Model Murder

by Nancy Buckingham

  “Withholding your permission, are you? That won’t save you, Larkin. It just means you’ll have to sit here for however long it takes for us to get a search warrant.”

  Under the sergeant’s stony gaze, Larkin gave way with an angry shrug. “Do what you bloody like, then. You won’t find nothing to prove what you’re trying to make out.”

  Kate said, “We have specific evidence that you were involved in these thefts. It’s useless to go on acting the innocent.”

  “I’m not acting. I haven’t done nothing. Why should you take someone else’s word against mine? Whatever Kenway might have told you, it’s a load of crap.”

  “Did I mention Mr. Kenway’s name?”

  That brought him up with a squeal of brakes. He said slowly, warily, “Course you did. You must’ve done. How else would I have known who you was talking about?”

  “How, indeed? There’s only one way you could have known about the kind of criminal dealings going on between Labrosse and Kenway, and that’s by being an accessory to it. I get very impatient with people who persist in denying their guilt when it’s obvious the game is up.” Kate got to her feet. “I’ll leave you to think things over for a bit, while I go and have another talk with Admiral Fortescue.”

  Larkin looked up at her in dismay. “He’s an old man, and he’s sick ... real bad. You’ve got no right to go worrying him on and on. It’s not bloody fair.”

  “Christ, look who’s talking,” scoffed Boulter. “You reckon it was fair to rob the admiral, who’s been your employer for years and years? And you have the gall to make out you want to try and protect him from the police.”

  “What he’s doing, Sergeant,” said Kate scathingly, “is trying to protect his own skin. He doesn’t want Admiral Fortescue to find out that his trusted steward is nothing but a common thief.”

  “It’s not like that at all.” Larkin’s coarse-featured face was screwed up in helpless anger. “Honest to God, the poor old chap’s heart won’t stand any more shocks. Oh, I know you think I’m scum, but ...”

  “You can say that again,” Boulter snapped back. This time Kate checked him with a tiny gesture of one finger. She wanted to let Larkin keep talking.

  “The admiral’s a good old stick. He’s not like some of them high-and-mighty bastards in the Navy who act like you’re so much shit. All right, I’m not proud of what I did, but it didn’t amount to nothing much, not really. He kept back all the things he specially likes, to have in his own rooms. What’s up in the attics is just odds and ends that have been in the family longer than anyone can remember. They’ll never even be missed.” Larkin warmed to his theme, spitting out the words. “That bloody son of his in America, that bloody Dominic, he don’t give a bugger. Did he bother to come over to see his dad when the old boy had his operation? Oh, no. It was only because he had some business to do in London that Master Dominic was here for the opening of the hotel. I was watching, and I could see him sizing up the place for the cash it’ll fetch him one day. The admiral is always keeping on about saving Streatfield Park for the family. The Fortescue heritage, he calls it. But the minute he’s gone the whole estate will be flogged off and everything in it, you mark my words.”

  “So you felt justified in filching some of the stuff in the attics?” Kate rested her hands on the desk and leaned forward. “Why then did you kill Labrosse, when you could have gone on and on with your nice little scheme? Did you think you could do better without him? Just you and Kenway working the racket together?”

  “No, I never killed Yves. I never did.”

  “Or was it,” she continued remorselessly, “that you discovered he was cheating you? Not giving you your fair cut of the proceeds?”

  “I tell you I never killed him. How could I have? I was with the admiral when Yves was done in, just like he told you I was.”

  “I’ll see what Admiral Fortescue has to say about that. He may remember things differently, in the light of your criminal activities.”

  Larkin shot to his feet and clutched at Kate’s sleeve. Boulter instantly sprang forward and yanked him off.

  “Keep your filthy hands to yourself, Larkin.”

  “I ... I’m sorry, miss, I didn’t mean ...” He gulped. “But don’t you see, you’ll be upsetting the admiral for no reason. No reason at all. He’ll tell you just the same as he did before.”

