by K T Findlay
'Is it possible that this was people playing a game that went wrong?' Peregrin mused.
Felicity thought for a moment. 'I would say that was more than likely. I'm sure he would have put up more of a struggle if he knew he was going to be killed, but there are no signs that he was engaged in any kind of fight. That suggests he complied willingly, at least in the early stages. Also, I haven't told you this yet, but Holmes was uncircumcised and there was a great deal of pre-ejaculate fluid underneath his foreskin, which indicates a significant degree of arousal, probably for some time. That would fit in with him thinking it was a game.'
‘Which might also explain,’ Peregrin postulated, his face screwed up in concentration, 'why his manservant said he was in such a good mood when he left home on Saturday night, and it would give him something to be hurrying to.'
'So perhaps he died happy after all?’ she laughed. ‘Anyway, I’ll leave that up to you lot to investigate, but before you go, I've got just a couple more things you’ll want to know. There is a very small quantity of French chalk on his flies and traces of hairy string on his jacket at about waist height.'
'From which you conclude?'
'French chalk is used as a lubricant, for old-fashioned rubber wetsuits and tyre inner tubes. Perhaps he was a rubber fetishist along with everything else? And I suspect the string was holding that rubber whatever it was in place, but with no real tension because his clothes haven’t been creased.'
'Well, this certainly isn't going to be boring!' murmured Peregrin. He left Felicity finishing up in the morgue and walked out of the hospital, across the road to the police station.
The team investigating Holmes's Jaguar hadn't come up with much. The car was spotlessly clean inside, having only recently been fully groomed. Indeed the only fingerprints inside the car belonged to Holmes and Algy. The one thing they did find was the plastic bag in the glove box containing the second pubic hair.
The Intelligence Cell had collated a complete list of Holmes's cases, and were looking through them to identify anyone who might hold a grudge. A harassed Charles Goodwin agreed with Peregrin’s suggestion that he should go to Dalton and talk to Jenny Wills, Holmes’s secretary, to try and narrow down the list.
◆◆◆
Freddy and James already had their list of suspects before they arrived back in Little Throcking. Their organisation had a direct link into the police computer systems and they’d been despatched immediately the Holmes case was flagged as a possible homicide. It wasn’t that anyone actually cared about the man himself, but his links to the missing Walker and his unfortunate document warranted a presence on the ground. After establishing themselves once more at the BnB, they re-established their rambler credentials by going for a walk in the still falling rain.
‘Where do you want to go?’ asked Freddy as they passed the door of the Cutty Sark. ‘Oh man, smell that fresh chocolate cake! We’ve got to be back for lunch. I want a piece of that.’
James flicked his finger out to indicate left. ‘I want to follow my gut. Let’s walk up Chandler Street and see what the Nixon woman is up to.’
Freddy shook his head in amusement. ‘What? You really think those two might have something to do with this? Come on!’
James frowned. ‘They were up to something. Remember Emma Nixon’s reaction to Holmes’s Jag that day in the lanes?’
‘She’d just seen her husband’s killer walk free because of him, what do you expect? But in any case, it’s coming up two years now. If she was still that pissed, do you think she’d have waited two years to kill the guy?’ asked Freddy, unable to wipe the smile off his face.
James just shrugged his shoulders and carried on walking. At the top of Chandler Street, James pretended to take an interest in Emma’s garden while Freddy extracted his binoculars from their case and began to check out the view. James noted movement behind the curtains as Emma went about her cleaning, but there was nothing about the place to encourage his suspicions.
Freddy dug him gently in the ribs and handed him the binoculars. ‘Northernmost house on the other side of the valley, central window.’ he murmured.
James refocused the binoculars, wound up the Bushnells’ zoom to their 22X maximum and peered through the rain. He could just make out Sally through the rain spattered window, doing her 10 AM picture. ‘She’s painting the view from her house! What the hell for in this weather?’
It was Freddy’s turn to shrug. ‘Who knows? Maybe she’s depressed or something.’
James scowled. ‘It looks pretty fishy to me!’
