by Jo Allen
‘You’re right, I’m afraid. We did extensive door-to-doors in Appleby, but none of Len’s neighbours could tell us anything, other than the fact that he was quiet, pleasant, a bit of a loner, and most of them either knew or suspected that he was gay. And we’ve knocked every door in Temple Sowerby, except Doddsy’s.’
‘Okay. And can you give me a quick sketch of Len Pierce?’
‘I can. His neighbours liked him. He was friendly and helpful. Watered their gardens when they were away, delivered surplus baking to them. Nobody but his sister seemed to think he was at all promiscuous and nobody cared, except for a couple of slightly prim folk, and even they liked him. He loved animals. He worked hard, but he loved his job.’
‘Okay. And no-one saw anything on the A66?’
‘Not that we’ve been able to confirm. We stopped traffic on there on Monday and Tuesday. You can image how popular that made us with the public, but it couldn’t be helped. I’m planning to repeat that on Sunday afternoon, at the time Len was killed and for an hour before and after, to catch anyone who makes a regular trip and see if it jogs any memories.’
‘You’ll be supervising that?’
‘Yes. Theoretically, I’m not working then but I took most of Monday so I need to make it up.’
He nodded. ‘And I don’t suppose there have been any responses to my TV appeal?’
Chris smothered a laugh. Everyone knew how much Jude hated having to appeal to the public, and whenever he could he’d pass the job on to someone else, but this time Doddsy had been out of the office and he’d had to take the job on himself. ‘Apart from the usual half-dozen elderly ladies asking if you could come round and interview them? You seem to appeal to a particular demographic.’
Jude rolled his eyes. ‘It was a waste of time and effort, then. But it had to be done.’ He checked his watch. ‘One more thing before we go. The will.’
‘I checked that.’ Chris swiped across the screen of his iPad and offered a scanned document for them all to see. ‘Simple as you like. His sister inherits.’
It would have been interesting to see what Len had thought of Maisie, given her view of him seemed so different to everyone else’s. Or maybe she was the only person brave enough to express her reservations to the police. ‘She said she didn’t know if he’d made a will.’
‘She must have guessed she’ll be richer by a six figure sum when probate goes through.’ Chris, of course, had Googled the value of the property.
Jude sat back and thought about it for a moment. Was it possible that Maisie had killed him and her hostility was intended to point the blame elsewhere? ‘It might be worth checking where she was on Sunday. She said she was at the Sun at Pooley Bridge.’ He laid down his pen. ‘That’s easily confirmed.’
‘It would be good if it was her,’ Chris said, adding that to his list. ‘Because that would make it neat and tidy. One person killing one other person for a particular reason. Much less messy than dealing with some nutter who's going to start bumping off anyone who looks a bit camp.’
Beside him, Ashleigh drew in an outraged breath and Doddsy allowed himself a cough but Chris, unaware, merely drew a line underneath the list and smiled at them.
Jude shook his head in irritation. Faye’s workshops would give Chris something to think about in terms of unconscious bias. ‘So that’s where we are. I don’t know if there’s anything more we can do until we hear back from the tech guys and see if they come up with anything. But I really want to find the man Len met on Sunday lunchtime. I’ll let you all get off. And some housekeeping. I’ll be at a diversity session on Monday morning.’ And he smiled at Chris, the reminder he shouldn’t have needed. ‘I think we’re all scheduled to attend at some point.’
They drifted off, leaving him with only Ashleigh in the half-lit incident room. It had been a tough week, and he welcomed the chance of sitting down and talking about something other than work, knowing that if he was at home he’d be worrying on about it late into the night when there was nothing he could realistically hope to achieve.
‘Are you coming to the pub?’ Ashleigh picked up her jacket.
‘I’ve something to finish. Tammy wanted a word. She’s going to pop down here at the back of six. But I don’t imagine I’ll be very long after that.’
No-one who worked in the office could possibly be unaware of the mood that Tammy had been in recently, and Jude probably wasn’t the only one with a sneaking suspicion what it was about, but if he was right it was nothing to do with him. Quite what Tammy wanted, then, was a mystery.
