by Frank Smith
‘And what about you, Mr Ling? How did you get along with Beth Smallwood?’
Ling didn’t answer at once. It was as if he sensed it was time to be cautious. ‘All right,’ he said carefully.
‘But?’ Paget prompted. ‘Come along, Mr Ling; you said you wished to be honest.’
Ling scowled. ‘It was frustrating for me,’ he burst out. ‘She was not organized. She worked hard but not smart, but it was not my place to say anything. It was not right,’ he went on heatedly. ‘That job should have been mine! I have more experience. I know how to organize my work. In Hong Kong I worked in every department of three big banks for five years. Three banks, Chief Inspector. Much bigger than this. Yet I have not been given any real responsibility since coming to this country.’
‘So you resented the fact that Mrs Smallwood would be your new boss?’
‘Wouldn’t you under the same circumstances?’ Ling countered.
‘But now that Beth Smallwood has gone, you are the new manager,’ Paget pointed out.
‘Temporary manager,’ Ling reminded him. ‘Mr Gresham made that very clear.’
‘But if you perform well, wouldn’t this prove to be the chance you have been looking for?’
Terry Ling shook his head and smiled sadly. ‘You think I killed Beth for this job?’ he said softly. His voice rose. ‘This job?’ That’s utterly ridiculous!’
‘That suggestion was yours, not mine,’ said Paget. ‘But since you’ve brought it up, where were you on Monday evening? Let’s say between eight and ten o’clock.’
Ling regarded him stonily. ‘I was at home,’ he said.
‘You’re married?’
‘Yes.’
‘Was your wife at home that evening?’
‘No. My wife was at work.’
‘Is there anyone who can verify that you were at home during the hours I mentioned?’
‘You question my word, Chief Inspector?’
Paget shook his head. ‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘But it makes things so much simpler if we can verify where everyone was at the critical time.’
‘There is no one,’ Ling said tonelessly.
‘Very well. In that case, I think that will be all for now, Mr Ling, but if you should remember anything that might help, please ring me at my office.’
When Ling had gone, the chief inspector sat quietly trying to sort out his impressions of the man. On the one hand, he felt some sympathy for him. He didn’t doubt for a moment that it would be hard, if not impossible, for Ling to get ahead while Gresham was in charge. But it must have been a terrible blow to his ego when he learned that he had been passed over in favour of Beth Smallwood.
How angry would he be? Very angry, Paget thought. But angry enough to track her down and kill her? Possibly – in the heat of the moment.
Chapter 11
Tania Costello stared defiantly at Tregalles. She was scared but determined not to show it. ‘Like I’ve told you a dozen times already, I don’t know!’ she said. ‘Could have been anybody. Somebody who wanted his bike. There are a lot of nutters out there.’
‘Whoever it was came within an inch of killing him,’ Tregalles said. ‘Don’t you want to see them caught?’
“Course I do, but I can’t tell you what I don’t know, can I?’
‘Oh, I think you know all right,’ the sergeant said quietly. He turned to the uniformed woman seated at the end of the table, and nodded. The WPC opened a brown paper bag and produced a clear plastic envelope containing a video cassette which she handed to Tregalles.
‘Ever seen this before?’ he asked the girl.
Tania shrugged. ‘Seen lots of ’em.’
‘Like this, have you? With no tape inside?’
The girl studied her chipped nails. They were bitten down to the quick, and it was all she could do to stop herself from nibbling on them now. God! but Lenny was stupid. She’d told him to get rid of the stuff, and he’d said he had.
The sergeant was waiting, and the lengthening silence was getting on her nerves.
‘I want a cigarette,’ she said.
Tregalles shook his head and pointed to the sign on the wall. ‘Sorry,’ he said as if he meant it, ‘but smoking’s not allowed. And you haven’t answered my question.’
‘I don’t have to, do I?’ Tania retorted. ‘You can’t keep me here.’
‘Tell me about this,’ Tregalles persisted, tapping the cassette.
‘I’ve never seen it before. All right? Now can I go?’
