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Money, Mishaps and Murder

Page 13

by David Beard


  She found herself outside an old small terraced house. She stood with her weight on her good limb to give her ankle a rest as she checked the intercom by the door, which was an unusual addition to such a modest property. It was clear that the building had been split into two apartments and Giles Sable lived in the one on the upper floor. She pressed the button.

  A brusque voice answered the call. ‘Yes,’ and no more.

  ‘Mr Sable?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Emily introduced herself, she heard the door release and it was explained to her to climb the stairs and knock on the door at the top by the landing.

  Inside the front door was a mess. To give access to the ground floor a makeshift door was built into temporary boarding which blocked off all other access to it, none of which was painted and it left just a narrow passage way to the stairs. The banisters were hidden behind more temporary work to stop the residents below being overlooked.

  She hobbled up stairs resenting the loss of the banisters and wondered whether the planning authorities would see it as legal. She rested twice, knocked on the door, rubbed her ankle, cursed herself for not carrying any painkillers and waited. A slim, good looking man with short dark hair, Emily assessed to be in his early forties, casually dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, opened the door and showed her into his cramped home.

  For her, it was anything but a home. She saw a few pieces of semi-derelict furniture and countless cardboard boxes piled untidily by the door, which made it difficult for her to edge into the room. She followed him to an area he used as a kitchen, which had just enough space for a small table cluttered with dirty dishes, newspapers, pens, papers almost hiding a laptop and two rickety chairs. In the sink was a collection of unwashed dishes that she estimated had been accumulating for a week.

  The living area had a broken down settee, a coffee table, a television set. In the opposite corner was a desktop computer, the only impressive item she had seen, and the room was full. It seemed to her that it had not been decorated since the nineteen twenties: the walls were a dull yellow with mould in the upper corners. The door to the bedroom was opened and she could see an unmade bed, which dominated the room. For her, it was not what she expected of a teacher.

  Because of her inexperience Emily was not sure how to start the conversation: should she talk about the weather, the flat, Tiverton, the telly last evening, football? She decided to dive straight into the business, ‘I will come straight to the point, Mr Sable. You know of the murder of Heather Lynley?’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘We understand that you knew her well. Let me be more precise; you had a relationship with her.’

  Sable sighed heavily and sat down. ‘Please take a seat.’ Emily was grateful and with relief sat facing him across the table. She would have liked to have put her elbows on it but there was no room.

  ‘Yes, I did and that is why I am in this hellhole. Do you want a cuppa?’ Sable appeared relaxed.

  ‘No.’ The sight of the unwashed crockery and the casual approach to cleanliness made the decision an easy one. ‘From what you say, am I right in assuming that it broke up your marriage?’

  ‘Spot on. I lost just about everything: divorce settlements don’t favour wayward husbands. My ex had the lot and custody of the children of course.’

  ‘Do you see them?’

  ‘That’s the problem. I have access rights but she moved away, left no forwarding address and I don’t know where they are. I think she changed her name to make it even more difficult. So, I’m left renting this dreadful place. The direct debits for maintenance still go out; not to her account, but to some solicitor in Surrey. There have been plenty of months when they have been the only ones with money to cover the grocery bills.’

  ‘Did Heather Lynley stand by you?’

  ‘Did she fuck……’

  Emily thought, I know she did and regularly.

  ‘Oh I apologise for that sergeant, but you can guess how I feel.’

  ‘No problem, it is common parlance in this job.’

  ‘No, she walked away; she didn’t wish to be involved in a messy divorce. Made things very difficult in the staff room I can tell you and then there were those who took sides. The head and the governors became involved, took her side and made it so difficult I had to leave. I couldn’t get another full time job. I do some supply work at the moment. It just about keeps my head above water. I managed to get away to a camping site in Brittany this summer. First holiday away I have had since it happened.’

  ‘On your own?’

  ‘Yes…I’m very wary of another relationship I can tell you. Bit of a loner now.’

  ‘What do you teach? And don’t say children,’ she asked in a way she hoped would lighten things up.

