‘What for, for goodness’ sake?’ Brenda’s heart was beating a drumroll in her chest and her stomach began coiling itself into knots. ‘If it’s drugs you’re after, you won’t find none here.’ As if he had not heard her, the sergeant said, ‘Right, lads, you know what to do.’ The men melted away and he turned back to the two women. ‘Just relax, ladies. Why don’t you sit down?’ He made gestures towards the couch. ‘We won’t be here any longer than necessary.’ Hesitantly, Brenda obeyed.
‘You as well, madam,’ he said to Auntie Gwen.
The old woman scowled. ‘I don’t need the likes of you to tell me to sit down in me niece’s ’ouse,’ she said resentfully. She sat down nevertheless, perching on the edge of her chair as if she suspected the cushion of concealing an explosive charge. She pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes, lit one and was immediately overcome by a prolonged fit of coughing which all but drowned the noise of tramping feet and banging doors that came from upstairs. ‘Bleedin’ cheek!’ she grumbled as soon as her power of speech returned.
After what seemed an age, during which it sounded to Brenda as if every piece of furniture in the house was being taken apart, one of the officers entered the room carrying a holdall. At the sight of it, her heart sank. She knew she should have found a safer hiding place for that stash as soon as she came across it, might have guessed that the money was hot. What with all the hoo-ha over Charlie’s death, she’d put it off. Now it was too late.
‘What have we got here, Cross?’ Sergeant Fleming began poking among the wads of money. ‘Looks like you and your husband don’t trust banks,’ he observed to Brenda.
‘My late husband,’ she said, adopting a mournful expression and hoping against hope that reminding him of her recent widowhood might somehow count in her favour, ‘looked after all our financial and business affairs. I had nothing to do with any of it.’
‘So you’ve no idea where this lot came from?’ Brenda shook her head. ‘How about this, then?’ Like a child fishing for a present in a bran tub at a village fete, he rummaged at the bottom of the holdall and came up with a sparkling diamond bracelet. ‘Ever seen this before? No, of course not! He was saving it to put in your Christmas stocking. Very nice!’
Brenda’s eyes popped. She insisted, this time with complete honesty, that she had absolutely no knowledge of the jewellery. She wondered what other treasures Charlie had hidden under the money and privately cursed herself even more furiously at not having investigated further. Just to have that incredible stash to dip into had been enough without expecting the contents of Aladdin’s cave as well.
Auntie Gwen’s chin had almost hit her ample chest. ‘Jesus Christ, where’d the bugger nick that from?’ she exclaimed, forgetting discretion in her astonishment.
‘Good question,’ said the sergeant genially, while Brenda shot her aunt a withering glance. That was one thing Charlie had been right about, she thought viciously, the old bag has got a big mouth. For the moment, she felt her devotion to her relative wearing a little thin.
Fleming turned to the officer who had given him the holdall. ‘Has the dog come up with anything, Cross?’ he asked.
‘Nothing so far, Sarge. He’s just going to give the kitchen a going over.’
‘Right, well, let’s leave the others to get on with it, shall we? You can come back to the station with me and this lady.’ He turned to Brenda. ‘I’m arresting you for being in possession of stolen property,’ he informed her. ‘You do not have to say anything, but …’ The remainder of the caution was uttered in the teeth of a stream of abuse from Auntie Gwen and an outburst of hysterical weeping from Brenda Foss.
Ignoring Kelly’s protests, Sukey leapt out of the patrol car in which Trudy had driven the two of them to the hospital, rushed through the swing doors leading to the casualty department and collided with a young nurse carrying an armful of manila folders.
‘I’m so sorry!’ Sukey fielded a couple of the folders as they slid from the top of the heap. ‘Can you help me, please?’ Awkwardly on account of her injured shoulder, she fished her ID card from her pocket. ‘A patient – a young man with a head injury – was brought in a short time ago under police escort. Where will I find him?’
She stood fuming with impatience while the startled nurse pulled herself together, adjusted her spectacles, peered at the card and carefully compared the photograph with the original before saying, ‘Round the corner, last cubicle on the left.’
