The Scent of Death--A Sukey Reyholds British police procedural

by Betty Rowlands

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Recent Titles by Betty Rowlands from Severn House

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Epilogue

  Recent Titles by Betty Rowlands from Severn House

  ALPHA, BETA, GAMMA … DEAD

  COPYCAT

  DEADLY OBSESSION

  DEATH AT DEARLY MANOR

  DIRTY WORK

  A FOOL THERE WAS

  A HIVE OF BEES

  AN INCONSIDERATE DEATH

  MISS MINCHIN DIES

  PARTY TO MURDER

  THE SCENT OF DEATH

  SMOKESCREEN

  TOUCH ME NOT

  UNNATURAL WASTAGE

  THE SCENT OF DEATH

  Betty Rowlands

  This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  First published in Great Britain and the USA 2014 by

  SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD of

  19 Cedar Road, Sutton, Surrey, England, SM2 5DA

  eBook edition first published in 2014 by Severn House Digital

  an imprint of Severn House Publishers Limited

  Copyright © 2014 by Betty Rowlands.

  The right of Betty Rowlands to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

  Rowlands, Betty author.

  The scent of death. – (A Sukey Reynolds mystery)

  1. Reynolds, Sukey (Fictitious character)–Fiction.

  2. Murder–Investigation–Fiction. 3. Policewomen–Great

  Britain–Fiction. 4. Detective and mystery stories.

  I. Title II. Series

  823.9’14-dc23

  ISBN-13: 978-0-7278-8391-9 (cased)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-78010-538-3 (ePub)

  Except where actual historical events and characters are being described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.

  This eBook produced by

  Palimpsest Book Production Limited,

  Falkirk, Stirlingshire, Scotland.

  PROLOGUE

  ‘Are we all here?’ Justin Freeman glanced round the room at the group of music lovers who were settling down after dinner to enjoy a programme of music in the Orchard Room at Dallington Manor, where his annual musical house party was in full swing.

  Eric, who made it his business to check numbers, raised a hand. ‘All except Lance,’ he said in his high-pitched, slightly querulous voice.

  Justin frowned. ‘That’s odd, he’s usually here first.’ There were nods of agreement all round. Lance Rainbird did not usually stay for social chit-chat over the after-dinner coffee.

  ‘He said something about going out for a spot of air,’ someone in the back row volunteered.

  ‘Well, it is a lovely evening,’ his neighbour agreed. ‘And you can see the stars; that’s the advantage of this place, it’s quite a distance from a town so there isn’t much in the way of light pollution.’

  ‘I’m not putting the evening’s programme on hold to wait for Lance,’ Justin announced with a rare touch of impatience. ‘Let’s hope he has the grace to slide in quietly when he comes in from his stargazing. Right, we’re going to listen to Mozart’s Fortieth Symphony this evening. This is a particularly good example of a work composed in the sonata form. May I take it you all understand what that means? Not sure?’ he went on, noting one or two doubtful expressions. ‘Right, well it’s very simple really. Let’s take the first movement. We start with the first or principal subject.’ He pressed a key on the CD player beside him and played the opening of the first movement. Hands moved and bodies swayed gently in time with the familiar music until he pressed the pause button and said, ‘Now listen to the next or bridge section, leading to the introduction of the second …’ He broke off as the door was flung open and the hotel manager appeared in an obvious state of agitation.

  ‘I do apologize for bursting in like this, Mr Freeman.’ He sounded breathless, as if he’d been running. ‘There’s been an accident. It’s Mr Rainbird … one of my staff found him in the lake. We’ve pulled him out and someone’s giving him the kiss of life, but I think … I do hope I’m wrong … but I’m afraid he might be dead.’

  ‘Good heavens,’ Justin exclaimed. ‘Have you sent for an ambulance?’

  ‘Oh yes of course. They’re on their way … ah, I think I can hear the siren.’ He turned and rushed out with Justin at his heels, leaving the assembled guests exchanging horrified glances.

  ONE

  ‘What’s your take on classical music, Sukey?’ DS Vicky Armstrong returned to her desk, but did not sit down.

  ‘Classical music?’ DC Sukey Reynolds cast a slightly puzzled look at her recently promoted friend. ‘What’s this about? Are you doing a crossword puzzle or something?’

  ‘No, this is serious. We’ve just been given an assignment by DI Rathbone. It’s at a place called Dallington Manor, a country house hotel a few miles the other side of Clevedon. They’ve got some kind of music festival going on there. A man’s body’s been fished out of the lake.’ Vicky consulted the printout in her hand. ‘A chap called Rainbird.’

  ‘Is that all we know?’

  ‘It seems the woman who spotted the man rushed back to the hotel and informed the manager, who told one of his staff to call for an ambulance and then rushed down to the lake with another of his staff who’s trained in first aid. They managed to fish the man out of the water and did their best to revive him, but when the paramedics arrived they said he was dead and called us. They’re waiting for a doctor. DI Rathbone has been notified and he’s told us to get there ASAP.’

