by Faith Martin
Dirty sod.
‘So you think he was keeping a careful eye on her?’ Hillary clarified, careful to keep her voice neutral. Even so, Mr Greenwood senior caught on quickly.
‘Now, wait a minute. I’m not saying Roger was insanely jealous, or anything like that. There was nothing, you know, obsessional or unnatural about him keeping an eye on her. I’m just saying that he was not so besotted as once he was. That’s all.’
Hillary decided to backtrack a little and give him time to calm down. ‘Tell me about the party. You were at Owen and Wendy Wallises’ twenty-fifth anniversary party, yes?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Known them long?’
‘No, not really. It’s just that Owen and me are trying to sort out some business dealings. In fact, we had a long discussion the night of the party. Wendy wasn’t too pleased.’ If Greenwood was sorry about upsetting his hostess’s feelings, he certainly didn’t show it.
‘And did these business dealings have anything to do with Julia Reynolds?’ she asked, knowing they couldn’t possibly do so, but hoping his indignation might get the better of him. Which it did.
‘Good grief, no,’ he snorted. ‘She was just an itinerant hairdresser, for Pete’s sake. No, Owen has some land on the top road, more or less adjacent to this place. I wanted to buy it. I have it in mind to expand, build a leisure park, dig out a big lake perhaps, and stock it with fish, or even set up windsurfing possibilities. You’ve seen those adverts for lake-side parks I’m sure - bicycling, canoeing, that sort of thing? It would be perfect for the Hayrick, and would mean a lot for local employment.’
Hillary held up a hand to slow him down. ‘I’m sure it would, yes.’ At the moment, she had no interest in the plans for his empire. ‘Mr Greenwood, you were talking to Mr Wallis for some time during the party, which means your son could have left at any time, and you wouldn’t have known?’
Theo Greenwood’s face suddenly did something remarkable. It puffed up and reddened, his cheeks bulging, his eyes receding and his nose, in some strange way, seeming to elongate. For just a second he did, in fact, look remarkably like a pig. Beside her, she could sense Janine gaping, no doubt thinking the same thing.
‘So could anyone else, Inspector Greene,’ Theo Greenwood said eventually, his porcine imitation slowly abating. ‘The party sprawled all over the lower floor of the house, and out into the garden, too, at one point, in spite of the mist and damp.’
Hillary nodded. ‘And just why was it that you disapproved so strongly of Miss Reynolds, Mr Greenwood? Apart from her being a ‘mere itinerant hairdresser’, was there any other reason why you didn’t consider her good enough to marry your son?’
She was verging on rudeness, something Janine didn’t hear from her boss often, at least, not when dealing with witnesses. Did it mean she suspected the hotel owner of the murder? She glanced sharply at Theo Greenwood, who was rapidly going pale. Or was the DI just playing him?
‘I … well, I mean … I know it sounds, in this day and age rather snobbish, I suppose, but … no. I mean yes. I mean to say, I thought Roger could do far better for himself.’
‘And told him so?’
‘I made no secret of the fact, certainly,’ he said, with pitiful dignity. He picked up an old pen, complete with nib, and fiddled with it unhappily. He was clearly agitated, Janine realized, but that could just be due to having his male ego dented. No man liked to be talked to by a woman as Hillary had just talked to him.
Hillary herself wasn’t so sure that that was all there was to it. She was catching the faint but unmistakable whiff of prevarication from Theo Greenwood. Something besides being thought of as a snob was eating away at him, and she wanted to know what it was. Trouble was, she was equally sure that the man wasn’t going to simply let it slip. She’d have to find out some other way.
‘I see,’ she said blandly. ‘So, did you speak to her that night at the party? Julia Reynolds, I mean?’
‘I did not. I was careful to avoid her. It wouldn’t have been beyond her to make a scene. She had no sense of discretion at all. Especially when she’d had too much to drink. As it was I thought …’
He trailed off, obviously wishing that he’d kept his big mouth shut. Hillary would have bet a month’s wages that it wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling for him, either. For all his debonair, mine-host, hotel-keeping ways, she didn’t think that tact and diplomacy came naturally to Mr Theo Greenwood.
