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

by Betty Rowlands

  ‘Which you said I didn’t need to know,’ he reminded her.

  ‘You still don’t. Luke Grayson came to identify his brother’s body; he told us quite a lot about his family but during a conversation Rainbird’s name came up. He expressed surprise and shock, but he didn’t mention he was a colleague. When we found out he’d withheld that information DI Rathbone told us to see him again.’

  ‘And what reason did he give?’

  ‘That isn’t important. What is interesting is that he stated that on the Friday evening Rainbird was killed he was here, making sure everything was in order for his mother-in-law’s one hundredth birthday party the next day.’

  ‘I see what you’re getting at,’ said Harry. ‘You obviously think it’s significant for some reason, but before we go any further let’s decide what we’re going to eat. Do you fancy one of these dishes to share? They look interesting.’

  ‘Good idea. Which one shall we have?’

  Harry beckoned the waiter. ‘What do you recommend?’ he asked.

  ‘The savoury hors d’oeuvres are very popular with our regular guests, sir.’

  ‘That sounds a good recommendation,’ said Sukey. ‘Let’s have those. Vicky and I found Grayson’s attitude a bit arrogant,’ she said as the waiter left to place their order. ‘It was only to give him a bit of aggro that I asked him where he was the night Rainbird died. He expressed outrage, said he was here and suggested very scornfully that if I didn’t believe him I could check with the maitre d’.’

  ‘And as you happen to be here you think you might as well do just that?’ said Harry.

  ‘It seems too good a chance to miss. I’ve no idea how big the party was but I doubt if it would have been held in here. When the waiter brings our food he’ll tell us the right person to ask.’

  ‘Mr Luke Grayson?’ The events manager consulted his computer. ‘Ah yes, he gave a luncheon party for fifty guests. It was exactly a week ago today.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Sukey. ‘It was his mother-in-law’s one hundredth birthday and I understand he was particularly anxious that everything should go without a hitch. He even said he spent the previous evening here, going over all the details. Presumably that would have been with you?’

  The man smiled as if the recollection struck a chord. ‘Oh yes, I remember. He was most particular and spent at least an hour going over everything – although,’ he stopped for a moment and referred back to the computer, ‘actually it wasn’t the evening, it was the morning. He insisted on going over every detail to make sure we were quite clear about his instructions: the menu, the wines, guests seated in the correct order and so on.’

  ‘Yes, he is a stickler for detail,’ said Sukey, ‘but I understand everything went well on the day.’

  ‘I can personally vouch for that. Are you planning a similar function? Did Mr Grayson recommend us?’

  ‘Not exactly; it just cropped up in conversation. Thank you for your help.’

  ‘My pleasure, madam.’

  ‘What do you think we should do next?’ said Harry as he and Sukey left the hotel. ‘I don’t suppose you have Grayson’s home address?’

  ‘As it happens I don’t, but even if I did there’s no way I’d use it without DI Rathbone’s say-so. My remit while I’m in town is to check Rainbird’s flat and chat to some neighbours, and that’s what I’ve done; end of story.’

  ‘But Grayson’s come up with yet another lie,’ Harry protested. ‘Surely you can’t let him get away with that. If he checked his party arrangements at the Ritz on Friday morning he would have had plenty of time to be at Dallington Manor in time to kill Rainbird and be back well before midnight.’

  ‘That’s true, but what’s the motive?’

  ‘You said he works in the same office as Rainbird and we know Rainbird had some stuff on Freeman that he wouldn’t want spread round. Suppose he had some dirt on Grayson as well.’

  ‘It’s possible, but a previous DCI who was asked for a character reference when I transferred from the Gloucestershire force mentioned that I was inclined to be what he called a loose canon, and DCI Leach said the same after the tattoo parlour adventure, as you call it. I’m not going to risk yet another rap on the knuckles for the same thing. The best I can do is report this to Rathbone when I get back.’

  ‘Is he on duty today?’

  ‘As far as I know.’

  ‘Then why not give him a call now and tell him what you’ve found out?’

  ‘It’s tempting, but how do I explain why I started questioning the events manager while I was having lunch with you? He has no idea you’re the reason I’m doing this weekend in town.’

