RAFFERTY & LLEWELLYN BOXED SET: BOOKS 1 - 4

by Geraldine Evans

  'It concerns the professional invalid, Mrs Ailing Astell. Her of the hundred and one illnesses, none of which anyone can put a name to.' She leaned back in her chair, a hint of a smile on her ruby-red lips. 'Ask her about the day she telephoned Jasper. She really laid into him. You should have heard her. There didn't sound much wrong with her then, I can tell you.' Her gaze avid, she added mischievously, 'If she could have got her hands on him that day, I think she'd have killed him.'

  Rafferty thought he understood now why Ginnie Campbell had decided to tell them about the phone call. He was willing to bet she'd hoped to make Mrs Astell buy her silence on the matter. But, he realised, she was also capable of making the story up just to cause trouble and get them off her back. Now he asked, 'If they were on the phone, how do you know what she said to him?'

  She shrugged. 'It was an accident,' she told him, her manner implying he could believe what he liked. 'That Peruvian bitch was at lunch, and I was covering the shop. Jasper had a new phone system installed recently. I haven't had much practise at transferring calls on it, and I thought I'd cut her off at first. Anyway, I must have made the connection correctly, because Jasper came on the line and she just started in on him. I didn't mean to listen to their conversation, but I was so shocked at her language, that I was more or less hypnotised. Besides, it was odd that she should ring Jasper at all. She never has before, as far as I know. She didn't like him.'

  'So how much of this call did you overhear?'

  'Quite a bit.' She held his gaze for a while, and then laughed in that curiously abrupt way she had. 'All right, I admit it. I listened in to most of it. So what? I was curious. So would you have been if you'd heard her.' Now that she had dropped the pretence that her eavesdropping had been accidental, she allowed a little acid to creep into her voice. 'I could hardly believe my ears. I wouldn't have thought the dying swan knew such language. Such Lady of the Manor airs she gives herself. Edwin came from a much poorer background, I gather, and is sensitive about it—thinks she married beneath her. But he might have changed his mind if he'd heard her that day.'

  Her lip curled. 'Not that she'll be able to think herself so high and mighty now, anyway. I suppose you know she was a Lloyd's name?' This was news to Rafferty, but he nodded, hoping it would encourage more information. 'Then you'll know she lost a packet in that scandal some years ago. Nearly everything that her grandfather left her.'

  'Even so,' Rafferty objected. 'She must still be a relatively rich woman. Her father was wealthy. Are you saying that whatever he left her has gone too?'

  'He left her nothing in his Will, apart from his old journals and film equipment. His money went to a cousin. The Astells have had to mortgage the house.' Her smile was vindictive. 'That should bring her down a peg or two.'

  'How do you know all this?'

  She shrugged. 'I keep my ear to the ground.’ To the telephone, too, by her own admission. ‘Besides, Edwin has been to and from the accountants for months. Jasper offered them a loan, but Edwin turned him down. Said he did enough already by paying the bulk of the partnership bills.'

  Rafferty nodded. It was strange that Sarah Astell's father had left her nothing. Of course, with his extravagant lifestyle he might well have had little money to leave. Still, he decided, it might be worth checking out Carstairs' Will. If what Ginnie Campbell had said was true, it was their first indication that the Astells were in financial difficulties. The accountant should be able to confirm it, as he'd discovered during his visit that Mr Spenny acted in a private capacity for Mrs Astell, though, unfortunately for her, he hadn't had control of her investments. Maybe he'd acted for her father also.

  'What exactly did Mrs Astell say to Moon?'

  'A lot of it was so garbled, I couldn't understand it. But I think she was accusing Jasper of assaulting someone, though whether it was herself or someone else... She seemed to think he would know what she was talking about, anyway. She threatened to make it public knowledge, ruin his career.'

  Hadleigh, Rafferty thought. She rang him about Terry Hadleigh. 'How did Mr Moon react?'

  'How do you expect him to react? He sounded really upset. When I went in to see him later, he was very quiet, brooding, not like himself at all. I asked him what was wrong, but he wouldn't say. And I could hardly admit I'd listened in to the call.'

  'What did he say to her?'