‘As it was you thought – what, Mr Greenwood?’ Hillary prompted, quickly disabusing him of any idea that good manners would prevent her from pouncing on his mistake.
Hell, she was a detective inspector. Pouncing was one of the few pleasures of her occupation.
‘Yes. I was about to say that I thought her choice of costume was typically annoying.’
Hillary nodded. So Mandy Tucker had got it right. Julia had worn the wedding dress to upset Theo Greenwood. And had obviously succeeded. Whether she’d also worn it as a hint to his son, she’d have to wait and see.
‘So you did not see her leave the party?’
‘I did not,’ Theo Greenwood said flatly.
‘And you have no idea who might have killed her, or why?’
‘No.’
Hillary nodded. ‘I’d like to speak to your son now, please, Mr Greenwood.’
‘Is that really necessary? He was talking to you people nearly all day yesterday. He’s signed a statement.’
‘I’m sure he has. But I’m the senior investigating officer, and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. After all, the woman he loved was brutally murdered. I’m sure he’ll want to co-operate fully.’
The barely veiled threat had him once again doing his pig impersonation, but after a few splutterings he conceded, with ill-grace, and left the den in search of his son.
‘I can see why he put Julia Renolds’ back up,’ Janine said, the moment the door had closed behind him. ‘Fancy having him for a father-in-law! Lecherous old sod.’
‘Apparently, that’s just what she did fancy,’ Hillary pointed out with a smile. ‘Having him for a father-in-law, I mean. And you can see why! This place must have had her salivating. Roger is his only son, right?’
Janine quickly checked her notes. ‘Yep. The whole lot’ll probably go to him. And if this deal to build a leisure park is pulled off, the sky’s the limit.’
If. Hillary wondered if the much-touted leisure park was quite the sure thing that Mr Theo Greenwood would have them believe. Despite her earlier indifference about Theo Greenwood’s empire, she now made a mental note to get Tommy Lynch to go over the Greenwood financial holdings and check on the upcoming deal with an accountant’s magnifying glass. Although all the signs pointed to this being a sexually-motivated killing, she didn’t want to leave any stone unturned. An old tutor at police training college said nearly all crimes came down to sex and money.
And there was money here, all right, and Julia Reynolds had been scheming to get her hands on it.
There came a timid tap at the door, and Janine quickly got up to open it. Hillary had expected Theo Greenwood to return with his son and force them to more or less turf him out on his ear, but there was no sign of him as Roger Greenwood came in. Which meant that Daddy wasn’t anxious to tangle with the big bad coppers again, and that sent the alarm bells ringing in her head.
Roger Greenwood didn’t resemble his father much physically (which must have been a relief to Julia Reynolds) although he had his thick, dark hair. His figure was much taller and thinner however, and he had big, startlingly blue eyes. There were dark rings around them at the moment though, and he walked as if he felt very old. He seemed to be in genuine mourning for Julia, and Hillary decided to be much more gentle than she’d originally intended.
‘Please, sit down Mr Greenwood. I’m Detective Inspector Hillary Greene, the senior investigating officer in this case. First, let me tell you how sorry I am for your loss.’
After a moment’s hesitation, Roger Greenwood sat in his father
’s chair, and nodded mutely at her introduction. He looked ill.
‘I know this isn’t a good time, but I need to ask you some questions about Julia. And the night of the party. All right?’
He nodded mutely. He was wearing a heavy black jumper that was too big for him, giving him an even more vulnerable air. She could feel Janine shifting in her chair, and knew her sergeant was hoping that he wasn’t going to cry. Hillary rather hoped he wouldn’t too.
‘So, how long had you two been going out?’
‘Nearly ten months.’
‘It was serious then?’
‘Yeah, it was.’
‘Were you engaged?’
‘Not really. I mean, we were talking about it.’
‘Oh. You see, we were wondering if she wore the wedding dress as some sort of private joke?’ Hillary said softly. ‘You know, to tease you? Were you reluctant to propose?’
