‘With respect, that’s a cop-out, ma’am,’ Barry said.
‘Think about it,’ Sophie said. ‘Andrew Atkins is an untrustworthy schemer. According to his ex, he doesn’t even bother to get involved in his own son’s life. What does that tell you about his sense of responsibility? Tim Brotherton seems to have been all things to all people at different stages of his life. Is there a real person hidden somewhere behind all those façades? Look at what he’s kept from his own partner. She knew nothing about his past. And we know he’s a practised liar. Then there’s Catherine Templeton. We know she’s a liar too. I’ve never been convinced of the reasons she gave in court for Baker’s attempt on her life. I wonder if something else was said between the two of them that night in the pub. I wonder if she said something, even threatened to expose him as Katie’s murderer, that made him decide to silence her, but the attempt failed.’
‘In that case, why didn’t it come to light in the court case?’ Barry asked.
‘Because they both may have had too much to lose. I’ve read the court records and talked to some of the officials there. All the way through that trial there’s a sense of something left unsaid, something running below the surface, hidden. Which would make sense if it was the two of them that killed her.’
‘So, do we make a move on anyone? Bring them in for further questioning?’ Lydia asked.
‘Nothing formal yet. We’ll wait for Rae to arrive and give us the complete picture of what she found. Anyway, we still have Prentice’s murder to sort out, in case you’ve forgotten. It may not have been the same person that killed him and Katie.’
‘You don’t really believe that, do you, ma’am?’ Barry said.
She smiled. ‘Of course not. I’m just saying that to keep you on your toes. By the way, the forensic team are having another look at the knife that Baker used in his attack on Catherine Templeton all those years ago. Something suspicious showed up in the evidence used at his trial. And another interesting snippet came in from Polly Nelson just now. Someone got Heathfield Farm valued in the final month before the place was abandoned — a local Bridgwater estate agent took a look at it.’
‘Do we know who arranged it?’ Barry asked.
Sophie nodded. ‘Oh yes. It was our friend Andrew Atkins. I think it’s time you and I spoke to this group of lying, scheming tricksters again, Barry. Rae isn’t due back until late afternoon, so let’s get on with it.’
Chapter 31: Like a Beggar
Friday Afternoon
Sophie and Barry drove to Bath through a midsummer rainstorm, the torrential downpour catching them just as they turned onto the Warminster bypass. The rain lasted ten minutes then disappeared as fast as it had arrived, and the streets of Bath were bone dry. They called first at Catherine Templeton’s place of work, a small pharmacy in a row of shops along a side street not far from where she lived. She appeared, looking flushed and angry.
‘Now what?’ she demanded. ‘Why are you bothering me at work? Can’t it wait, for God’s sake?’
This was a very different side to the Catherine they’d been shown a few days before. What was she so worked up about?
Barry waited a few seconds, watching her, before he replied. ‘No, it can’t. Is there an office we can go to?’
‘No, there isn’t.’ She looked around, frowning, then glanced at her watch. ‘It’s nearly lunchtime. I’ll ask if I can take my break early and we can talk at home. This had better be worth the interruption.’
It took less than three minutes to drive to her house. Catherine stared out of the rear window for the duration of the journey, refusing to respond to any attempt at conversation until they were safely inside her front door. She turned to face them as soon as they were inside.
‘So?’ she said. ‘What’s this about?’
With Sophie remaining in the background, Barry began. ‘Your car, Ms Templeton. You pointed it out when we last saw you. What you failed to tell us was that you’d only owned the red Ford for a week or so. Until very recently you had a white VW Polo.’
Catherine looked at him through narrowed eyes. ‘So what? It didn’t seem of major importance. Not to my mind, anyway.’
‘When I asked you if you’d driven your car to Dorset anytime recently, you were clear in your reply that you hadn’t. What I now need to know is did you drive to Dorset in the Polo? Or in any other car, come to that?’
There was a momentary hesitation. ‘No.’
