by Deborah Lucy
Rachel alerted them to Temple’s arrival and went into the kitchen to make coffee. The men moved to a parasoled table and the four sat down. Temple introduced himself to James Ashton-Jones.
James was tall, broad shouldered and muscular and looked older than his seventeen years. He quickly looked up at Temple from downcast eyes, red rimmed from crying. His eyes were partially hidden under a long thick fringe of hair that he had to keep sweeping to one side with his hand every time he looked up. Then each time, his hand returned and tucked securely back under his thighs.
‘Do you play a lot of sport, James?’ Temple ventured, in an attempt to put James at ease.
‘Yes, rugby. Prop forward. A bit of cricket too.’ His quiet voice was deep and respectful.
‘No doubt your father and Jonathan have already explained some of the circumstances of your stepmother’s death. I’m here to see you and for you to give me a statement, basically outlining your relationship with her and the last time you saw her. Does that make sense?’ Temple spoke gently.
‘Yes, of course,’ he said, quickly looking across to his father.
‘When did you last see Greta, James?’ Temple asked.
‘When I came home on Friday.’ His downcast eyes focused on a spot on the table.
‘You came home on Friday? It’s just that the information I had from the cleaner, Irene Cresswell, was that you stayed with a friend last weekend.’
‘No, well, yes I did, but I came home first. I was going to stay with him on the Friday night, but his parents weren’t ready for me until Saturday, so I stayed at home on Friday and then went off.’ He quickly looked up at Maxwell and Jonathan as if for affirmation.
‘So can you talk me through, please, from when you arrived home on Friday?’
‘Yes, sure,’ he said shyly, still avoiding eye contact with Temple. ‘I arrived home from school about half five. I’d caught the train to Bedwyn Station and got a taxi from there, home. Greta was by the pool when I got home so I showered and joined her for a quick swim before we walked up to The Phoenix for dinner.’ James was quietly spoken as he gave his account.
‘When you say she was by the pool, where exactly was she?’ asked Temple.
‘She was on a recliner, sunbathing,’ he replied.
‘What was she wearing, James?’
‘Well, her bikini,’ he said, reddening and looking across to his father and Jonathan Silvester.
‘It’s OK,’ said Temple, ‘You’re doing great. So, you have a swim and then you go off, down the pub for dinner. How long do you think you were there for?’
‘’Bout an hour or so,’ he replied, quietly.
‘And then what?’ Temple asked.
‘We had dinner and then walked back to the house.’
‘And then?’
‘We watched some telly and then I went to bed.’ Again, James looked up at Maxwell and Jonathan as if he was looking for approval, for confirming his story.
Rachel Hurst came out with a tray of coffee in cups and saucers. When she offered James his cup, he was forced to take his hands from under his thighs and as he took hold, the cup rattled in the saucer as his hands shook uncontrollably.
Jonathan took hold of it, with barely detectable annoyance.
‘Ray, do you think James could have a mug, please, I’m sure he’s more used to that than a cup and saucer.’ He tried to brush the matter off.
Temple scrutinized James intently; James had closed his eyes, whilst his father moved to put his arm around his shoulder.
‘I’m sorry, this must be so upsetting for you. If you like, we can stop?’ offered Temple.
‘Not too much longer, Mr Temple,’ said Maxwell, with a glare in his direction.
‘I won’t be, sir. If you can just tell me what time you left the house in the morning, James, and where you went, please?’
‘Yes. I, I think we left about 10-ish, I suppose. Greta gave me a lift to the station and I caught the train back to school where I was being picked up by the parents of my friend, Felix, Felix Harmon-Fford,’ he replied, trying a fleeting attempt at making eye contact with Temple.
‘And was this in the Porsche?’ asked Temple.
‘Yes.’
‘And do you know what Greta intended to do with the rest of her day?’
‘Yes, she said she was going to visit her father, Brett.’
‘And you? What did you do?’ Temple asked.
‘I just hung around with Felix.’
‘Did you return home at all?’
