Murder in the Valleys

by Pippa McCathie

  The phone on his desk rang. He glowered at it, picked up the receiver and snapped, “Lambert.” It was with mixed feelings he recognised Fabia’s voice but, when he heard what she had to say, he pushed their differences aside, along with his encounter with Alun Richards.

  “What is it she wants to tell me?”

  “Best you talk to her about it I think.”

  “Okay. Can you hang on to her till I get there?”

  There was a muttered conversation on the other end of the line, then Fabia came back to him, “She says all right, but she has to be home by one when her husband gets in for his dinner.”

  “Right. We’ll be there in about twenty minutes.” He slammed the phone down, shouted for Dilys, grabbed his coat and quickly left his office. “That was Fabia Havard,” he told her as they made their way out to the car park. “She says a Mrs Pritchard came to her with some information and Fabia thinks we ought to hear about it as soon as possible. Something to do with the Brevertons.”

  As she was pulling out into the traffic, Dilys glanced at him quickly, a worried frown on her face. “I’ve just thought, sir. I know our interview with the Brevertons senior is at eleven tomorrow, but what about the daughter?”

  “Isn’t she going to be there?”

  The worry was joined by embarrassment. “I’m not sure, see. By the time I’d finished that conversation with her mother, she’d got... got marginalised, if you know what I mean, and I only remembered when you said this Mrs Pritchard wanted to tell us something about them.”

  “Damn!”

  “Sorry sir.”

  Matt ignored her apology. He was not in a good mood. First there was Rees-Jones and his bloody old boys’ network, and now Fabia was getting involved again. Why couldn’t this Mrs Pritchard have come straight to him with her worries? And as to not interviewing the Breverton girl, sod that, she was a friend of Amber Morgan’s and she may be very useful. The devil take Rees-Jones and his cronies. He had a job to do and he wasn’t about to let them get in the way.

  “Okay,” he snapped, “we’ll just have to talk to the daughter when we can. I hope for your sake she’s there tomorrow morning.”

  “Yes sir,” she said, tight-lipped.

  Soon they were pulling up in front of Fabia’s house and she had the door open before they’d even rung the bell.

  “Good. I’m glad you’re here. Come through, we’re in the sitting room.”

  On the settee, perched forward as if she was ready to run if necessary, was a small, grey haired woman. Neatly packed into a plain navy coat, her hands clasped in her lap, she looked up nervously as they came into the room.

  “This is Chief Inspector Lambert and Sergeant Bevan, Mrs Pritchard,” Fabia said. “Please, don’t worry. Just tell them exactly what you told me.”

  “I’ve been thinking, Miss Havard, and I don’t know if my Gwyn would want me to–”

  “Please Mrs Pritchard. I’m sure your husband would feel you should help the police all you can. It’s very important, you know, to find out who killed Amber.” Fabia glanced at Matt. As if she’s handing over to me, he thought, then despised himself for the spurt of resentment.

  He sat down opposite the little woman and Dilys took a seat behind her and quietly got out her notebook and pencil, while Fabia walked over to the window and tactfully turned her back.

  Matt smiled at Mrs Pritchard. “Now, in your own time, tell me just what you’ve already told Miss Havard.”

  “Well, it’s like this, see.” She took a deep breath then began to talk fast, as if she wanted to get rid of it all before she changed her mind. “I do cleaning for several people in Pontygwyn. Help Miss Havard occasionally if she needs me,” she gave Fabia’s back a quick glance. “I’m used to all kinds of people, take them as I find them mostly. But I have to say I haven’t been happy at the Brevertons. Not appreciative, Mrs Breverton, very hoity-toity, and that girl of hers, thoroughly spoilt. As for him, the so-called member of parliament, well! He’s as many faces as Tredegar town clock, that I can tell you.” She was in full flow now. Matt listened attentively. “And the women, you wouldn’t believe. It’s very hard to say this of a young girl so recently dead, but she was one of his... his conquests.”

  Dilys dropped her pencil and bent quickly to pick it up. Matt shot her a glance, then looked away. “How do you know this?” he asked quietly, trying to make sure his tone wasn’t too eager.

