Wake the Dead

by Dorothy Simpson

  ‘If they are in it together Mr Fairleigh is sure to have rung her to warn her we’ve been asking questions about her.’

  ‘I know. That’s why I want to follow through straight away.’

  ‘Put the wind up them, you mean.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘If I find her, do I make an appointment, or is it to be a surprise visit?’

  ‘An appointment. If we’re right, she’ll have been warned that a visit is on the cards, and we don’t want to drive all the way to London only to find she’s out. It is a Sunday, after all. She could be anywhere.’

  They were back in the office now. The room was hot and stuffy and Thanet made straight for the window, flung it open.

  Lineham headed for the row of telephone directories. ‘You never know, we might be lucky and she’ll be in the phone book.’

  ‘Right, I’ll leave you to it, then. I’ll go and find Bentley, send him off to interview Mrs Tanner. I’ll also get someone to check if Tanner’s still inside. And I think I’ll get Carson to go and see Jill Cochrane. She opened the fête yesterday and Fairleigh was with her most of the afternoon. She may have seen him talking to Pamela, might even have heard something of what they said.’

  They were in luck. By the time Thanet had returned and had checked through the reports on his desk, Lineham had found their quarry. He put down the phone, beaming. ‘Four o’clock, sir.’

  ‘So I heard. Well done.’ Thanet glanced at his watch. Two-thirty. ‘Better make a courtesy call to the Met., let them know we’re coming up, then we’ll be on our way.’

  ELEVEN

  At this time of the afternoon traffic on the London-bound carriageway of the M20 was light and they made good time. Later, of course, it would be nose-to-tail with day-trippers returning from the coast.

  Pamela Raven lived in a pleasant tree-lined cul-de-sac of Victorian terraced houses. Thanet knew from Bridget’s tentative inquiries that such houses have now become fashionable and command high prices. In many cases even the smallest have been divided into flats too expensive for youngsters like her to buy. For the moment she had had to settle for sharing a rented flat with three other girls and he thought that the prospect of her ever being able to afford to buy a place of her own in London remote in the extreme. He and Joan had often teased her, saying that her only hope was to marry a rich man with a house of his own. Now he hoped that that man would not be Alexander.

  As Lineham backed the car into a tight parking space Thanet said, ‘Did she ask why we wanted to see her?’

  ‘Yes. I was deliberately vague, just said it was about an incident at the fête yesterday.’

  ‘Good. Of course, you do realise we’ve been taking it for granted that she lives alone?’

  ‘It was P. E. Raven in the phone book,’ said Lineham, edging the front nearside wing in past the rear offside wing of the car in front with only a hairsbreadth to spare.

  ‘Her husband’s name could begin with a P too.’

  ‘Well, we’ll soon find out, won’t we, sir?’ The sergeant, who prided himself on his driving skill, gave a triumphant smile as with no further manoeuvring the car slipped neatly into the space, coming to rest an inch or two away from the kerb and precisely parallel with it.

  Thanet, who invariably found himself toing and froing to achieve such perfect alignment, said enviously, ‘Why can’t I ever do that?’

  Pamela Raven greeted them with a nervous smile and led them through a narrow hall into a sitting room which ran the full depth of the house. Thanet guessed that two small rooms had been knocked into one. French doors at the far end led out into a small courtyard garden furnished with white wrought-iron chairs and table. They accepted her offer of tea and Thanet looked around while they waited.

  The room had that comfortable lived-in air that makes visitors feel instantly at home. There was a green fitted carpet and curtains and chair-covers in cream linen with a stylised floral design. The floor to ceiling recesses on either side of the tiled Victorian grate were filled with books and there was a small unit stacked with tapes and records next to the hi-fi system. A bundle of knitting lay on one of the chairs and the desk in front of the window was covered with what looked like end-of-term exam papers. Pamela Raven had evidently been spending her Sunday afternoon hard at work.

  Thanet stooped to look more closely at a couple of photographs on the mantelpiece: one of a teenaged girl sitting alone on a wall overlooking the beach – Pamela’s daughter, Thanet guessed by the resemblance, and another of a younger version of the same girl with Pamela and a man. Mr Raven, Thanet presumed. If so, was he still around?