  ‘You don’t have to let him know about me. Tell him you’ve got a rich uncle; I’m sure you can think of something.’

  ‘Vicky knows I’m meeting you because I’d already told her I’d asked you to do a bit of ferreting around near Rainbird’s place for me. She promised to keep it quiet for the time being, but if I told Rathbone about this and he shared it with the others she might feel duty bound to say you’re the one who invited me to London and took me to lunch at the Ritz. I’ve got to think this through.’

  ‘All right,’ he said resignedly. ‘It’s still quite warm so let’s go for a stroll in Green Park.’

  The mild weather had attracted a number of people to the park. There were families with children; some had spread blankets on the grass and were enjoying picnics while others were strolling along the paths, stopping every few yards to admire the flowers. ‘Let’s hire a couple of deckchairs,’ Harry suggested. ‘Maybe you’ll think better sitting down and relaxing. Or you might have a little nap while you digest your lunch.’

  ‘Which was delicious,’ said Sukey. ‘Thank you so much, Harry.’

  They sat for a while without speaking. Around them, pigeons were pecking in the grass, occasionally taking off with a noisy flapping of wings when chased by a shrieking child. Sukey closed her eyes, reflected on everything they had learned that day and tried to decide how she should handle it. She found herself praying. Please Lord, tell me what I should do!

  Harry was the first to break the silence. ‘About this chap Grayson,’ he said. ‘You’ve got the rest of today and most of tomorrow to get in touch with him. If you leave it till you get back to work to tell Rathbone what you’ve just learned, my guess is you’ll get a rocket for not reporting it right away. He’s sure to want it followed up and it would make more sense to do it while you’re here rather than have to make another trip to London. In that case you might even have to pay for your own ticket as a penalty for neglect of duty,’ he added with a sly grin.

  ‘You know something,’ said Sukey, ‘I think you’re right. I’ll call him now.’ Rathbone’s response was as Harry had predicted. ‘We have to follow this up, if possible while you’re still in town. I remember asking Ashman for his home address. I’ve got it here somewhere. Yes, here we are.’ He dictated an address and telephone number. ‘Got that?’

  ‘Yes, Guv.’

  ‘Go and tackle the bugger right away and keep me posted.’

  ‘Will do, Guv. You were right,’ she said as she put her phone away. ‘He lives in Isleworth; have you any idea where that is?’

  ‘It’s not that far from Richmond,’ said Harry. ‘Let’s go back to the hotel and look up the address.’

  A little over an hour later they were parked outside an impressive house in what was evidently a prosperous area. Every property had a large front garden and a wide drive with parking for two and in some cases three cars. The drive at number twenty-five, however, was empty. ‘There’s obviously no one at home,’ said Sukey.

  ‘Why don’t you ring the bell?’ Harry suggested. ‘There might be someone in who could tell you when he’ll be back.’

  Sukey shook her head. ‘I want to catch him unawares,’ she said.

  ‘Give him a call later on,’ he suggested.

  ‘I don’t think so; it might be awkward if his wife answered the phone. I’ve got to
go carefully. If only I could think of a way to catch him face to face – wait a minute!’ she exclaimed. ‘Tomorrow’s Sunday and being so religious he’s sure to go to church. But which church, I wonder? If we knew, we could check the times of the services.’

  ‘Maybe he goes to one near here,’ said Harry. ‘Let’s drive round a little.’

  They had not gone far when Sukey noticed a spire rising above some trees a short distance ahead. ‘That looks like a church,’ she said. ‘Let’s try and find it.’

  The church was in a quiet street a short distance further on. It was set back from the road and there was a forecourt with half a dozen spaces, one of which was reserved for the vicar and the other for the church secretary. A single car was parked in one of the unreserved spaces and Sukey gave a squeak of excitement. ‘That’s his car!’ she exclaimed.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Of course I’m sure. He was driving it when he came to identify his brother’s body. He must be doing something in the church.’

  ‘Shall we go in?’ said Harry.