‘Intriguing.’ Ashleigh picked up her coat. ‘Do you think Chris is on to something? About Maisie? Or rather, about not Maisie?’
‘He’s certainly right that it’ll be a lot easier to solve if it’s her.’ But they could rule nothing in and nothing out on the available evidence. ‘Time will tell. We’ll keep working on it.’
‘Text me when you’re done. Or I’ll see you there.’
When she’d gone, he went back up to his office, turning away from Len Pierce’s death to one of the many other matters that strove for his time and attention, ticking off the ten minutes it took for Tammy to turn up. ‘Jude.’ She hovered in the doorway.
‘Hi, Tammy.’ Neither her voice nor her attitude was any friendlier than it had been earlier on, but he knew how she worked. She was dedicated and sensible and she didn’t respond well to confrontation, so it would be interesting if she chose to provoke it. ‘How are things?’
‘Things are very difficult just now.’ She came in, closing the door behind her and stopping just inside it, as if reluctant to commit herself to a seat. She had her coat on, a clear message to him that the meeting was to be short and to the point and that she was on her way elsewhere.
If that meant the interview was over sooner rather than later, that suited him. ‘Sorry to hear that. Anything I can help you with?’
‘Yes. It’s Doddsy.’
‘What’s he done?’ As if he couldn’t guess.
She looked at him with the exasperation of a mother towards an unresponsive teenager. ‘You know exactly what he’s done. He’s carrying on with my boy.’
‘Okay.’ Tyrone Garner, Tammy’s son, was a grown adult and a fully-fledged police constable more than capable of looking after himself. Steeling himself, Jude set out to deal with Tammy’s prejudices. ‘Just before we go any further. You might want to choose your words carefully.’
‘I’ve been careful what I’ve said and careful what I’ve thought. I’m not homophobic in any way. You should know that.’ Her lip wobbled in injured innocence, but emotion got the better of her and she didn’t stop. ‘I knew Tyrone was gay before he knew it himself and it doesn’t bother me one bit. Don't you dare suggest otherwise.’
‘Then that’s fine.’ If he’d had any sense, he’d have trusted his instincts and told her he was too busy to see her. He wasn’t her line manager and he didn’t want to be involved. ‘Is that all?’
‘It isn’t fine at all. Doddsy—’
‘Stop right there.’ He held up a hand, and either that or the sudden recollection of a disparity in rank brought her to a standstill. ‘This isn’t a workplace issue. What my staff get up to, or what my staff’s families get up to, in their own time isn’t any of my business as long as it’s legal. And you aren’t suggesting anything illegal, are you?’
‘No, of course not.’ She got control of herself with three, quick deep breaths. ‘It’s like I said. It’s not because Doddsy’s gay, Jude.’
‘I should hope not.’
‘Dammit. It’s coming out wrong. It’s the age gap. I’d be the same if he was a woman, or if Tyrone was.’ She folded her fingers in front of her, agonised. ‘He’s more than twice Tyrone’s age. That’s what worries me.’
He regarded her, thoughtfully. Tyrone was just twenty-one and Doddsy the wrong side of forty-five. If he was in her position, would he have been bothered? ‘The point stands. I understand why you’re uncomfortable about it, but it’s nothi
ng to do with anyone but the two of them.’
‘I thought you’d say that.’ She frowned at him, in discontent. ‘I had to ask, though. I told Phil I would.’
He spread his hands wide, an attempt at sympathy the only thing he could offer her. ‘I’m not saying I don’t see where you’re coming from. But even if I had a view on it, there’s nothing I could do.’
‘You could talk to Doddsy about it.’
‘And say what?’ Doddsy was Jude’s close friend as well as his colleague, but the inspector was a man who kept his life partitioned, and it was only after he’d met the dangerously attractive Tyrone Garner that there had been any crossover at all. Their friendship was built on an implicit understanding of that, and it wasn’t something Jude was prepared to compromise. ‘No, I’m sorry Tammy. Impossible, as well as inappropriate.’
‘Perhaps I should take it up with Detective Superintendent Scanlon.’
