Murder in the Valleys

by Pippa McCathie

Chapter 32

  Matt did his best to keep his voice neutral. It would not be a good idea to let his boss know how much he was enjoying himself.

  “During my investigations into both murders I’ve had to interview Neville Breverton a couple of times, and I also asked for research to be done into his background as, at one point, we thought he might have murdered the girl.”

  “But that’s–”

  Matt interrupted him firmly. “He was having an affair with Amber Morgan.” There was a splutter of protest from Rees-Jones, but Matt ignored it. “He’s admitted to it, sir. Amber was responsible for an anonymous letter to Mrs Breverton threatening to tell the tabloids about it, which seemed motive enough for us. But when we found he couldn’t have been responsible for Miss Griffiths’ death, we began to doubt his involvement in the first murder. The thing is, during our researches into his background, and because of my close contact during this investigation with Fabia Havard – she knew both victims very well sir, as you know – I’ve had occasion to go back and review the Cwmberis development case.”

  “What on earth for?” He sat forward aggressively, his eyes narrowed. “That case came to nothing, and it obviously has nothing to do with the Amber Morgan case.”

  “I know, sir, but initially we thought they might be connected. And I’m sure you agree that the Cwmberis investigation shouldn’t have – come to nothing that is. There was a strong case to be answered.” Matt said. “Miss Havard should never have been forced to take sick leave. All that did was imply she’d had some kind of involvement with the fraud.”

  “Nonsense. I seem to remember she was suffering from a great deal of stress, which was hardly surprising, it was a very difficult case,” the chief superintendent blustered.

  “As you say, it was hardly surprising, but that was partly because she got no support whatever from anyone else, in fact it was assumed by all those who did not know the details, including myself I’m ashamed to say, that Superintendent Havard,” it gave Matt great delight to give Fabia her full title, “had been involved in activities – how shall I put it? Activities that did not befit her rank or station, perhaps that’s the best way to describe it. Since some of the people we were dealing with seemed to have a connection with both cases, I took the opportunity to do a bit of digging.”

  He paused, allowing his boss time to intervene, but Rees-Jones just sat scowling at him. “After the research we’d done during the course of the last few days, most of which was with a view to finding a motive for Amber Morgan’s murder I have to stress, it seems there actually was a police officer who was involved in the Cwmberis fraud. Not Fabia Havard, but the then Assistant Chief Constable, Vivian Sligo.”

  At this the chief superintendent sat up and gripped the edge of his desk. “What?”

  Before he could say anything else, Matt went on. “I’ve spoken to one of the other officers who was involved in the fraud case, apart from Fabia Havard, that is. He believes Sligo was aware the land at Cwmberis was toxic, but he was told, as was Superintendent Havard, that the case wouldn’t be pursued. Neither of them was in a position to challenge that decision at the time, although the chap I spoke to yesterday did keep copies of some of the documentation, for his own protection, he says.” Matt held up a hand as Rees-Jones began to protest. “I know, sir, but he felt he had to protect his back. Having seen these documents, and he’s handed them over to me, I’m pretty sure Sligo had a financial interest in the scheme, which is why he turned a blind eye. I have a shrewd idea that the reason Breverton brought him in on it, and enabled him to make a great deal of money, was that the ACC had helped him wriggle out of a prosecution for sex with a minor, this was back when Breverton was a councillor in Cardiff. Perhaps this was his reward for that help.”

  “I really can’t believe all this,” but Rees-Jones didn’t sound quite so sure of himself now. “I certainly hope you can back it all up. You’ll be in very hot water if you can’t.”

  “I realise that, sir. But Breverton and Sligo were, after all, very close friends, and their wives are related. I’m sure they felt they had good reason to stick together. I also have strong evidence Breverton was hand in glove with Tony Vasic and his fellow developers on the Cwmberis project, and they all ignored the fact the development was being built on poisoned land. I am not suggesting,” Matt went on, looking across the desk at his boss who’d slumped back in his chair, mouth tight, saying nothing, “that you had any knowledge of this at all, sir, obviously not. All I’m asking is that it should be made known that Fabia Havard had no hand in it either, that she was well on the way to proving the fraud when she was forced out of her job – we all know that’s what it amounted to – and that her name should be cleared and her full pension restored to her now that she’s resigned from the force.”

  “Where is this evidence of yours?”

  “I’m still processing it at the moment. I’ll let you have it as soon as possible.”

  Rees-Jones stared across the desk at him, his jaw set and his eyes blank, his fingers drumming on the desk. Matt waited, but his boss said nothing.