  'Very little at first. But then, when she started threatening him, he broke in and told her she had no idea what she was talking about, and that she should take care. He began to explain that whatever she was talking about had been little more than a misunderstanding, but when she shouted him down and refused to listen to what he had to say, he began to shout a bit himself. I remember his exact words. He said the past often concealed more than it revealed, and that if she was determined to pry into it, she might discover more than she bargained for.'

  'And did she say she would carry on, anyway?'

  'She did. She sounded very determined. She certainly wouldn't listen to his explanation, whatever it was.' Ginnie Campbell gave another careless shrug. 'I didn't hear the rest. A customer came into the shop, so I had to put the phone down.'

  'And when–exactly—did this conversation between Mr Moon and Mrs Astell take place?'

  Obviously she had deliberately saved the best bit till last. Her eyes darker than ever, she told them, 'the day before Jasper died.'

  Although Rafferty judged Ginnie Campbell to be more than capable of lying when it suited her, he thought that the gist of what she had told them had been truthful, even if she had held back the rest of it for purposes of her own. He certainly didn't believe that she had replaced the receiver when the conversation had been so riveting. She would think nothing of letting a customer wait, he was sure.

  Soon after he had shown her out, Llewellyn returned. Rafferty told him what she'd said. 'I wonder what Moon thought Sarah Astell might discover that she would rather not know?' he mused. 'Do you reckon Astell and Moon might have had a thing going? Moon was certainly very generous to him.'

  Llewellyn shrugged. 'Possible, I suppose, but unlikely. I would say that Astell is more into the cerebral than the physical. I really can't see him and Moon... No, it's what Mrs Campbell didn’t say that interested me. We know she's deeply in debt. She certainly overheard more than she admitted. Possibly she hoped to extract a profit or at least a partnership from Moon for keeping silent about whatever she had just learned.'

  Rafferty nodded. Of course, Ginnie Campbell knew that Sarah Astell was broke; any calls to her would be more for pleasure than profit. But, if she had believed Moon had something to hide – like the Hadleigh case – he would be the natural target for blackmail. But Ginnie Campbell hadn't been as clever as she thought. What she had told them didn't only put Sarah Astell under the spotlight; it further incriminated Ginnie Campbell herself. 'Ginnie Campbell had worked there for a year. Maybe, given her propensity for eavesdropping, she had come across other sensitive information concerning Moon.'

  Llewellyn nodded. 'She took some time off from the shop immediately after that phone call—I doubt her boyfriend occupied all her time. I wonder where she went?'

  'And who she saw. Depending on what else she found out, she could certainly have gone to see Moon that Thursday evening, and threatened him with exposure; in turn Moon could have threatened her with the sack and arrest. Her quick temper would do the rest. But that's all just more speculation at the moment. Another little chat with Mrs Astell would seem indicated. But first.' He picked up the phone. 'I think the accountant should be able to clear up a few points.'

  Mr Spenny confirmed what Ginnie Campbell had told them; not only had Alan Carstairs left his money – quite a substantial sum – to a cousin, but that Sarah Astell's maternal inheritance had largely gone to pay off her commitments at Lloyds. There was very little money left, and what there was came from the business.

  'Sorry, Daff,' Rafferty apologised as he put the phone down. 'In all this excitement I didn't ask what you found ou
t about Ellen Hadleigh.'

  'The rubbish from her flats is collected on a Friday, so if she killed Moon, she could have got rid of any stained clothing the very next day.'

  'Handy. Have you set the squad to asking around to find out what she was wearing the Thursday night?' Llewellyn nodded. 'Right. Perhaps we should see what Sarah Astell has to say for herself before we tackle Ellen Hadleigh again. Come on.'

  THEIR REAPPEARANCE so soon after their previous visit seemed to make Sarah Astell nervous. Her thin hand clasped her chest after she had opened the front door, as though to calm an erratic heartbeat. 'What is it this time, Inspector? If you came to see my husband, he's upstairs.'

  'Actually,' Rafferty replied. 'It was you we came to see.'

  'Me?' Her gaze flickered anxiously between them. Her attempted smile faltered and she stood back. 'Perhaps you had better come in?'

