by Cleeves, Ann
‘I’m not sure,’ Ramsay said slowly, ‘that would be wise at this stage. It’s all speculation just now. We’ve no proof. We need something to fix Daniel at the murder scene. His car. A witness. He’s a clever bastard Smooth. We’d never get him to confess. And even if we did, these days that wouldn’t be a lot of use in court without corroboration.’
‘What then?’
‘Mrs Abbot has given him an alibi for the night of the attack on Val McDougal. They were supposed to be at a lecture together in Otterbridge College. If we could persuade her to admit that he slipped away for a while it would be a start…’
‘Do you want me to see her?’ Hunter was on his feet, ready to go.
Ramsay hesitated, tried to be tactful.
‘Do you think we should leave it to Sal? She took the original statement and Mrs Abbot’s nervy. We don’t want her hysterical.’
‘Job for a woman then, you think?’ He sank back into his chair.
Ramsay nodded. ‘I would like you to talk to Lily Jackman again. Though she obviously feels a certain loyalty to the Abbots. She’s kept quiet all this time, after all. But the fact that she sent you off to Rebecca Booth must mean that she’s not happy with Abbot’s behaviour. You might be able to persuade her to talk to you.’
Hunter never walked anywhere unless he could help it. Walking was for the wooden tops and he’d left that behind long ago. But now, when he came out of the pub, he decided to walk to the Old Chapel where he presumed lily Jackman would be working.
He tried to drag all his prejudices to the top of his mind. He thought of the New Age travellers who’d stoned the police keeping them from Stonehenge. They were all the same, he thought. They smoked dope, lived like animals, crapping where the fancy took them. Hunter, who had been known to drive forty miles out of his way to find a public convenience rather than piss behind a tree, shuddered at the thought.
He walked through the restaurant to the health food shop. The heavy smell of spices and yeast and garlic turned his stomach. He told himself he couldn’t live with that all day. The restaurant was empty. The staff recognized him and nodded, not in an unfriendly way, but ironically, as if they could never allow their relationships with the police to be straightforward. At the door he paused and looked for Lily. He felt suddenly nervous. He thought she must be some sort of witch. No one else had ever affected him like this. Still flustered, he went into the shop.
The anaemic boy with the shaved head was on duty. He too recognized Hunter, but he did not let on. ‘ Yes?’ he said carelessly.
‘I’m looking for Miss Jackman,’ Hunter said.
‘She’s not here,’ the boy said. He had on a long bleached apron tied at the back and reminded Hunter of a mortuary assistant.
‘Where is she?’
‘How would I sodding know? It’s her day off.’
So Hunter walked back to the police station, picked up one of the pool cars and drove to Laverock Farm. He parked in the yard beside Ernie Bowles’s old Land-Rover. He opened the car door and swivelled in his seat to pull on the wellingtons he’d had the sense to bring with him.
Lily was hanging washing on a line in the farmhouse back garden. He stood for a moment, looking at her, before she realized he was there.
‘Making yourself at home,’ he said sarcastically.
‘We’ve had permission to stay in the house,’ she said quickly.
‘Where’s lover boy?’
‘I thought they taught you manners these days,’ she snapped.
‘Sorry.’ He walked towards her. ‘Sorry…’
‘Sean’s gone up to Long Edge Farm to talk to Stan Richardson.’
‘What for?’
‘I don’t know. Something to do with the farm, I suppose. He was talking about getting some hens again.’
She picked up the plastic laundry basket and walked into the house. He followed her. The kitchen was even more untidy than when Ernie Bowles had lived there. A mound of dirty plates was piled on the draining board and a box of washing powder stood on the windowsill. There was a smell of stale joss sticks. A candle stood in a bottle in the middle of the table and wax had dripped on to the surface.
‘Why do you live like this?’ he demanded before he could help himself.
‘And how do you live?’ she spat back. ‘ In a nice tidy semi, on a nice tidy estate, with a nice tidy wifey to cook your meals?’
He grinned. ‘With my mam in a council house.’
‘So you’re a mummy’s boy,’ she said. But her anger had dispersed. He felt she was teasing him.
‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s just convenient.’
She made instant coffee in grubby mugs. There was no milk or sugar.
‘I did as you suggested,’ he said. ‘ I went to see Rebecca Booth.’
‘Did you?’ She seemed awkward. ‘A nice kid, isn’t she?’
‘Too nice to be messed around by Daniel Abbot.’
‘She told you then? I wasn’t sure she would.’ She stood up, rinsed her mug under the tap.
‘Why didn’t you tell me about him and Faye Cooper before?’ Hunter demanded.
‘I didn’t think it was relevant,’ she said. ‘I still don’t. Not to the murders. But Rebecca shouldn’t have to put up with that every day. No one should.’
‘Has Daniel tried it on with you?’ he asked suddenly.
She gave a laugh. ‘Of course not. I’m too old. And I’ve got a boyfriend. Daniel always makes sure his victims are unattached. He might look tough but he’s a coward.’
‘What happened that weekend at Juniper Hall?’ Hunter asked.
‘I’m not sure. He was pretty discreet. But on the Saturday evening I found Faye in tears in the ladies. She blamed herself. She was scared Win would find out.’
‘What did you say?’
‘That he was just a dirty middle-aged man and she should stand up to him. She wouldn’t have done, though. She’d just been dumped by Peter Richardson and she’d lost all her confidence. She was in no state to stand up to anybody.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Are you sure she didn’t threaten to tell his wife, or Mrs Pocock, or the press? Are you sure he didn’t drown her to keep her quiet?’
‘Of course he didn’t drown her!’ Lily’s voice was emphatic. ‘I don’t like him any more than you do but he wouldn’t have done that. He’s a healer.’
There was a moment of silence. In the hall Cissie Bowles’s clock began to chime.
‘Did Ernie Bowles know about Mr Abbot’s habit of harassing young girls?’ Hunter asked.
‘I shouldn’t think so. How could he?’
‘You said he was a snoop.’
‘He was that all right. Made it his business to know everyone’s business. But I can’t see how he could have found out about that.’
‘You didn’t tell him?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Did he have any reason to go to the Alternative Therapy Centre?’
‘When Cissie could still get about he used to take her in the Land-Rover for her acupuncture treatment. He used to sit in the waiting room while she saw Mr Abbot. I suppose he could have overheard something but Faye wouldn’t have been around then.’
‘And when Cissie was bedridden?’
‘She was taking some homoeopathic remedies prescribed by Win. Ernie collected the tablets from the Centre. I offered to get them for him but he seemed to like going himself.’
She returned to the table and sat down again, opposite to him. He thought she seemed unusually restless. He could tell that her concentration was wandering.
‘We think Ernie could have been a blackmailer,’ he said, hoping to hold her attention. ‘Did he ever try to blackmail you?’
She laughed. ‘ What would be the point? I’ve no reputation to lose anyway.’
‘But he would be capable of it?’
‘Oh,’ Lily said, ‘he’d be capable of anything. We all are, aren’t we? In the right circumstances. Put under enough s
tress.’
‘What do you mean?’
She paused. He had the impression that she was weighing him up, deciding how far she could trust him, wondering even if she should ask him for help. She seemed about to speak when the door opened and Sean Slater walked in.
‘This is very cosy,’ he said. He stood in the doorway with the sun behind him, breathing heavily as if he’d been running. Something had annoyed him. He was spoiling for a fight but Hunter had just enough sense not to be provoked. He knew Lily Jackman wouldn’t be impressed by fisticuffs anyway.
‘I’m just asking Miss Jackman a few questions,’ Hunter said.
‘I thought you’d be leaving us alone now,’ Slater said. ‘You found my friends in the blue Transit, didn’t you? You know we couldn’t have killed James McDougal. So why do you keep tormenting us?’
‘I’m not tormenting you,’ Hunter explained reasonably. And you’d soon know about it if I was, he thought. ‘I’m asking for information.’
‘Or is there another reason for your interest?’ Sean said nastily. ‘Another reason for you sniffing around here all the time?’