‘Did anyone else drive it to Dorset? Did someone borrow it perhaps?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t make a habit of lending my car to anyone.’
‘I’m not asking about any habitual lending of your car. What about just the once?’
‘No. I don’t lend my stuff out to people, and certainly not my car.’
‘So if it showed up on a CCTV camera at a petrol station in Dorset, it would mean what, exactly?’
During the lengthy silence that followed, Catherine looked as if she was about to explode out of barely restrained rage.
‘Someone kept a spare set of keys for the car,’ she finally said. ‘I’ve been working weekends lately. Maybe it was borrowed without my knowledge.’
‘By who, Ms Templeton?’
She glared at him for a full twenty seconds. ‘Andy Atkins. I’ve known him for years.’
Barry nodded slowly. ‘Would that be the same Andrew Atkins who was on the commune with you?’
She nodded.
‘And Trent Baker’s fishing trip companion on the day he assaulted you?’
Again, a slight nod.
‘Is there anything else you want to tell me, Ms Templeton, while you have the chance?’
‘No. Of course not. What are you implying?’
‘Just that it all seems a bit more complicated than you’ve led us to believe. You’ve maintained a close enough friendship with Mr Atkins to trust him with a set of your car keys, even though you never lend it to anyone. It just seems a bit odd to us. He lives and works down in Dorset. Why would he come all the way up here to borrow your car, only to drive it all the way back to Wareham? And then, presumably, make the whole trip again to bring it back? All without your knowledge.’ He watched her intently.
‘Well, he bloody didn’t, did he? If you must know, he spends occasional weekends here, staying with me. Satisfied now?’
‘So, are you in a relationship with him?’
‘For God’s sake, what’s it got to do with you? It’s our lives. Jesus.’
Barry raised his eyebrows. ‘You haven’t answered the question.’
‘Shit. If you must know, we’ve been on-off for a long time, ever since those times on the farm, though it’s been more off than on. But recently we’ve been back on.’
‘You told us all about your ruined date with Russell Poulter as if he was your new boyfriend. But it seems you were seeing Mr Atkins at the time.’
She sighed loudly. ‘It wasn’t like that. Why do you make it sound so grubby? Russ was just a dinner date. We’d only had coffee together a few times before that, and it was our first evening out. And that’s all it was. Andy and I go way back. It doesn’t mean we’re an item or anything.’
‘It puzzles me that he drove to Wareham in your car. Surely if he was here visiting you, he’d have his own car with him?’
She shook her head. ‘He came by train.’
‘Well, I’m glad we’ve got that cleared up. But there is something else we need clarifying. You said that you only joined the commune a few months before it fell apart. We’ve been talking to a lot of other people who were there at the time and that doesn’t seem to be what they remember. According to them, you arrived within the first year of its existence. So why did you tell us otherwise?’
She was beginning to look frazzled. Barry thought of a juggler trying to keep too many plates in the air. Catherine wiped her brow with the back of her hand.
‘’Cause I was probably boozing and smoking too much dope. My memories are a bit hazy. It’s as simple
as that.’
‘So what you’re saying is that we can’t rely on anything you’ve told us about those days, but we can rely on what you’re telling us now? Is that right?’
‘Oh, for Christ’s sake. You’re twisting everything. I’m the innocent party here — you should know that. I’ve a good mind to make a complaint about police harassment.’
‘You’re perfectly at liberty to do so, Ms Templeton. I’ve tried my best to be courteous in my questioning, but if you feel I’ve been too abrasive, you should go ahead. We’ve clarified what we needed to know, so we’ll head off.’ He waited a few seconds. ‘For now.’
The two detectives left the house, its occupant watching them with a face like thunder.
‘She’s lying again,’ Sophie said. ‘No one in their right mind would take a train from Wareham to Bath. It’s sixty miles but the train journey involves two long-winded changes. It can take four hours. He has a car, for Christ’s sake. Why wouldn’t he have used that? Which then begs the question, why did he borrow hers rather than using his own? What was he trying to hide? I think it’s time we brought him in.’
