The Pursuit of Truth

by Arthur Hughes

  ‘No, that won’t be necessary, Doctor Carter. We’ll be holding you here for the time being.’

  ‘On what charge, may I ask?’

  ‘Suspicion of murder. You’ll be formally charged in a moment. And your fingerprints will be taken.’ Healey nodded to Teague, who walked to the door and held it open for Carter.

  ‘This way, please,’ said Teague.

  As the door swung shut, Healey was left sitting at the table, breathing yet again the acrid scent of Carter’s body odour.

  After setting in motion an application for a search warrant for Carter’s house and office, and ensuring that any request for bail would be refused on the grounds of the seriousness of the crime and the fact that Carter had connections in Morocco, a country with which the UK had no formal extradition treaty, Healey and Teague had driven in their separate cars to Healey’s house. Healey had left Teague sitting in the garden with a can of lager and then went off to Farrell’s. Farrell answered the door.

  ‘Oh, hello, Richard. Come in.’ They sat in the front room.

  ‘We’ve been talking to Dr Carter.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘He told us that we should be considering you as a suspect.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And are you?’

  ‘Not at the moment, no. But unless we can tie a current suspect directly to the murder, then we’ll have to look at other possibilities.’

  ‘By current suspect, you mean Chris?’

  ‘When Dr Carter came back from the Hall that night, you said you didn’t hear him open or close a car door.’

  ‘That’s true. I didn’t.’

  ‘Did he bring anything into the house?’

  ‘Not that I’m aware of.’

  ‘Did you hear him go to the back of your house, into the garden?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But he still might have done. Do you remember the evening that I came round and you were burning stuff in the garden? When we went to the Three Tuns.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What were you burning?’

  ‘Leaves, branches, general rubbish.’

  ‘Not a cricket bat?’

  ‘What? No. Of course not.’

  ‘Why of course not? Dr Crouch’s bat went missing the night he was killed. It could well have been used to render him unconscious before he was pushed out of the window.’

  ‘But I had nothing to do with that. I wasn’t anywhere near the Hall. I was here. I thought you accepted that.’

  ‘For the moment, yes. But what if the person who killed Dr Crouch brought the bat here and took advantage of your fire to burn it? Dr Carter was here that evening you were doing the burning, wasn’t he?’

  ‘Yes.’ Farrell looked uneasy.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘I saw nothing.’

  ‘I think I did.’

  ‘What, saw someone burning the bat?’

  ‘No, but what I saw could well have been part of a bat handle grip. Red, like the one on Crouch’s bat. Do you think we could go into the garden?’

  ‘All right. But why?’

  ‘Let’s imagine that I was right. Someone was burning the bat. And Crouch’s diary, possibly. I arrive in the middle of it. Not everything is burned. There could still be something here.’ They were now in the garden. The ashes in the incinerator were sodden after the previous night’s storm.

  ‘Now if I interrupted the burning of the bat that night, where would the unburned parts be? In the hedge? Under a plant?’ Healey asked himself aloud, as he continued walking down the lawn, past the incinerator. ‘Or might it be in the shed? Is there a lock on it?’ he asked Farrell, who had followed him down the lawn.

  ‘A padlock but I never lock it.’

  Healey stopped at the shed, opened the door, and stood looking inside. He stepped forward, put on his glasses, and dropped to his haunches next to the workbench. ‘Look. Sawdust. And unless I’m mistaken, some particles of red rubber. Can you see?’

  Farrell looked over Healey’s shoulder. ‘Yes.’ His voice was hoarse.

  Healey stood up. ‘Now if we were to find the rest of the bat …’ Stepping carefully round the sawdust, he craned forward, turned his head to look between a toolbox on the bench and the wall behind it.

  ‘Well I never. A cricket bat with its handle sawn off.’ Healey studied it without touching it. ‘Gray Nicolls,’ he read. He was pretty sure that was the make of the bat in the photograph in Crouch’s house. Farrell stayed where he was. Healey turned towards him.

  ‘You didn’t know about this?’ Farrell shook his head.

  ‘No, I’m sure you didn’t,’ Healey continued. ‘You and your wife were probably in the house and left Carter by himself in the garden for several minutes, didn’t you?’

