A Market for Murder

by Rebecca Tope

  ‘Well, the main person without an alibi is the wife,’ said Maggs. ‘She’s got motive and opportunity. And I suppose anybody can get hold of a crossbow if they want to.’

  ‘Sally Dabb’s husband has motive, too,’ he joined in. ‘Assuming Grafton and Sally really were having an affair.’

  ‘Whether they were or not, if people thought they were, that’s enough to make their spouses want to commit murder.’

  ‘And then there’s the food politics stuff. That’s where we need Karen. I still don’t really understand what these people get so aereated about.’

  ‘Well, all I know is Drew says that Karen says there’s a big to-do about GM crops amongst the farmers’ market people. And they both think that’s at the bottom of this whole business.’

  ‘Mary Thomas seemed to be saying something like that, as well.’

  He frowned. ‘She’s really one of the chief suspects. Is she trying to divert me, do you think?’

  ‘Does she think you’re actually investigating the murder? I mean, does she know you used to be in the police, and that you’ve been seeing Danny lately?’

  ‘I have no idea what she knows, what she thinks or what she wants. The woman’s a complete mystery to me.’

  Maggs sighed impatiently. ‘Even though she talked to you about her intimate personal history for half an hour or more? You still don’t know what she feels?’

  ‘I didn’t say feels. She said plenty about feelings. She resents her stepchildren – who are probably knocking forty by now; regrets sending her twins to boarding school; and insists it wasn’t her that Karen saw at the supermarket.’

  Maggs’s head went up. ‘What? What about the supermarket?’

  ‘She says it wasn’t her. Karen knows she’s denying it. She was there when Mary was arrested, remember? They dragged her off amidst loud protestations that she’d never been near SuperFare. But Karen is absolutely certain she spoke to Mary Thomas only seconds before the bomb went off. It’s the word of one against the other, and they’re both unmovable.’

  ‘Right,’ said Maggs thoughtfully. ‘Um … Den … do you think Karen’s definitely the one we should believe? I mean, it’s dreadful of me to say it, but she was there at both incidents. She does know all these organic people really well by now. That Geraldine Beech woman is a bosom buddy. She might have got pulled into something a bit nasty, to do with wrecking GM crops or something.’

  Den shook his head. ‘You think we’re all getting into bad company, don’t you,’ he accused. ‘Me with Mary, Drew with any woman that comes along, Karen with the stallholders. We can’t all be weak and gullible, can we? All except you, of course.’

  ‘No need to be nasty,’ she reproached. ‘That’s just the way it looks to me. And I am usually right, you know,’ she added. ‘You haven’t really seen me in action up to now. Nothing much has happened since we got together.’ She wriggled her shoulders in mock modesty. ‘You still don’t know all my hidden talents, you see.’

  ‘Aha!’ he pounced. ‘I get it. You’re bored. Nothing much has happened, eh? Just falling in love with the most handsome man in England, and having the best sex life there could possibly be. So now we’ve not only got to move to some god-forsaken farm, but you have to personally solve the murder of Peter Grafton all on your own. Just so you can feel as if something’s happening.’

  She didn’t like his tone any more than she liked the words. A dark scowl turned her face into a mask of resentment. ‘God-forsaken farm?’ she echoed. ‘Is that what you think?’

  He pulled her to him again, sinking them in a tangled heap onto the cushions of their sofa. ‘Come on, kiddo. We’d never manage a farm. It’s a non-starter. Neither of us knows the first thing about animals or ploughing or digging out ditches. And we haven’t the remotest chance of raising the cash for a place the size you’re talking about. It’s just way out of our league. Besides, you couldn’t manage that as well as working with Drew, and I don’t think you ought to even think of abandoning him. It’s your vocation. You’re brilliant at it.’

  ‘Well, you were probably a brilliant policeman. It doesn’t mean we have to stay doing the same thing forever.’

  ‘Maggs, it won’t be forever. Give it another three years, say. I know the money’s not much good, but I thought we didn’t mind that. We’ve got all we need.’

  She picked at a fraying buttonhole on her cuff. ‘It’s years since I started working with Drew. I started just after Stephanie was born. It feels like forever, and then some. And look at my clothes. I could spend hundreds of pounds on new stuff. I haven’t got any proper shoes.’