  ‘Maths and computer technology,’ he answered directly.

  ‘So, how do you fill in your time when you are not working?’

  ‘I thought about drinking, but I can’t afford it,’ he embarked on dark humour and Emily smiled. ‘I do some consultancy work for business technology, which helps. I am gradually building on that and hopefully it is where my future lies.’

  ‘Who for?’

  ‘Oh, for various firms; local newspapers, building firms; people who don’t carry their own resources in these matters.’

  ‘Friends?’

  ‘I’m a lonely sod. I have a few friends but as you can guess, I don’t invite them back here very often.’ They sat quietly for a while, Emily felt she had exhausted her enquiries but she mulled over what had passed to try and find other avenues to explore.

  Sable piped up again, ‘Biggest mistake of my life, Sergeant and boy have I paid for it.’ He looked up at her and added, ‘It wasn’t bloody worth it; a few hours of pleasure and years of misery. Well, I’m not even sure it was that pleasurable looking back on it.’

  ‘Where were you on the night of the murders?’

  ‘I’ve explained; I was in Brittany.’

  Emily pointedly looked around her, ‘Is this it then?’

  ‘Bloody hell, I hope not. I’m gradually getting myself around and hopefully I will soon be able to move on. I can tell you, starting from scratch and with most of the money ending up in Surrey makes it one hell of a job to collect a deposit.’

  ‘Well, I must go but I expect I will need to see you again.’ She stood to leave and suddenly realised there was something she had not explored. ‘I nearly forgot; did you know Henry Crossworth?’

  ‘You bet I bloody did. I have discovered since, that he was around when I was with her and when it all blew up she went back to him full time, as it were.’

  This opened up something else she had overlooked. ‘How did your wife find out?’

  ‘Staffroom gossip maybe; someone passed it on, I don’t know who. She followed me one day and caught us, in flagrante as they say.’

  Emily picked her way around the boxes and limped to the door.

  CHAPTER 10

  Smalacombe and Emily compared notes. He was in his usual position with his feet on the desk and Emily sat with a chair in front of her with her ankle resting on it, which after so much morning exercise was once again sore.

  ‘I spoke to the MD, Manik Tagore.’

  ‘That’s an impressive name, Dexter.’

  ‘What are you on about?’ he queried and wondered if she was generating a third brain.

  ‘It’s Brahmin and if I remember correctly there are many intellectuals and artists of that name throughout the ages.’

  He concluded she had developed a third brain and he was once again dumbfounded; she was now an authority on the history of India. ‘I’ll press on,’ he said, deliberately putting her interjection to one side. ‘I don’t think there is anything sinister there: according to him there are no disgruntled ex-employees and Crossworth looked after those who stuck with him. Tagore earns more in a year than you and me in a decade I reckon, so he has no need to be disgruntled.’

  ‘That’s more than I can say about Sable. He is on
the other end of the spectrum. He is a very sad individual. What is more he has good reasons to kill off both Lynley and Crossworth.’

  ‘Is there a chance that he is our man? Are you saying we have actually got a suspect?’

  ‘Not on his own I don’t think. Anyway, he was wandering around Brittany on a camping holiday.’

  ‘You only have his word that he was there.’

  ‘Shit! That’s a good point, Dexter. Why didn’t I chase that up? Anyway, I think we need to look a little deeper.’

  ‘Tagore is not sure about the computer wipe but the hacking was a professional job and their system has been hacked for some time; it is pretty much buggered. They are in a hell of a mess.’

  ‘Whoa! Stop there. Sable teaches computer technology and does some consultancy work for local small firms.’

  ‘Get the team to do some investigations. Doesn’t gel though, if he is living hand to mouth,’ Smalacombe advised.

  ‘What’s next?’

  ‘We’ve got to speak to the locals. There is more to this case than casual fucking and ruthless business. I haven’t worked out how yet, but I am sure of it. I saw Jimmy Wilde, the parish councillor, and he hates Crossworth. He mentioned another local farmer who also has a problem.’