A uniformed constable whom Sukey did not recognise was standing at the far end of the corridor. When she introduced herself he said, ‘I got your message, but I haven’t been able to do anything about it. The doctor won’t allow any questions until she’s given the patient a thorough check-up.’ He looked curiously at her, taking in the bandage and her generally dishevelled appearance. ‘What’s it all about?’
‘The negatives are of some outdoor shots I took at a house in Cheltenham. DI Mahoney at Headquarters wants to see them in connection with a possible suspicious death inquiry. That’s really all I know, except that our friend in there was very anxious to get hold of them before anyone else did. By the way, did you get his name?’
The officer consulted his notebook. ‘Palmer,’ he said. ‘Richard Palmer. Does it mean anything to you?’
‘No.’ She put a hand to her forehead, trying to think. She was beginning to feel dizzy again; nothing made sense.
The officer caught her by her uninjured arm. ‘You need treatment yourself,’ he said anxiously.
Impatiently, she shook him off. ‘I’m OK. It’s just reaction I guess. Ah, here’s the doctor.’ A middle-aged woman in a white coat with a stethoscope round her neck emerged from the cubicle and looked questioningly from one to the other.
Sukey explained her mission. The doctor nodded, a look of enlightenment dawning on her face. She disappeared behind the curtains; there was the sound of a scuffle and the constable plunged in after her with Sukey at his heels. After a brief tussle, a crumpled, semi-transparent envelope was wrenched from the patient’s unwilling hand.
‘There was nothing in his pockets, but the nurse spotted him putting something in the waste bin when he was brought in,’ the doctor explained as she handed it to Sukey. ‘When I went to retrieve it, he jumped on me.’
Sukey stood staring in amazement while the officer handcuffed and cautioned his sullen-faced prisoner. ‘You do know him, don’t you?’ he said.
Sukey nodded. ‘He’s an instructor at the health club where I do fitness training,’ she said. ‘He’s known there as Rick.’
Twenty-Six
After handing the negatives to a police motorcyclist despatched by Inspector Mahony from Headquarters, Sukey finally submitted to having her wound stitched before being driven home by Trudy. There, she was handed over to Fergus along with a supply of painkillers, which made her too woozy to argue when he ordered her to go and lie down while he finished clearing up the muddle that Rick had left behind. At seven o’clock he roused her to announce that supper was ready and the two of them sat down in an unnaturally tidy kitchen to a meal of shepherd’s pie from the freezer and a stir-fry of fresh vegetables that he had prepared himself.
‘This is brilliant,’ she told him as he served the food. ‘You even remembered to warm the plates.’
Fergus gave a self-conscious grin. ‘I got told off the other evening for giving Anita hot chicken pie on a cold plate.’
‘I see. You don’t take any notice when I tell you something, but when the girlfriend—’
‘OK, point taken. Eat that while it’s hot.’
Sukey picked up her fork. ‘Now that is your mother talking.’ Presently, she glanced at the clock and said, ‘I wonder how things are going at the station. I’d give anything to be a fly on the wall while Rick’s being interviewed.’
‘You might learn something later on.’ Fergus helped himself to more vegetables before adding, ‘Jim phoned while you were asleep.’
Sukey paused with a forkful of food halfway to her
mouth. ‘Why didn’t you wake me?’ she demanded.
‘Because he told me not to. He wanted to know how you were… he sounded really upset about you being hurt. He sends his love and says he’ll try and get round later, if he can make it at a reasonable hour. If not, he’ll phone again. Would you like some more pie?’
‘No thanks, that was super.’
‘Right. Give me your plate. What would you like next?’
‘How about bananas and ice cream? I’ll get it.’
He was on his feet like a shot. ‘No you won’t. You’ll stay right there.’
‘D’you boss Anita around like this?’
‘Of course.’ He brought the bananas to the table and spooned out the ice cream. ‘And when you’ve finished that, you’re going to sit on the couch with your feet up and watch the telly.’
‘If you say so.’
