The Murder Cabinet: an Inspector Constable murder mystery (The Inspector Constable Murder Mysteries Book 7)

by Roger Keevil

  The other question was, why this specific group of individuals? Constable felt he knew the answer here. It was evident that, at some stage since the group had arrived in Dammett Worthy, Mrs. Ronson had exchanged words with each of the suspects which pointed to a cause for friction. Each of the ministers had found themselves the target of critical remarks. And no doubt those criticisms, sadly only hinted at though disjointed pieces of conversation overheard by various witnesses, would have been given full rein in the private interviews to which the Prime Minister had summoned each of her colleagues. Oh, to have been a fly on the wall during those meetings, mused the inspector. One of them must have contained revelations so damaging, so dangerous, that the person at the receiving end had tipped over the edge into murder. Because the Prime Minister had absolute power over who held office and who did not. The fate of each person was in her hands, and hers alone. Remove her, and you may well remove any threat to yourself. So, he thought, let’s see what we can glean from what we’ve been told. He opened Copper’s notebook and began to survey the sergeant’s cramped notes.

  Among the ministers, Deborah Nye had been the first to be subjected to the detectives’ attentions. Well, thought Constable ruefully, at least we can dismiss her from our list of suspects. Her own death would seem to rule her out as a likely culprit. Unless … Constable’s train of thought came to a sudden halt. Unless the killing of Deborah Nye was carried out because she had been responsible for the murder of the Prime Minister, and Mrs. Nye’s own death was some sort of punishment or revenge carried out by … whom? An ardent supporter of Mrs. Ronson who had discovered the truth, and visited their own form of justice on the Justice Secretary? Constable groaned inwardly. Surely this was a fantastical scenario too far. But then why should Mrs. Nye herself be killed? First things first, thought the inspector. What might have been the cause of conflict between Deborah and her superior, sufficient to present a serious enough threat to her position to warrant a violent remedy?

  Andy Constable leafed back through Dave Copper’s notes. There seemed to be precious little data to go on. A discussion, overheard by Phil Knightly, between Deborah Nye and Marion Hayste prior to the group’s departure to the Dammett Well Inn for dinner, which didn’t really point to anything to Mrs. Nye’s detriment. Other remarks, half caught by Lena Cross while she was waiting at table, where the minister had been involved in an exchange regarding massaged academic statistics. There had been mention of fraud and families, but again, the references were too vague to point in a specific direction, and could have been directed towards any of the participants in that discussion. But … Constable called to mind the draft letter which Doris Ronson had been composing in her room, but which she had then discarded. Could this be a pointer to reservations on the Prime Minister’s part about Mrs. Nye’s position? Who would need to be ‘above suspicion’ more than the Justice Secretary? Was there something in her past which jeopardised her standing? Hadn’t Jim Daly expressed reservations about her husband’s character?

  The next interviewee had been Milo Grade. A distant acquaintance of Philip Knightly’s, according to the hotel manager, although the minister insisted that he had no recollection of it. Well, which of us can be expected to remember everyone whose path we’ve crossed during our years of education, mused Constable reasonably. But education was Mr. Grade’s portfolio, and he appeared to have more significant issues to deal with. Back to the academic statistics. If there were fraud being perpetrated in the exam results figures, to what extent could Milo be held responsible, if that were the point at issue? Certainly the exchanges over dinner pointed in that direction, despite Milo’s assertion that shop-talk during the meal had been banned. Very much the reverse, it appeared. Constable consulted his junior’s notebook once again. Yes, there had been a brief clash between Milo Grade and Dee Nye in which the Prime Minister was involved. Could that have caused some sort of animus against Dee on the part of Milo? Enough to give him a motivation to kill her? It sounded far-fetched. Especially if, as seemed possible, the failings at Milo’s ministry, the Education Department, were in place before he assumed his position. Surely there wouldn’t be enough jeopardy there for him to fear dismissal by Mrs. Ronson. And therefore, why kill her?