  ‘There’s something else, Dexter; Debbie hinted about Wilde’s lovely wife.’

  ‘You are ahead of me as always. She wasn’t around when I went over. I think you could handle such an enquiry better than me. Also, we really need to find out who on earth Geraldine Crossworth really is. She is a bloody mystery. If we can get around that we may well be able to move on.’

  ‘I am happy to see Mrs Wilde and do you want me to interview Geraldine again?’

  ‘Yea. What about your ankle? Can you manage that today?’

  ‘Yes, it’s not too bad, Dexter. In any event, I understand that we can’t sit back on this for whatever reason. Please leave that to me. If it does go wrong then I will have to give up for a while but so far…’

  ‘Don’t overdo it. I want you to get to know Geraldine. No one else does. Tagore, for instance, has no idea what makes her tick.’

  ‘OK. I’ll do my best…What is casual fucking by the way? It’s a bit more intense than that isn’t it?’

  ‘I’ll check my memory bank. You are becoming more bloody incorrigible than me,’ he said, and thought of Hector; what a lucky husband he is if that is her interpretation of it. As always, it brought smiles to their faces and Emily was pleased her deliberate challenge brought the usual relaxed and amusing riposte. She checked her watch.

  ‘Plenty of time to carry on,’ he added, ‘whoops, with the police work I mean.’ More laughter erupted and this time much louder.

  ‘I shall never reach your standards of incorrigibility.’

  ‘Tongue twister! I bet you can’t say that again without stumbling over it. Oh, I forgot, you have a bad ankle.’

  *

  Emily admired the facade of Rosten House once more and limped up to the front door. To her surprise a slim petit woman in her thirties answered the door. Just as Emily was about to introduce herself, she noted Geraldine Crossworth had appeared behind the neat woman, anxiously looking over her shoulder.

  Emily addressed Geraldine and displayed her ID card. ‘In case you don’t remember me, I’m Emily,’ she explained, deliberately only using her forename.

  Geraldine came forward and the younger woman moved aside. ‘Come in.’ She looked to her companion, ‘Elfie, make us a cup of tea and some biscuits.’ Elfie smiled at Emily, nodded to Geraldine and moved off.

  Geraldine led Emily to the front room where she was greeted by the two dogs. Emily wondered how many free cups of tea she would drink throughout her burgeoning career. If the past week was a measure, it could be enough to keep Sri Lanka’s economy going. She looked out onto the garden and noted that the dahlias were now blooming; autumn is on the way she thought.

  Elfie returned with a tray carrying the cups, teapot, sugar, milk and a plate of biscuits. She set it on the table. She had an air of discomfort and looked to Geraldine who explained to her, ‘I want to talk to this lady in private. It’s about Henry.’

  ‘OK. I’ve got lots to do anyway,’ Elfie answered quietly and left. Emily was not surprised that such a house could afford a housekeeper but it puzzled her that she didn’t leave without prompting.

  ‘Come and sit down,’ Emily moved across and sat. ‘You’re limping?’ Geraldine queried.

  ‘I fell off my bike.’

  Geraldine tutted, ‘Have you been to the doctor?’

  ‘I think I’ve just sprained my ankle.’

  ‘That’s not sensible. Let me have a look.’

  ‘You know about these things?’

  ‘I was a physio.’

  ‘At a hospital?’

  ‘No. I specialised in sport. I was a physio at Bristol City, so, believe me, I’m an authority on damaged ankles.’

  This answered the first question Emily wished to deliver. ‘That’s where you met Mr Crossworth.’

  ‘Yes,’ she moved to Emily and knelt in front of her. ‘Let me see.’

  ‘I didn’t wash my feet this morning.’

  ‘I’m used to muddy, sweaty footballer’s ankles, I’m sure I can manage this.’

  Emily removed her shoe and sock and Geraldine began to carefully feel, prod and manipulate the ankle. ‘Does that hurt?’