It had taken a week of Faye’s hands-on management to show that her crusade for equality wouldn’t stand for that kind of challenge. ‘I wouldn’t advise it. She’s very politically correct.’ He paused, looking down at the note he’d written for himself about Faye’s equality workshop. No excuses, she’d said. ‘Rightly so.’
Tammy had turned scarlet. ‘Yes. But it’s not about that, is it? It’s about age-appropriate behaviour. That’s what bothers me and Phil. Tyrone’s our son. We care.’ But she was backing away towards the door as if she regretted approaching him.
‘Of course you do. But they’re both old enough to know their own minds. Tyrone’s hardly a vulnerable adult.’
‘Try telling Phil that.’ She shuffled out of the door and snapped it shut behind her.
Left behind in after-hours silence, Jude sighed, shut down his computer and turned his thoughts to Ashleigh and the pub.
Chapter 8
In one of those accidents of timing that can only be the fortunate intervention of the fates, Doddsy arrived at the pub just a few seconds after Becca Reid. It was a cold night and the spring rain had turned briefly to sleet, so that he hadn’t recognised the figure he’d followed down the street and into the bar until she flipped down her hood and paused on the mat to shake off the rain.
Caught in the spray of raindrops, he stepped aside and she, noticing, spun round, already well into an apology. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there. Oh. Hi, Doddsy.’
Her almost-permanent smile had faded to a shadow when she saw him, but he wasn’t so self-centred as to think it was anything to do with him. He liked Becca and was reasonably certain she’d say the same about him, but he was Jude’s best friend. Hardening his heart towards her, as he had done from the moment she’d instigated the split and he’d aligned himself, instantly and unequivocally, beside his friend, Doddsy nevertheless found it in himself to smile. ‘Hi, Becca. We don’t see you about much in here these days.’
‘No, it’s not usually my sort of pub. I—’ She looked over his shoulder with a nervous flick of her hair, then back at him and relaxed. Chris’s laugh, carrying across the bar from round a corner, indicated that most of the group going out for Friday drinks were in situ, but Becca’s lack of panic suggested that Jude wasn’t yet among them.
A quick peek showed Ashleigh, laughing at whatever had amused Chris, a couple of the other detectives from the team, and — an unexpected pleasure —Tyrone. ‘You’re well?’
‘Oh, I’m fine.’ Still she hovered just inside the doorway, neither forging forwards nor beating the retreat. ‘What about you? I heard on the grapevine that you’d had an accident. Are you okay?’
A chill ran down the back of Doddsy’s neck .The last murder case he’d dealt with had nearly taken him with it. Not liking to think of how close he’d come to becoming a homicide statistic, he waved aside a brush with death as easily as if he were on point duty somewhere in town, blessing the local gossip network that would make sure everyone knew everything and he didn’t need to explain himself. ‘Right as—’ He glanced through the door as someone else came in and was relieved to see that it wasn’t Jude. ‘Rain.’
She giggled. You couldn’t keep Becca’s sense of humour down, and even the bad temper that always seemed to surface when Jude was around held a witty, waspish sharpness if you cared to listen for it. ‘Glad to hear it.’ A pause as she looked around to see if there was anyone else there she knew. ‘Meeting anyone?’
He read the subtext there, too. ‘Yes. A few of us are coming down from work.’
‘Oh.’ She looked over his shoulder again, felt in her pocket for her phone, a decision made. ‘I’m supposed to be meeting Adam here. Maybe we should go somewhere else. It’s been lovely to see you, though, Doddsy. Stay safe.’ And she shuffled off towards the exit.
She was too late. As she reached the door it opened and Jude appeared, striding in with purpose. He ground to a halt and the two of them did a little shuffle as he shifted aside to let her past. ‘Hi Becca.’
‘Hi Jude.’
‘All fine?’
‘Yes. I was just leaving.’
‘See you around then.’
‘See you.’ Dodging past him, she almost ran out into the rain. Turning to see the conclusion of the scene, Doddsy stared through the window in time to see her intercept the man approaching the door, tuck her arm through his and turn him in one fluid movement so that they were heading across the road and into a different pub.
That was a relief. Turning back again, Doddsy watched the way that Jude chose to play out the ending — by crossing to the table full of his workmates and kissing Ashleigh as if Becca was still in the room to see it, a clear declaration that the past was the past and needn’t trouble him.