  When Farrell hesitated, Healey added, ‘If you were part of a strong case against Carter, it would make it easier to overlook your previous false statement. Otherwise the possibility of your being charged as an accessory might arise.’ He paused.

  ‘I hope you understand me.’ When Farrell didn’t reply, Healey touched him on the arm. ‘You will do when you make your fresh statement. Come on, let’s go back to the house. Can I use your phone? I need to get people to take these away and examine them.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘In the meantime, please don’t enter the shed. And don’t let anyone else there. All right?’

  ‘All right.’

  Farrell accompanied Healey to the front gate. ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘I heard from the Research Council today. I’ve got the money for the research in Spain.’

  ‘Congratulations. Are you going to go?’

  ‘I think so. Pam is happy about it now. She can still carry on with her OU course. And she’ll enjoy being in Spain.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll all enjoy it.’

  ‘Thanks. And what about you? Are you going to apply to us?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so, not this year. I’ve rather gone off the idea.’ Healey didn’t add that he’d rather gone off Farrell too. He lied to him about Carter and he lied too about his relationship with Teresa.

  ‘Well if ever …’

  ‘Thank you. Of course.’

  ‘Just one other thing before you go. You asked what the letters PF might stand for. It dawned on me, it probably stands for Pension Fund. The BC gave me my cheque for the course this morning. That’s what made me think of it. Whenever we manage to make a bit of extra money, we always say it’s for our pension fund. Neville did, I’m sure.’

  Healey smiled. ‘Really? Well that’s very helpful. Thank you.’ He set off along the pavement in the direction of his own house. Farrell watched him all the way, before walking back to his front door, a thoughtful expression on his face.

  After Healey got back to the house and told Teague what had happened, he invited him to stay for supper. Teague accepted with alacrity. His wife had taken ‘the littlun’ to stay with her mother for the weekend, so he would only have had a takeaway. Then, after supper and drinking a few cans of lager, he agreed to stay the night rather than drive home. He sprawled on the sofa, a can balanced on his little pot belly, his stockinged feet hanging over the arm. Jamie came in, supposedly to say goodnight. ‘Teague,’ he said.

  ‘Sergeant Teague to you,’ said his father.

  Jamie ignored this and went on. ‘What’s pink and wrinkled and hangs out your trousers?’

  ‘I don‘t know,’ answered Teague, grinning. ‘What is pink and wrinkled and hangs out of your trousers?’

  Jamie roared with laughter. ‘Not hangs out of your trousers. Hangs out your trousers.’ Healey couldn’t help laughing, and nor could Teague. The can of beer bobbed up and down on his belly. ‘I don’t know. Tell me. What is it?’

  ‘Your mum, of course,’ cried Jamie.

  Teague laughed even more. ‘That’s a good one.’

  ‘Yes, said Healey. ‘That is a good one. And now you can have a good one, young Jamie.’ He picked up his son and carried him
to the door.

  ‘A good what, Dad?’

  ‘A good night. And now say goodnight.’

  ‘Goodnight, Sergeant Teague.’

  ‘Goodnight, Jamie.’

  When Healey came back from putting his son to bed, Teague nodded to him, a grin on his face. ‘So that’s it. We’ve done it. Carter won’t know what’s hit him tomorrow morning. A job well done, I’d say, sir.’

  ‘Yes, a job well done. Thanks for all your efforts. Really appreciate it.’

  Teague was silent. Suddenly a thought struck him. ‘How did you find out about someone being seen leaving Crouch’s room in the Hall?’

  ‘Sometimes it’s not a bad idea to get close to people involved in a case. Whatever the Super says.’ Healey smiled. ‘Worth remembering that.’

  If Teague thought he was going to learn about the circumstances in which Healey had been told of the sighting, he was disappointed. He asked another question. ‘That dickhead Wright. I don’t see where he fitted in. Do you?’

  ‘Mmm. Remember the customs chap asking about him? Got his name wrong. Well it dawned on me in the end. He must have been working for them.’

  ‘What, Wright working for Customs?’

  Healey nodded. ‘That’s how they knew about Reyes and the cases at Gatwick.’

  ‘You’ve got to be joking. Never.’

  ‘He was. I actually rang them to check and they confirmed it.’