  As he made to follow her through the hall, Rafferty paused as he recognised a profile amongst the gallery of photographs in the hall. 'I didn't realise your father knew the author Nat Kingston, Mrs Astell.'

  'They were friends for years,' she told them briefly. 'Of course, they were both artists of a sort.'

  'We actually met Nat Kingston the other day,' Rafferty told her. 'He's a sick man now. Though Eckersley, his secretary, makes a good nurse. He's very protective of him.'

  She nodded. 'Jocelyn Eckersley always cared far more about Kingston, his fame, his reputation, than Kingston himself. He couldn't have a more attentive nurse.' Fiddling with a pearl-like stone at her neck, she added softly, 'Jocelyn always did keep the vultures at bay. I imagine he'll do that till the end.'

  She led them to her sitting room. Edwin Astell must have heard them at the door, for, from behind them came the sound of footsteps on the stairs and, wheezing a little as though still troubled by his bronchitis. He followed them into the sitting room.

  The room’s previous clutter of medications and dainty knick-knacks was now dwarfed by piles of photograph albums. They were scattered on the floor, on Sarah Astell's chaise longue. One was open at a particularly large picture of her father as a very young man. On the opposite page was another picture of him. They had both been damaged and had jagged rips through their centres, from top to bottom, as if someone had torn them in a rage. Sellotape now held them together. The second picture showed him with his arm flung round a friend's shoulders and, as in so many of the photographs of Carstairs, he was staring straight into the camera. The friend was in profile, his large nose jutting towards Carstairs as if he intended to peck him to death. Their laughing faces exuded the unshakeable youthful conviction that immortality was theirs.

  A depression descended on Rafferty as he realised that not only were they both probably dead, but that, at nearly thirty-eight, over half his own expected three score years and ten had passed. And all he'd got to show for it was one failed marriage. His gaze caught the swirling leaves in the garden, and his thoughts turned morbidly poetical. That's us, he reflected bleakly. Like leaves, we are cast up, then down, upon the whims of fate. No-one hears us, heeds us or delivers us. Such is life. He came back from his wretched musings to find Llewellyn and the Astells staring at him, and he wondered if he had spoken aloud. But, as no-one was ringing for the men in white coats, he thought not. His gaze dropped back to the photograph of the youths, and he frowned as a fleeting sense of déjà-vu came to him and as quickly vanished.

  After tidying away the albums, Mrs Astell invited them to sit down. 'So what did you want to speak to me about, Inspector?' she asked, when they were all seated.

  'It's about a telephone call you made to Jasper Moon, Mrs Astell.' Rafferty had half expected her to deny ringing Moon. Indeed, he could see the words of denial hovering on her lips. But obviously she thought better of it. Perhaps, Rafferty mused, she had remembered that it had been Ginnie Campbell who had put her through when she rang that lunchtime. She would be aware she couldn't expect discretion from such a source. Or maybe she was hoping that Rafferty didn't know any details of the call, and had merely checked with the telephone company. If so, he immediately dashed such hopes. 'Perhaps I ought to tell you that your telephone conversation with Jasper Moon was overheard.'

  Edwin Astell, his gaze fixed anxiously on his wife, made a sound of dismay, but otherwise said nothing.

  'I see.' She clasped her hands in her lap, and gave them a faint smile. 'So that's what Virginia Campbell wanted to speak to me about. She's rung several times, but I refused to speak to her. I don't like the woman; she's so dreadfully coarse. I suppose she thought I would be willing to pay her to keep quiet about it.'

  Rafferty made no comment. 'Perhaps you would like to tell me your version of the conversation?' he suggested. 'We like to be accurate.'

  She sat up straight. 'Very well. I'm not ashamed of what I said to him. Someone needed to say it. I'm afraid that after Mrs Hadleigh left last Wednesday, I still felt so strongly, I knew I had to do something positive. At first, I didn't know what. Then I realised there was one thing I could do—I could tell Moon exactly what I thought of him. So I rang Moon. I felt I owed her that.'

  'So you never really intended making the court case public?'