  Constable turned another dog-eared page to arrive at Copper’s notes on the subject of Amanda Laye. He winced slightly. A formidable woman, not to be trifled with. And certainly one who would not take kindly to unjustifiable accusations. But Mrs. Ronson seemed to have been in no awe of her forceful colleague. She’d referred several times to Miss Laye’s activities, both before and during her tenure at the Foreign Office, including a remark Phil Knightly had overheard. There seemed to have been an unaccountably large number of references to affairs in the Middle East, despite the fact that Amanda’s most recent trip had not involved a visit to that area. Constable was disinclined to put too much credence in the lady’s attempt to fob off an overheard mention of the Gulf as merely part of someone’s turn of phrase. The coincidence was too much to ignore. Constable furrowed his brow. Hadn’t Seamus Daly mentioned one of the local rulers? And someone had been said to be up in arms over something. Was it Mrs. Ronson herself, who disapproved of some aspect of Miss Laye’s activities? But to anyone who took even the slightest passing interest in politics, it was surely no news that the Foreign Office and Downing Street often had wildly differing views over the country’s place in the world and where its best interests lay. Where was the motive for murder there? And how could the death of Deborah Nye be drawn into the mix? Some legal aspect of the Foreign Secretary’s activities which stood at odds with her continuation in the job?

  With a small sigh, the inspector moved on to Copper’s jottings relating to Lewis Stalker. Another who’d referred to the intended moratorium on political discussions at the dinner table, and another who’d scoffed at the idea as fatuous when it came to the event. Hardly surprising in Mr. Stalker’s case, reflected Constable. The Media Secretary came across as the most open-hearted, open-faced individual of all the ministers present. Ideal perhaps in the context of his position dealing with the press and television, but perhaps therein lay the dangers. Too open? Too ready with an opinion? Certainly he seemed to have been taken to task at one point by Mrs. Ronson, who had spoken of him guarding his tongue, according to the evidence of Jim Daly. Lew may have come back with what sounded like a flippant retort, but then Dee Nye had been drawn into the conversation, also in a critical vein, so perhaps there had been a sharper edge to the exchange than appeared on the surface. Was the veneer of good humour a disguise for something far more serious? Certainly ‘indefensible’ was quite a strong word for the Prime Minister to use in relation to the public behaviour of one of her colleagues. Constable strained to remember the words used in Daly’s account of the scene. What had been the context? Suddenly, with a rueful smile, he metaphorically smote his forehead. Dolt! He surely already had the information in his hands. Or at least, in his pocket. He fished out the computer stick retrieved from Doris Ronson’s briefcase and looked at the words written on it. ‘The Nightly Politics - that interview’. Was the explanation really that obvious? Constable swiftly lifted the lid of the laptop on the desk in front of him, typed in the requisite codes, inserted the USB stick and, after a tentative foray through the menu, found what he was looking for. He pressed the enter key, and sat back as the opening credits of a television programme began to roll.

  Some minutes later, Constable closed the laptop and turned his attention back to Dave Copper’s notebook. Next to be featured was Marion Hayste, the Prisons Minister. The only member of what might be called the second rank of ministers to be included in the proceedings, observed Constable. All the other participants in the gathering were at the very forefront of government activity. Was there any significance in this? Or was it simply because, as Marion and her ministerial superior Dee Nye had indicated, there was a particular policy initiative in hand, and this was a topic which needed to be discussed sooner rather than later? The two
women had both been fairly dismissive and non-committal on the subject when interviewed, but Jim Daly had an inkling that the policy might have related to drugs, and Marion herself had admitted the fact during her second conversation with the detectives. And Phil Knightly had walked in on a conversation between the ministers from the Justice Department which pointed to the fact that not all minds were at one on the subject. But how could this have translated into a threat to the Prime Minster?