  “That remains to be seen.” Kate glanced at Boulter. “Mr. Larkin can mull things over before we ask him to make a formal statement. He might want to make a few changes to his story. Take him outside and get someone to keep an eye on him.”

  * * * *

  “Where’s Larkin?” the admiral asked in a querulous voice when he opened the door to Kate. “What have you done with him?”

  “We’re keeping him over at the Incident Room, sir. I shall need to question him further, I’m afraid.”

  “But why? What do you expect to learn from him? He knows nothing that he hasn’t already told you.”

  “Shall we sit down?” she suggested. “There are one or two points I need you to clarify for me.”

  He shuffled back to his usual armchair and sank down into it. He looked on the point of collapse, Kate thought with compassion. She’d treat him as gently as possible, but there was a limit to gentleness if she were to do her job properly.

  “You and Larkin, sir, both stated that you were together in this suite for the whole of the period of time during which Labrosse was killed. I am now going to put the same question to you again, and I invite you to reconsider your answer. Between ten o’clock yesterday morning and a few minutes after eleven, can you vouch for Larkin’s presence here? Can you confirm that he didn’t at any time leave the suite, even for just a few minutes?”

  A veined hand fluttered in protest. “Yes, yes, Chief Inspector. It is exactly as I told you before.”

  “But he wasn’t actually in the same room with you for the whole of that time, was he?”

  “Naturally not. But he was around. He wouldn’t leave the suite without my permission.”

  “So what you are really saying,” she pressed, “is that you assume Larkin remained in the suite?”

  “He was here, Chief Inspector.”

  “How can you know that with certainty, sir, if he wasn’t within your sight all the while?”

  “But ... he was in and out, attending to my needs. Several times I had occasion to ring for him, and he always came at once.”

  “That still doesn’t rule out the possibility that he left the suite briefly.”

  “But he had no reason to. He never does in the morning unless to accompany me.”

  “He might have had a very powerful reason to leave the suite yesterday morning.”

  The admiral’s skin seemed to shrink on his bones, giving him a skeletal appearance. “You can’t truly believe that Larkin had anything to do with ... with ...”

  “Were you aware that Larkin had a close relationship with Labrosse?”

  “I ... they knew one another, of course. They could scarcely not have done, both living here on the premises.”

  “I mean rather more than that, sir. You do know that Larkin is homosexual?”

  He frowned at her directness. “The man has been in my service for many years, Chief Inspector, so I could hardly be unaware of such a thing. But Larkin has always been discreet in his behaviour. I’ve never held the fact against him, and I see no reason why you should.”

  “I’m not raising this as a moral issue, sir. But in a murder enquiry I have to take any kind of intimate relationship into account.”

  He gestured a reluctant acknowledgment of this. “All the same, I cannot believe that Larkin and Labrosse were involved together.”

  It all had to come out soon, not just the sexual aspect, but the thievery, too. So why not now?

  “There was another connection between Larkin and Labrosse, sir. They were in league with a third person in the theft and sale of some of the valuable items that were stored in the attics here.”r />
  “What?” The admiral was badly shaken, and Kate had qualms that she’d gone too far considering the dicky state of his heart. “I cannot believe this. It’s unthinkable. Not Larkin.”

  “It’s quite true, I’m afraid. Larkin has admitted his involvement to me.”

  There was sorrow mixed with his obvious anger. “I trusted that man. I have always thought of him as being completely loyal and honest.” He swept his two hands slowly back over his grey hair. “Does this mean that he’s been cheating me all these years?”

  “My information only covers recent weeks, sir. It could be that Labrosse led him astray.”

  “Labrosse? Yes, none of this would have happened, but for Labrosse. He should never have come here, he was obviously quite unfitted for a post of such responsibility.”

  “You were not aware, I take it, that Yves Labrosse had a criminal record in Switzerland?”

  The admiral looked at her mutely for a moment, shaking his head. “It doesn’t surprise me, in the light of events. But how could Corinne have missed discovering about his record when she was considering his appointment?”

  “Miss Saxon must almost certainly have known about his criminal past,” Kate told him. “She and Labrosse knew one another over a period of many years. Since their childhood, in fact.”