Tregalles sighed. ‘Not yet, I’m afraid,’ he said. ‘In fact, I think you might be with us for quite a long time. You see, I don’t believe you, Tania. You say you’ve never seen this cassette before, and yet your prints are all over it. Along with Lenny’s of course.’
The girl gnawed on her lower lip. She vowed to kill Lenny if she ever got out of there. ‘So?’ she said defiantly.
‘Trafficking in drugs is a serious charge, Tania.’
‘I don’t see any drugs,’ the girl retorted. ‘You can’t prove anything just because my fingerprints are on there. How do I know what somebody might have used it for? You’ve got nothing!’
Unfortunately, the girl was right. They couldn’t prove that she’d known the cassette was being used as a container for cocaine or anything else for that matter. She was a tough little nut, and quite obviously more frightened of whoever had beaten up her boyfriend than she was of anything the police could do to her.
Tregalles shrugged as if it were of little consequence. ‘Then I suppose we’ll just have to go back to your house and turn the place over, won’t we?’ he said pleasantly.
Tania’s heart sank. Bloody Lenny. ‘Just hang on to this for a while, Tan,’ he’d said. ‘It’s not safe at my place. If me mam finds it I’m dead. She’ll know I’ve been lying. I swore to her I was off the stuff. That’s the only way I could persuade her to get the money to pay Archie back.’
Pay Archie back – that was a laugh. Look what he’d done to Lenny, poor sod!
She shuddered inwardly. How could Lenny have been so stupid as to think that Archie wouldn’t notice he was being ripped off? Lenny just might have squared things if he’d had enough sense to make up what he’d skimmed before Archie discovered the loss. He’d had the money; his mum had arranged that, believing he was going to use it to get treatment to help him get off drugs, but the stupid sod had used the five thou as a down payment on the bike.
And God alone knew what Lenny might have left behind in her room.
All this flashed through her mind in an instant. If she told the police what they wanted to know, they might not search the house. But she couldn’t, could she? Not unless she wanted to end up like Lenny.
‘Do what you like,’ she shrugged, ‘but it’ll be a waste of time. There’s nothing there.’
Tregalles sighed. ‘I hope for your sake you’re right,’ he said quietly, ‘because if you’re not, you could be in a lot of trouble, Tania, and I don’t see Lenny sticking his neck out to help you.’
The girl tilted her head defiantly. ‘That’s my problem, then, isn’t it?’ she said.
Tregalles exchanged glances with the WPC. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘So let’s get on with it. Tell me what happened at Lenny’s house on Monday night.’
* * *
The girl who faced Paget across the desk was very young. Ginny Holbrook was a pretty girl, and she knew it. Red hair; big blue eyes that looked innocent but were far from it; pale, delicate face sprinkled with freckles; slim, and neatly dressed.
Ginny was the last one on the list supplied by Rachel Fairmont, and Paget had gained the impression that this young woman was not one of Miss Fairmont’s favourite people. He had wondered why at the time, and now he hoped to find out. Once more, he explained why he was there.
Ginny leaned back in her chair, crossed her legs and made herself comfortable. This was better than standing at the counter dealing with an endless line of people, smiling sweetly and saying the same thing over and over again un
til she could scream.
She smiled now at Paget. He wasn’t half bad looking, in a craggy sort of way. Getting on a bit, but he looked as if he’d know his way around.
‘You don’t mind if I smoke?’ she said brightly as she took out a cigarette.
‘I’m afraid I do,’ said Paget pleasantly. ‘Tell me, Miss Holbrook, when was the last time you saw Beth Smallwood?’
Ginny’s lips drew together in a moue of displeasure as she dropped the cigarettes back into her handbag. ‘Just before I left work on Monday,’ she said. ‘She was in the loo when I went in to, well, you know.’
‘Did you speak to her?’
‘Not really,’ the girl said.
Paget frowned. ‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Well, we didn’t actually speak,’ said Ginny, ‘because when I went in she was at the mirror doing something to her face, and as soon as she saw me she ducked into the toilet.’
‘Did you see her face?’
‘Just for a second or two in the mirror.’
‘And?’