  ‘But you’d have even less if we went with your farm idea.’

  ‘Well, then I wouldn’t need proper shoes, would I?’

  ‘Drew should provide them for you. He should pay for them out of the business.’

  Maggs merely sighed.

  ‘Why do I feel this really isn’t about Drew or your job at all?’ he worried. ‘What is it you’re trying to tell me? Is it me? Are you fed up with us?’

  She looked at him. ‘It has got a bit samey,’ she confessed. Then she pulled his head down to her chest, clutching at his hair fiercely. ‘No, I didn’t mean that. Don’t panic, lover. I’m not saying anything scary. Us is fine. I like us better than anything. Honestly.’

  He pulled away from her, almost losing his balance in the awkward tangle they’d become and tipping them both onto the floor. ‘You would tell me?’ he demanded. ‘Wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Stop it,’ she said. ‘That isn’t what I’m talking about at all. Don’t be so paranoid.’

  ‘Who can blame me?’ he pouted. ‘With my record with women. It’s been a disaster up to now.’

  ‘Sounds fairly normal to me. One serious relationship and a few casuals. Nothing to worry about, that I can see.’

  ‘Maggs, can we get married?’ The words were out before either of them had seen them coming. ‘Do you think that would help, I mean?’

  ‘Like – it would give me something to do, choosing the bridesmaids? Don’t be stupid.’ She punched him quite hard on the chest. ‘What a bloody daft thing to come up with.’

  He heaved himself upright, floundering horizontally for a moment, with her weight still mainly on him. ‘Sorry,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, God, how did this happen? What would be the point of getting married? What difference would it make? It would just cost money, and nothing would change.’

  ‘They say quite a lot changes, actually. Old-fashioned things have to be acknowledged, like commitment and families and sharing.’

  ‘All much too old-fashioned for me,’ she said lightly. Then, with a pretence at a wail, ‘All I said was it would be nice to live on a farm.’

  He didn’t laugh, and she knew something had been damaged. He left the room, head hunched forward, a hand to the place where she’d punched him. She wished quite badly that she hadn’t hit him. Somehow it gave him the moral high ground.

  Karen was wearying somewhat of routine, too. Wednesday meant she and Della had their own children. It always meant that. There was a certain tedium to the predictability of it. Last week, she’d made that abortive visit to Mary Thomas and virtually had the door slammed in her face. This week she’d try again to do something different and interesting. The end of May was approaching; summer was in full swing and it was her duty to make the most of every day that was fine.

  ‘What can I do with them today?’ she wondered to Drew at breakfast. ‘Something different.’

  ‘Whatever you like, so long as it doesn’t cost money,’ he said unhelpfully.

  ‘I could try and find out some more about Peter Grafton. This contract he’s supposed to have had with the supermarket, for example.’

  ‘How are you going to do that? With two small children in tow?’

  ‘I don’t know. I could go and see Julie, I suppose.’

  ‘She’s got the funeral tomorrow. She’ll be busy.’

  ‘I could help.’

  ‘With
Steph and Timmy? I doubt it.’

  ‘Well, I’m not staying here all day. I want to get out somewhere.’

  ‘You should find someone to go with you,’ he advised. ‘Another woman, I mean.’

  ‘I could try Hilary, I suppose,’ she said doubtfully.

  ‘Isn’t there anybody your own age? Apart from Della?’

  ‘Sally Dabb, that’s all. But I can’t just phone her out of the blue and suggest we go out somewhere. I don’t know her well enough.’

  ‘You’re saying you haven’t got enough friends,’ he accused.

  ‘Maybe. It’s the same as it’s always been, though. I don’t really do friends, do I?’

  ‘Well,’ he said, getting up and wiping toast crumbs from his chin, ‘I’m afraid I’ve got loads to do. It’s going to be really busy today. We’ll probably get another removal, just when we’d find it almost impossible to cope.’

  ‘You’d cope,’ she said coolly.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  In the end, Karen decided to go and see Hilary Henderson, although not without prior warning. ‘Can I bring the kids round to play with your animals?’ was the way she put it.