  ‘Here we are.’ She came back into the room carrying a tray of tea and biscuits. Balancing it on one hand she pushed some of the papers aside and set it down on the desk.

  ‘Your husband and daughter, Mrs Raven?’ said Thanet, nodding at the photograph.

  ‘Ex-husband. We were divorced five years ago. And yes, that’s Gwen, my daughter.’

  Thanet watched as she poured the tea. She was informally dressed in a bright pink T-shirt and navy cotton trousers splashed with pink flowers, and certainly matched the description given to them by both Mrs Kerk, the old lady’s housekeeper, and by Letty Ransome: early forties, medium height and build, dark curly hair.

  They had already arranged that Lineham should conduct the interview and Thanet settled back to watch and listen. The sergeant began by saying that they understood Mrs Raven had attended the fête at Thaxden Hall the previous day.

  She smiled. ‘Yes, that’s right.’

  ‘May I ask why?’

  She waved her hand at the window and the suburban street outside. ‘Surely it’s obvious. It’s lovely to get out of London at weekends. I was born and brought up in the country and I miss it.’

  Thanet had already guessed as much from her accent, a slow, country burr. This, presumably, was what Mrs Kerk had meant when she had said that the woman she had seen in the corridor was ‘not a lady’. He personally found it most attractive. In fact, she was a very attractive woman. Her face was lively, expressive, and what she lacked in conventional beauty she made up for in warmth of personality. Thanet thought she would find it difficult to lie. Certainly his first impression was that he and Lineham had got it all wrong. He really could not see this woman plotting to murder a helpless old lady.

  But appearances can be deceptive, as he had sometimes learned to his cost. It would depend, perhaps, on how much influence Hugo Fairleigh had over her – always assuming, of course, that it was indeed Pamela Raven with whom he was having an affair. If he were, Thanet could understand why: Grace Fairleigh would appear cold and unappealing by comparison.

  ‘But what made you decide to attend this particular event?’

  She shrugged. ‘Someone I know happened to mention it.’

  ‘Mr Fairleigh?’

  She met his gaze squarely, almost defiantly. ‘Yes.’

  Interesting. So she and Fairleigh had decided that there was no point in attempting to conceal that there was a relationship of a kind between them.

  ‘It was such a lovely day, and I knew I’d have to spend all day today marking exam papers. I thought it would be fun to go to a real village fête again, that’s all.’

  ‘And there must have been a certain natural curiosity, too, I imagine,’ said Lineham.

  She frowned. ‘Curiosity?’

  ‘I understand you stayed at Thaxden Hall a number of times in the past.’

  ‘That was years ago.’

  ‘Still, no doubt you wondered if it had changed at all.’

  She grinned. ‘You’re right, of course. The temptation proved irresistible.’

  ‘I mean, if things had turned out differently, it could have been your own home. We understand you were engaged to Mr Fairleigh, once.’

  Her smile faded. ‘Yes, that’s true.’

  ‘May we ask what went wrong?’

  Thanet flinched inwardly. Too soon, Mike. Too soon. Everything had been going so well – to
o well, perhaps. Encouraged by the way Mrs Raven was responding Lineham had gone too far too fast. Perhaps he should have conducted this interview himself. But then Mike was perfectly capable, and how was he ever to gain experience in the more delicate interviews like this one if Thanet never gave him the chance to improve his skills?

  Pamela Raven flushed with anger. ‘No you may not! I really don’t see that it’s any of your business.’ And she glanced at Thanet as if to say, Tell him he’s gone too far.

  Thanet felt bound to defend Lineham. ‘I know that some of our questions must seem impertinent, Mrs Raven, but I assure you we wouldn’t ask them if it weren’t necessary.’

  She was still angry. ‘I can’t see how something that happened twenty years ago can possibly be relevant to what happened yesterday. And incidentally, you still haven’t told me what that was, or how I can possibly be concerned with it in any way.’