  ‘Well I never did. I suppose that’s why he didn’t give a monkey’s.’

  Healey nodded again.

  ‘And drugs had nothing to do with the murder.’

  ‘No, we were wrong about that,’ agreed Healey.

  ‘And I was wrong about cherchez la femme.’

  Healey looked surprised at this admission.

  Teague continued, ‘Yes, it was cherchez two femmes. There was Carter’s wife. If he hadn’t fallen for her, none of this would have happened. And Crouch’s. She was the reason he did what he did.’

  ‘I suppose so.’ Healey was reluctant to concede the point but it would be difficult to argue against it. He looked at the crumpled beer can at Teague’s feet. ‘Fancy another beer?’

  ‘Please.’

  When Healey came back from the kitchen with the beer, Teague was clearly still turning things over in his mind. ‘And that letter we found in Crouch’s room in the Hall,’ he said. ‘The one in funny English. I suppose Carter wrote it.’

  ‘Yes, and if he wrote it on his computer at work or one at home, it’ll still be there, I’m told. There are ways of finding it, whatever he did to get rid of it.’

  Teague nodded and then remained silent until another thought occurred to him. ‘You know Farrell, you don’t think he could have …’

  ‘Don’t even think of it.’

  As he lay in bed that night, however, Healey did think of it. How likely was it that Farrell hadn’t known what was happening to the bat in his own garden? And if he hadn’t, would Carter have left the bat there for days without going back to burn it completely, or take it away? The more Healey thought about it, the more uncertain he became. But one thing he was sure of was that nothing useful would be served by investigating further Farrell’s possible role as an accessory. Eventually he took his own advice to Teague, and quickly fell into a deep sleep.

  no proof, they’ve got no proof

  clowns

  no logic to it

  just bluff

  no reasonable doubt? ha!

  of course there’s reasonable doubt

  I’ll show them

  such utter utter clowns

  SUNDAY

  A metallic-green Vauxhall Cavalier sped down the M2 in the direction of Dover. Inside were a man, a woman, a boy, a girl and a dog. In the boot were a tent and various items of camping equipment. Healey’s head nodded in time to a country music cassette. His wife dozed, as did the dog on her knees. The children were reading the books that had been bought for the holiday and which they hadn’t been allowed to look at until then.

  After spending the first part of the morning taking fresh and carefully managed statements from Farrell and Sam, the course assistant, Healey and Teague were confident of the case they had against Carter. They deliberately did not speak to him but learned that after a night in the cells he had asked for the first time to speak to his solicitor. Doubtless he would try some new trick or other but, however much he wriggled, he wouldn’t get off the hook. They had him.

  Soon after they had taken the statements, Healey received a call from his Superintendent. ‘Well done, Dick,’ he said, calling him this for the first time that Healey could remember. ‘Very well done.’ After clearing his throat, the Superintendent went on to say how draining the last week must have been for him, ‘especially as you seem to have got involved emotionally, I understand, with the people you were investigating. Why don’t you take a week or two’s leave. You deserve it. I can look after the case while you’re away, with Teague’s help of course. How about that?’

  Healey knew that he really had no choice and, in any case was ready for a break and said so. ‘That’s fine then,’ the Superintendent continued. ‘It will do you good. One other thing – keep it under your hat – don’t be surprised if you hear very shortly that Mike Teague is being promoted. We’re very impressed with his performance on this case. We see a bright future for the lad.’ Healey did not respond, something which doubtless would not improve the Super’s opinion of him. But to hell with that.

  So that was how he came to be on the way to Dover, where they would spend the night at his wife’s mother’s and leave the dog. They’d catch a ferry to Calais in the morning. They hadn’t booked anything, would go just where their fancy took them. There was nothing in Healey’s mind but a sense of having completed something well and a feeling of freedom. Freedom from work, from worry, from the itch to know other women. The future was full of new possibilities. He began to sing along tunelessly with the cassette. His wife woke up and smiled at him.

  AFTERWORD

  The deleted file containing the threatening letter to Crouch was found on Carter’s computer at the University. Carter was found guilty of murder and sentenced to life imprisonment.

  No action was taken against Farrell.

  Teague was promoted to Detective Inspector.

  Healey returned from holiday and went back to work. He never did do a degree.