Hunter pretended not to understand. He stood up and walked out of the house. Slater leaned against the frame of the door and watched until his car was out of sight.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Win Abbot had been crying. She pretended at first not to be in. Sally Wedderburn rang the doorbell over and over again but there was no reply. She could have given up and gone back to the station. Why should she always be the one to deal with nervy women anyway? But she was too persistent for that. An alley at the end of the terrace led into a footpath which ran along the back of all the gardens. Beyond that there was open hillside: bracken and sheep-grazed grass. Most of the gardens had a gate on to the footpath. The Abbots’ had stiff bolts, presumably to prevent the children from escaping. Sally gave up trying to shift them and climbed over. She pulled a thread on the pair of Benetton trousers she’d bought in the sales, but was rewarded by a glimpse of Win’s terror-stricken face at the kitchen window.
‘Mrs Abbot!’ she called, knocking on the kitchen door. ‘Please let me in.’
Win must have made an effort to pull herself together, because when she opened the door she was red-eyed but calm.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘ I had the radio on. I didn’t hear the bell.’
‘Could I come in for a while?’
‘I don’t know. It’s not very convenient.’
‘There are just a few points to clear up about the acupuncture lecture,’ Sally said.
Don’t confront her about her husband, Ramsay had told Sally. We don’t want to scare him off. That can come later. Don’t ask her anything about Juniper Hall. Nothing tricky. Get her confidence and stick to the lecture in the college. See if you can break the alibi.
‘You’d better come in then,’ Win said, as if she wasn’t really bothered after all.
The lunch things were still on the table. There were cartons of houmous and olives, half a quiche, a tub of salad. Most was untouched. It seemed Win hadn’t had much of an appetite. It looked as if everything had been bought specially. Not the sort of snack a woman would rustle up for her and the kids. Win saw Sally looking at the table.
‘Magda was here for lunch,’ she said. ‘My mother, you know. She brought the food. The restaurant at the Old Chapel do a carry out service, if you’re hungry just help yourself…’
Sally shook her head. She wondered what the meal had been about. Some sort of peace offering perhaps.
‘Where are the boys?’ she asked.
‘Upstairs having a nap. I couldn’t face their noise today.’
She had a feverish burst of activity, clearing plates, snapping lids on to plastic cartons, then stopped, quite suddenly, before the job was finished. Sally thought she was close to breaking point. It was just as well, she thought, that they hadn‘t sent Hunter. He’d push her right over the edge.
‘Are you married?’ Win Abbot demanded.
Sally shook her head. ‘Thinking about it.’ She smiled. ‘ Would you recommend it?’
‘Yes,’ Win said very quickly. ‘Of course.’ She leaned forward across the table towards Sally. ‘I couldn’t regret marrying Daniel. He’s a great man, you know. He has a gift.’ Her eyes shone with fanaticism. ‘ You can’t expect gifted people to behave in ways we understand.’
She knows her husband likes chasing young girls, Sally thought. And she’s going to do nothing about it. Selfish bitch.
‘I was very ill as a child,’ Win went on. ‘It took someone like Daniel to make me well again. Now he’s helping other people. It’s worth making sacrifices to support him in that.’
Sally did not know how to respond. ‘Hallelujah’ might have been appropriate. Like in a Pentecostal church when someone’s given witness.
‘About the lecture.…’ she said.
‘Yes?’ Win said brightly.
‘Perhaps you could take me through the evening again.’
‘Lily was babysitting. We drove to Otterbridge College. Daniel wanted to arrive early. He was making the introductory speech. He was with me all the time.’
And even if he wasn’t, Sally thought, you wouldn’t let on.
Magda was late arriving and Ramsay was debating about whether he should go to fetch her when the man on the desk said she was there. ‘ I’ll be quarter of an hour,’ he said. ‘Put her in an interview room.’ He wasn’t usually into power games but with Magda, he thought, he needed all the advantage he could get.