  This was tricky. As yet they were only guessing that there was anything more than a casual relationship between Pamela and Fairleigh. If there were no close link between them Thanet really did not think that Hugo would have been in touch with her since yesterday and Pamela would be genuinely bewildered by this visit, especially as the story was only just breaking in the media. He wondered if the item had yet been on TV. News broadcasts were less regular on Sundays and if Pamela had been working hard all day she might not yet have heard.

  On the other hand, if she and Fairleigh were lovers, he would probably have rung last night to tell her what had happened and she would know that Mrs Fairleigh had been murdered. And he would no doubt have rung again today, to let her know that the police knew she had been seen at the fête.

  So, was her apparent ignorance feigned or genuine?

  The time had come to tell her about the murder and see how she reacted.

  He glanced at the papers on the table. ‘You’ve been working all day?’

  She frowned. ‘Yes. Why?’

  ‘And you obviously haven’t watched television, or listened to the radio?’

  ‘No. Look, what is this all about?’

  ‘Then you won’t have heard that Mrs Fairleigh senior was found dead in bed yesterday afternoon. Or that it has become evident that she was murdered.’

  She drew in a sharp breath and her eyes opened wide in apparent shock. ‘Murdered!’

  Had he detected a false note there? He couldn’t be sure. ‘I’m afraid so.’

  ‘Naturally, I’m appalled! But I still don’t understand what it has to do with me. And I certainly can’t see why you are asking a lot of questions about matters that are ancient history.’

  Was this the moment to tell her she’d been seen in the house at the time of the murder? No, not yet, he decided. He shrugged. ‘Where murder is involved we simply gather together as much information as possible and hope that in the end it will become evident what is relevant and what is not.’

  ‘Sounds a bit hit and miss.’

  ‘Perhaps. But it usually works, in the end.’

  ‘Still, I don’t have to answer, if I don’t want to, do I?’

  ‘No. That is your right.’

  She stood up. ‘Then I shall exercise it.’

  Lineham cast an anxious glance at Thanet. He obviously felt that he had mishandled things badly. But he was evidently also determined to try and salvage what he could. ‘Mrs Raven, I apologise. I didn’t mean to offend you.’

  ‘There are one or two questions we really have to ask you,’ said Thanet gently. ‘If not today, then another day …’

  She hesitated and walked across to the desk, stood for a few moments with her back to them.

  Lineham watched her with a worried frown.

  Eventually she sighed and returned to her chair.

  Thanet could see her thinking, Better to get it over with, I suppose.

  ‘Very well, then. If you must.’

  ‘Presumably, from what you say, you’ve kept in touch with Mr Fairleigh.’ Lineham was being careful now, feeling his way.

  ‘Not exactly. We hadn’t seen each other for years, until last summer. He came to present the prizes at the school where I teach. Since then we’ve met occasionally for lunch, usually during the school holidays.’

  It was obvious that this was the story she and Fairleigh had decided to stick to, equally obvious that there was no point in pursuing the matter at the moment. Thanet waited anxiously to see if Lineham realised this.

  He had. ‘I see. And on one of these occasions he happened to mention the fête.’

  ‘That’s right, yes.’

  ‘When was this?’

  She frowned. ‘It must have been at half-term.’

  ‘In June, then?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you’ve met since then?’

  ‘Look, Sergeant, what, exactly, is the point of these questions?’

  This, Thanet felt, was the moment for Lineham to bring up the fact that she had been seen inside the house. He caught the sergeant’s eye. Now.

  ‘Mrs Raven, at the fête yesterday you went into the house. Would you mind telling us why?’

  If she was disconcerted she didn’t show it. She must have been prepared for the possibility that the woman who had seen her might have mentioned the fact to the police. She smiled. ‘To answer a call of nature, why else?’

  ‘Toilets had been set up for the public in the car-park field.’

  ‘My feet were hurting, Sergeant. Unwisely I had chosen to wear high heels. It was a long way back to the car park and there were women going in and out of the back door all the time. I thought I would be able to slip into the house unnoticed.’