  “I hope you’ll agree to opening up the Cwmberis case again. I think Breverton and Vasic, at least, have a lot of explaining to do, and Sligo if the truth were known.” Matt got up from his chair. “I’m sure you agree with me that this has to be cleared up once and for all, if only for the good of the force. If we can, finally, prosecute Breverton and his pals, that would be a bonus. We definitely can’t let this opportunity pass us by.”

  He waited and at last Rees-Jones cleared his throat and spoke. “Okay, Chief Inspector, leave it with me, I’ll see what I can do.”

  Matt couldn’t resist a smile before saying. “Thank you for your congratulations, sir, I’ll pass them on to my team. And thank you for the coffee.”

  He left the room, closed the door quietly behind him and, just as quietly, punched the air with his fist.

  * * *

  Fabia came to and, very slowly, opened her eyes. For a second, she had no idea where she was; she frowned in concentration, then remembered, and her heart lurched. She remembered coming to a couple of times, people leaning over her, soft voices, pain, and then blissful oblivion. She closed her eyes tight for a second, then opened them and cautiously moved her head.

  The painted white walls and paraphernalia of a hospital ward surrounded her, a white sheet and a pale blue Aertex blanket covered her, and low metal bars hedged her into the bed. The curtain that could be drawn round the bed, patterned with blue and mauve flowers, was pulled back, and she could see the other three beds in the room were all empty. She was on her own, except for several vases of flowers and, on the bedside table, an enormous basket of fruit. By squinting sideways, she could just about read the words written on a small card resting against a banana. “Get better soon, love Matt”, it said. She felt a glow of warmth.

  There was a blind let down over the window, but she could tell that outside the sun was shining. Somewhere in the building she could hear voices, footsteps, the rumble of trolleys being wheeled along corridors.

  Very carefully she tried moving her legs, that wasn’t too bad, she lifted her arms a little under the covers, pain jabbed in her side. Best not try that again. She moved her head on the pillow again, her head throbbed dully. But although she was uncomfortable, other than a rib, perhaps, she didn’t think anything was actually broken.

  Tentatively, her mind groped back. There was an urge to touch the wound, in spite of the fact she knew it would hurt like hell to do so. How long ago was it she’d been trapped in that awful room? Yesterday? The day before? She remembered Cole glowering over her, hitting her. Pain. Sick fear. She could feel herself flinching away from the memory, but she made herself face it. Better to do so now, when she was safe in this hospital bed.

  She didn’t remember anyone rescuing her, although there was a faint memory of banging at a door, and shouting. But someone must have got her out of there. Had it been Matt? And, where was he? He must know she was
here, or he couldn’t have sent the fruit. And what was happening about Cole? Had he confessed? Had he escaped? And Cecily, those bruises, the panic in the poor woman’s eyes. Cole must have been drugging her. Please God don’t let her be his third victim. Why hadn’t someone come to tell her what had happened? Frustration mounted.

  Fabia could see there was a red button dangling on a cord to her right. She lay there considering trying to move enough to press it, summon a nurse, anyone who could give her some answers. But before she’d plucked up the courage to do so, she heard voices near at hand. A moment later, the door opened, and an enormous bunch of daffodils appeared, followed by Cath, who smiled broadly immediately as she saw Fabia was awake.

  “My dear,” she said, coming forward and bending to kiss Fabia’s cheek, “you’re awake at last.”

  “What do you mean, at last?” Fabia asked, finding her voice was more a croak than anything else.

  “Well, it’s been a day and a half now.”

  “What day is it?”

  “Friday,” Cath glanced at her watch, “half past ten precisely.”

  “I’d lost all track of time. Yesterday – it was yesterday, wasn’t it, that Murray–?”

  “No love, the day before,” Cath said gently.

  “It’s all a bit of a blur. How come you’re here? It’s not visiting time, is it?”

  “No. That’s one of the privileges that goes with this,” Cath touched her clerical collar. “We vicars can come and go as we please, more or less. Tell me, how’re you feeling?”

  “My body is just one big ache. But other than that, I’m here, and safe.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. It caused a stab of pain in her side. “Ouch. Must remember to breathe more carefully.”

  “That’s the cracked rib. I made the charge nurse tell me all about your injuries. I wanted to know what you were up against.”

  “I’m not so bad. The biggest problem is the frustration of being stuck in this bed and not knowing what’s going on. I’ve got so many questions that need answering.”

  Cath grinned. “That sounds more like you. Give me a moment to find a vase for these daffs, and then I’ll sit down and answer as many questions as I can, although I don’t know that much, I’m afraid.” She disappeared out the door but was soon back carrying the daffodils in an ugly but capacious cut glass vase. She cleared a space on the bedside table and put them down.

  “Can you sit me up?”