  Sukey gave a resigned sigh. ‘What’s the betting the floater had too much to drink and lost his balance?’

  Vicky shrugged. ‘That’s probably why Sir farmed it off on us so that he could leave on time.’ She glanced at the clock. ‘Another half an hour and we’d have been off duty.’

  ‘It could be worse,’ said Sukey. ‘At least it isn’t too far.’

  Vicky grimaced. ‘Typical of you, always ready to look on the bright side. I’ve just called Chris to say expect me when he sees me and he
isn’t best pleased. He’s trying out a new recipe and he wants my opinion, says it won’t take kindly to being kept hot.’ Vicky’s partner was a chef at an exclusive hotel on the outskirts of Bristol.

  ‘Are uniformed at the scene?’

  ‘On their way and I’ve booked us a car, so let’s go.’

  During the drive Vicky shared with Sukey the information she had obtained about Dallington Manor from their website. ‘It sounds quite exclusive – only thirty-five bedrooms, all en suite of course, and the entire building’s smoke-free. Secluded setting, beautiful grounds. They have facilities for conferences and wedding receptions – they erect a marquee for the receptions. Conferences are held in the main building – that’s the one the victim was attending.’

  ‘You said something about classical music,’ said Sukey.

  Vicky grinned. ‘That’s how Sir described it. Perhaps it’s a sort of posh Woodstock; anyway, that’s all we know at the moment. I’ll have to get more info from the organizer.’ She glanced once more at the printout. ‘Justin Freeman. Does the name mean anything to you?’

  ‘Not a thing,’ said Sukey. ‘I hope there isn’t a reception being held at the same time; there could be up to seventy people at the festival – or conference, or whatever it’s called – and if there’s a reception as well it could mean hundreds of people milling about.’ She heaved a sigh. ‘Think of all the statements to be taken. Ah, here we are.’

  The entrance to Dallington Manor was through an impressive pair of wrought-iron gates and along a winding drive that climbed a gentle slope. Two police cars were already there, parked alongside an ambulance. Sukey parked, they got out and Vicky spoke to one of the paramedics.

  ‘The doctor’s just arrived,’ she said. ‘He’s down there with the police.’ She pointed to a grassy slope to where glimpses of water could be seen between some trees with overhanging branches. Several people, including uniformed officers with powerful flashlights, could be seen close to a figure lying on the ground a few feet from the edge of the water. A man with a stethoscope was bending over him.

  ‘Right,’ said Vicky, ‘we’d better go down and have a word.’

  ‘Careful,’ the paramedic warned, ‘the grass is a bit slippery after all the rain.’

  ‘Thank goodness it’s cleared up,’ Sukey remarked as they made their way down the slope. She glanced at the sky. ‘It’s a beautiful night. Just look at all the stars.’

  As they approached, one of the officers, Sergeant Drury, came forward. He raised a hand in greeting and said, ‘Hi Vicky, good to see you. Congratulations on your promotion.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Vicky. ‘You know Sukey, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Drury, ‘we’ve worked together before. When are you going for promotion, Sukey?’

  ‘I’m thinking about it,’ she said. She glanced beyond him. ‘What’s the story?’

  ‘He’s a man aged about forty something, identified as Lance Rainbird. He’d been attending a music event organized by Justin Freeman, musicologist and part-time conductor. He had dinner with the rest of the participants but instead of staying for coffee and a chat he said he was going outside for some air before the evening programme. The receptionist noticed him go past her desk on the way to the front door, and so far as we know she was the last person to see him alive. Ah, the doctor seems to have finished; let’s go and have a word.’

  ‘I reckon he’s been dead not much longer than an hour,’ said the doctor as he put his stethoscope in his bag and stood up. ‘Drowning appears to be the cause of death, but there’s not enough light here to do a proper examination. I’ll have a closer look when we get him to the morgue. I’ll be in touch.’

  ‘Many thanks, Doc,’ said Drury. He turned back to the two detectives. ‘We received the call a little after nine. The evening session had just begun; Rainbird’s absence had been noted and someone mentioned that he’d gone outside for some air so the organizer began without him. They’d hardly got started when the hotel manager rushed in with the news that Rainbird had been found in the lake; he and a member of his staff had pulled him out, one of them was trying artificial respiration and an ambulance had been called. Freeman went dashing out with him, telling the others to wait till he got back.’ Drury consulted his notebook. ‘We got here about nine twenty; the paramedics were already here and said they were pretty sure the man was dead. The doctor on duty happened to live locally and arrived a few minutes later. I guess you’ll want to have a look round before they take him to the morgue.’

  They stood for a few moments in silence, looking down at the dead man. His eyes stared blankly through half-open lids; it seemed to Sukey that they held a vague expression of bewilderment, as if he was trying to make sense of what had happened to him. Traces of duckweed clung grotesquely to his forehead and the side of his face; a froth of bubbles clung to the mouth, only partially wiped away during the efforts at resuscitation.