She called Dorset while Barry drove onto the motorway, heading for Weston-Super-Mare. Sophie then phoned Tim Brotherton, asking him to wait for them at home. Tim had been ejected from the house he’d shared with Judy Price for the past six months. Apparently, it had been Judy who’d found him his new home, a small bedsit in a rundown part of the town. They found a parking slot close by and walked the few yards to Brotherton’s new address.
They mounted the grubby stairwell to the second floor. Sophie shook her head. He’d thrown away a comfortable life with Judy Price for this. Some people just didn’t recognise a true gem when they saw one. Too full of his own bullshit, that was Brotherton’s problem. But was he a killer? She had her doubts. The doorbell was hanging from its mount with one wire exposed, so Barry rapped on the door. It was opened by a dishevelled Tim Brotherton, hollow-eyed and unshaven.
‘Well, hello, Mr Brotherton. What a lovely sunny day it is. Can we come in for a chat?’ Sophie had already pushed herself inside.
Barry wished he could manage that bonhomie combined with blatant mischief the way his boss did. It seemed so easy with her, but he knew there was no point in him even trying to copy her technique. He’d never get away with it, not with his more introverted personality. She sometimes appeared to be a bit of a bull in a china shop, although he knew it was all carefully worked out in advance.
‘Thanks for letting us know you were moving,’ she went on. ‘I always appreciate a little bit of cooperation from people. It helps to oil the wheels and puts me in a cheerful mood. That’s always a good thing.’
They entered a room that doubled as both living and sleeping accommodation. It had a sash window at the far end, with a sink set below it. A small hob cooker occupied one corner and the nearby worktop was dominated by a microwave oven that seemed to take up most of its surface. A small table and two upright chairs occupied the opposite corner. The divan bed doubled as a couch and was covered by an intricately patterned throw. Brotherton moved to the window and opened it a further couple of inches, pulled the two chairs across to the middle of the room and slumped onto the divan. He looked exhausted.
‘I never imagined you in a place like this, Mr Brotherton. It’ll just be temporary, I expect?’
Brotherton scowled. ‘Yes. I’ve got myself on the list at a letting agency for something bigger. This was the only place that was available at the time. Beggars can’t be choosers, can they? And that’s how I’m being made to feel. Like a beggar.’
‘I’m sure things will improve for you. We have a few questions, and I need you to be totally honest with us. This time. We have two murder cases and we’re getting closer to solving them. Let’s start with Paul Prentice, shall we? When was the last time you saw him?’
The silence seemed to last a long time. Finally, Brotherton said, ‘A couple of years ago. He turned up on my doorstep with a load of questions. I was living in Taunton at the time. I don’t know how he found out where I lived.’
‘What kind of questions?’ Sophie asked.
Brotherton shrugged. ‘The same old stuff. What could I tell him about when Katie Templar left? We’d already been over it all, years before, at the farm just before we shut up shop there. He turned up unannounced then too.’
‘So did you tell him the truth or did you spin him the same yarn you gave us?’
‘I told you what I believed to be true, that she left early one morning and headed to the local bus stop. Look, I know I said it was me that saw her head off. I admit I should have said it was someone else.’
‘Who?’
‘It wasn’t one person. It was three: Trent Baker, Andy Atkins and Catherine Templeton. They all said they’d seen her go.’
Sophie thought for a few moments. ‘But you also said this was early in the morning. I got the impression she was heading for the first bus.’
He nodded. ‘That’s what they told me.’
‘But were they often up at that time? The first bus was at, what, six thirty in the morning?’
‘Andy was up then, quite often. He was in charge of the working part of the farm. We had a few cows that needed milking. As for the other two, well. I s’pose it was a bit unusual.’
‘Didn’t you think it was unusual at the time? Didn’t you question them about it?’