  “I saw, well I heard, them together. That’s what made me decide I couldn’t go on working there.”

  “When was this?”

  “This very week. Monday is one of my days up at the Brevertons and I was late leaving. Mrs Breverton had gone down to her sister in Swansea, who’s been bad under the doctor, and I thought, while she was out of the way, it’d be a good opportunity to give the small sitting room she uses the once over –

  she calls it her study. It was in a real state, something terrible. Don’t know what she’d been about. She never usually uses the fireplace, says it makes too much mess, but she’d been burning something in the grate this time for sure. There was bits of half-burnt paper all over.”

  “And was Mr Breverton at home?” Matt enquired gently, trying to lead her back on track.

  “Yes, well I was just finishing when I heard someone come in the back way, through the kitchen. It was Amber Morgan, that poor dab. I recognised her voice. She was calling out for Viz, that’s what she called Vanessa, the daughter.” Mrs Pritchard took a deep breath and a flush rose to her cheeks. “I knew Vanessa had gone with her Mam, and I was about to go out and tell her, but then I heard his voice.”

  “You mean Mr Breverton?” Matt asked.

  “Yes.” She drew herself up straight and looked him in the eye, her colour even deeper now. “Chief Inspector,” she said, “I promise you I’d no intention of eavesdropping, I really hadn’t, but I just didn’t know what to do, see. The way they talked, it wasn’t at all like a man should speak to a friend of his daughter, and as for that girl, well! I heard her say, ‘Hallo-o’ and the way she said it, all husky like, and he goes, ‘What a delightful surprise Amber’, and she says, ‘Maybe. That depends. I was looking for Vanessa’, then he goes, ‘She’s in Swansea with Gwen and they won’t be back till this evening’, and I could tell he was smiling, like, from the way he sounded, and then he says – oh dear – I hardly know how to tell you.”

  “Please, Mrs Pritchard,” Matt said. “I know this is difficult, but it could be very important. You do want to help us find Amber’s killer, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do, but I don’t want you to think–”

  “We’ll be able to sort out what’s important and what isn’t,” Matt assured her. “Please, go on.”

  “They must have been just outside the door. Oh, I was that scared they’d come in, I could hardly breathe, and my heart was pounding in my chest. Oh dear! Anyway, it sounded like someone leant against the door, and I heard him say, low like, ‘How about we take advantage of this chance meeting?’ and I could hear sounds, like they were – you know – and then she goes, ‘No, not here, they might come back’, and he says, ‘They’ll be gone for hours yet,’ and there was a bit more, like; noise. Oh Inspector, I didn’t know where to put myself.”

  “It must have been very unpleasant,” Matt said. “And then?”

  “Well, I think he said something about his office, and they could lock the door if it made her happier, and he sort of growls, like, and says, ‘I could clear my desk, like last time’, and she giggles, and then I hear their footsteps going off down the hall. I could have died I was that relieved. I crept out, grabbed my coat and got out of there, and I haven’t been back, not even for my money that I’m owed, although my Gwyn says I have to go and get it. But I just can’t go back there, I can’t.”

  “Very awkward for you, Mrs Pritchard,” Matt said. “I really must thank you for talking to us. Not many people would be so willing to help in these circumstances.”

  “So, you think I’ve do
ne right?”

  “Absolutely, no doubt. This has been very helpful. Thank you very much.” He was interrupted by Fabia.

  “Would you mind very much if I asked Mrs Pritchard one question?” Her diffidence was completely out of character. For some reason it annoyed Matt far more than the interruption.

  “No, no. Feel free,” he said, not meaning it at all.

  Chapter 14

  Fabia had deliberately detached herself from the proceedings for Matt’s sake. She was well aware any interference from her would get right under his skin, so she’d listened to his questioning and Mrs Pritchard’s replies, and said nothing, however much she’d wanted to. But now she had a problem. There was one thing Mrs Pritchard had said that had made Fabia sit up and take notice. She’d waited for Matt to pick up on it, but he hadn’t, and she knew she couldn’t let it go.

