Murder Served Cold

by Paula Williams

  “Will? What’s wrong?” I said anxiously. “Is it your dad?”

  “No. Nothing like that. Where are you?”

  I hesitated. If I told him the truth, he’d want to know what I was doing there. And if I told him that, then he’d come across all bossy older brother again and tell me not to. Just when I was beginning to get somewhere.

  “Where am I? You phoned me to ask me where I am?” I said, my voice tinged with impatience. “Well, if you must know, I’m on my way to see Elsie Flintlock again. You know, that research job I went to see her about yesterday? Well, she said she’d look out some old photos, and for me to come back this afternoon, which is what I’m doing.”

  “Oh right. It’s just – well, I thought we might catch up later this evening?”

  “I’m not sure—” I began but he cut in.

  “I need to see you, Katie,” he said. “I have something to tell you. It’s important. I should have told you yesterday but…”

  “But you went off in a strop. I remember,” I said. “Ok, I’ll see you this evening. But, Will…”

  “Sorry. Got to go. There’s someone at the door. I’ll see you later, then. About seven? I’ll call for you.”

  He ended the call and I looked across at Donald, who was watching anxiously.

  “Trouble?” he said.

  I shook my head. “Just Will.”

  “That’s ok then.” He reached down behind the counter and took out a bottle and two glasses and placed them on the counter between us. “Sit yourself down, Katie, why don’t you? Unless, of course, you’re in a hurry to go off and see Elsie Flintlock? Who, by the way, I’m pretty sure I heard making plans to go into Dintscombe with Olive this afternoon.”

  “No, that’s ok. I’ll catch up with Elsie later,” I said. “I’m in no rush. I just don’t like Will checking up on me like he’s my dad, or something.”

  He gave a flicker of a smile. “I don’t blame you. You’ve been having quite a time of it lately, haven’t you? I can see you’re not your usual chirpy self at the moment. Would you like a drink? Something to put the colour back in your cheeks? I’m having one. I don’t do this often but it’s been one of those days. And I prefer not to drink alone.”

  “No, thanks. I don’t…” I began, but changed my mind. Donald was being unusually kind and it seemed churlish to refuse. Besides, he looked as if he wanted to talk. About Gerald. Who knows what he might be ready to spill? “I mean, yes, thank you. A drink would be lovely. I’ll have a glass of dry white wine, please.”

  “Come on now. You look like you need something stronger than that.” His grey eyes seemed anxious as he peered at me. “You really are looking quite peaky, you know. Here, try this. It’s my favourite single malt whisky. Definitely not for the customers.” He poured generous measures of the peaty brown liquid into two glasses and handed one to me.

  I shrugged and took the glass. I raised it to my lips and coughed as the fumes hit the back of my throat before I’d even tasted it. “Strong stuff,” I murmured, my eyes watering.

  “Sip it slowly,” he said with a smile. “You’re supposed to savour it to get its full benefit, not knock it back like it was medicine.”

  I took a tentative sip and smiled back. Donald wasn’t such a bad chap. And maybe, if he was relaxed a bit after a glass of his special malt, who knows what he might tell me? Obviously there was something about Gerald Crabshaw that was bothering him.

  “You were saying about Gerald Crabshaw, before Will phoned,” I prompted. “That you had your suspicions about him. What sort of suspicions?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck, his face troubled. “The worst. He really is a nasty piece of work, you know, and if you have evidence against him that will help put him away, then that’s all to the good. I’ll give you all the help I can.”

  I wished I had a notebook and pen with me but reckoned if I had, Donald wouldn’t have been so willing to speak freely.

  He raised his glass to me then took a long, deep swallow that almost emptied the glass in one. Obviously, his advice to sip it slowly only applied to novices like me. He was certainly more practised at drinking the stuff than I was, because his eyes showed no sign of watering. Instead, they were clear and steady.

  “You were absolutely right about that so-called alibi I gave him as being false, you know,” he said. “Luckily, the police didn’t ask me for one, else I’d be in all sorts of trouble now, wouldn’t I? Goodness only knows what Joyce would say if she came back from her cruise, to find I was in trouble with the law. Publicans have to be very careful, you know. I could lose my licence just like that.” He snapped his fingers.