Freddy allowed himself a proper out loud laugh. ‘Oh for goodness sake! If the poor woman so much as bought some fish and chips you’d think she was passing a secret message in the wrapping paper! Come on, let’s go back to the café and have an early lunch. It’s getting cold and I don’t want to miss out on that cake!’
◆◆◆
Shortly before noon, Peregrin arrived at the offices of Parfitt, Holmes and Parfitt to be greeted by a very subdued Jenny Wills. After the usual introductions and commiserations, Peregrin got down to business. ‘We’re not certain yet, but it looks very much like someone else was involved in his death.’
Jenny’s eyebrows rose, but she said nothing and waited for him to continue.
‘He seems to have drunk an inordinate amount of single malt whisky and was found dead on one of the streets of the estate where he lived.’
‘Ornamental Estate?’ she asked.
‘Do you know it?’
‘Oh yes. Apart from visiting Andrew from time to time, it’s part of my cycle run.’
It was Peregrin’s turn to be surprised. ‘Oh! Do you live around there?’
She nodded. ‘Yes. I’m in Messines Road above the Hospital. Fantastic views! It’s such a great part of the country to cycle, what with all the lanes and tracks everywhere. I ride up the Ornamental Estate hill whenever I feel the need for a bit more of a workout than normal.’
‘So that’s why I you’re familiar!’ said Peregrin, snapping his fingers. ‘I saw you in the Throcking supermarket on Wednesday last week, at the Deli counter.’
Jenny initially looked startled, then her own memory kicked in. ‘That’s right, I was, and you’d just caught that woman’s wine as it slipped off her trolley. I remember now! Nice catch.’
‘Right place, right time, nothing clever. Damn! I should have asked you when I phoned and saved myself a drive! Anyway, back to Andrew. We found him in Pewter Street at the bottom of the estate, smartly dressed, but very much dead, stinking of drink, but not a bottle or a glass in sight. So we’re pretty certain he was dropped there by someone else.’
‘And you want to know who might want to hurt him?’ asked Jenny, quickly on target.
‘Bingo.’ he replied.
Jenny sat quietly and thought. ‘You can’t be a lawyer without making a few enemies. It comes with the territory and I guess he had his share, but nobody I would have thought mad enough to kill him.’
Peregrin interjected. ‘Not just angry enough to kill, but angry enough to do it in cold blood. If it was an attack, it wasn’t done in a heated rage. It has to be someone who can both sustain and control their fury.’
Jenny suddenly began jerking her head vigorously up and down. “Alf Morris! Horrible man. He runs a furniture manufacturing business and Andrew defended him on a fraud charge back in 1985.’ She got up, walked to the filing cabinet and came back quickly with a large folder bulging with papers.
‘Yes, February 1985. He was found guilty because he was guilty, but he was furious with Andrew for losing the case. He switched lawyers, appealed and won because the police, begging your pardon, had mislaid the affidavits of a key witness who’d died in the interim. The appeals judge had no choice but to let Morris go. Alf didn’t see it that way of course. He lives in a funny world where he’s always right and everyone else is out to get him, so he still blamed Andrew for the original loss.’
‘You’re saying that’s a normal pattern of behavi
our when Morris doesn’t get his own way? He attacks?’
Jenny nodded again. ‘Look at this lot!’ she said, waving the folder. ‘For years he tried to have Andrew hauled over the coals for professional incompetence. Even when all legal avenues failed to find for him in any way whatsoever, he continued to send abusive letters.’
Peregrin held up his hand. ‘And yet, am I right in thinking that Alf Morris actually lives in Ornamental Estate, in Pewter street in fact?’ He was thinking back to the notes he and Tony had compiled together at the end of the first day.
Jenny checked her file. ‘That’s right. Number four Pewter Street.’
‘Andrew’s body was found bang outside his front door.’ said Peregrin.
Jenny’s animations tailed off. ‘Well, in all that time of confrontation, they were living there as neighbours and Alf never went near Andrew’s place. He’s a clever one who knows to the inch how far he can go before stepping over the line. He’s not stupid enough to leave a body on his own doorstep, surely?’