  ‘No,’ Geraldine moved on to another area, ‘No,’ came the second response. She examined a third part, ‘Aaaooww, that does.’

  ‘You are right; it’s a classic sprain actually. You’ve damaged the ATFL,’ she smiled. Emily looked perplexed. ‘It’s the anterior talofibular ligament. It’s pretty common, painful too, but it does require some rest. It will be OK.’

  ‘Could you write that down? I can impress my superior with that information.’ Emily was preparing another wind up, which would frustrate the country boy and amuse her. This distraction was exactly what she wanted; it broke the ice, apart from providing information.

  ‘How long were you at the football club?’

  ‘Three seasons but they changed managers and he brought in his own backroom. I had to move on but by then Henry and I were an item so…’

  ‘And you married?’

  ‘He died on our thirty fifth wedding anniversary.’

  This gave Emily things to contemplate, ‘My goodness, Geraldine you don’t look old enough.’

  ‘Sixty beckons.’

  Emily noticed that Geraldine couldn’t refer to him being killed, which echoed her distress on that first terrible meeting when the news was broken to her. Also, she wondered, was the date a coincidence?

  ‘Geraldine, this is difficult to say but it doesn’t seem that you were close. Look, I’ve come to see you because I am truly sorry for you and I want to help, but I have a job to do as you well know.’ Geraldine pulled a face and shrugged. ‘The more we know, the greater the chance of catching the culprits.’

  ‘Culprits? Plural?’

  ‘We are pretty sure, yes. Can you tell me about yourself and Henry? We have been talking to others and frankly, no one is clear where you fit in.’

  Geraldine picked up a custard cream, dunked it and slowly ate it. Emily took her first sip of tea. ‘I’m his wife for goodness sake.’ Emily noted she used the present tense. ‘OK, our relationship is unusual but I’m not sure I want it scrawled all over your station’s whiteboards, let alone the papers.’

  ‘I need to get the feel for things; there is no need to broadcast anything salacious unless it is central to the case. The problem is we can’t scratch you off the list because there is so much we don’t understand.’

  Geraldine took another biscuit and followed the same routine, ‘I don’t want too many discussions like this as I will start putting on weight,’ she studied the biscuit and moaned. ‘I expect things will emerge anyway.’

  ‘Henry was renowned for spreading it around a bit?’

  ‘Not a bit, a lot.’

&n
bsp; ‘Did you know?’

  ‘Of course I did.’

  ‘Then why did you stay with him? More to the point, why did he stay with you?’

  ‘Please help me eat these damn biscuits,’ she offered Emily the plate and she took one but unlike her companion she didn’t dunk it. ‘I found out very early on. We may not have been lovers anymore but we were always the best of friends and he was outrageously generous to those he was close to, which included me.’

  ‘Heather Lynley?’

  ‘Oh, and many others but she was often around, on and off…’

  ‘Lots of on and offs, I imagine,’ Emily immediately regretted the comment although she felt she needed to be more challenging. Unfortunately, she was catching the worst aspects of the country boy syndrome. To her great relief and for the first time Geraldine laughed. It was not a raucous explosion but it was a change of attitude.

  It bewildered Emily; why was Geraldine not angry? ‘Weren’t you jealous?’

  ‘Well, no. You see……,’ she hesitated and wondered whether to take another biscuit in order to postpone things a little longer. She knew she had no option but to continue and she decided to be as forthright as she could be. The truth would out sooner or later. ‘I wasn’t very enamoured with the physical side of things. Frankly, it was a messy chore. I didn’t understand it because it was something other people were obsessed with.’

  ‘So, you let him carry on elsewhere?’

  Geraldine leant forward; her hands clasped on her lap and she lowered her voice as she wished to be confidential. ‘Something hit me out of the blue and in a flash I knew what my problem was. I had met Lynley a few times, in a different context of course. One night, I knew he was away with her and, as a young married woman I was fuming, not just because of what they were doing, but because I was confused and lonely. I suddenly realised why Henry wanted her. In those days, she was stunning.’

 

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