  “I suppose you could. Then why did you do it?”

  He topped his glass up, cradled it between his hands and gently swirled the amber liquid. “It was just as you thought. He was blackmailing me,” he said in a low voice that had me straining to hear him. “I’d got in a muddle with my VAT returns – just a straightforward series of bookkeeping errors, and certainly no attempt at fraud on my part. But the Revenue and Customs didn’t see it like that and were making all sorts of threats. Demanding money that I simply didn’t have. I was at my wits’ end. Joyce was going to go ballistic when she found out.”

  “Why didn’t you go to the bank, if you needed a loan?” I asked gently.

  “They’d already turned me down. I was frantic. Then one afternoon, Gerald and I were sitting here, like we are now, sharing a couple of glasses. And, well, I suppose like an idiot, I’d had a couple more than I should have and was foolish enough to tell him about the mess I was in. He was very sympathetic and lent me some money to clear the debt. And, like an even bigger fool, I accepted. As soon as I did that, I was in trouble. Big, big trouble. You see, he has this scam going with Shane Freeman. You know, the lorry driver who does all those runs to Europe?”

  I nodded. Excitement surged through me. So Jules had been right about that. Suddenly it all began to make sense. “I’ve seen them together, on several occasions. They looked as if they were up to no good.” I thought about Amy’s mum saying she’d overheard Marjorie having a go at Shane about something. Telling him it had to stop and that she was going to tell the police. And Shane calling at her cottage on the day of the murder. It sounded like he was in it up to his tattooed neck.

  “So what was this scam?” I asked. “Or can I guess? Duty free alcohol and cigarettes?”

  Donald gave a weak smile. “Got it in one. I always said you were a bright girl, Katie, didn’t I? Goodness knows where the stuff came from, I didn’t like to ask. From Shane’s regular trips to the continent, I imagine. Anyway, Gerald ‘persuaded’ me to sell some of it in the pub in return for a small percentage of the profit. Like a fool, I agreed and that was it. He had me by the ears, as he so delicately put it. He said he’d made sure there was evidence against me and not him, that the paper trail ended with me, and threatened to report me if I didn’t back up his story about being with him the day Marjorie Hampton was killed. Well, I’ll be honest, I thought I was just covering up for one of these sordid little affairs he’s always having, and so I went along with it. I know what I did was wrong. But he can be a very persuasive man – and a dangerous enemy.”

  “The guy’s a first class rat.” My mind was racing. If Donald could just keep his nerve and repeat what he’d said to the police, then we had Gerald Crabshaw ‘by the ears’. I raised my glass towards him and smiled encouragingly. “Cheers.”

  “Cheers,” he said, as he glanced down quickly at his watch. “You’re looking better now. I always think a good glass of malt is better than any medicine. It should be on prescription.”

  I agreed wholeheartedly. Particularly when it loosened tongues, the way it had loosened his. “You could be right. I could get a taste for this stuff.”

  Donald smiled briefly, but then looked his usual anxious self again. “Of course, I realise now it wasn’t an affair he was asking me to cover for, as he’d led me to believe, but something much, much worse.” It
was as if, now he’d started talking about it, he just couldn’t stop. I couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. The whole thing had obviously been eating him up inside. “I think – I’m afraid – he may have killed Marjorie Hampton, and I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t mind telling you, Katie, it’s been giving me nightmares. I wake up most nights, sweat running down my face, the image of that poor soul, head first in that freezer with her legs stuck up in the air—”

  I stopped, the glass half way to my lips. “How did you know?” I asked.

  His eyes had the startled look of a rabbit caught in a poacher’s flashlight. “How did I know what?”

  “How did you know Marjorie was found with her legs up in the air? As far as I know, the police haven’t released that bit of information.”

  “Oh Lord, is that right?” He chewed the back of his thumb, his thin, grey face creased with worry. “You say the police haven’t released that information?”