  ‘You can try,’ came the ready response. ‘I’m not sure what the animals will make of it; they’re not used to children.’

  ‘Didn’t yours used to play with them?’

  ‘There are two answers to that,’ laughed Hilary. ‘First, none of the same creatures are here now. It’s been ages since I had anyone under twelve. And second, they hardly ever went outside, apart from Justin. Typical of their generation, they just played with Game Boys and watched telly all day.’

  Karen enjoyed a moment’s complacency. Her offspring actually liked being outdoors.

  ‘So, it wouldn’t be too much of a nuisance?’

  ‘Not a bit. I can probably find you something useful to do. We never have enough pairs of hands around here.’

  It took less than ten minutes to drive from North Staverton to the Hendersons’ farm, despite having to drive onto the main road for a mile, and then off it again at the next turning. “Falderstoke” was proclaimed on the gateside nameplate, which was rusting and crooked, but somehow proud for all that. Hilary’s husband’s ancestors had lived there for centuries, by all accounts, in the white cob longhouse. Hilary’s eldest son had arranged for a sliver from one of the huge oak beams in the roof to be carbon dated, with the barely credible result that the tree had been felled in the year 1212, give or take a decade.

  All this Karen had gleaned in her brief chats with Hilary at the farmers’ markets. It had sounded romantic and important, and quite worrying as to what the future might hold. Farmers everywhere were being forced to abandon their way of life, selling just such houses and letting their offspring take their chances in the real world of suburban estates and jobs with computer software. The thought of the Hendersons having to sell up was awful.

  Karen had been here twice before, both times to Food Chain meetings. All she had seen of the house was a low-ceilinged kitchen and a large sitting room. She hoped today to get a better chance to explore.

  The drive was bordered by large old trees – sycamore, beech, oak and ash which had clearly been there for ages. It was dignified and ancient, but not in the least intimidating. This was no stately home, or country mansion. The house, when it came into view, huddled in a shallow dip, with an untidy yard surrounding it.

  ‘Why are we coming here?’ asked Stephanie, gazing out of each car window in turn.

  ‘It’s a farm,’ Karen told her. ‘You can see the animals.’

  ‘Will there be ponies? And rabbits?’ the child asked.

  ‘And croccy-diles!’ added Timmy with complete certainty.

  ‘Why?’ Stephanie persisted.

  ‘For a change. Because it’ll broaden your horizons,’ Karen snapped, opening the car door and getting out. Stephanie was mercifully silent, although steaming with resentment at her mother’s unfair tactic in using language the child couldn’t understand or argue with. Karen felt a stab of remorse. She had promised herself she would never do what she had just done. Not that she worried that Stephanie’s feelings had been unduly bruised. As always, the child would inevitably win in the end.

  There was no sign of Hilary or anybody else. Karen thought it unlikely that her friend would be in the house, unless she was making jam or dyeing wool in the kitchen. Whatever the weather, Hilary preferred to be outside.

  ‘Hello!’ came a loud voice from somewhere above them. ‘Come and see my lambs.’

  Karen located the speaker on a high bank where the ground rose steeply at one end of the house. Her head was just visible over a stone wall, which had been built aeons ago to prevent the higher ground from sliding across the track and into the house. A small field with tufty grass lay beyond the wall. Karen looked for a way up the bank.

  ‘You can get round that way.’ Hilary indicated a track that zigzagged upwards to a gate. Karen began to feel she was having an adventure before she’d even got out of the farmyard. Timmy would have to use his hands to scramble up the path, it was so steep.

  ‘At least it’s not muddy,’ Hilary grinned, meeting them at the gate. She was carrying a good-sized lamb, which struggled resentfully in her arms. ‘This is Toby,’ Hilary said. ‘He’s the mandatory orphan lamb, which we vow not to rear every year. Sheer sentiment, every time.’

  The animal was almost too strong for her, but she gripped it tightly, and leant down to allow the children to pet it. Timmy eyed it with dislike. ‘Croccy-dile,’ he said irritably.

  Stephanie politely fingered the bouclé curls of the lamb’s coat, and then gently pulled one ear. ‘Hello, lamb,’ she said.

  ‘Has it been a good year for them?’ Karen asked, looking round. There were three ewes in the field, each with a good-sized lamb.

