‘Well, I did lay it on a bit thick, sir, the urgency, I mean. A murder case and so on. But the girl was very helpful. Apparently she deals exclusively with police inquiries. And the fact that it was an unusual surname helped.’
‘Good.’
‘I was a bit puzzled when you told me to ring Southport. I’ve never had occasion to make this sort of inquiry before and I always thought the records were held at St Catherine’s House. That’s where I’d have rung if you hadn’t told me otherwise.’
‘They only have the Index to the Register there,’ said Lineham. ‘And they don’t deal with telephone inquiries anyway. You have to go along in person and it’s always packed out. This is a much better system.’
‘She said the father’s name does not appear on the certificate if the child is born out of wedlock unless he agrees.’
‘Presumably he didn’t,’ said Lineham. ‘Anyway,’ he said to Thanet, waving the fax, ‘we got what we wanted. You were right, weren’t you, sir?’
‘So far, anyway.’ Thanet dismissed WDC Phillips with a smile and a nod.
‘Though I still can’t see that it gets us any further.’
Thanet grinned. ‘To be honest, Mike, neither can I, at the moment.’ It had done much to restore his confidence, however, and he felt optimistic as they now set off to interview Covin. He hoped Covin would be there this time. Not wishing to put him on his guard they had deliberately refrained from ringing to check.
‘Hope we won’t have a wasted journey,’ said Lineham, tuning in to his thoughts.
‘So do I.’
But they were out of luck, it seemed. Hunter’s Green Farm appeared deserted.
‘I suppose they’re all out in the orchards,’ said Lineham.
‘Let’s try the packing shed.’
Inside the shed the scene was very different from yesterday evening, when they had run Covin to earth in the glass-walled office. The grading machine and conveyor belts were working and as soon as they stepped inside the hum of machinery met their ears. The rich, fruity aroma of ripe apples was even stronger and there was an atmosphere of bustle and activity. Most of the workers were women, all wearing dark green overalls and a cap-cum-headscarf which covered their hair.
‘No idea,’ said one of them in response to their inquiry as to Covin’s whereabouts. ‘Mick Landy might know.’ She pointed. ‘Over there.’
Landy was operating a small fork-lift truck, moving boxes of apples to stack them on pallets. ‘He’s gone to take his dad to the dentist’s. His parents haven’t got a car.’ He was a very tall, lanky young man, all knees and elbows as he hunched over the controls in the confined space. He was wearing a baseball cap the wrong way around.
Landy hadn’t switched off the engine and once again Thanet found himself shouting. ‘Is he coming back this afternoon?’
‘Yes. He said he’d be back before I knocked off.’
‘Could we step into the office for a few minutes, sir?’ At this rate he wouldn’t have any voice left for his speech tomorrow!
‘Sure.’ Landy twisted the ignition key, removed his cap and wiped his forehead on the back of his sleeve. Then he led the way to the office, which still stank of Covin’s cigarettes. He shut the door behind them and the noise faded to a muted roar.
‘What sort of car is Mr Covin driving at the moment?’ said Lineham. ‘We understand his daughter has borrowed his.’
‘That’s right. He’s using the pick-up. He often does.’ Landy grinned. ‘Doesn’t have to pay for the petrol.’
The pick-up was white, apparently, and a Ford. Thanet and Lineham exchanged glances of satisfaction.
‘Where do you live, sir? On the farm?’ Lineham asked.
He was obviously thinking that if, like Covin, Landy also had a tied cottage, it was possible that he might have seen or heard Covin go out on Tuesday night.
No such luck.
‘In the village. Why?’
‘So you wouldn’t by any chance know if Mr Covin used the pick-up on Tuesday night, after Karen left to drive to Reading?’
‘What’s this all about?’ Landy was wary now.
Thanet felt a spurt of excitement. Landy did know, obviously, but was reluctant to say so in case it caused Covin trouble.
‘Just answer the question, please, sir.’
‘You’ll have to ask him, won’t you?’
It was a struggle for Lineham to persuade Landy to talk but he managed it in the end.
Apparently Landy had been using the pick-up on Tuesday afternoon and Covin had told him not to bother to return it until next day, but at just after 7.30 that evening he had rung to ask him to bring it back right away. He said he had arranged to go out that evening and had forgotten that Karen would be borrowing his car to drive her stuff back to Reading. It wasn’t until he was ready to go that he remembered Landy had the Ford. He was already late, he said, so could Landy hurry up. He would drop him back at his own house before going on to his appointment. Landy had done as he asked.
‘So how did he seem?’ said Lineham.
‘A bit on edge, I suppose,’ said Landy reluctantly.
‘Did he say where he was going?’
‘Didn’t say much at all. Just thanks and sorry for disturbing my evening.’
‘Didn’t you wonder what it was all about?’
‘No point, was there? It was none of my business. If he wasn’t going to tell me, I wasn’t going to ask.’
‘Did you see which direction he drove off in, after dropping you?’