‘No, I went from Felix’s back to school,’ James replied, looking up into the middle distance.
‘And how would you describe the relationship you had with your stepmother, James—’ Temple asked.
‘Look, Inspector, I think he’s had enough now,’ interrupted Maxwell.
‘It’s all right, Dad.’ Staring down and fixing his eyes on the wooden feet of the table, James continued. ‘She was really fun, really sweet and she was really good to me.’ With that, he put his forefinger and thumb to his eyes.
‘That’s enough now, Inspector,’ said Jonathan.
‘Yes, that will do. Thank you, James. I would like to see you for a few minutes, Maxwell, if that’s OK?’ Temple said. ‘Perhaps we could go inside?’
They left the poolside for the kitchen area, as Silvester put a reassuring arm around the boy.
‘You told me when we last spoke that you saw other women. Is there anyone in particular?’ asked Temple.
‘I am seeing a woman, yes,’ said Maxwell, slowly.
‘Did Greta know?’
‘No, not to my knowledge. Our relationship might seem rather unconventional to you, Inspector, but I was nevertheless discreet,’ Maxwell replied.
‘I am going to need to know who she is, can you tell me her name and whereabouts, please?’
Maxwell sighed. ‘Yes, Inspector. Antonia Peronelli, she lives near Windsor.’
‘Sounds Italian to me,’ said Temple.
‘Yes, she’s Italian. She’s actually a countess of some small former province or township in La Marche,’ explained Maxwell. ‘Which makes her sound a lot grander than she actually is. But she’s nothing to do with this, nothing at all.’
‘I will have to go and see her. How long has your relationship been going on?’
‘A year or more.’
‘And were you planning on taking it further?’ Temple asked.
‘Yes. You may as well know, I was going to file for divorce. I love Antonia and she wants us to be together.’
‘Can you see what I’m thinking, Maxwell?’ Temple asked.
‘I can see how all this might look, yes,’ he conceded.
‘That, suddenly, things are all rather convenient for you. They’ve turned out just a bit neatly for you, haven’t they?’ asked Temple.
‘I didn’t kill my wife, Inspector. I may not have been in love with her but it’s easy for me to remember what attracted me to her. I’m just not good at being faithful. I guess I’m always looking for something better. And, of course, Antonia is easy to be with.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning, I suppose, that I don’t have to put up with any histrionics like I had to with Greta. I haven’t got to wonder what I’m walking into every time I arrive home, wonder whether she’s on an even keel. If she was down, she might be already half cut, if she was up, it was as if she was wired. Now I have love and consistency,’ replied Maxwell.
‘Does Antonia know that you are married?’
‘Of course, I’m totally honest with her. Antonia and I spoke of my divorcing Greta. She knew that was my intention. There was no jealousy there, Inspector. Antonia has nothing to be jealous about. I was with Antonia more than I was with Greta in the last year. I wasn’t always where I’d say I was and this allowed me to spend a lot of time with Antonia while Greta thought I was flying.’
Temple finished with Maxwell and went back out to the poolside. Jonathan was sitting on his own.
‘I’d lik
e to see Rachel now,’ said Temple.
‘What do you need to see Ray for?’ asked Jonathan.
‘She says she knew Greta,’ said Temple, looking across to James, ‘so I will need to speak to her.’
‘Ray, Ray,’ Jonathan called out. ‘Can you come out here, please, the inspector wants to see you now.’
‘That’s OK, Mr Silvester, I’ll go and see Rachel in the kitchen,’ said Temple.
‘Well, you can see her out here, with me.’
‘No, that won’t be necessary. As James is classed as a minor, it is only proper that you are with him when we talk. I can see Rachel on my own, thanks.’
Temple walked off to the kitchen where he found Rachel. She didn’t quite seem his type, thought Temple, looking at her. She was attractive enough, but not in the same polished way as Greta.
‘You said you knew Greta?’ he asked.
‘Well, when I say ‘know’ I mean, know socially. We used to meet up now and then of course, I met Greta and Maxwell through Jonathan,’ Rachel explained.
