RAFFERTY & LLEWELLYN BOXED SET: BOOKS 1 - 4

by Geraldine Evans

Sam nodded. 'Doctors' do at The George,' he explained. 'Annual event. Wouldn't miss it. Our erstwhile chairman's wife, Lady Evelyn Melville-Briggs organises it so it couldn't fail to go like clockwork. Shame she didn't seem to enjoy it. Not surprising she was so quiet, of course. Her old man was in a towering rage when they arrived.' He snorted. 'Some hoo-ha about the door-man. I didn't stop to listen to it.' He put the flask back in his pocket and became briskly professional. 'Been dead at least seven hours. Rigor mortis has started to set in around the head and neck. The blow to the back of the head is probably what killed her.'

  Rafferty raised his eyebrows. He could have come to that conclusion for himself. Even with the body lying on its back, he could see the skull was caved in, making an amorphous mess of bone and brain. 'Could a woman have done it do you think?'

  Sam nodded. 'Wouldn't need as much strength as you'd think; only stealth to creep up on her, and then determination to keep whacking, like Lizzie Borden.'

  Rafferty raised his gaze from the gory horror on the ground, and caught sight of a well-dressed man at the edge of the trees, pacing with barely contained impatience. He nodded in his direction. 'Who's that?'

  Sam followed the direction of Rafferty's gaze, and, in an echo of Llewellyn, he remarked, 'That's Trouble, Rafferty. Trouble with a capital T.' Rubbing his hands together with childish glee, he continued. 'That's the owner. Consultant Psychiatrist Dr. Anthony Melville-Briggs. But you'll find plain "Sir" will do. Husband to the Lady Evelyn etc etc. I wouldn't like to be in your shoes when he finds out a lowly inspector's in charge of the case.' He gave Rafferty a sly look. 'Perhaps you should listen to your Mammy and get married again. Old Tony certainly shows what marriage can do for a man.'

  Rafferty's lip curled. Sam Dally, compassionate Doctor of medicine, could always be relied upon to hit a man below the belt. One marriage had been enough; his relief that Angie’s death two years ago had brought an end to their mutual unhappiness still made him feel guilty. But despite Ma’s continued attempts to persuade, push and cajole him into matrimony a second time, Rafferty resisted. Still, he mused, at least it gave her less time for her other little hobby, and unlike that, her matchmaking didn't carry with it the risk of a jail sentence for the pair of them. 'Got any more unwanted advice?'

  Sam shook his head. 'Why cast more pearls before swine, laddie?' he asked sweetly. He glanced again at Melville-Briggs and a beatific smile lit up his face as he set about removing the glow of the restorative whisky. 'I was at medical school with him and he barely had a bean before he married Lady Evelyn. You could see he was determined to go places even in those days.' Sam Dally took off his glasses and gave them a brisk polish before continuing. 'Well in with the Chief Constable, so I understand. Me, I don't mix in such exalted circles.'

  The last remnants of Rafferty's good-humour vanished as he studied the Chief Constable's best friend. Dr. Melville-Briggs had that look of sleek self-satisfaction that only a man with the good fortune to marry money acquires. He was in his early fifties, Rafferty guessed, but had kept himself in shape. With his silver hair swept dramatically back from his high forehead, he could have been taken for a Shakespearean actor awaiting the plaudits of the crowd after a lunch-time performance in the park. Rafferty hoped he didn't intend to indulge in any histrionics this morning, but after what Sam had said, he wasn't optimistic. Dr. Melville-Briggs's cheeks wore an unlovely hectic flush probably caused by a combination of temper and shock and Rafferty came to the depressing conclusion that the doctor was taking the crime as some kind of personal affront. But then he was rich and successful and probably imagined that his select establishment would, by its very exclusivity, be shielded from the sordid world outside his gates.

  Rafferty reflected that it must have come as an unpleasant surprise to find that his little kingdom wasn't quite as inviolate as he had imagined. Then he prepared to give Melville-Briggs his second surprise of the day.

  Chapter Two

  WITH LLEWELLYN DOGGING his heels, Rafferty made his way over to the doctor and introduced himself.

  Bloodshot blue eyes surveyed him without enthusiasm. He got the impression that neither his shiny new rank, nor his shiny new suit cut much ice with the doctor.

  'The constable on the gate said the CID was on their way.' A faint frown marred the smooth perfection of Melville-Briggs's brow. 'I take it the Chief Inspector will be along shortly?'