She woke three hours later with Fergus gently shaking her sound shoulder. ‘Visitor,’ he announced.
‘Jim!’ She blinked at him through eyes bleared with sleep, then peered at the clock on the mantelpiece behind him. ‘Gracious! It’s after eleven. You must be out on your feet. And you,’ she turned to Fergus, ‘should be in bed, young man.’
‘She must be OK, she’s started bossing us around,’ Jim remarked to Fergus. The boy responded with a conspiratorial grin and Sukey felt a twinge of mingled pleasure and amusement at this display of male solidarity. ‘We’ve brought you some coffee,’ Jim went on, holding out a steaming mug. She took it from him with a grateful smile and he sat down beside her. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘The shoulder’s a bit sore, but otherwise I’m fine,’ she replied between sips. ‘What about you? Have you found out what I’ve done to Rick to make him have two attempts at killing me?’
He patted her free hand. ‘Don’t feel offended, it was nothing personal.’ His tone was jocular, but his eyes were serious and she knew that the levity was a cloak for the concern he was feeling for her.
‘Then what was it? And why did he want the negatives?’
‘Because they prove that his father had been murdered.’
‘His father? I don’t understand.’
‘Richard Palmer, the young man you know as Rick, is the illegitimate son of Charlie Foss.’
Sukey felt her eyes bulging. ‘You’re kidding!’ was all she could think of on the spur of the moment.
‘It’s true. He’s grown up hating Foss because of the way he ditched his mother the moment she told him she was pregnant and gave her no money at all to help her bring up her child. By all accounts the poor woman had a pretty thin time from then on, and not long ago she suffered a very painful death from cancer. Some extra comforts towards the end wouldn’t have come amiss, but even then Charlie wouldn’t cough up a brass farthing.’
‘What a nasty piece of work,’ Sukey commented.
‘Too right. And from what’s been coming out during the past few hours, it’s clear his son isn’t the only person who won’t be shedding tears at the funeral. If you believe only half of what his wife and her aunt and his office manager have to say about him, Charlie Foss, alias Hugo Bayliss, was an out-and-out shit.’
‘Just asking to be topped,’ said Sukey drily. ‘So, what was the scheme?’
‘Very simple. They waited for an opportunity, when Foss was about to take a sauna—’
‘Just a minute. They? This isn’t some Murder on the Orient Express-type scenario, is it?’
‘No. Just Rick and Charlie Foss’s wife, Brenda. The aunt knew nothing about the murder plot, but I suspect she’d quite happily have joined in if she’d been invited. Steven Lovett – who’s in love with Brenda Foss, by the way – wasn’t in the scheme either, but he had no great opinion of his employer. He only carried on working for him because of Brenda. He’s pretty devastated at what she’s done, but as good as says that after the way Foss treated her, he got what he deserved.’
‘So what exactly did they do?’
‘It started with something Brenda talked about to Rick from time to time… not, she maintains, with any serious intention of putting it into practice, more to relieve her feelings when Foss had given her a particularly hard time. She used to say things like, “How can we fix it so Charlie keels over in the sauna, just like the consultant warned him might happen?” They often discussed possible ways and means, but never, she insists, really intending to do anything about it.’
‘What changed their minds?’
‘It was last Monday, when Charlie beat her until she was almost unconscious, that she felt enough was enough, got on the blower to Rick and said, “Let’s do it.” He had some barbiturate tablets left over from an old prescription of his mother’s and he gave them to Brenda. The idea was to find an opportunity to slip Foss a couple – not a lethal dose, just enough to make him drowsy – at a moment when he was preparing to take a sauna. Once he was in the cabin and beginning to drop off, Rick was to turn the heat up full blast and wedge the door shut from the outside. Because of his heart condition they were banking on death being fairly rapid and put down to natural causes. They struck lucky with the first, but there were some doubts about the cause.’
‘And all this happened on Wednesday morning?’ Sukey put a hand over her mouth. ‘That means… oh, my God! He was in there cooking while I was wandering around admiring his garden.’