  ‘Oh, these are just the after-thoughts, born at the end of April. Yes, it’s been all right, on the whole. Much as usual.’ She spoke carelessly, as if it was of very little interest. ‘Can I let him go now?’ she asked Stephanie. Then, looking at Timmy, she added, ‘He might turn into a crocodile if we say the right magic word.’

  Karen laughed, doubtful that her little boy had understood the suggestion. By the way he gazed steadfastly at the lamb, it seemed that perhaps he had.

  ‘Mizzlepop!’ said Stephanie, obligingly, using the magic word that Drew had taught her. Nothing happened to the lamb, but a gunshot rang out almost immediately. Karen, to her eternal embarrassment, grabbed a child in each hand and flung all three of them to the ground, uttering wordless squawks of consternation.

  ‘For heaven’s sake,’ Hilary chastised her. ‘It’s only Justin shooting pigeons or squirrels or something.’ She hoisted Karen back to her feet without ceremony. ‘Though I must admit it sounded rather close.’

  The silence following the shot deepened, until Hilary said, ‘Karen, is your little girl all right?’

  Karen had been brushing at herself, struggling with a sense of embarrassment, unaware of her children. She jerked around, looking for Stephanie.

  The child was standing rigidly, her eyes very wide, her mouth open. Karen’s heart stopped. ‘Stephanie!’ she shrieked, grabbing wildly at the child. The small shoulders under her hands were unresponsive. Karen shook her. ‘Steph! Come on, sweetheart,’ she said in a calmer voice. ‘It’s nothing to worry about.’

  Timmy was once more occupied with the lamb, apparently unconcerned by the crisis going on beside him. He was walking slowly sideways, chuckling as the lamb eagerly followed him.

  ‘She’s just shocked,’ Hilary said. ‘She’ll be OK in a minute.’

  ‘She’s had too many shocks lately,’ Karen muttered. ‘That’s what it is.’

  ‘Did he die?’ Stephanie whispered, her eyes fixed straight ahead, as if afraid to look around her. ‘Did I make him die?’

  ‘What, darling? What do you mean?’ The child shook her head dumbly.

  ‘She thinks she made the gun go off with her magic word,’ Hil
ary realised. ‘She’s talking about the lamb.’

  ‘The lamb’s perfectly all right,’ Karen said, with a relieved laugh. ‘Look, Timmy’s playing with it.’

  ‘Not the lamb,’ Stephanie hissed. ‘The man. Like when the window broke. The man – did he die?’ She stared urgently at her mother, vitality returning, only to bring a rush of distress.

  Karen knelt down, and cuddled her daughter to her. ‘I don’t understand, sweetheart. What are you talking about?’

  Stephanie just shook her head again and thrust her thumb in her mouth. Karen reproached herself for her stupid panic reaction to the gunshot. That, she was sure, had frightened the child. It seemed crucial to understand what Stephanie was thinking.

  ‘When the window broke?’ she repeated. ‘You mean when we went to the supermarket?’

  ‘There was a man. He fell over, when I was looking at him. That lady, she was looking at him as well, and then, she made the window break and the man fell over. And then Della fell over. And then you fell over – and there’s a man. He’s dead. I heard you say he was, to Della.’

  Hilary cleared her throat and caught Karen’s eye. ‘Let’s go and have some drink and biscuits,’ she said. ‘This is all getting a bit complicated.’ She rubbed a friendly hand over Stephanie’s head. ‘Guns are scary things. I’m going to shout at Justin and tell him he shouldn’t shoot things near the house.’

  Karen released Stephanie reluctantly, still completely bewildered as to what was going on in the infant mind. Some strange confusion between the supermarket bomb, Della’s faint and the incident just now. In vain, she tried to remember exactly where Stephanie had been, and what she’d been looking at, when the bomb had gone off. And who was ‘the lady’ she’d seen? Presumably it must be Mary Thomas. And if so, Karen realised, there was a second witness to Mary’s presence at the scene. It wasn’t simply Karen’s word against Mary’s. And at the same time, she realised she couldn’t possibly enlist her little girl as backup. It wouldn’t be fair, and what she said wouldn’t be reliable.