  She smiled at Mrs Pritchard who was still sitting forward, ramrod straight, hands clasped tightly. “You said it seemed Mrs Breverton had been burning something in the fireplace.”

  “That she had. There was bits and pieces all over, half burned, spilling out onto the grate. Such a mess it made.”

  “Did you happen to look closely at the bits that were left?”

  “Not that close,” Mrs Pritchard said, but she sounded less sure of herself now. “As I brushed it all up into my dustpan I noticed there was bits of paper with letters on. And there were some bright green pieces as well, like one of those greeting card envelopes.”

  Fabia glanced at Matt, saw his eyes widen.

  Mrs Pritchard was looking embarrassed. “I did have a quick look, just in case there was anything there she might want to keep, see?”

  “Of course,” said Fabia.

  “It was like paper from a notebook, with lines on, and they had printing on them too, but only a bit as it was mostly burnt, just a word here and there. I wasn’t being nosey,” she insisted, her voice a mixture of apology and defiance. “It’s just that, well ...”

  “Please, Mrs Pritchard, don’t worry about it,” Matt said, taking over. “Did you throw all these pieces of paper away?”

  “Yes. I put it all in the bin, and I put the black sack out in the wheelie by the back door.”

  “And this would have been collected?”

  “Not yet,” Fabia said. “Rubbish collection round here used to be Friday, but I think it’s Monday morning now.”

  “Right. And who has the contract? Do you know?”

  “We’re old-fashioned round here,” Fabia said. “It’s the council. I’ve got the phone numbers for all the departments on my desk, as it happens.” She had tried not to sound smug, but she had a sneaking feeling she’d failed. She went across to her desk. “I’ll find the right one for you.”

  “Thanks,” Matt said, shortly before turning back to Mrs Pritchard. “You really have helped us a great deal. I wish all the people we come into contact with were as public-spirited as you are.”

  She preened herself a little as she got up and began to pull on her gloves. “I know my duty, Chief Inspector. But I must be going now, or Gwyn will be wondering where I’ve got to.”

  “There it is.” Fabia said triumphantly and handed a piece of paper to Matt, then she turned to Mrs Pritchard, “I’ll see you out,” she said, and ushered the neat little woman from the room.

  When she got back Dilys was speaking into her mobile.

  Matt glanced at Fabia and looked away again. There was an awkward little pause. Eventually, he broke the silence. “Thanks for that,” he said as if the words were wrung out of him. “I really should have picked up on that business with the fireplace. Dilys is talking to the rubbish people now. If we can get hold of those bags from the Breverton’s house and go through them, we might well be able to salvage some of the bits and pieces. And if they’re the same as that letter of Rhona Griffiths, it could be quite a breakthrough, not that we’ve managed to persuade her to hand it over yet.” He grimaced. “What a bunch. Given Neville Breverton’s political ambitions, I’d say he was taking a risk, wouldn’t you?”

  “He always was an arrogant bastard. Probably thinks no-one would dare shop him.”

  “Well, it seems to me he’s cooked his goose this time.”

  “I sincerely hope so,” Fabia said bitterly, and Matt shot her a curious look, but she’d thought of something else and went on. “Do you remember Amber mention someone called the Bulldog in her diary? Maybe that’s Neville Breverton. You must admit he looks rather like one, and there’s the parliamentary connection.”

  “I suppose it’s possible. I just didn’t think it was a connection a girl that age would make, although there has been that Channel 4 series about Churchill recently.” Matt ran a hand through his hair. “The more I hear about Breverton and his lot, the less I like them. We’re seeing the whole family tomorrow, but I’ll definitely have to have a word with him on his own now, whatever the Chief Super says.”

  “Charlie Rees-Jones? All he’ll be worried about is his golfing and fellow Mason pal getting his knickers in a twist,” Fabia said scornfully.

  “That’s about the measure of it. He’s going to love this, isn’t he?” And he gave Fabia a grin that reminded her of the old days. She smiled back, relieved he’d relaxed so much, but it didn’t last. As if suddenly remembering who he was talking to, his face closed up again. “Well, we must get going.”