  'How could I, without hurting Mrs Hadleigh and her son further? I took care not to let Jasper Moon know that, though. Edwin was unwell that day and in bed. When I told him what had happened, he tried to dissuade me from ringing Moon.' Understandably, she gave her husband a propitiating glance. 'He didn't say so, but I realise now that he was worried Moon might take it out on him in some way, even break up the partnership, but at the time I didn't think of that aspect. I felt too strongly about it.'

  'I wasn't really worried that Jasper would end our partnership,' her husband broke in. 'I was more concerned for you. You know how any upset affects you.'

  She gave him another tremulous, apologetic smile. 'I wish now I'd listened to you. But at the time, I felt it was something I had to do. And your poor head was aching too much for you to have the strength to dissuade me.'

  She glanced at Llewellyn's expressionless countenance, as though she detected disapproval. It was a feeling with which Rafferty was familiar. Even with his features blank and his tongue silent, Llewellyn's thoughts somehow communicated themselves. They frequently caused an unwise retaliatory outburst from Rafferty. It seemed they had the same effect on Sarah Astell, for now she gave a defensive laugh, and told them, 'Of course, I calmed down later, and felt cross that I'd let Moon distress me so much.' Her lower lip trembled. For a moment, she seemed to hover between rage and tears, and a frown creased her brow as if she was confused by her own strongly contradictory emotions.

  'I'm surprised that after such a conversation, Jasper Moon should still send you a birthday present,' Llewellyn remarked. 'He did still send it,I understand?'

  Sarah Astell blinked. 'Yes. He gave it to Edwin before he left the office on Thursday evening. I put it straight in the bin. I didn't want his presents. Especially—’ she broke off. 'Edwin found it and made me take it back.' She glanced across at her husband. 'I felt I owed it to him to do that much.'

  'I gather he'd sent you a DVD?' Llewellyn went on. 'I—'

  She stared at him, eyes wide. 'How do you know what he sent me?'

  'He'd left the wrapped parcel on his desk earlier in the week, Mrs Astell,' he explained. 'Not difficult to guess what it was.'

  'I see.'

  'I hope it was to your taste?'

  'I've no idea, Sergeant. I didn't watch it.'

  'I see.' Llewellyn, who seemed to have the bit between his teeth, paused before he changed tack. 'During your conversation, I understand he mentioned something about you finding out more than you bargained for if you dug into the past. Have you any idea what he meant?'

  'None. I took it for granted he was merely trying to intimidate me with non-existent will o' the wisps. But as I had no intention of causing Mrs Hadleigh more upset, I didn't think any more about it.'

  Llewellyn seemed to find her answer a bit hard to swall
ow, but as he appeared to have run out of steam for the present, Rafferty called a halt and made for the door. 'We may need to speak to you again,' he warned and caught the anxious glance the Astells exchanged. 'Come along, Llewellyn.'

  'But—’ Llewellyn strangled his protest for the time being, but when they reached the drive, he complained, 'You were very easy on them, weren't you? Doesn't it strike you as odd that Moon should still send her a birthday present after that telephone call? Surely—'

  'Of course it's bloody odd,' Rafferty retorted. 'But I can't see that badgering Sarah Astell about it is likely to explain the oddity. It's clear she didn't want Moon's gift. But being on the receiving end of unwanted presents is hardly a hanging offence, and as he's not about for me to ask why he sent it, there's not a lot I can do to find out. It's not as if she's even got any sort of motive that we've been able to discover; being repelled by homosexuals is scarcely reason enough for murder, or half the population would be at it.'

  'But even so—’ Llewellyn began again.

  Rafferty interrupted him to demand. 'What did you expect me to do? Sit there for the rest of the day till she'd explained Moon's thick skin to your satisfaction?' He got in the car and started the engine. 'I tell you what I am going to do,' he said. 'I'm going to get a bite to eat. I'm starving.'

  The Astells' house was situated on the southern outskirts of Elmhurst. Rafferty had already noted that it was only a five-minute run in the car to one of his favourite riverside pubs, The Black Swan, and now, with a frown, he nosed the car towards it. 'I hope they've got fish on the menu. So far, this case seems to have twisted and turned like an eel with the runs. If we're to get a firm hold on it, I reckon we're going to need all the brain food we can get.'