  True or false? At the moment Pamela Raven was wearing trainers, and at school it would be quite in order for her to wear flat shoes. There was no rule, unspoken or otherwise, that said schoolteachers had to look elegant – quite the reverse, judging by the clothes Thanet had seen some of them wearing. And everyone knew that women did suffer from wearing high heels if they weren’t used to them.

  At the beginning of the interview he had thought she would make a bad liar. Now, he wasn’t so sure. Or perhaps she was just being economical with the truth.

  ‘You were seen coming from the direction of the stairs, and there’s a toilet just inside the back door,’ said Lineham.

  She shrugged. ‘I thought I could remember the geography of the house. I was mistaken.’

  ‘Did you go upstairs?’

  ‘That would have been impertinent, don’t you think?’

  ‘Did you?’ Now that he had put all the questions they had arranged to ask Lineham was prepared to press a little harder and risk her anger.

  ‘Look, I don’t know what you’re getting at, Sergeant, but whatever it is you’re way off beam. I wanted to go to the loo and thought I knew where to find one. I was wrong. And that’s it, all right?’

  It was obvious that she wasn’t going to budge and that they weren’t going to get anything more out of her at the moment.

  They were in the hall on the way out when there was the sound of a key in the lock of the front door. Pamela swung it open. ‘Oh, Gwen. You’re early.’

  She sounded put out. No doubt she had hoped they would be gone before her daughter got home, Thanet thought.

  The resemblance between them was still striking. Gwen was around eighteen, Thanet guessed, her dark hair in a fashionably tousled curly mop. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt with ‘I LOVE THE WORLD’ emblazoned across her chest. A scarlet mini-rucksack was slung over one shoulder. She glanced questioningly from her mother to the two policemen.

  ‘Goodbye, Inspector,’ said Pamela firmly, standing aside.

  There was very little space in the hall and Gwen stepped back, outside, to let them pass. Thanet wondered how Pamela was going to explain away their visit. Had she told her daughter that she had been to the fête yesterday? If Pamela was having an affair with Hugo, Gwen must surely know about it. How did the girl feel about Fairleigh? he wondered.

  As they walked to th
e car Lineham said, ‘Clever-clogs, isn’t she?’

  ‘Well, we knew that, didn’t we? Oxford graduate, no less.’ Thanet grinned. ‘Why d’you think I asked you to take the interview?’

  ‘I really messed it up, though, didn’t I?’ said Lineham angrily. He slammed the door behind him as he got into the car. This was unusual. Lineham’s long-running love affair with cars precluded ill-treatment of any kind. ‘You should have done the interview yourself.’

  ‘Nonsense, Mike. As usual, you’re overreacting. She was looking for an excuse to get rid of us.’

  ‘Then I shouldn’t have given her one, should I?’ He stared moodily through the windscreen. ‘I know what I did wrong. I rushed it, didn’t I? I let the fact that she seemed to have relaxed make me push too hard, too quickly.’

  ‘Yes. So now you’ve worked out what went wrong, forget about it and write it off to experience.’

  ‘I wonder how many times you’ve said that before! I know what comes next: “That’s how we all learn. By making mistakes.’”

  ‘But it’s true. We do. What’s more, we go on making them, as you well know.’

  Lineham was not consoled. He always found it hard to come to terms with avoidable failures. It was, Thanet knew, only because the sergeant cared so much about his work. In any case, he soon bounced back. ‘Mike … Are we going to sit here all day?’

  Lineham manoeuvred the car out of the confined space as efficiently as he had manoeuvred it in and Thanet opened the A–Z. ‘Let’s see if I can find the way back.’

  ‘It’s OK, sir. I think I can remember it.’

  ‘I don’t know how. One suburban street looks just like another suburban street to me.’ But Thanet closed the book and put it back on the shelf. It would do Lineham’s bruised ego good to demonstrate his superiority in this respect at least.

  It wasn’t until they were on the motorway that the sergeant spoke again.

  ‘She didn’t actually tell a single lie, did you notice? There was nothing that we could come back to her about and say, that wasn’t true.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘She and Fairleigh are a pair.’