‘The Ashford direction.’
The way he would have to go to get to Charthurst.
On the point of leaving Thanet turned. ‘D’you happen to know if Karen usually drove herself back to Reading at the beginning of term?’
‘Funny you should ask that. No, Bernard usually takes her.’
‘So, what now?’ said Lineham when they were outside. ‘Do we wait?’
Thanet was thinking about something else. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. Then, putting his mind to the question, ‘Yes. He’s due back soon and if we went to his parents’ house, we might miss him. We don’t want him arriving back here in the interim and hearing from Landy that we’ve found out he was lying about not going out on Tuesday night. I want to catch him unprepared.’ He took out his pipe and tobacco. It was too good an opportunity to miss. ‘I think I’ll take a little stroll down the track.’
Lineham fell into step beside him. ‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘we now not only have an eye-witness who saw him come out of Jessica’s house around the time she died, but a second witness to connect him with the pick-up and a third to swear the pick-up was parked at the pub.’
‘Not the pick-up,’ said Thanet, his thoughts still focused elsewhere. ‘A pick-up.’
‘Oh, come on, sir. A white Ford pick-up. Isn’t that enough?’
‘A registration number would have been even better.’
‘But it’s enough to bring him in.’
‘To bring him in, yes. But not to charge him, obviously.’
‘D’you think this appointment he mentioned to Landy was with Jessica?’
‘I shouldn’t think so. She had a date with Ogilvy, so she wouldn’t have arranged to see Covin as well. I doubt that he had an appointment at all, it was just an excuse he gave to Landy for wanting the pick-up in a hurry.’
‘So what was suddenly so urgent?’
‘Ah, now I’ve just been thinking about that.’
‘Oh?’ said Lineham.
‘Yes. What if–’
‘Here he comes, sir.’ The pick-up had just turned into the track.
Thanet sighed. He’d just got his pipe going nicely and he’d been looking forward to trying out this new idea of his on Lineham.
‘Can we talk to him outside, sir?’ said Lineham as they turned to walk back. ‘I don’t think I can face that sitting room again.’
Thanet shook his head. ‘Sorry, Mike. It would be inappropriate. Too informal.’
Covin raised a hand
in salute as he drove past.
‘Besides,’ said Thanet, ‘I should think that any minute now the farm workers will be knocking off. It would be impossible to talk with people streaming past.’
Now it was Lineham’s turn to sigh.
Covin parked in front of the packing shed and came back to meet them, the inevitable cigarette dangling from his lips.
‘We’d like another word, sir, if we may,’ said Thanet, reluctantly knocking out his pipe on the heel of his shoe.
‘No need to put your pipe out, Inspector. You’re welcome to smoke inside.’ But despite the apparent geniality his eyes were wary.
Thanet smiled inwardly as he imagined Lineham’s reaction if he had accepted the invitation.
Having been shut up all day the sitting room smelled worse than ever. Lineham made a little gagging sound of disgust as they went in and Thanet gave him a warning glance. He sympathised, but the sergeant really would have to learn to keep quiet about this.
Covin lit another cigarette from the stub of the one he had been smoking. ‘I hope this won’t take too long, Inspector. I’ve got things to attend to before people knock off.’
Thanet ignored this. ‘Do you often drive that pick-up, sir?’
‘Sometimes. Why?’
‘And on Tuesday evening?’
Covin’s eyes narrowed above the coils of smoke. ‘What are you getting at?’
‘Remind me what you said you did on Tuesday evening.’
‘I told you. I had supper with my daughter and after she left I watched television.’
‘All evening?’
‘All evening.’
‘So you claim that you definitely weren’t driving that pickup on Tuesday evening?’
‘Look, what is all this about?’
‘And you definitely did not visit your sister-in-law’s house that night?’
‘No! I said, what’s this all about?’
Thanet leaned forward. ‘I’ll tell you what it’s all about, Mr Covin. We don’t like it when witnesses lie to us, that’s what. Especially when it involves something as serious as murder.’
‘What do you mean?’ But the bravado had gone out of Covin’s voice.
‘One,’ said Thanet, ticking the points off on his fingers, ‘we have a witness to say that far from sitting innocently at home watching television that night, you actually rang him around 7.30 on Tuesday evening to ask him to bring the pick-up over because you needed it urgently to go out. Two, the landlord at the Green Man in Charthurst swears that that same pick-up was illegally parked on his forecourt around eight o’clock that evening.’ This was stretching the truth a little, but still . . . ‘And three,’ said Thanet with emphasis, ‘we also have a witness who swears that he saw you – you, Mr Covin – coming out of your sister-in-law’s house at about five past eight that evening.’ He stopped.
Silence.
‘Well, Mr Covin?’
‘They’re lying,’ said Covin. His fingers were trembling as he lit up again.
‘What, all of them?’
Silence again.
‘I don’t think a jury would be likely to accept your word against theirs, do you?’