‘How long have you been having a relationship with Jonathan?’ Temple asked.
‘About a year now, perhaps a little more,’ she said.
‘And Jonathan, he works in finance; I believe he takes care of some of Maxwell’s investments, would you know?’ asked Temple.
‘Yes, he does. Keeps a close eye on them for him, although I don’t ask too much detail around that. All I know is, he says some of it is quite complex and often needs Maxwell’s signature so he would often go over and leave paperwork at the house with Greta if Maxwell was away,’ said Rachel.
I’m sure he did, thought Temple. And you didn’t suspect a thing.
‘And where were you last Saturday evening?’ he asked.
‘I was out with some girlfriends. Jonathan wanted to stay in and catch up with some paperwork so we agreed to meet up on Sunday.’
‘Thanks, Rachel, that’s all I need for now,’ said Temple.
After explaining that he may need to speak to them all again at some point as the inquiry progressed, Temple left. His mobile rang, it was Sloper.
‘I’ve just been over to the local pub. Greta and James were there on Friday,’ he said.
‘I know,’ said Temple, ‘I’ve just finished there, just seen James and he said the same. Interesting, though, he was a very nervous and upset young man. Only he and Brett Forrester have shown any emotion about Greta’s death. I want some house-to-house done, Si, just two houses either side of the scene, as they’re quite spaced out, do you think you and Kelly could manage that?’
‘Sure.’
‘I want to know what the neighbours thought about the comings and goings at Wedwellow House, what they saw. Go in the garden, Si, see if the pool was overlooked at all.’
‘If she was my neighbour, I’d want to have a look,’ said Sloper.
CHAPTER 21
TEMPLE PULLED OVER in a lay-by. He had been trying to gauge when best to put a call to Leigh to find out how Daisy had got on at the doctors but realized that as far as talking to him was concerned, there would be no good time for Leigh.
‘Leigh, it’s me. What happened at the doctor’s?’
Expecting his call about Daisy, this time, her voice was hard edged.
‘It was all right. She tried to get to the bottom of why she wasn’t eating properly. She examined her, looked down her throat, examined her stomach.’
‘Did they find anything?’ Temple asked.
‘No. She suggests that she goes to a child psychiatrist and we’re waiting for a date,’ Leigh replied, her voice hard and accusatory.
‘A psychiatrist? Oh fuck.’
There was silence between them. Temple felt the guilt wash over him. This was his fault. He’d caused this situation. Even though he had no idea who the female was who had kept phoning their home, he’d done enough in the past to deserve Leigh throwing him out. And Daisy, caught between the two of them, had now it seemed been really affected by it.
For her part, Leigh was frightened and angry with herself, as well as with Temple and felt helpless. Their little girl was being damaged by them; perhaps she should have kept her family together, not been so hasty to have thrown Temple out. Perhaps she should have forgiven him. And there she was again, blaming herself. She felt her anger suddenly rise up.
‘Is that it? That’s your answer to everything, isn’t it? I’m going off my head here with worry. This is what you get, these are the consequences of your actions, you selfish bastard.’ She ended the call.
A familiar pain shot up inside Temple’s neck as it jarred with tension. He couldn’t just leave things like that. He tried to continue the conversation using a quick round of texting which ended with him having to turn down an offer of a few hours with Daisy due to the commitments of the investigation, giving Leigh the opportunity to end the text exchange with more abuse. At least he’d been able to text her that King was no longer a threat. The pain in his neck began to creep up into his head as he stared at the phone cradled in his hand. He had barely time to digest the news about Daisy when his mobile rang. It was Finch.
‘I’ve got some news for you, Mr Temple.’
‘Go on, Finch, make my day,’ replied Temple, drily.
‘I got a visit last night. Someone came asking if Paul King had left anything behind in the flat. Said they were after a gun,’ said Finch.
‘Who was it, Finch?’
‘Georgie Munt. The Fortunes sent him round. Paul King got in touch with them from prison. Took a mobile in with him. Your boys obviously didn’t fancy an intimate search,’ Finch replied.