A ghost of a smile crossed the young man’s face, then disappeared. ‘No. I mean, I don’t think her choice of dress meant anything. She just looked fabulous in it. Julia liked to look stunning. And she was stunning, wasn’t she? You saw her?’ he demanded eagerly.
Hillary nodded, trying not to remember the state the young hairdresser had been in at the time. Her face empurpled and agonized, her tongue protruding.
‘Yes, I could tell she was incredibly beautiful,’ Hillary said gently. ‘You must have been proud to be seen around with her.’
‘I was.’
‘But, perhaps, she made you feel a bit insecure as well?’ she began to probe carefully. ‘We’ve talked to lots of her friends and acquaintances, who all said she was very vivacious. And popular.’
‘I know what you’re trying to say,’ Roger Greenwood said, with the first trace of spirit since coming into the room. ‘You needn’t beat about the bush with me. But she wasn’t a tart or anything. She was just a normal woman. And when she was with me, she was mine. You know what I mean?’
Hillary did, but couldn’t let it go at that, despite the clear agony in the big blue eyes that pleaded with her to do just that. It was her job to press.
‘I think so. But one of her friends was sure that Julia had another boyfriend, at the same time as yourself.’
Roger Greenwood leaned back against the chair slowly, and Hillary could almost see the fight going out of him.
‘She might have done,’ he admitted miserably. ‘But she said no.’
‘You didn’t believe her?’
‘I believed her when she said she loved me, when she told me I was the only one she wanted.’
The unspoken words hovered, almost a physical reality, in the air between them.
‘But you really knew she had someone else?’
He shrugged helplessly. ‘I didn’t know. Not for sure. Sometimes I was convinced of it. Other times.…’ again he shrugged.
‘Perhaps that’s why you couldn’t bring yourself to propose? Because you knew she’d say yes, but not for the reasons you wanted. Am I right?’ Hillary asked delicately.
Roger smiled. ‘I knew Julia liked my money, if that’s what you’re getting at. Or rather Dad’s money. But why shouldn’t she? She was a beautiful woman, and beautiful women are entitled to things, aren’t they? I mean, everybody says they’re not, but in the real world, everyone just knows that they are. Look at celebs.’
Hillary considered this rather confused speech, and realized he’d probably hit the nail right on the head. Everyone said that looks didn’t matter. But then everyone said that money wasn’t everything. To an awful lot of people, however, that was just so much bullshit.
‘So you loved her in spite of her faults?’ she said simply.
Roger looked at the older policewoman in surprise. ‘You understand? You really understand.’
Hillary nodded. ‘I think so, yes.’ She was often amazed at what people were prepared to put up with, especially from those they loved. Or needed. ‘Tell me what happened that night at the party. Did you ask Julia to leave the farmhouse with you at any time?’
‘No. No, I didn’t. We were dancing for the first hour or so, then we got something to eat. She’d had a few drinks from the bar – she liked those mixers, you know, in the bottles. But then, I just lost sight of her.’ He hesitated for just a moment. Should he tell them about catching her eavesdropping at the door to the Wallises’ library, when his father and the farmer had retired there to discuss business?
No, he couldn’t do that. They might get the wrong idea about her. He knew she was just being curious. But they might not realize that it meant nothing at all. Julia just always liked to know things, that was all. And she’d always said his dad needed watching.
‘I thought she might have gone to the loo, so I hung around with some of the younger guys there for a bit,’ he went on instead, with a small shrug. It couldn’t, after all, be important. ‘But she never showed up again. I was just wondering if someone had pissed her off, and she’d left in a huff, when Michael Wallis came back and said … said … about the cowshed. I’m sorry. I can’t say anymore.’ His voice, which had been cracking steadily throughout this recital, suddenly broke. He began to sob.
Hillary reached into her handbag for a tissue and handed it over. She waited.
Janine studied her boots.
Eventually, the harrowing sounds ceased, and Hillary decided to call it a day. ‘Mr Greenwood, would you mind if we took the clothes and the shoes you were wearing that night for forensic examination? If, as you claim, you never went to the cowshed that night, this will help with elimination purposes.’