  “Not completely, love, but I can lift the pillow end a bit.” She searched around and came up with what looked a bit like a TV remote, pressed a button and Fabia felt herself lifted just a little. For some reason it made her feel more in control once she was propped up. Cath carefully straightened the pillows then pulled up a chair and sat down. “So, what do you want to know?” she asked.

  “How’s Cecily?”

  Cath sighed. “Well, she’s no longer out of it. Murray had been drugging her to keep her quiet.”

  “I thought as much.”

  “I think she’d guessed he was responsible for Amber’s death, but she was too drugged up, and too scared to do anything about it. Did you know he’d been beating her?”

  “I had my suspicions. The signs were there, and when I visited her yesterday, sorry, the day before, I saw the bruising. It was awful, all down her arm and over her back.”

  “Poor woman. It’ll take a long time and a lot of care before she has any peace of mind. She keeps asking for you.”

  “The first thing I’ll do when I get out of here is go and see her.”

  “She’s blaming herself, of course.”

  “That hateful man,” Fabia said forcefully. “I could never stand him, but when I first began to think he was Amber’s killer I told myself it was because I was prejudiced, because of my dislike. And then, when I saw the photo of Neville in the newspaper, wearing that coat, just a black version of the one Murray Cole used to wear that was in the nearly-new-stuff bag, I realised I’d seen those lichen marks on it and I might be on the right track. Cole must have stuffed it into the bag thinking it was the usual rubbish one. What a risk to take!”

  “But he was probably counting on the bag being put out that night. And I think he’s an incredibly arrogant man,” said Cath, her expression hardening. “I dare say it would have never occurred to him that he’d be found out.”

  “You didn’t like him either?”

  “I used to. Whenever I had to go to the school, he was always rather charming, and he seemed to care a great deal about the students, particularly about their academic achievements. I suppose that should have rung warning bells, but I thought he cared as much about their welfare. It wasn’t until he became so unreasonable about Amber that I began to change my mind.”

  “Everyone else seemed to like him, but I always had this niggling feeling it was one big performance. I don’t know why.”

  “Probably because you’re a very good judge of character.”

  “But why did he do it?” asked Fabia.

  “That I can’t answer, but I’m sure Matt Lambert will be able to tell you soon enough. I spoke to him late last night. Cecily’s staying with me for a few days and he phoned to ask how she is, which I thought was very sweet of him. He’s going to come and see you this morning.”

  Fabia’s spirits lifted. She wanted to see Matt so much, and not just to have all her questions answered. She’d lived for over two years with the pain of their estrangement, and now she found it hard to believe it was no longer there.

  “Anyway, I mustn’t stay too long,” Cath said. “You should rest.” She got up to go, but before she did so, the door opened again. Matt appeared round it. His face lit up when he saw Fabia was awake, then became more guarded when he saw Cath.

  “Talk of the devil. Hallo, Chief Inspector,” Cath said, grinning at Fabia and then at Matt, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “I’ll leave you two in peace, but I’ll pop in again tomorrow, Fabia.” And she bustled out of the room, giving them an approving smile as she left.

  Matt came the rest of the way in and up to the bed. There was an anxious frown between his eyes and he pushed his hair back in a familiar gesture. He always does that when he’s unsure of himself, Fabia thought.

  “I told that terrifying charge nurse I had to speak to you about the case, so she let me in. How’re you feeling?” he asked.

  “As if I’ve been used as a punch bag.”

  He smiled. “That’s a pretty good description I’d say, poor old girl.”

  “Less of the old, thanks very much.” The feeble joke didn’t really come off. There was an awkward little silence which neither seemed able to break. It lengthened until Fabia could bear it no longer.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said in a rush. “I’m desperate to know what’s been happening.” She tried to push herself up, but fell back, groaning.

  “Don’t start trying to sit up. That bastard did a lot of damage before we got to you.” He bit his lower lip. “I just can’t stop thinking – what if we’d arrived just a little later?”

  Fabia, looking at him, realised there were tears in his eyes. For some reason, this took all the awkwardness away. She held a hand out to him. Very carefully Matt sat down on the edge of the bed, took her hand and kissed it lightly. “Fabia, I–”

  “Don’t think about it,” she said. “I’m not Bethan. This time, Matt, you arrived in time. Remember that.”

  “Okay,” he took a deep, shaking breath. “Okay, what do you want to know?”

  “Everything,” said Fabia.

  Acknowledgements

  A few thank yous to my writing gurus, Jeannie and Dallas, and to all in the Guernsey Writers’ Group, for their support and encouragement. To my fantastic editor, Arianna, for her eagle eye and quirky remarks, and to all at The Book Folks. And most of all, thank you to Niall for listening and contributing, for your unfailing encouragement, and for never grumbling when the potatoes boil dry.

  Other titles of interest

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  DEAD HILL by John Dean

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