He shook his head. ‘No. Look, we knew she’d be leaving at some point, to join Prentice. It wasn’t a surprise.’
‘The thing is, Mr Brotherton, Andrew Atkins denies seeing her that morning. He told me that she slipped out during the night, and no one actually saw her go. So who am I to believe?’
He looked shaken. ‘I can’t believe it. All three of them told me the same thing.’
‘So why did you tell me something different last week? Why did you imply that you’d seen her?’
He shook his head slowly. ‘Misplaced loyalty. I was trying to protect them, even after all these years. I still want to protect everyone who was there in that commune. I put my heart and soul into that place and into supporting the people there. When you told me about the body, I just didn’t believe it could have been her — Katie. I believed what they told me. Why would three people lie?’
Sophie looked squarely at him. ‘Are you really as stupid as you sound, Mr Brotherton? Have any of them been in touch with you recently?’
‘I went to see Catherine a few days ago. She was angry. Andy came to see me last month. It was the first time I’d seen either of them since we left the farm.’
‘So you haven’t seen Trent Baker?’
He shook his head. ‘Why would I go looking for him? I didn’t realise at the time just how nasty he is.’
‘He was at the hospital last weekend, trying to dig for information about Judy. He’s been seen several times during the past week sitting in a car across the road from the house you were sharing with Judy. How do you feel about that?’
Brotherton put his head in his hands. ‘Christ. What the hell’s going on?’
‘You tell us, Mr Brotherton. You’re the one who was meant to be on top of what was going on all those years ago. Or were you just wandering around with your head in the clouds?’
He didn’t answer.
‘Let’s turn to the facts, shall we? I need to know more about the trust that had nominal ownership of the farm. In particular, some of the clauses that Katie had written into the deeds. Let’s start with the one that gave her the final say in the appointment of trustees.’
Brotherton’s expression was blank for a moment. ‘Oh, the trust. I’d forgotten all about that. God, it all was so long ago. What do you want me to tell you?’
‘Well, how did you feel about it? You were the group leader, after all.’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I never really thought about it.’
Sophie looked at him closely. Was he still covering things up? ‘But it must have been a nuisance, Mr Brotherton, surely
? It meant your hands were tied to some extent. It would have prevented you from adding Trent Baker as a trustee during the final year or so.’
He appeared to be lost in thought. ‘Maybe that turned out to be a good thing. He got added as a signatory to the bank account though. That was probably enough. It might even have been a step too far. Anyway, what do you mean would have prevented? It did prevent him, that’s what I thought.’
Sophie shook her head. ‘No. Because the board of trustees had already folded by then. Didn’t you realise that? Come on, Mr Brotherton, get real. The ownership of the farm reverted back to Katie a couple of weeks before she died, when Trent Baker smuggled in some cocaine. That action would have triggered the reversion clause. You must have known. When she vanished, the farm was already back in her sole possession. You and all the others were close to being illegal squatters. Maybe you and the other trustees kept it from the others, even your pal Trent.’
‘I never told anyone about a clause like that, even Trent. I must have forgotten about it myself. Are you sure about it?’
‘Oh yes. We have a copy of the trust document and we’ve had a legal expert pick it to pieces. Coupled with a couple of witnesses to the fact that Baker had begun to bring drugs in.’
Barry stepped forward. ‘Timothy Brotherton. I’m arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Katie Templar at Heathfield Farm in Somerset in July 2005. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’
At that moment, Sophie’s phone rang.
Once Brotherton was safely stowed in the local squad car that had been waiting around the corner, Sophie told Barry the news.
‘That was Matt at HQ. Andy Atkins was nowhere to be found when the hit squad called to pick him up early this morning. And it gets worse. Trent Baker has gone walkabout from his home in Bristol, despite the watch on his flat.’
‘So what now? Should we arrange for Catherine to be lifted — if only for her own protection?’ Barry was looking worried.
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