  “I see.” Another pause before he said, “It was Labrosse who killed Corinne, wasn’t it?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s a possibility.”

  “I believe he did. I believe it must have been him. And now he too is dead.” The admiral let out a long sigh. “If only that could be the end of it all.”

  “Are you in a position to tell us which items are missing from your attics, sir? Is there an inventory?”

  He nodded. “It will be held by my solicitor. I had better ask him to send someone here to try and establish the things that have gone.” The lines of strain on his face cut deep as he went on, “This is an unfortunate business, Chief Inspector.”

  “Unfortunate” was a mild adjective to describe two murders. Then it struck Kate that the admiral was merely referring to the loss of some of his family heirlooms.

  “It may very well be,” she said, “that there is a connection between the thefts and Labrosse’s murder.”

  He held up both his hands as if to ward off her persistence. “It was not Larkin who killed him, I shall never believe that. I am very disappointed, naturally, by what you have told me about the man’s dishonesty. Deeply distressed and disappointed. But that is quite a different matter from murder. Please, Chief Inspector, put aside your suspicions concerning Larkin.”

  “I can’t do that, sir. I must follow wherever this investigation leads me.”

  He gave her a beseeching look. “Suppose ... suppose I decide not to press charges against Larkin? I could just dismiss him, perhaps.”

  The admiral, it seemed, still hadn’t grasped the full enormity of the situation. He was fretting because he’d been let down by a trusted servant.

  “I shall be sending an officer very shortly, to make a search of Larkin’s room,” she told him.

  He hardly seemed to take that in. “Yes, I suppose it’s necessary.”

  If ever a man looked at the end of his tether, Admiral Fortescue did now. Kate felt concerned about him. He shouldn’t be left alone, distressed like this and in his poor state of health.

  “Might it not be best for you to detail one of the hotel staff to attend to your needs for the time being? You should have someone near at hand, I think.”

  “Yes, yes, perhaps.”

  On her feet, Kate hesitated. All the admiral had to do was to pick up the telephone and issue instructions for whatever he wanted. She herself had far more pressing matters to attend to. And yet ... the poor man looked so forlorn she hardly liked to walk out on him. Tender loving care was what he needed.

  “Is there anything I can get for you?” she asked.

  “Eh? Oh, no, no ...”

  “Have you had your lunch yet?”

  “No, I ... I’m not hungry.”

  “You should eat something, sir.”

  But he only shook his head vaguely, lost in his unhappy thoughts. Kate felt sure he wasn’t even aware of her leaving the room. On her way out, she stopped at the reception desk and suggested to June Elsted that someone should go along to the admiral’s suite with a light lunch on a tray.

  Boulter was eagerly awaiting Kate’s return. There had been a positive result from the house-to-house enquiry made in the vicinity of Yew Tree Cottage at Larkhill, where someone reported having seen Corinne Saxon and Adrian Berger together.

  “The man is one of the gardeners at Streatfield Park, would you believe? An old chap name of Sidney Partridge. Which could hardly fit him better, considering he’s a poacher. Seems he actually saw them at it, Berger and Corinne Saxon, through the window.”

  “How come this wasn’t picked up before, when the staff here were interrogated?” Kate asked sharply. “This man must have been included in that.”

  “Sure, he was. But there’s a streak of touch-your-cap yokel in Sid Partridge. Nosey as hell about what his betters get up to, but loyal, too. Wouldn’t breathe a word against ’em to the likes of us. Told his missus all about the goings-on at Yew Tree Cottage, though, and his missus goes to church Sundays. Thought it were a proper disgrace, she told DC Farnham, especially with Berger being a married man. And his wife such a lady, from one of the best families round here.”

  “Get on with it, Tim.”

