing me, telling me that the family wanted them put in safekeeping. And that Declan’s murdered so soon after it emerges he intends to bequeath the collection to one of his great nephews or nieces. If ‘The Accident’ and the books were connected – then the family couldn’t be in the frame.’

  DS Leyton is nodding.

  ‘They were just a bunch of kids, Guv.’

  ‘And there was something that Thwaites mentioned to me – a throwaway remark. He said Declan would scold the maid when she was dusting the shelves – and he’d complain to Thwaites – he’d say, “All my wealth is in my books”. It was a kind double bluff – he meant it. Literally.’

  DS Jones cannot suppress a giggle – she gives him credit for his apposite choice of adverb – and follows up with a more tangential inquiry.

  ‘And what you learned in Dublin, Guv?’

  There is a suggestion of ingenuousness in her tone – albeit that Skelgill has not been particularly forthcoming about his unofficial expedition across the Irish Sea.

  ‘Not everything I learned in Dublin would have kept me on the right track.’

  His reaction is a little prickly – and she folds her hands upon her lap. She seems unprepared for this and does not have a ready reply. But now his expression softens, and his tone becomes almost teasing.

  ‘Just like you discovered in London, I don’t doubt.’

  Now DS Jones’s cheeks seem to take on a faint flush – and Skelgill continues in his conciliatory manner.

  ‘What we can’t know when we get handed a case – is that it’s not one jigsaw but three or four jigsaws all mixed up in the same box, with no picture on the front – but now we’ve got the pieces we want – we can bin the rest and move on.’

  Though his graphic analogy is somewhat facile, it seems his point is insightful – at least as far as DS Jones is concerned – for she relaxes, and nods, and smiles with some relief.

  ‘It’s been an eye-opener, Guv – but not my kind of scene.’

  DS Leyton is not entirely on their wavelength – but nonetheless he chips in with what he thinks is an appropriate contribution.

  ‘It’s another world, eh, Guv – the rich and famous.’

  Skelgill abruptly rises. This catches his subordinates unawares. There is a strange light in his eyes, perhaps of anticipation. He grabs his jacket from the back of the sofa, and pulls on his fur-lined trapper hat, rather askew.

  ‘On which note we need to pay a little visit to the Gilhooleys.’

  His colleagues are perplexed.

  ‘The Gilhooleys?’

  ‘Aye – they might have just won the lottery, Leyton.’

  ‘Come again, Guv?’

  Skelgill makes a telephone with his thumb and little finger.

  ‘Professor Jim Hartley?’ (DS Leyton nods his understanding: that Skelgill refers to the call a few minutes earlier.) ‘His Irish pal has unearthed an interesting story. The Gilhooley family was originally in partnership with the O’Mores – we’re talking centuries back – to the time of the Triangular Trade. Seems they had a big bust-up over some valuable ‘asset’ obtained by dubious means from an African trader. There was legal action and the Gilhooleys came off second best – the whereabouts of the ‘asset’ couldn’t be established. The costs were punishing and they ended up being bankrupted. The O’Mores took some sympathy in victory – looks like that’s when they granted the Gilhooleys their tenancy. But now – if the ‘asset’ has turned up – there’s a chance that the historical claim can be revived.’ He grins at DS Jones. ‘The Gilhooleys might not be as batty as we thought – or as poor.’

&
nbsp; Skelgill consults his wristwatch.

  ‘Come on – we’ve just got time before the Taj opens.’ (This suggestion meets with suspicious glances.) ‘Don’t worry – it’s on me.’

  DS Leyton chuckles.

  ‘That’s what holding a billion-dollar diamond does to you, Guv – it’s scrambled your brains.’

  ‘I’ve got no brains to scramble, Leyton – and, anyway, it’s better than that – I’m on a promise from Perdita.’

  Skelgill’s thoughts appear momentarily distant – and DS Jones looks a little alarmed. But he gives a shake of the head, and grins self-effacingly.

  ‘She’s offered me the set of first edition Wainwrights from Declan’s library – I just have to find the will in Mullarkey’s office.’

  DS Jones stretches her lithe form up onto her tiptoes, and then slowly sweeps the fingers of both hands through her hair.

  ‘Maybe you’d benefit from some back-up this time, Guv?’

  Skelgill is regarding her with interest.

  ‘Don’t worry, Jones – I never make the same mistake twice.’

  ‘In which case, Guv – that hat’s got to go.’

  ***

  Next in the series...

  NO STONE UNTURNED

  When a dog walker discovers a decaying corpse in Harterhow Woods it is surely just a matter of time before the police will close in upon the murderer. But despite a nationwide appeal the distinctive remains defy identification.

  Skelgill believes he knows the perpetrator – but his team have other ideas. As they unearth contradictory clues Skelgill becomes impatient – an arrest is made. But when the victim is finally named a new prime suspect emerges.

  Skelgill is determined to prevail – but the facts don’t fit his gut feel. And yet, as they search for a vital witness it dawns on him that there may be not one but two killers at large. And one of them may be compelled to strike again.

  ‘Murder in the Woods’ by Bruce Beckham is available from Amazon