  ‘Who found him?’ asked Sukey.

  ‘A hotel employee, a young woman called Rosie. He was lying face down in the water and she went back to the house in a state of panic, screaming for help.’

  ‘We’ll let the paramedics take him away and then we’d better contain the scene until we can establish exactly what happened,’ said Vicky. ‘Will your chaps see to that, Rob?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Drury.

  ‘We’ll go in and get some statements.’ They followed the directions to reception. A tall man with receding grey hair and a neatly trimmed beard was at the desk talking to a uniformed police constable whom neither Vicky nor Sukey had met before. He moved forward to greet them.

  ‘PC Bond,’ he said, adding with a wry smile, ‘James Bond. And there are no prizes for guessing why I’m known as double-oh-seven.’

  Sukey gave a sympathetic chuckle but Vicky remained straight-faced. ‘DS Armstrong and DC Reynolds,’ she said briskly with a questioning glance at the man beside him.

  ‘This is Mr Justin Freeman,’ Bond went on. ‘He’s the organizer of the event Mr Rainbird was attending. All the other participants are waiting in the Orchard Room, which is where they were assembled when the news of the tragedy reached them.’

  ‘I thought that was the best thing to do,’ said Freeman, who had not spoken during the introductions. ‘Forgive me, but I don’t understand why members of the CID should be here. Surely this is nothing but a dreadful accident.’

  ‘There’s no need for alarm,’ said Vicky. ‘It’s normal for the CID to be informed in any case of an unexpected death and we have no reason at this stage to assume there’s anything suspicious about what happened to Mr Rainbird.’ Freeman appeared re-assured, but he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his fingers. ‘Perhaps you could go and see them,’ Vicky went on, ‘tell them we’re here and say we shall need to take some details from them.’

  ‘Is it OK to let them leave the Orchard Room?’

  ‘Provided they don’t leave the building.’

  ‘They’ll be relieved at that. My guess is quite a few will be heading for the bar. I could do with a drink myself.’

  ‘That’s fine.’

  Vicky turned to the receptionist, a woman of about thirty with straight, neatly cut hair, wearing a blue blazer with a DM monogram on the pocket. ‘We need to speak to the person who found the body. Is there a private room we can use?’

  ‘Of course.’ She raised the counter and beckoned them to go behind the desk. ‘The girl who found Mr Rainbird is already waiting in the manager’s office. The manager’s wife is with her; they’re both pretty upset and Mr Chapman has given them a nip of brandy to calm them down.’ She opened a door and ushered them into a room with a desk, a computer and two filing cabinets. A young woman was seated in front of the desk and an older woman sat beside her, holding one of her hands. She stood up when the detectives entered, but without releasing the younger woman’s hand. ‘This is Mrs Chapman, our manager’s wife,’ said the receptionist. ‘These ladies are from the police and they’d
like a word with Rosie.’

  ‘Thank you, Maxine,’ said Mrs Chapman, a good-looking woman of about forty. Like Rosie, she was trembling; her eyes were wet and her voice was unsteady. ‘I’m Lily Chapman,’ she explained. ‘I’m afraid we’re both very upset – especially Rosie, of course, as she’s the one who actually found him … that is to say –’ at this point she drew a deep breath before saying – ‘found Mr Rainbird.’

  ‘It’s understandable that you’re upset,’ said Vicky. ‘It’s a dreadful thing to have happened and we’ll try to make this as easy as possible for you.’

  ‘Thank you. Would you like to sit down? I can ask Maxine to fetch some chairs for you.’

  ‘No thank you, we’re fine,’ said Vicky. She looked down at the younger woman, whom Sukey judged to be in her mid-twenties. Her eyes were red and swollen and she clutched a handful of damp tissues, but appeared fairly calm. ‘Are you OK to answer a few questions, Rosie?’ She nodded. ‘We understand you’re the one who first saw Mr Rainbird’s body in the water and came back to raise the alarm.’

  ‘I didn’t realize it was Mr Rainbird,’ said Rosie. ‘I just saw a shape in the water and when I looked I could see it was a man. I couldn’t see his face but he was very still and I …’ Her voice threatened to break but she controlled it with an effort and went on, ‘I think I must have screamed; anyway, I ran back into the house and asked for help and a couple of people ran out and … you said “Mr Rainbird’s body”. He really is dead, then?’ She looked up at Lily Chapman, who bit her lip and nodded. She too appeared not far from tears.

  ‘I’m afraid so,’ said Vicky. ‘Would you mind telling us what you were doing by the lake?’

  Rosie jumped as if she had been stung. ‘I was just out for a stroll. Surely you don’t think that I …?’

  ‘I didn’t say that,’ Vicky interrupted with a hint of impatience. ‘Would you mind answering the question?’

  ‘But I hardly knew the gentleman … why would I …?’ She appeared on the point of breaking down and Lily Chapman patted her shoulder and shot a slightly reproachful glance at Vicky.