The girl grimaced. ‘It was all puffy and white and she was crying. I thought she was ill at first, and I was going to ask if there was anything I could do, but it was obvious from the look she gave me in the mirror – like it was my fault for coming in – and the way she ducked out of sight, that she didn’t want me there, so I didn’t hang about. But I did tell Miss Fairmont, and she went in to see if Beth was all right.’
‘I see. How well did you know Beth Smallwood?’
Ginny wrinkled her nose. ‘I can’t say I knew her well at all,’ she said. ‘She was, well, quite a bit older than most of us. And she was in the office, of course, so we didn’t see much of each other. She and Miss Fairmont didn’t really mix with the rest of the staff. They were more of an age if you know what I mean.’
‘But you must have formed some opinion of Mrs Smallwood,’ Paget insisted.
Ginny thought about that for a moment or two. ‘I think she was a bit of a dark horse,’ she said. ‘I think there was more to Beth Smallwood than met the eye.’
‘Oh? How so, Miss Holbrook?’
‘You can call me Ginny, if you like,’ the girl told him.
‘If you wish,’ said Paget. ‘You were saying?’
Ginny uncrossed her legs and sat forward in her seat. ‘Well, for a start, she wasn’t all that bad looking – for an older woman, I mean, and it didn’t go unnoticed.’ She sat back and looked at Paget for a reaction.
‘Didn’t go unnoticed by whom?’ he said.
The girl drew in a long breath and compressed her lips. ‘By Mr Beecham for one,’ she said. ‘He used to take her home in his car every night, and well … you know.’
‘No. I’m afraid I don’t know,’ said Paget. ‘Why don’t you tell me?’
Ginny Holbrook hesitated. She wasn’t quite sure whether Paget was having her on or not. He couldn’t be that thick. He must know what she meant. But his eyes were still upon her, and she found his steady gaze unnerving.
She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. ‘Well, what with Mr Beecham’s wife being ill all these years, and then the two of them, you know, he and Beth, working together all the time, and him taking her home every night…’ She trailed off into silence. She wished he’d say something instead of just looking at her like that.
‘You said “Mr Beecham for one,”’ Paget prompted. ‘Who else showed an interest?’
The girl fiddled with her handbag. She wished she could have a cigarette.
‘Miss Holbrook?’
Ginny wriggled uncomfortably. She could feel the warmth rising in her face. ‘I shouldn’t have said that,’ she told him. ‘I didn’t mean it.’
‘I think you did mean it,’ Paget said sternly. ‘If this very brutal murder is to be resolved, I need to know as much as possible about Beth Smallwood’s relationship with everyone. What you tell me here today remains confidential, so I would like you to be very frank with me. If you know something, please tell me. Now, you obviously had someone else in mind, and there aren’t that many male members on staff, are there?’
In fact, there were only three; or there had been before Harry Beecham’s abrupt departure on Monday. Now there were only two. He waited.
Ginny’s face was burning. ‘It’s just that…’ She bit her lip and looked down at her hands in her lap. ‘I don’t know anything,’ she insisted.
Paget waited. His eyes never left her face.
Ginny squirmed. She’d gone too far this time, and she didn’t know how to get back on safe ground. Her eyes pleaded with him. ‘I could lose my job,’ she said desperately.
‘Then let me help you. Are you referring to Mr Ling?’
Ginny’s eyes opened wide in surprise. ‘Oh, no! Not…’ Too late she saw the trap.
‘Are you trying to tell me that Mr Gresham and Mrs Smallwood were having an affair?’ asked Paget.
The girl shook her head violently. ‘Oh, no! Nothing like that,’ she burst out. ‘At least, I don’t think…’ She stopped, frowning.
‘Then what did you mean, Miss Holbrook?’
The girl refused to look at him. She clasped her hands together in her lap to stop them from shaking. She was very young and certainly foolish, but Paget had no intention of letting her off the hook.
‘It’s just that Mr Gresham seemed to take a fancy to her, sort of,’ the girl stammered.
‘In what way?’ he asked blandly. ‘How did this attraction manifest itself?’