It did, of course. Being let down by someone who cared about you always hurt and the only thing to be thankful for was that Becca’s sharp exit had spared them the arrival of Adam Fleetwood, local charmer, ex-jailbird and Jude’s former friend. Satisfied that the drama was over for the evening, Doddsy crossed to join the group where Jude was already taking the order for a round of drinks.
‘Mine’s a St Clements.’ He caught Tyrone’s eye and a smile flared up on his lips unbidden, just as Becca’s smile had died at the prospect of meeting Jude. Love made the world go round for some and slowed it to a crawl for others. ‘Want me to come and help carry them?’
Jude’s nod was fleeting but clear, and so Doddsy followed him across to the bar. ‘It’s just as well Becca was just leaving,’ he said, a conversational opening that Jude could take or leave.
‘She had rain on her coat. It looked to me as if she’d only just arrived.’
‘Maybe she changed her mind.’
‘Or knew I was coming and ducked out. I’ve used that trick myself. I don’t blame her, if she thinks she’d be uncomfortable.’ Jude had written the orders on the back of his hand and reeled them off to the barman. ‘At least it spares me.’
Across the room, Ashleigh had broken off from her conversation long enough to watch them as they stood by the bar, but when she saw Doddsy looking at her she looked away again. ‘What do you need to be spared? You’ve found what looks to me like a high class replacement.’
‘I know.’ Jude grinned. ‘She’s far too good for the likes of me. It’s pride, I suppose. No-one likes rejection. And I don’t want to sit and watch my old mate Adam flirting with Becca to get back at me.’
Adam Fleetwood was a braggart and a troublemaker, a man who might deem it worth coming off worse in a fight with Jude in the knowledge that his enemy would have a professional misconduct charge to answer if he succumbed to temptation and took a swing at him. In the face of such flagrant provocation, Jude maintained superhuman patience. Self-discipline had always been both his strength and his weakness.
‘You think that's it?’
‘I’ve known the two of them all my life. They’re incompatible and he doesn’t know the meaning of forgiveness. It won’t last, and she’ll get hurt when he realises he can’t get to me and he dumps her. Hopefully by then I’ll be
past caring.’
There was bitterness in his voice. Doddsy, who knew him well, wasn’t surprised but it wasn’t like Jude to let these things show. Nor was that public display of affection something he’d normally have allowed himself. ‘Let’s hope so.’
‘And what about you? Setting out on the dating game, are you?’ Jude’s tone was deliberately light and he as turning away to marshal the first of the drinks as he spoke.
He didn’t often ask personal questions, waiting for Doddsy to share. If Doddsy had his way no-one would know anything of his business unless he chose to tell them but that was just the way he was. Tyrone, so very different, had already pushed him out of his comfort zone. I want to tell the world about my new man, he’d said, when Doddsy had counselled caution. I’m not ashamed of you.
‘Who wants to know?’ If the secret was out, it was out.
‘Nobody. I just want you to know that I don’t care what you do or who you go out with, and no-one else should, either.’
For a moment Doddsy toyed with letting it go, but his natural curiosity impelled him to ask the question. ‘Then why ask?’ He looked to Tyrone again, for pleasure and for courage.
Jude sighed. ‘It’s just a heads-up.’
‘It’s Tammy, isn’t it? What’s she said?’
‘Only that she’s worried about the age difference. Don’t worry. I advised her to mind her own business.’
‘I bet she thinks he’s looking for a father figure.’ Though quite what that might say about Tyrone’s relationship with his father — a very clever, uncompromising man — was up for discussion.
‘I don’t know what she thinks, but she’s Tyrone’s mum. Have a heart. Don’t change anything about yourself, mate. But try and understand where she’s coming from, for Tyrone's sake at least.’ Jude’s attitude was apologetic, as if he was taking a rare trespass beyond the bounds of his better judgement. ‘I’m right behind you. But we have to work with her.’
Closing his hands round three pint glasses with the ease of practice, Doddsy turned and looked once more at Tyrone, who was laughing uproariously at something one of the junior detectives had said. ‘We’re just friends.’