  I shook my head.

  “Well, I’m afraid that confirms my worst suspicions. Because, you see, Gerald told me about the way she was found. He hated poor Marjorie so much, that he…” he swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing convulsively in his thin throat. “I’m sorry to say he found it quite funny. It made me feel ill, the way he carried on. I thought he must have read it somewhere. But if you say the information isn’t in the public domain, then it looks pretty certain that he was actually there, which can only mean one thing, can’t it? He killed Marjorie. And Doreen too, probably. The man really is sick, don’t you agree?”

  Sick? The thought that Gerald Crabshaw found the sight of poor Marjorie’s undignified end amusing was beyond sick. It was inhuman. He deserved to go down for a long, long time.

  “What do you think we should do?” Donald looked as if what he would like to do was run a mile. He was scared, as, of course, was I. It was one thing to speculate as to who might have committed murder. But it was quite another to be faced with the truth.

  “We must tell the police, of course.” It was no comfort to me to be proved right, even though I couldn’t stand the man. Because there was something seriously unsettling discovering that someone you’ve known all your life, the man who’s opened fetes, judged the flower and produce show and laid the wreath on the war memorial every Remembrance Day, is also a cold-blooded murderer. I shivered as I remembered how he’d gripped the handlebars of my bike and wouldn’t let go. How his eyes had blazed with hatred. “Gerald waylaid me when I was on my way here. Goodness knows what he’d have done if Elsie and Olive hadn’t come along.”

  “He threatened you? How? What did he say?”

  “It wasn’t so much what he said. It was the way he looked at me. And he grabbed the handlebars of my bike and wouldn’t let go.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “He was trying to get me to agree to meet him here in the bar.”

  Donald looked surprised. “But why on earth did he think you’d agree to that? No disrespect, Katie, but I wouldn’t have thought you were his type.”

  I flushed. “Yuck. Nothing like that,” I said quickly as I suppressed a shudder. “He said he had a story to give me that was so big, it would get my by-line on the front pages of the nationals. Said he wanted to make things right after getting the editor of The Chronicle to drop me. He seems to be making quite a habit of getting me sacked, don’t you think?”

  Donald had the grace to look embarrassed. “What could I do?” He took another long swig of his malt. “You know how things were between me and him now. It wasn’t my doing, I can promise you. I am sorry about it, though. I mean, if, when this is all over, you want your job back…”

  I thought of Jules and Ed and their struggle to make ends meet with a new baby on the way, and shook my head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve moved on – and I certainly don’t need any help from Gerald Creepy Crabshaw. I imagine that, had I fallen for his ridiculous story, there’d have been some sort of ‘accident’ before I got here.” I suppressed a shudder at the thought of how close I’d come to agreeing to meet him.

  “But you didn’t fall for it?” Donald said.

  “What? His scoop of the century story? Of course not.” Donald didn’t need to know that, just for a second, I’d been tempted to let ambition override common sense. “It was just a ploy to get me to agree to meet him.”

  He smiled. “Very wise. But I’ve got an idea – why don’t we—?” he stopped and shook his head. “But no, it’s too dangerous. We’ve already established we’re dealing with a very ruthless man who would stop at nothing. It wouldn’t be fair to ask you.”

  “Ask me what?”

  “It was a stupid idea anyway. I just thought, why don’t we play him along? You know, trick him into admitting it? You know how he likes to boast.” His grey eyes shone with barely suppressed excitement. “You never know, he might give us something we can take to the police.”

  “But I’ve already told him no.”

  “And you’d rather not. That’s ok. I understand. Forget it. You ready for another one, by the way?” He raised the bottle towards me. “One for the road?”

  “No. I’m all right, thanks.”

  “But you’ve hardly touched it. Don’t you like it?”

  “Yes. Yes, it’s lovely,” I lied because, to be honest, it tasted like medicine. But I didn’t like to upset him. “I’m just savouring it, like you told me to.”

  “Very wise,” he gave another brief smile, another quick glance at his watch.