Ginny Holbrook closed her eyes and stifled a groan. ‘He – perhaps I’m wrong, but it was the way he used to … well, look at her, that’s all. You could tell that he fancied her. I mean, we’ve all been…’ Ginny’s hands flew to her mouth and her eyes grew round. ‘I didn’t mean…’
‘I believe what you are trying to avoid saying, Miss Holbrook,’ said Paget deliberately, ‘is that other female members of the staff have experienced a similar sort of thing at some time or other. Is that right?’
The girl didn’t know where to look, but he could tell by her face that he wasn’t far wrong. It seemed that Harry Beecham’s assessment of Gresham had some foundation in fact.
‘If that is the case, why hasn’t someone done something about it?’
Ginny wrinkled her nose. ‘That’s what I asked them when I first started work here, but they’re all scared of losing their jobs. Most of them have kids, so they put up with it.’
‘And you?’
Ginny shrugged guiltily. ‘I’m as bad as the rest,’ she admitted. ‘I thought if we all stuck together people would believe us, but no one would back me up, and being the newest here, I wouldn’t stand a chance of being believed, would I?’
‘And Beth Smallwood? What about her?’
The girl hesitated. ‘It’s funny you should ask,’ she said slowly, ‘because, come to think of it, he never used to bother her. It was only lately. But you could tell she didn’t like it.’ Ginny wrinkled her nose. ‘Well, she wouldn’t, would she? Not with him being so old and all. None of us did.’ Ginny sat forward in her seat. Now that the hurdles were down, she seemed almost anxious to talk. ‘It was sort of funny, sometimes. He’d come up behind her, and she’d suddenly take off through the filing cabinets. And then Harry, that is, Mr Beecham, would sort of wander over and ask Beth a question, like he was coming to her rescue. We could see it all through the glass in the office. We used to have a bit of a giggle about it at coffee time, and…’ She stopped abruptly and looked contrite. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said in a small voice. ‘I didn’t mean … I mean, she is dead, isn’t she?’
Chapter 12
As he left the bank and set off for the hospital in the car, Paget thought about what he had learned. Not everyone had been as forthcoming as Ginny Holbrook or Terry Ling, but he had sensed an uneasy reticence in the other female members of the staff. Understandable of course, if what Ginny had told him was true. Rachel Fairmont had been the most discreet, but then, she was Gresham’s secretary, and no doubt she, too, wishe
d to keep her job.
But he cautioned himself against accepting blindly Ginny Holbrook’s word regarding Gresham’s behaviour. The girl was young and impressionable, and it was possible that she had allowed her imagination to run away with her.
In Terry Ling’s case, frustration had been the trigger for his candour. Indeed, if Ling was as clever as Harry Beecham had indicated, he had good cause to be resentful about Beth Smallwood’s elevation to a position beyond her capabilities. Ling had made an oblique reference to Gresham preferring a woman in the job, but had backed away from explaining that when Paget had pressed him.
The late afternoon traffic was beginning to build as Paget turned into Edge Hill Road. Sunlight, pale but welcome, glinted on the river far below, perhaps heralding an end to a cold and dreary spring. He certainly hoped so. He was tired of the rain.
His thoughts returned to something that had been puzzling him since early afternoon. When he had spoken to Gresham in his office on Tuesday morning, the manager had told him that Beth Smallwood had telephoned Rachel Fairmont at home the night before to say she wouldn’t be in the following day. Yet Rachel had said she hadn’t had a chance to pass the information on to Gresham because he had come in late that morning, and had gone straight into his office.
So how had Gresham known? Had Rachel lied? Had she in fact been in contact with her boss? Or had Gresham learned of the call in some other way? And if so, how?
He turned left at the next corner, then swung across the road and entered the hospital grounds. He parked the car at the far end of the car park quite deliberately in order to enjoy the sun as he walked back to the entrance. Wisps of steam rose from the damp earth of the flower beds, and the air was soft and warm.
He took the lift to the fourth floor where he was directed to Lenny Smallwood’s room at the far end of the corridor. The door was open and a uniformed WPC sat on a wooden chair just inside. She rose hurriedly to her feet as Paget entered.
‘Afternoon, Constable,’ said Paget affably. ‘Liscombe, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, sir. Afternoon, sir.’