  There was another fact which jarred slightly – what precisely was the relationship between Marion Hayste and Perry Neal? If indeed there was such a thing. Perry had certainly said nothing to indicate any relationship beyond the purely professional, but Marion had been surprisingly quick in her denials of anything over and above that. Too quick? She had been flustered in her account of the final stages of the interviews with Mrs. Ronson, when she and the Health Secretary had been left alone, the last two to be called in. And her statement that she had never been into Dr. Neal’s room had been swift and emphatic. Could it possibly be that, given the difference in their ages and despite the stolidly conventional doctor’s lack of obvious attractiveness to a vivacious young woman, there was a connection between the widower and the married woman? Such stories are famously grist to the mill of the media. Might Doris Ronson have got wind of any affair? Scandals in the early life of a government are always best avoided, and could the best way to suppress such revelations be to dismiss one or both of the persons involved?

  Which brought Constable’s thoughts neatly to the subject of Perry Neal himself. As the inspector considered the mature former G.P., he reflected on the implausibility of the theory he had spent the last few moments creating. Surely, had there been anything to uncover in that area, Jim Daly’s reporter’s instincts would have seized on it in very short order. And as he himself had said, he had next to no information in his own dossier on the Health Secretary. Abandoning his previous thoughts, Constable leafed through Copper’s notes from the detectives’ conversation with Dammett Worthy’s vicar. Here was clear and positive evidence of an interaction between Doris Ronson and Perry Neal which the latter had certainly found uncomfortable. There had been talk concerning a tragic case in his past, which seemed to have unaccountably moved him. The Prime Minister had spoken of praying for the forgiveness of sins, and Perry’s reaction had been to insist that his efforts were concentrated so that such tragedies could not occur in the future. But how effective were his efforts proving? Was he called to this meeting to be taken to task for his failures to improve matters in the Health Service? Did these sins relate to the work of his ministry, or did they have something to do with his life before he came into politics?

  The exquisite Erica Mayall was the next subject of Dave Copper’s copious note-taking. Andy Constable allowed himself a small moment of sympathy for the strains put on his junior colleague’s skills as a minute-taker. And there had been plenty of revelations to record, largely from Erica herself. But then, she’d had little choice. There had been numerous references heard by several people which related to the minister’s perceived extravagance in her expenditure, with pointed remarks about shoes being cited as an indication of discord between the Prime Minister and her … Constable found himself slightly at a loss to decide on the correct term to describe the relationship between Doris Ronson and her colleague. Friends certainly, even extremely close friends, with a mutual attraction which Erica insisted had never stepped beyond the pure and platonic. Not that there would necessarily have been any cause for concern there, even if that were not quite true. In these days, reflected the inspector, there are so many figures in public life who are entirely content that all aspects of their private lives and personalities should be an open book, that any personal revelations about the two women would probably have caused scarcely more than a temporary ripple in the media. Perhaps even sympathy and understanding. On the other hand, politicians received a very hard press if they were found to be abusing their position in financial terms. Taxes and expenses were extremely toxic subjects, and the Prime Minister’s despatch box had contained a report on the subject from a very powerful parliamentary committee. So might Erica have put herself in jeopardy over her finances, which would have left Doris Ronson with no choice but to sacrifice the minister to protect herself? Leading, thought Constable wryly, to the act rebounding on the Prime Minister in the most drastic way imaginable? Which left unanswered the question of the mysterious ‘Heather’. Were the inspector’s closing surmises during his final interview with Erica uncomfortably close to the truth? The words ‘Hell hath’ rose unbidden in his mind once more.