  Although the doctor's voice was as fruity as a greengrocer's stall and polished to an almost glossy perfection, stress had brought out a hint of his Midlands origin. Rafferty guessed unhappily that the Brummie-boy made good would expect the very best and cut up rough when he didn't get it. He broke the news to him gently. 'I'm afraid the Chief Inspector won't be coming, Sir. We're a bit short-staffed at the moment.'

  'I think you'll find you're mistaken about that, Rafferty.' A professional smile briefly dazzled. 'Obviously the station doesn't know who I am. The Chief Constable's a personal friend of mine, and once I've telephoned him, he'll be glad to oblige me.'

  Presumably satisfied that Rafferty now realised his star quality, Melville-Briggs patted him on the back in a consoling manner as he dismissed his skills. 'Don't take it personally, Inspector. But this is a very select establishment. A certain diplomacy is called for if my patients aren't to be upset. I'm sure you understand?'

  Oh yes, he understood all right, Rafferty reflected grimly. What it didn't need, Melville-Briggs was implying, was some heavy-footed oaf like himself. But it was very tactfully put. He hoped the doctor would be as sensitive to his feelings in a minute or two.

  'There's been no mistake, Sir. There really is no-one else available. And the Chief Constable's on holiday. Trekking in the Himalayas, I believe,' he added faintly.

  'Trekking in the Himala—?' Melville-Briggs's lips pursed, but they opened sufficiently to murmur, 'I see,' in clipped tones, as he gave Rafferty's off-the-rack suit a swift, assessing appraisal.

  Perhaps he liked the style, Rafferty mused, but somehow, he didn't think so.

  The doctor concealed his disappointment well; Rafferty had to give him that. Melville-Briggs fingered his jaw thoughtfully and smiled again; a smile of singular charm that immediately put Rafferty on his guard.

  'Now. How can I put this? It's a trifle delicate, and I wouldn't want you to think me insensitive, but it is important that this distressing matter is cleared up as quickly as possible. The publicity...' He winced as if in genuine pain, before he put his hand inside his beautifully cut pearl-grey suit, and murmured, 'Perhaps a donation to the Police Benevolent Fund will ease things along a little, hmm?'

  Although the doctor's attempted bribery was discreet, Rafferty was under no illusion that bribery was exactly what it was. What did the man expect him to do? Fit up a likely criminal with the murder? Or did he imagine the crime could be swept under the carpet like last week's dust and conveniently forgotten?

  Rafferty gave a grim little smile and wished he could forget the doctor's high-placed friend. 'The police are always grateful for such generosity, but perhaps it would be best if you sent a cheque direct to the Fund? We don't want anyone getting the wrong idea, do we, Sir?'

  The doctor withdrew his hand from his pocket. 'Of course not,' he agreed smoothly. 'Excellent idea. I can't imagine why I didn't think of it.'

  Balked of an early reduction in the crime statistics, Melville-Briggs's voice lost a little of its silken charm. 'You know, Rafferty, I've been thinking, and I'm convinced that there was an ulterior motive for this crime. Someone wants to ruin my reputation and that of my hospital. I haven't any evidence, of course,' he admitted as Rafferty stared at him, 'but a man in my position makes enemies and why else would anyone dump a corpse here? It's obvious when you think about it.'

  Rafferty blinked. It wasn't obvious to him. 'Was there any particular reason for you to think that, Sir?' he asked guardedly.

  'Ask yourself, who has most to lose by this murder? I have, of course,' he answered his own rhetorical question. 'This crime
was intended to cause me maximum loss, inconvenience and embarrassment.'

  Rafferty was tempted to remark that the victim had suffered a greater loss. 'I'll do my best to minimise your inconvenience, Sir,' he promised dryly. 'Now, have you any idea who the dead girl might be?'

  Melville-Briggs shook his head. 'None.'

  'Are any of your staff missing, for instance?'

  'No. I've already checked that. And the current patients are all accounted for.' He frowned. 'It's rather a mystery who she could be, as visitors can't gain access to the grounds without signing in at the lodge—fire regulations, you know.'

  'Mmm.' Rafferty had hoped the girl's identity would be easily established, but now that hope vanished, he became brisk. 'We'll need an official statement from everyone here, Sir, and as you're anxious for us to get this crime solved speedily, perhaps I can ask you to start the ball rolling?'