  “The first sighting was several weeks ago, just around dusk. A Thursday. Sid was setting his traps in the coppice at the back of Yew Tree Cottage. He saw two cars pull into the side driveway, and the lights were quickly dowsed. He could hear a male and a female voice, both subdued, and soft laughter. The instant the couple were through the front door, Sid creeps nearer to have a peek. They couldn’t wait to draw the curtains, could they, and he watched some heavy petting on the sofa. Then after a bit they gathered up their shoes and discarded apparel, and headed upstairs. I imagine,” Boulter continued, embroidering, “Sid must have looked around for a ladder then, but ...”

  “Sergeant,” Kate warned. “The facts.”

  Boulter sighed. “Sid kept his eyes and ears open, after that first evening. His bungalow is across the fields from Yew Tree Cottage—a mile away by road, but scarcely three hundred yards by crow-fly. He caught them at it several more times. But there was no more action since a Friday night three weeks ago.”

  “Hmm. This old chap would have known Corinne by sight, of course. But could he give a positive identification of Berger?”

  “Oh, yes. Sid has seen Berger around lots of times at Streatfield Park. As often as not discussing plans with Corinne. There’s no doubt about the identification, guv.”

  “Will he be a good witness? He won’t back down on us?”

  Boulter laughed. “Roy Farnham gave him the spiel about the penalties for wasting police time by not giving this info in the first place. If it didn’t scare Sid overmuch, it certainly scared the shit out of his missus. She’ll make damn sure he stands up and says his piece when we need him to.”

  Kate tapped her desktop thoughtfully with a fingertip. “We’re getting closer, Tim. But Berger can still insist he didn’t kill Corinne, and we have no proof to pin it on him. Unless we can get him to break.”

  An enquiring tap at the door. Kate called to come in, and the excited face of a young DC appeared.

  “Got something for you, ma’am.”

  “Let’s have it then, Ben.”

  DC Ellery handed her a blue, cloth-covered booklet. “Larkin’s building society account, ma’am. It makes interesting reading.”

  Kate flicked it open at one of the fully completed pages. It took only the briefest glance to see that each month a regular amount had been paid in by cheque. Obviously Larkin’s wages. Cash withdrawals were small—living at Streatfield Park as he did, he’d only need money for incidentals. So the balance was steadily growing. S
he swiftly turned to the page with the last entries. Of the most recent items on the credit side, two were sizeable deposits in cash. One for £551 and the other for £497.

  She glanced up at Boulter, who was reading over her shoulder. “Larkin’s pay-offs from Labrosse?”

  The sergeant whistled through his teeth. “A helluva lot less than half of what Labrosse got from Paul Kenway. Larkin had a grievance there, all right, if he found out he was being swindled.”

  “That’s not all I’ve got for you, ma’am.” DC Ellery smirked triumphantly as he plucked from his jacket pocket a clear plastic bag containing some bloodstained fabric. “I found this in the little kitchenette in Admiral Fortescue’s suite, which Larkin used for making hot drinks and so on. It struck me that I might possibly find something there.”

  “Good thinking. Where exactly did you find it?”

  “Stuffed down at the bottom of the wastebin liner, ma’am.”

  Kate examined the handkerchief without removing it from the plastic bag. It was of fine quality linen, hemstitched, with the initials YL embroidered in one corner. Suddenly she realised what had struck her as different about the dead Labrosse’s attire. It was the absence of the customary white handkerchief at his breast pocket ... that little affectation which had given an old-fashioned touch to his well-dressed image.

  Labrosse’s assailant, then, had pulled the handkerchief from his breast pocket, presumably to wipe off the fingerprints from the candlestick he’d used as a weapon. And had then disposed of it in what he thought would be a safe place. Larkin wouldn’t have anticipated a search being made of the admiral’s quarters.

  “Nice work, Ben. This could be the clincher. Get it to the lab right away, to confirm that the blood matches the victim’s. Not that I have any doubt about that. I take it you’ve sealed off Larkin’s room and the kitchenette?”

  “Oh, yes, ma’am.”

  When the DC had departed, Boulter said in a voice like the gleeful rubbing of hands, “So, Berger for the one, and Larkin for t’other. Amen!”

  “We’ve got a long way to go yet, Tim. And I still can’t see the connection between the two murders. There has to be a connection.”