  ‘Not you; he’ll assume you’re a copper and ask for an ID. You go somewhere out of sight and wait for me to call you.’ She got out of the car and watched him drive away before crossing the road to the church and opening the door. A heavy curtain shielded the interior; she pushed it aside and went in. It was a typical Victorian church, with oak pews on either side of the nave and a stained glass window above the altar. On the right of the chancel steps was a pedestal on which a woman was arranging foliage and flowers. A man was seated in the front row of pews, watching her. It was clear that neither of them had heard her come in. She walked quietly up the carpeted aisle and sat down beside him.

  ‘Good afternoon, Mr Grayson,’ she said.

  His head jerked as if pulled on a string. ‘What the he—’ He managed to bite back the expletive. ‘How did you know I was here?’

  ‘I’m a detective, remember? It’s what we do.’

  He glared at her. ‘Haven’t I answered enough of your stupid questions?’ he hissed. ‘This is sheer harassment.’

  ‘Luke, what’s this about? Why should a detective want to talk to you?’ The flower arranger had evidently overheard and stood staring at Grayson with a half-open daffodil in one hand.

  Sukey stood up. ‘Mrs Grayson?’

  The woman’s face turned scarlet. ‘No … I’m … that is, I do the flowers and Mr Grayson is kind enough to give me a lift to the florist and then to the church.’

  ‘How kind of him,’ said Sukey, ‘but perhaps you can do without him for a few minutes while he and I have a quiet chat about one or two things.’ She turned to Grayson. ‘Shall we find somewhere a little more private?’

  ‘But …’ the woman began.

  ‘It’ll be all right, Cynthia,’ said Grayson. He turned a look of sheer malice on Sukey and said, ‘Come on, let’s get this over.’ He led the way to a corner at the back of the church where a small circle of chairs was arranged round a table on which copies of the parish magazine and a brochure advertising open learning courses were laid out. ‘Will this do?’

  ‘Fine,’ said Sukey. ‘It shouldn’t take long.’

  ‘This is exceedingly embarrassing, to say the least,’ he said in a low voice. ‘If you have to ask more of your perpetual nit-picking questions, why did you have to come here instead of to my office?’

  ‘It so happens I’m in London for the weekend and a friend took me to lunch at the Ritz,’ Sukey began. ‘Does that ring a bell?’

  ‘Should it?’

  ‘You gave a party there for your mother-in-law’s one hundredth birthday last Saturday.’

  ‘So what if I did? Don’t tell me you’re thinking of holding a similar function there?’ The idea seemed to amuse him, the subtext of the remark being, I doubt if you could afford it.

  ‘Not exactly,’ said Sukey. ‘If you would cast your mind back to my recent visit with my colleague, DS Armstrong, to your office, you may recall that when you told us you were at the Ritz on the Friday evening you suggested – rather sarcastically as I remember – that I could check your alibi with the maitre d’.’

  ‘So?’ he said. His tone became less confident as if he sensed what was coming next.

  ‘I did just that – or rather, I spoke to the events manager. He agreed that you were there on Friday to check the arrangements, but was quite positive that you were there in the morning, not the evening. So I’m asking you once again, where were you on that Friday evening between eight o’clock and midnight? At home with your wife?’ If so, I’m sure she’ll be happy to confirm it.’

  ‘My wife had gone to collect her mother, who lives in Manchester. She was bringing her back in the morning.’

  ‘So you were at home on your own?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Can you prove it?’

  ‘Why should I have to?’

  ‘This is a murder enquiry, Mr Grayson. Anyone who might have a motive to commit the murder and who has no alibi is naturally under grave suspicion.’

  ‘What possible motive could I have for killing Rainbird? The idea is preposterous.’

  ‘But you don’t have an alibi either.’

  ‘Yes, he has!’ Sukey and Grayson swung round. The flower arranger, evidently overcome with curiosity, had approached unobserved and stood behind them with an expression of sheer horror on her face. She moved across and put a hand on Grayson’s shoulder. ‘I can tell you who was with him. I was.’

  He pushed her hand away and said, ‘Stay out of this, Cynthia.’

  ‘And have you suspected of murder? You think I’d stand by and let that happen? He was with me on the Friday before the party, Detective whatever your name is. All evening … and all night.’