  'Certainly. You'll find my statement's very straightforward. If you'd like to take this down, Sergeant?' Llewellyn whipped out his notebook. 'Between the hours of 8.00 p.m. and 2.00 a.m. on 11/12 April, I was at a medical dinner at The George in Hamborne. No doubt the door-man will remember us arriving.'

  Who did he think he was, Rafferty wondered? God, or visiting royalty?

  'I was accompanied by my wife, Lady Evelyn, and I didn't leave the hotel during the entire time. If your sergeant would like to get that typed up, I'll sign it.'

  'Certainly Sir,' Rafferty agreed. 'We'll need to see your wife, of course. Just a formality,' he added diplomatically as the doctor frowned. 'Will it be convenient if I call at your home at, say, 5.00 o’clock this afternoon?'

  'I'm afraid you'll have to make your own arrangements with my wife, Rafferty. I shall be in the flat here this evening.' He fixed Rafferty with a firm eye. 'I do hope you'll make every effort to catch the perpetrator. If the case lingers on it could be—unpleasant.'

  He didn't specify for whom – he didn't need to as the question that followed reminded Rafferty where any retribution would fall.

  'When's the Chief Constable due back, by the way?'

  'Not for another fortnight, Sir.' Pride made him briefly optimistic. 'But I'm sure we'll have this case wrapped up before he returns from leave.' As soon as the words were out of his mouth he regretted them, but of course the cavalry of common-sense arrived too late to do any good and, with a sinking feeling, he hoped he'd be able to live up to his incautious boast.

  'I'm glad to hear it, Rafferty.'

  There was the faintest suggestion of respect in the doctor's eyes and it gave him confidence. Earlier he'd noticed a wooden door set in the wall a few yards from the body. It was locked, but its nearness to the corpse piqued his curiosity. 'Just as a matter of interest, Sir, who would have a key to that side-door in the perimeter wall?' The quick answer surprised him.

  'Apart from myself, no-one.' Melville-Briggs looked uneasy at this admission and Rafferty wondered if he realised that, should his alibi not check out, possession of that key raised him to the unenviable status of chief suspect; if he did, he soon recovered. 'The staff all use the main gate. I insist upon them clocking in and out every day.'

  You would, thought Rafferty, still smarting from the doctor's earlier dismissal of his detecting abilities. He was the type who would be sure to extract his pound of flesh from the wage-slaves.

  'All the keys are kept at the lodge,' the doctor went on, 'and they must sign for them, then at the end of the shift, they hand them back to the lodge-porter. The key to the side-gate isn't on the general rings.'

  Once again, there was that faint unease. Rafferty made no comment. He would allow Melville-Briggs's well-polished skin to sweat a little. It would do him good. If anyone else did have a key to that door, the gate-porter would be able to tell them.

  'As I said, I'll need to speak to the staff and patients as well, Sir. Could a room could be put at my disposal?’

  'I'll speak to my secretary,' Melville-Briggs agreed briefly. 'I'm sure we'll be able to come up with something suitable.' He fixed Rafferty with a determined eye, and added, 'though I must insist that my patients are disturbed as little as possible. Frankly, I fail to see any reason to question them at all.'

  Rafferty thought it likely that Melville-Briggs's concern was less for his highly-strung patients and more for the possible loss of revenue from his patients' wealthy and easily-alarmed relatives. 'I'm afraid it is necessary, sir.' His voice was firm. 'This was a particularly brutal murder, and before I charge anyone I need to be sure we have a water-tight case. The patients may have seen something that would put the identity of the murderer beyond doubt. Perhaps one of them—' Rafferty broke off abruptly as he realised that the suggestion that one of the doctor’s precious patients might even have done the deed was unlikely to go down well.

  Melville-Briggs's small eyes narrowed as though he had followed the train of Rafferty's thoughts. 'Assuming the girl died sometime last night, they'd all have been in bed and sedated, with nurses in constant attendance.' Melville-Briggs's voice was sharp. 'Anyway, the patients sleep in the bedroom block and their windows overlook the rose-garden, not the gate.'

  Rafferty persisted. 'Even so, we still need to take their statements and eliminate them from our inquiries, Sir. They may have seen someone suspicious hanging about earlier yesterday.'

  Melville-Briggs gave in ungraciously. 'Oh, very well.'

  'We'll be very discreet, Sir,' Rafferty soothed.