But when he saw her he thought he had misjudged the situation. She was subdued, uncertain. They had given her a mug of tea. His mug, he noticed immediately. One that Prue had given him. It was covered with painted pigs. Her idea of a joke. The interview room was taller than it was wide, and could once have been a cell. The bare stone walls had been covered with thick cream gloss paint. The window was very small, close to the ceiling, protected by wire mesh. Although it was a sunny afternoon the room was gloomy and lit by an electric light bulb hanging from a dangerous looking flex. Magda, however, seemed not to notice her surroundings.
When he went in she stood up and held out her hand.
‘Mrs Pocock,’ he said, ‘we’ve been trying to talk to you.…’
‘About the boy. I know.’
‘Where were you yesterday?’ His voice was pleasant, only slightly curious.
‘I went to Juniper Hall,’ she said. ‘I needed somewhere to think. It seemed fitting. There were no guests staying and the staff were very kind. They allowed me to walk in the gardens. It was quite late when I got back, and then Win phoned me and told me about James. I think I had decided to give you this anyway, but I couldn’t keep quiet after that.’
From her bag she took a notebook. It was A4 with hard covers, the sort which might be used in an office as a ledger.
‘Faye Cooper’s diary,’ he said.
‘Yes. Faye’s diary.’ She paused ‘Don’t expect too much, Inspector. I don’t think it will solve your case for you. This hasn’t been a conspiracy to protect a murderer. I really don’t see that it can have anything to do with the attacks on Mr Bowles or the McDougals. That’s what I’ve been telling myself, you see. That’s why I didn’t come forward before. Then I thought you were an intelligent man. You would use the information wisely. And that any information, even of a negative kind, would be of use to you. Was my judgement correct?’
He nodded.
‘Was Faye Cooper murdered?’ he asked.
‘No,’ she said. ‘Not … technically. Morally perhaps there was a responsibility, but nothing, I think, which would interest you. Nothing legal.’
‘She committed suicide?’ he said.
‘You guessed?’ She was surprised, rather impressed.
‘I thought it was a possibility.’
‘She committed suicide,’ Magda said. ‘It’s quite certain. She makes her intention very clear in the diary. She wanted the record set straight.’
‘But it
wasn’t, was it? Not publicly at least. Because you stole the diary. Why did you do that?’
She shrugged heavily and he was reminded again that her mother had been a foreigner. ‘For a number of reasons,’ she said. ‘None of them were very well thought out.’
‘To protect Daniel?’
‘Him? No. To protect my daughter perhaps. She must have guessed at his proclivities, but she would not admit it even to herself. Perhaps it was my fault. I brought her up to believe that those who can heal are special. She’s still infatuated with him, at least the idea of him. I went to see her at lunchtime to show her the diary, to explain what I had to do. She wouldn’t even read it. She had persuaded herself that he was just showing these young girls kindness. Perhaps when the story is out in the open she will not find it possible to maintain the self-deception. I hope that is the case. I would like her to leave him. We could make a life for the children…’
She paused and looked up at him.
‘And then,’ she said, ‘I was protecting myself. I had a part in the girl’s death too.’
‘Tell me what happened,’ Ramsay said. ‘I’ll read the diary, of course, but I’d like to hear it from your point of view.’
She sat back in her chair and shut her eyes.
‘It was such a hot weekend, Inspector, and such a beautiful place. The leaves had started to change colour but otherwise you’d think it was high summer. The … tone of these weekends is usually set very quickly, depending on the people who are there, how they respond to each other. On that occasion it was affected too by the weather. Everything seemed feverish, sultry, highly charged. You understand what I mean?’
‘I think so.’
‘You will see from the diary that on the Friday night Daniel invited Faye Cooper to go with him for a walk. She went without question. She was a lovely girl, no parents to speak of, no boyfriend. If anything Daniel was for her a father figure. I’m not sure precisely what happened on that walk, the diary is not specific. An unwanted advance at least. A forced kiss. Perhaps something more serious…’ She hesitated again, sat more upright.
‘You can see how that would have affected her, Inspector. She had invested all her hope for the future in the practitioners at the Centre. We were her friends and her family. She was unbalanced anyway. You can understand why she took the option of suicide. She looked forward to a life of loneliness…’