  With a slight sigh of relief that he was coming to the end of his list, Constable turned to the jottings which related to Benjamin Fitt. On the surface, a bluff man-of-the-people character, who had come into politics from a very different background and by a very different route from the majority of his colleagues. Did this set him apart in some way? Did it make him feel like an outsider? And if so, could that provide any plausible reason why he should resort to the murder of one or more of his colleagues? The inspector surveyed the evidence before him. Jim Daly seemed to have a feeling that there was something to uncover, on the basis of whispers he had heard going around Whitehall, but there was no firm basis for suspicion. Milo Grade, however, had heard an exchange between Mrs. Ronson and Benny in the car on the way to the Dammett Well which sounded as if it had left him uneasy but, perhaps because of the presence of others in the car, the conversation had not developed further. On the other hand, when the party had been leaving the Inn, the Prime Minister had tackled the Social Security Minister once more, again on the subject of families, and Gideon Porter had heard her make reference to what sounded like a specific case in the area where he had been brought up. She was firmly intending to pursue the matter further. So was there some dangerous skeleton lurking in Benny’s past which might have cut his feet from under him in his ministerial position? But even so, thought Constable, that wouldn’t account for the killing of Deborah Nye. Unless the potential scandal had some legal aspect which had not so far been revealed.

  With a deep sigh, the inspector closed the notebook, leaned back in the chair, and shut his eyes. Slowly, painstakingly, he allowed the thoughts to shuffle around in his brain like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, turning over the blanks, rejecting those which did not seem to form part of a pattern, and allowing those to remain in place which appeared to belong together. Around him, the house seemed to be waiting in hushed anticipation, with only the tiniest sounds to be heard. The slight occasional tick from the pipes of the central heating system as a fresh pulse of hot water moved around the circuit. An infinitesimal creak of timber as the house breathed. After a while in this contemplative state, Constable was roused to full alertness by a hesitant tap at the door.

  “Yes? What is it?”

  The door to the hall opened, and the head of Una Singleton appeared. “Sorry to interrupt you, sir. David … Sergeant Copper told me that you were going over things quietly by yourself and wouldn’t want to be disturbed, but I thought you’d like to know that I’ve finished that job you asked me to do, and I’ve got some results for you.”

  “That’s perfectly all right, sergeant,” replied Constable. “In fact, I’m glad you’re here. I was hoping for a few extra pieces to help me complete the picture, and you may well be able to provide them.”

  “David said that he’s got some more information for you too, sir. He’s still in the library. Do you want me to go and fetch him?”

  “No, I think we’ll go and join him there,” said Constable, uncoiling himself from his chair. “I suspect the three of us would be more comfortable in there, rather than squashed in here.” He gathered up the items before him. “So lead on, and we’ll hear what you’ve both got to say.”

  In the library, Dave Copper was to be found seated at the library desk, its top spread with books and papers. He looked up, his face bearing a satisfied smile. “How are we doing, guv?”

&nb
sp; “By the look of you, you seem to be doing well. I assume you’re happy with your researches?”

  “Very much so, sir. I’ve been through the hotel register, and I think you’ll be interested in what I’ve found out there. I also took the liberty of taking that report on expenses that was in Mrs. Ronson’s briefcase, just on the off-chance there might be something squirrelled away in it, and I’ve got a little snippet for you from that. And also, I think I’ve solved the puzzle of the mysterious Heather.”

  “Sounds good,” said Constable. “Do you think you’ve done as well, Singleton?”

  “I hope so, sir. I’ve got all the fingerprints you wanted. And David had a suggestion, which I acted on. I got everyone to give me a sample of their handwriting.”

  “Very resourceful,” nodded Constable in approval. He settled into a large leather armchair. “You two have been busy. Well, you’d better let me have what you’ve got.”

  Chapter 15

  “Yes, sir. I understand completely.” Sheila Deare’s voice echoed around the hall as the team of police officers emerged from the library. “Yes, sir. I will make sure that he is in no doubt that time is pressing.” She eyed the grandfather clock standing alongside her. “As soon as that, sir? Very well. I will tell him … Yes, sir, that’s clear … Yes. Goodbye.” She ended the call and turned to face the new arrivals.

  “Pressure from above, inspector?” enquired Andy Constable.