  Melville-Briggs didn't look convinced and, after a pained glance at Rafferty's unruly red hair and loud pink tie, he closed his eyes briefly. 'Now, if you'll excuse me, I must get back to my patients.'

  Rafferty wasn't sure if he'd imagined the, 'while I've still got some left,' tagged on to the end of the doctor's reply. With a curt nod, Melville-Briggs made for the house.

  Rafferty sighed, and his gaze drooped sufficiently to notice the splatter of breakfast egg on his tie. He sighed again, and his lips tightened. Melville-Briggs was going to be a problem; he could sense it. Just because, so far, he'd been reasonably accommodating, didn't mean it would last. 'Dally was right,' he remarked gloomily to Llewellyn, as he watched the doctor's retreating back. He even walked rich. 'Gentleman Jim's going to be trouble. Did you notice the charm beginning to wear thin?'

  'He just needs a little careful handling, Sir,' remarked Llewellyn smoothly. 'As the Bible says, "A soft answer turneth away wrath,"' adding, as Rafferty stared at him, momentarily speechless, 'Proverbs 15 verse—'

  'Yes, all right!' Rafferty interrupted, not altogether surprised to discover that Llewellyn had a Machiavellian side to his nature. 'I had enough of bible-thumpers at school without you starting. Anyway,' he added flatly, 'I'm not here to massage Melville-Briggs’s inflated ego.'

  But he was a friend of the CC, he reminded himself unhappily. Perhaps Llewellyn had a point, though he didn't intend to give his sergeant the satisfaction of knowing he was right. He was unbearable enough as it was. 'So, you catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar,' he remarked sardonically. 'I'll bear it in mind.' But he was only too conscious that he'd have to do more than that. It went against the grain, but he knew if he didn't want him to start a loud and angry buzzing, Melville-Briggs was one ugly bluebottle he would be wise to coat in as much honey as he could muster.

  DR. DALLY HAD FINISHED his examination and the body was ready to be taken to the mortuary. Rafferty stood and watched as the shrouded corpse was placed in the back of the mortuary van. So lost was he in silent, brooding contemplation, that he jumped a foot in the air, as from behind him, there came a cackle of maniacal laughter. He turned and found himself eyeball to eyeball with a man in pyjamas, presumably one of Dr. Melville-Briggs's precious patients. The man's pupils were wildly dilated, and his curly dark hair and long beard gave him a biblical appearance, which his first words did nothing to contradict.

  'So, the whore has gone, then?'

  All senses suddenly alert, Rafferty asked, 'Did you know her?' But why would he, he reasoned? Melvil
le-Briggs had probably been correct when he'd said the patients would have been quiet and sedated at the time of the murder. And if that was so, how could this one even guess at her identity, especially as her features had been rendered unrecognisable, even by her own mother?

  The man didn't seem to think his question in any way odd. 'Of course, I knew her. Doesn't every man recognise that foul, naked wanton, the Whore of Babylon?' As the mortuary van came round the far side of the house and continued up the drive, he raised a wiry, pyjama-clad arm and pointed. 'Jezebel has gone now. The devil will find a place for her in hell. So shall end all fornicators.' He lowered his condemning arm and began to pound his bunched-up fist into the palm of his other hand.

  Rafferty noticed that the man's skin was stained with a red substance that looked very like blood. With a little chill, he wondered whether Melville-Briggs might have been wrong. Was it possible this poor, sick creature had somehow evaded the nursing staff and gained entrance to the grounds?

  His confidence plummeted. Having an outsider commit the murder would be awful enough, from the doctor's point of view, but to have one of his patients proved the guilty party would be very bad for business. Very bad indeed. He would probably prefer the case not to be solved at all.

  If one of the patients was the murderer, it was evident he would have a fight on his hands. And Rafferty suspected that Melville-Briggs was the kind of man who would fight dirty.

  Chapter Three

  LLEWELLYN BROKE INTO his reverie. 'I had a word with Constable Hanks. Seems the body was found this morning by one of the gate porters.' He consulted his notes. 'Name of Gilbert. Apparently, he was just coming on duty by the side gate.'

  'He had a key to that gate, did he?'

  Llewellyn nodded.

  'You're sure, man?'

  Llewellyn looked down his long nose at Rafferty's sharp tone. 'Quite sure, Sir. Gilbert's at the gate-lodge now should you wish to question him about it yourself.'