‘I couldn’t say.’ replied Peregrin. ‘I haven’t yet had the pleasure of his company.’
Jenny grimaced. ‘The pleasure will be all his. Just you wait!’
‘Do you have the address of his factory?’
‘I’ll write it down for you, and his phone number.’
‘Excellent. In fact, can I use your phone to call him?’
‘No!’ she laughed. ‘I mean I’m fine with you trying, but he had our number blocked, claiming we were harassing him, so you won’t get through.’
Peregrin looked thoughtful, and stood up. ‘Sounds like an interesting fellow. Okay Jenny, thanks very much for your help. Can I ask that you continue to think about other people who might be mad enough to do Andrew a mischief? We need to explore all avenues.’
Jenny shook his hand. ‘Absolutely. I’ll ring your office if I think of anyone.’
Just as he was leaving, Peregrin asked one last question. ‘If you don’t mind me asking, you seem remarkably composed for someone who’s just lost their employer, and one they obviously liked at that.’
Jenny smiled sadly. ‘In this business you get quite good at controlling your emotions, otherwise you don’t last. I do my crying on my own time.’
A quarter of an hour later, Peregrin parked the Rover on the street directly outside the front door of Morris Furniture Ltd. Seeing a man meeting Morris's description, Peregrin opened the door with his identification already visible.
Primed by his wife’s tale of the discovered body and police interviews the day before, Alf Morris was ready for him. ‘Hoy! You can’t park that thing there! It’s for customers only! You’re stealing my trade.’ He stepped right into Peregrin’s personal space and glared up into his face.
Peregrin smiled and held out his hand. “Alf Morris I presume?’
‘That’s me!’ the little man said fiercely, ignoring the hand. ‘And this is my business and you can’t park in that spot.’
Peregrin withdrew his hand, but kept the smile. ‘Well now, it’s a public road, a public parking space, the Rover’s paperwork is all in order, so it has a perfect right to be where it is. Now, I’m prepared to move it if you ask nicely…’
He left the words hanging.
Alf Morris put his hands on his hips. ‘If you want to talk to me, you get that piece of badly made rubbish out of my doorway!’
Peregrin’s smile beamed a little brighter. ‘Mr Morris, I am investigating a suspicious death. The man was found outside your front door. You have a record of extreme hostility towards the deceased. You also have a reputation for highly aggressive and uncalled for behaviour,’ he paused, ‘like now.’
Morris opened his mouth to bark back.
‘Let’s cut to the chase Mr Morris.’ said Peregrin sweetly. ‘We can talk here in the shop, we can talk in your office,’ he paused again, ‘or we can talk in one of my offices down at the station. The choice is yours of course.’
Morris stuck out his chin defiantly. ‘I don’t have to talk to you. I know my rights.’
Peregrin sighed. ‘Mr Morris, at present you are just one name on the list of people that held grudges against the deceased. Nobody is accusing you or charging you with anything. It’s far more likely we’ll find things that get you off the list so you can be left in peace, but by all means consult your lawyer. Would you like to do that now?’
Morris tried to stare him down, but eventually gave way and turned on his heel. ‘In my office. I can give you five minutes!’
Peregrin followed him through the display room, and up a flight of stairs to the main office.
‘Sit there!’ barked Morris, pointing to a child’s chair in front of a large desk.
‘Thank you Mr Morris, but I prefer to stand.’ said Peregrin, alive to the psychological game Morris was still trying to play. ‘Now, your wife Betty said you weren’t at home on Saturday night, that you stayed here doing the accounts.’
Morris clumped down into his own chair on the other side of the desk. ‘So I was. There’s no law against a man looking after his business is there?’
‘None whatsoever Mr Morris. And where exactly do you sleep when you stay overnight?’
‘Right behind you.’ said Morris. That cabinet’s really a fold out double bed, already made up, ready to go.’
Peregrin went over to the device, twisted the two wooden knobs on what looked like a drawer and pulled. As promised, a low, slim double bed magically appeared from inside the cabinet.