Roger nodded, wiping his wet eyes with the back of his hand. ‘Sure, I’ll go get them.’
Hillary nodded to Janine to accompany him. Not that she suspected he was going to do anything stupid, like run the shoes under the tap or anything. Still, you never knew.
She paced about uneasily while they were gone, knowing that, logically, Roger Greenwood should be top of her list of suspects. He was the current boyfriend, suspected infidelity, and was on the scene (or as near as damn it) at the time of her murder. It was almost certainly a sex-crime, so what the hell was the problem?
Well, the problem was, her gut simply didn’t like Roger Greenwood for the killing. In fact, her radar told her that of the two men she’d questioned this afternoon, it was Greenwood Senior who had secrets he wanted kept hidden.
Still, they’d see what forensics came up with on the shoes. The preliminary reports so far had picked up no trace of Roger Greenwood’s presence in the cowshed, which was why they were only now taking away his clothes for more direct tests. No fibres, no hair, no DNA and no fingerprints had meant that they’d probably not have been able to get a warrant for his clothes if she’d applied for one, which was why she’d been glad he’d volunteered them.
Once Janine had rejoined her with the evidence bags, they took their leave of the grieving boyfriend and stepped outside into the car-park.
A variety of baccate shrubs, well groomed and tended, blazed with cheerful autumnal cheer. A blackbird, busy trying to prise a worm from a well-tended lawn, ignored them as they trooped past. Yellow, orange and copper-toned trees sighed in a high wind, the sky that clear bright autumnal blue that wouldn’t last.
‘Check the photographs of the party that Tommy should have by now, and make sure that Greenwood gave you the right clothes and shoes,’ Hillary reminded her sergeant automatically as they made their way to the car, ignoring the way Janine rolled her eyes.
The blonde sergeant dumped the evidence bags on the back seat and slid in behind the wheel. Although they’d come in Hillary’s ancient Volkswagen, she was driving. It was the usual protocol for the junior officer to drive. She just wished Hillary didn’t keep reminding her of the obvious. Did she look like a grandmother in need of being taught how to suck eggs?
Janine longed for the day when she could delegate the scut work to others, and wondered if she should give Mel a hint that she was ready to move up. She needed his recommendation if she wa
s to apply for Boards.
Perhaps she’d wait until they were in some lovely country hotel, rather like the Hayrick, and then suggest it. When they were tucked up in some ancient four-poster bed, all sweaty and sticky. He’d be in a good mood by then.
She’d make sure of that!
Tommy couldn’t believe his luck, but there it was, right on camera. A purple Mini.
It had been another of the constables doing the house to house who’d told him about Kirtlington’s recently installed sleeping policemen and the speed camera. Tommy had taken a trip down to Traffic, not really believing that the car he was looking for would actually have been filmed. Which just goes to show – you should never bet against lady luck. He quickly jotted down the number plate, let his fingers do the walking across Traffic’s computer keyboard, and within seconds, up popped a name.
Registered owner, Mrs Vivian Orne, from Nuneaton.
chapter six
Whilst Hillary and Janine had been out at the Hayrick Inn questioning the Greenwoods, Tommy, after his brief and rare moment of triumph over the matter of the purple Mini, spent the rest of the day re-interviewing some of the party-goers. He knew Hillary would probably want Janine to go with him to Nuneaton, for although he’d run Vivian Orne through the computers and found no evidence of a criminal record, and despite the fact that she would almost certainly turn out to have nothing whatsoever to do with the case, protocol still had to be followed.
But the interviews yielded nothing new. Nobody had seen Roger Greenwood, Michael Wallis, or any other male, treating Julia Reynolds with aggression or unwanted attention. And since it was the twenty-fifth wedding anniversary of fairly staid, well-to-do people, there hadn’t even been much hanky-panky or naughty snortings of things illegal. It had, in short, been a rather dull, nice-mannered party.
At least he was coming to the end of them now. Tommy looked up to see a twenty-something man, dressed casually in jeans and shirt, walk in to the interview-room. He checked his list, and looked up. ‘Mr Bellamy? Charles Bellamy?’