  “Look, I’m obviously keeping you from something,” I said, getting up to go. “I’d best be…”

  “You’re not keeping me from anything, I promise you. It’s just – well, truth to tell, I’m just a little nervous. That’s all. Just the thought of Gerald, out there… well, you know what I mean.”

  I did indeed.

  “You wouldn’t have to meet him, you know,” he went on. “You could hide behind the bar there, and I could egg him on, get him to tell me about Marjorie – and, of course, Doreen. He’s such a bragger, he won’t be able to resist. All you’d have to do is listen.”

  “Hey, you could be on to something.” My heart was zinging. Who’d have thought Donald would have had it in him? Amazing. It would be one hell of a thing if he and I could show Gerald up for the cold-blooded killer he was. And, from Donald’s point of view, it would break the hold that Gerald had on him. As for me, I owed Gerald. For Marjorie and Doreen.

  “Look, I’ll spin him some story that will bring him here,” Donald said. “You stay here and finish your drink while I go and call him. Then we’ll get you well hidden behind the counter. You’ll be in no danger, I promise. So, are you up for it?”

  I didn’t like the idea of being in the same room as Gerald Crabshaw, even if I was going to be well hidden. But I very much liked the idea of the net closing in on the monster who murdered those two poor women. I was up for it.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I nodded enthusiastically but as I slipped off the barstool my foot caught in the strap of my bag. I staggered slightly and put my arm out to save myself.

  Donald was there in an instant, hovering and anxious like an over-attentive waiter. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” I said, feeling more than a little foolish and trying to make a joke of it. “This stuff must be stronger than I thought.”

  “But you haven’t had more than a thimbleful. Drink up. Just the thing to steady the nerves.”

  “I’m fine. I just got up a bit quickly, that’s all.”

  “Ok then. I’ll just go and phone Gerald. But are you quite sure you’re all right about this? Maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all.” His thin face was pinched with indecision as he chewed his thumb. “Look, why don’t we simply forget the whole thing and just call the police? If Gerald squirms his way out of it, so be it. Better that than put yourself in danger. Even though it means everyone will know what a fool I was, and you lose the big ‘how I helped bring a vicious killer to justice’
story. But you’ll still have plenty to write about, won’t you? And most people around here think I’m a fool anyway, so nothing would have changed there.”

  The sleepless nights were, indeed, beginning to catch up on me and I was feeling a bit woolly and desperately in need of some fresh air. I wasn’t very good at drinking in the middle of the day at the best of times and, coupled with the fact that I’d had no breakfast this morning, this was a long way from that.

  Even so, those headlines were very tempting and Liam’s ‘amateur’ jibe still smarted. “It seems a shame, though, when we’re so close,” I murmured.

  “You’re right. It does seem a shame.” He frowned and looked deep in thought for a moment. “Look, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll lock the front door and tell him to come around the back. That way, he won’t catch us unawares because we’ll hear him coming. It will give us time to make sure you’re well out of the way before he comes in.” He crossed the bar and locked the front door. “How about that?”

  I swallowed against the wave of nausea that rose in my throat. Was I being stupid? Should I call the whole thing off, as Donald suggested? Or maybe phone Will and ask him to meet me here? But if I did that, he’d insist on knowing why and would tell me not to do it and let the police handle it. And I certainly wasn’t going to phone Liam. Ever again.

  On the other hand, if I could hold my nerve, I could be in on the ground floor of the biggest story of the century. And wouldn’t that put Liam’s nose out of joint? He wouldn’t be able to accuse me of blundering around like an amateur ever again. “I think your plan could work well,” I said with a confidence I was far from feeling, “I just had a bit of a wobble, that’s all. Literally and metaphorically speaking, if you see what I mean. Gerald was pretty damn mad just now. I don’t mind admitting, he scared me.”

  “Trust me, Katie, he won’t lay a finger on you, I promise.” His voice was firm, his eyes steady. If Dippy Donald, the man they all reckoned didn’t like going out on sunny days because he was frightened of his own shadow, could find the courage to do this, then so could I.