‘Get on with it, Finch. What did you tell him?’
‘Well, I searched his room, didn’t I? Couldn’t find anything. King says that it came from your house and that I must have it because the pigs didn’t find it when they nicked him.’
‘You’ve got a problem then, Finch,’ said Temple.
‘I haven’t got his fucking gun – your fucking gun,’ said Finch, his voice rising.
‘Then you’d better tell them there was no gun.’
‘But there was. He told me about it.’
‘Did you see it?’
‘No,’ admitted Finch.
‘Then there was no gun. If the cops didn’t find it when they searched his stuff and you haven’t got it, it didn’t exist in the first place. He’s just told you some moody old story about finding a gun at my place to fit me up. Despite what you say, Finch, he was at my place because he set it on fire and then stole a letter of mine with my wife’s name on it. They found this at your flat, in his bag. He was going to go after her next. So for all your trouble in giving him an alibi that night, you can now deal with the Fortunes and King on your own. That’s what you get for being a lying bastard. Perhaps it’ll teach you where your loyalties lie.’ Temple was in no mood for Finch.
‘Thanks a fucking bunch, Temple. Perhaps you’ll get called out to investigate my fucking body in a ditch next. You won’t have to look far, it’ll be the Fortunes,’ spat Finch.
‘Oh piss off, Finch.’ Temple ended the call.
He thought getting King back into prison would be an end to it. Now the Fortunes were looking for the gun – he didn’t need this aggravation.
Finch was right to be bothered though, thought Temple. From the time he’d worked in Trowbridge, he knew Munt had a reputation as a nasty bastard. The Fortunes were a domiciled gypsy family, led by brothers, Caleb and Elijah. They had an unofficial four acre set up, referred to by the local police as ‘South Fork’ on former waste land. They had created an impenetrable gated community for themselves and their extended family, unchallenged by authority. The Fortunes, Munt and King were cousins, brought up alongside each other and as teenagers, had formed a strong bond. Hierarchy was calculated by how much money they brought in. This motivated the younger ones who wanted to emulate their elders but knew they needed to earn their right to swagger.
Like a pair of modern day Fagins, Caleb and Elijah unleash
ed their offspring on the unsuspecting community and surrounding counties. Using their extensive and collective cunning, they preyed on the frail and elderly to confuse and bewilder them into parting with life savings for gardening and repair work, or, disguised variously as gas, water, electric or other officials, they blatantly burgled. And while the kids went out to play, Caleb and Elijah were part of a thriving network processing high end stolen goods, mainly gold and gems. A spot of metal theft and harbouring also kept the wolf from the door.
But King, always the wildest of the bunch, had gone too far. His violence and imprisonment had put the spotlight on them. Raids by the law were to be avoided at all costs and King had made himself a liability. When he came out, the Fortunes told King to leave Temple alone, that it would be like stirring a hornet’s nest, but he wouldn’t listen to them. But then King came back with a gun. Currency. Then suddenly the gun disappeared. Now back inside, Munt took King’s instructions for dealing with Temple and retrieving the gun.
Temple knew Tara would be bothered by Munt. The last thing he needed was her panicked phone calls to him about the Fortunes. They might give Finch a good slap; as Temple saw it, he deserved that for lying for King. With the Fortunes and Munt after the gun, he knew he had to get rid of it. More than that, he was breaking the law and with King back in prison, he had no excuse for this. He took the ammunition, three bullets, out of the gun and put them in his pocket. He’d throw them in the Kennet and Avon canal at his first opportunity.
Temple searched for some painkillers in his pockets. He found the sleeping pills. Unbroken sleep was something which eluded Temple at the best of times. The constant stream of information about the case, about King, Tara and Finch, reduced his ability to sleep further still. When the case was over he promised himself a sleeping pill, until then he’d have to bear the consequence of lack of sleep. He looked in the glove compartment; under the gun was a packet containing the last two Anadin. Needing them quickly in his system and with no water to hand, he chewed them as he drove back to Marlborough Station.