Her stomach heaved at the realisation, but Jim was able to give at least partial reassurance. ‘There was no intention of leaving him there to cook,’ he said. ‘Brenda called Rick to say that her part of the job was done. His was to get round there straightaway, fix the sauna and put everything back to normal once he was sure Foss was dead, while she went off to London as arranged.’
‘And I turned up and started taking photos instead of doing what Brenda told me and going quietly away,’ said Sukey. It was beginning to make sense. ‘And one of the photos I gave them must have shown the sauna door with the wedge in place and the setting on high.’
‘Exactly. They were already a bit jumpy because a postmortem had been ordered and they knew that if the police got hold of those negatives they’d be sunk. They had to destroy them – hence the break-in here. And for the second time, you turned up at the wrong moment.’
Sukey finished her coffee in silence, digesting the information, mentally slotting the jigsaw together but finding one or two pieces missing.
‘How come Foss gave Rick a job?’ she asked after a few moments’ thought.
‘Obviously he had no idea who he was. When Rick finished his fitness and leisure course at the technical college, there just happened to be a vacancy at one of the Bodywise Clubs and Brenda suggested he went after it.’
‘I see.’ Sukey was silent again for a while, recalling the anger in the young man’s eyes at the arrogant way ‘Gary’ had shouted at him. Then she thought of something else. ‘That first time Rick attacked me, when I went into the house and started poking around,’ she said, ‘there was an open holdall on the bed. What was in it?’
‘The proceeds of the robbery at the Chants’ house… tens of thousands of pounds plus a load of valuable jewellery.’
‘So that was Foss. I guessed as much when I saw the scratches.’
‘What scratches?’
She explained about her discovery in the mortuary, adding, ‘I suppose he stole Terry Holland’s van to stitch him up for the robbery and the killing.’
‘Not the killing. That was Chant himself. He’s made a full confession.’ Seeing Sukey’s look of bewilderment, Jim explained. ‘Listen, Sook, it’s time you got some rest. You too, Fergus, got to be in good shape for the match.’
‘You’re right… I’m sure we’re both pretty whacked.’ Sukey got up from the couch. Her shoulder was beginning to ache again; a second dose of painkillers might be a good idea. Then another point occurred to her.
‘When I turned up at The Laurels on Wednesday morning, Brenda was all ready to leave, but she went back indoors for a few seconds before the taxi arrived. I
suppose she was warning Rick to keep an eye open and make sure I didn’t hang around. He must have slipped out into the garden himself at one point to see what I was up to and forgotten to close the patio door when he went back. I’d never have realised anything was up if he hadn’t left it wide open.’
‘Ah, but it wasn’t Rick who left it open, it was Terry Holland,’ said Jim.
‘Holland? Whatever was he doing there?’
‘Collecting the five grand he’d demanded from Foss a couple of nights previously. Brenda had only just learned how Charlie had swindled his partners in crime out of their share of the bank robbery that Holland and another bloke got sent down for. She knew her husband was a crook who’d always managed to stay ahead of the law and she’s been quite happy to live on the proceeds of crime, but she has her own set of values. When she stumbled on the money Charlie had stolen from Chant’s safe, she reckoned Holland was entitled to a share. She left five grand in an envelope tucked behind some cushions in the sitting room and got Rick to give him a call and tell him when and where to find it. What Rick never thought to do was tell him to close the patio door behind him, once he’d collected it. Then, of course, you noticed the door was open and started ferreting around, and we know what happened after that.’ A mischievous smile softened Jim’s tired features.
‘What’s so funny? I nearly got throttled! I suppose it served me right for being nosy!’ said Sukey, feigning indignation.
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘No, but you thought it.’ Momentarily forgetting her injury, she gave him a playful thump on the arm, then winced and put a hand to her shoulder.
‘Is it hurting?’ Fergus asked. ‘Shall I get you some more pills?’
‘In a minute.’ She turned back to Jim. ‘I can understand Rick feeling murderous towards Foss after the callous way he treated his mother, but Brenda… is a jury going to accept that her life with him was really that intolerable?’
Death at Hazel House Page 24