  TWENTY-TWO

  Luke Grayson broke down and wept, racking sobs that seemed to tear the heart out of him and leave him gasping for breath. The woman sat down beside him, took his hand and tried to soothe him, murmuring words in his ear that Sukey, who had withdrawn a short distance to give them some privacy, could not hear. She recalled the time she had sat at his side as he shed quiet tears for his dead brother. Then, she felt nothing but compassion for him in his grief. She felt no compassion for him now; instead the words ‘How are the mighty fallen’ came into her mind. She waited until he had become calmer before saying, ‘I’m Detective Constable Sukey Reynolds of the Avon and Somerset Police. May I know your name, please?’

  ‘I’m Cynthia Franks.’

  ‘Well, Mrs Franks, as you will have gathered, I have already interviewed Mr Grayson in connection with the death of one of his colleagues, Lance Rainbird, who was found drowned a week ago yesterday in the grounds of a hotel near Clevedon. Perhaps he told you about that?’

  Mrs Franks shook her head, ‘No, he didn’t. He never talks about anything to do with his work.’

  ‘That’s a little surprising, don’t you think? The death of a colleague by drowning isn’t exactly “anything to do with work”, is it?’ Mrs Franks made no reply. ‘We weren’t sure at first how he came to meet his death,’ Sukey continued, ‘but our enquiries have now established that his death wasn’t an accident; he was murdered.’

  ‘That’s awful, of course,’ said Mrs Franks, ‘but as I’ve just told you, Luke was with me on the day you mentioned so he couldn’t possibly have had anything to do with it.’

  ‘We have learned from witnesses that there was considerable friction between Mr Grayson and Lance Rainbird, chiefly because Rainbird held very strong atheistic opinions and often offended Mr Grayson with his blasphemous remarks. That’s correct, isn’t it?’ she said to Grayson.

  He nodded. ‘I believe he made some of his most outrageous statements with the deliberate intention of offending me,’ he said.

  ‘I remember you telling me something about the arguments you had with him from time to time, Luke, but you didn’t tell me he was dead,’ Mrs Franks said reproachfully. ‘Why not?’

  He made a helpless gesture. ‘It didn’t concern
us … and we have so little time together.’

  ‘But you couldn’t possibly have had anything to do with his death, so why did you lie to the police?’ she persisted.

  ‘It was because of her.’ He jerked his head in Sukey’s direction. ‘She had the cheek to ask me where I was at the time Rainbird was killed and I told her I was at the Ritz and suggested she check with the manager and the maître d’ if she didn’t believe me. The detective sergeant who was with her assured me that wasn’t necessary; she probably agreed with me that her subordinate –’ he managed to inject a hint of condescension into his tone – ‘had overstepped the mark and I naturally assumed she believed me. It wasn’t an outright lie … I mean I was there, it was just the time … it never entered my head that she would actually go and check up on me.’

  ‘You were right, we had no reason not to believe you,’ said Sukey, ‘but it so happened that the opportunity arose and it seemed to make sense to take advantage of it.’

  ‘And now my sin has found me out,’ said Grayson. He looked up at Cynthia Franks. ‘I’m sorry I got you into this; will you forgive me?’

  ‘There’s nothing to forgive,’ she assured him. ‘We have both sinned; we must both pray for forgiveness.’

  ‘Mrs Franks,’ said Sukey, ‘are you prepared to swear that you were with Luke Grayson between the hours of eight p.m. and midnight the day of Lance Rainbird’s murder?’

  She drew herself erect and said, ‘Yes, Constable Reynolds, I am.’

  Sukey sank into the passenger seat of Harry’s car and closed her eyes. ‘That,’ she said, ‘was the most distressing interview I’ve carried out in a long time.’

  ‘I was getting worried,’ said Harry. ‘In fact I was about to walk back to the church and put my head round the door when I got your call. Do you want to tell me about it?’

  ‘Luke Grayson,’ she said, ‘is a broken man. A devout Christian, a pillar of the church and highly respected in the local community, he’s been caught out having an extramarital affair with Mrs Cynthia Franks, a fellow member of his church, for the past three years.’