‘Oh that’s good.’ murmured Peregrin. ‘A beautiful piece, beautifully made. Is it your own design Mr Morris?
Morris softened a little. ‘Yes. I designed it a couple of years back. We’ve sold a few, I can tell you.’
Peregrin nodded. ‘I imagine you have. Quite magnificent. I really am impressed with that. Anyway, tell me about you and Holmes. What was it all about?’
Morris stuck his chin out again. ‘He was a crap lawyer and I got found guilty because of his uselessness.’
‘I haven’t yet read all the official documents,’ Peregrin conceded, ‘but I was led to believe that your acquittal on appeal was at least partly down to some key prosecution evidence going missing between your original trial and the appeal. Is there anything else I’m missing there?’
Morris’ face coloured a deeper red. ‘I was innocent! I never did anything wrong! The appeal showed that and if that useless bastard Holmes had done his job properly, that would have been the result of the first trial. But he didn’t and I had three months of stress and lost orders!’
‘So you’re saying that if the missing evidence had been presented to the appeal, you’d still have got off?’
Morris nodded vigorously. ‘That’s exactly what I’m saying!’
‘Then I must look into your case personally, in great detail.’ said Peregrin, smiling warmly. ‘It’s important if we’re to remove you from our persons of interest list. It would also be helpful if anyone could corroborate your statement that you were here all Saturday night.’
Morris, slightly worried about Peregrin’s promise to go into lots of detail, shook his head. ‘No. I was all on my own.’
‘That’s a pity. It’ll make your old case even more important. But,’ Peregrin looked straight into Morris’ eyes, ‘even if you should have been cleared in the original trial, there’s that extensive trail of highly aggressive actions on your part afterwards. It went on for a long time, and even after the man’s dead you’re clearly still angry. Plus the body was found right outside your own front door. I’m sure you can see how it looks?’
Morris growled. ‘It doesn’t look like anything! What kind of an idiot would dump a body outside his own front door? I’m not that stupid.’
Peregrin nodded. ‘I agree. It would be remarkable, but the world is full of remarkable things. Now, cars. What vehicles do you have?’
‘I use a local haulage transport company for deliveries, so I don’t have to tie up my capital in a truck. For personal transport, I have a
TVR S, and Betty has a new Ford Escort. I had the TVR here on Saturday night, parked in the loading bay for security.’
‘So nobody could have seen it that night to back up your story?’
Morris shook his head.
‘Pity. Is it here now?’
Morris took him down the stairs again and out to the rear of the workshop. Peregrin admired the gorgeous red car, carefully noting how easy it would be to put a body in the passenger seat. Not very.
‘It’s beautiful Mr Morris. Can I see the boot open please?’
Morris opened it and Peregrin looked in, taking care not to touch anything. It was clearly too small to carry a corpse. He nodded. ‘Thank you Mr Morris. That’s been most helpful.’
He proffered his hand once more. ‘Well, I won’t keep you any further today, but if you can think of anything else to back up your version of Saturday night, please let me know straight away. The sooner we can knock you off the list, the happier you’ll be I’m sure.’
This time Morris shook his hand, a little charmed by Peregrin’s obvious appreciation of his car and work.
‘You catch more flies with honey than vinegar.’ Peregrin murmured to himself as he drove away.
◆◆◆
After a quick bite to eat, he was back at the Holmes residence with Algernon Makepiece, who was now thinking hard about possible enemies.
‘My challenge Inspector, is that Mr Holmes was very good about not bringing his work home. He had a powerful ability to compartmentalise his life.’ Then he scratched his head. ‘Except for the Alf Morris business of course. That just went on and on, including letters sent here and not just the office. That did get to him a bit because it was just so relentless.’
He looked up. ‘I assume you know about that already?’
Peregrin nodded. ‘His name has come up, yes. Were there ever any actual threats, as opposed to name calling and complaining?’
‘No.’ said Algy. ‘The man seemed able to judge exactly how far he could go and still look as if he was in the right. He lives at the bottom end of the estate, so it’s not as if he couldn’t have made physical threats. He just chose not to.’