  Exasperated though she was, Fabia said nothing more as she accompanied them to the front door and watched them drive away.

  * * *

  Matt walked into the Cledwyn Arms just after nine o’clock, surprised but relieved to see that it wasn’t very busy. He wasn’t in the mood for rowdy crowds. Alun Richards was already there, out of uniform now and sitting at the bar with a pint glass, nearly empty, in front of him.

  “Another of those, Alun?” Matt said as he came up. “Don’t mind if I do.”

  “One of them and a double Famous Grouse for me, please,” Matt said to the barman.

  “Heavy day?” Alun asked as they picked up their drinks and made their way to a quiet corner of the room where they wouldn’t be overheard.

  “Somewhat. It’s a shit of a case this one. For a start one of the Chief Super’s friends is involved. You mentioned him earlier on, Breverton, the MP. The victim was a friend of his daughter’s.”

  “Oh God, that’s a real bugger. Rather you than me.”

  Matt gave him a twisted grin. “Thanks a bunch.”

  For a moment they sat in silence as Matt tried to decide how to approach the subject of Fabia. There seemed to be no doubt Alun believed in her and thought she’d been badly treated, and Matt, belatedly he had to admit, wanted to know the whole story. The more he thought about it, the more uneasy he felt. He should have had more faith in her. Why hadn’t he asked questions before? What had held him back?

  He and Fabia hadn’t been working closely together for a while when he was sent off to a course in London, but they’d seen each other quite regularly, they’d still been close. Still, things hadn’t been as easy between them as they had been in the past, partly because of the gossip that had surrounded their relationship, partly because both of them had been thoroughly over-worked and making time to see each other had been difficult. He’d always wanted more than mere friendship, but Fabia had held back, said she didn’t want to spoil what they’d got. Ironic when in the end what they did have had been spoiled anyway, whether they liked it or not. And then he’d returned after seven weeks away to find she’d been put on indefinite sick leave, a euphemism, as he well knew, but that’s what they’d called it. A few days later they’d had that terrible row, and that had been that.

  Now he felt more and more certain Fabia had been set up, and that he’d let her down, but still there was this tiny niggle of doubt. Once and for all he wanted to lay the ghosts to rest, and Alun could be the person to help him do so. But now there was the problem of how to broach the subject. He despised himself for it, but he just couldn’t bring himself to ask outright.
How would it sound, for Christ’s sake? Do you believe my ex-boss and close friend was corrupt? But in the end Alun solved the problem for him.

  “So, what went wrong between you and Fabia then?” he asked without preamble, and the look he gave Matt was accusing.

  “Hard to say,” he said, gulping down half his whisky. “If the truth were known, the last time we saw each other we had a blazing row, and that was it.”

  “What was it about, this row?”

  “Her taking the sick leave, as they call it. I really thought she’d fight it, stand up for herself. The fact she caved in, well, it just seemed as if she was admitting she was guilty.”

  “Guilty of what?”

  “Of whatever it was they were saying.” Now part of Matt was wishing the subject had never been broached. He told himself not to be stupid. Hadn’t he come here to find out the truth?

  “Shall I tell you exactly what happened?” Alun’s tone turned sarcastic, “Seeing as how you don’t seem to know the whole story, like.”

  “Well, I don’t,” Matt said defensively. “That drugs course took seven weeks, and by the time I got back Fabia had a week left before she was out. I knew she’d been working on a fraud case, that’d started before I went away, and I knew some high-profile people were involved, but she never told me the details.”

  “For fuck’s sake man, you could have asked around. There’s a tidy number of us would have told you all about it.”

  Matt downed the rest of his whisky. Why hadn’t he? He could have asked careful questions of the right people, or he could have sat down and listened to Fabia. But he hadn’t. He’d told himself he hated gossip. He’d closed it all off, pushed it out of his mind, accepted his promotion and got on with the job. A fine friend he’d turned out to be! And now he had to face it. Was it really that he’d been afraid he’d find out Fabia had been involved in covering up a crooked property deal? That’s one thing he’d heard. Or was it that he just didn’t want to get involved? He shrugged, disgusted with himself.