Covin still said nothing, just puffed furiously, sucking the smoke into his lungs as if his life depended on it.
Thanet wondered what would happen if they took his cigarettes away. They couldn’t do that here, of course, and anyway Thanet didn’t believe in gratuitous cruelty. But back at the station, perhaps, as a last resort . . .? ‘Especially when we could actually prove to them that you had already lied to us about something else.’
Covin jumped up. ‘I don’t have to listen to this! I’m not under arrest, am I? Right, then, that’s it. Enough. I’d like you to leave now.’
‘By all means,’ said Thanet pleasantly, getting up with a glance at Lineham, who followed suit. ‘We’ll continue the interview at the Station, shall we?’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘Simply that you have a choice: we can continue here or there, whichever you wish. But make no mistake, Mr Covin, I have no intention of terminating this interview until I am satisfied.’
Covin stared at him, chewing the inside of his lip. Then he tossed his head in disgust, sat down and shook out yet another cigarette.
The two policemen sat down again.
‘I’m glad you’ve decided to be cooperative,’ said Thanet. ‘Now, where was I?’
‘You were telling Mr Covin that he wouldn’t stand much chance of being believed in Court, in view of the fact that we could prove he’d lied to us about something else,’ said Lineham.
‘Ah yes,’ said Thanet. ‘That’s right.’ He waited. ‘Aren’t you going to ask what that something else was, sir?’
Covin compressed his lips as if to prevent words escaping. Clearly he was longing to ask but terrified of knowing the answer.
‘Very well,’ said Thanet. ‘When you confirmed that your sister-in-law had given birth to an illegitimate child when she was sixteen, you told us that the baby was a boy.’
Covin stared at him, the colour seeping from his naturally ruddy complexion.
‘When in fact,’ said Thanet, ‘it was a girl.’ He nodded at Lineham, who took the fax from the pages of his notebook, unfolded it and laid it on Covin’s lap.
Covin looked at it and then at Thanet. It was as if he had been struck dumb, the muscles of his face and organs of speech paralysed.
No. He was waiting, Thanet realised, to see how much more they knew. Very well. ‘That was quite a smokescreen you put up, wasn’t it, pretending that it was your wife who was pregnant, arranging for Jessica to go away before her pregnancy began to show and then making sure your wife was away when the baby was due so that you could go through the charade of rushing to her bedside. Just as a matter of interest, did the aunt with the convenient illness ever exist, or was she just a figment of someone’s fertile imagination?’
Covin didn’t answer.
‘But anyway, it’s all ancient history now. Twenty years is a long time. Why bother to go on lying about it now?’
Covin still didn’t respond.
‘Mr Covin,’ said Thanet softly. ‘Is Karen aware that she is adopted?’
Covin jumped. In his absorption the cigarette had burned down to his fingers. He stubbed it out and found his voice at last. He ignored Thanet’s question. ‘How did you find out?’
‘We went to talk to your former employers, the Pinks. It wasn’t too difficult to work out what had happened. Of course, at the time, the deception worked well – has continued to work, for that matter, all these years. But my guess is that on Tuesday something happened to change the situation, and that was why you went rushing over to see your sister-in-law.’
Bernard stared at him.
‘Karen found out, didn’t she?’ said Thanet softly.
‘No!’ said Covin desperately. Then he buried his face in his hands. He mumbled through his fingers.
‘Sorry?’ said Thanet. He thought he had caught the word ‘accident’. Was this a confession? He glanced at Lineham who raised his eyebrows and mouthed Caution?
Thanet shook his head and ignoring Lineham’s puzzled frown said to Covin, ‘What did you say?’
Covin sat up and reached for his cigarettes. ‘I said, it was an accident,’ he said wearily.
It was a confession.
‘Sir!’ said Lineham but again Thanet shook his head. ‘Go on.’
‘Jessica had been threatening to tell Karen,’ said Covin. ‘We’d all agreed from the beginning that we never would. I was afraid that if Karen found out she’d turn against me, for keeping it from her. She’s . . .’ He faltered and briefly his face crumpled as if he were about to dissolve into tears. ‘She’s all I have left now my wife is gone. I was desperate to stop her finding out, so as soon as she’d left I got Landy to bring the pick-up over and drove to Charthurst.’
Already questions were buzzing in Thanet’s brain but he said nothing. There’d be plenty of time later. If
Covin was willing to talk he had no intention of stopping him.
‘I got there around eightish. I parked at the pub because the road was up in front of Jessica’s house. When she let me in –’ He stopped.
‘Yes?’ prompted Thanet.
‘I tried to persuade her to change her mind, but she wouldn’t listen.’ Covin was speaking more slowly now. ‘In the end she told me to go –’
‘Where was this conversation taking place?’ Thanet interrupted for the first time.
‘In the sitting room.’
‘I see. Go on.’
‘We were both pretty worked up by then and she ended up by saying she’d made up her mind and nothing was going to stop her. She stalked out of the room into the hall and started to go up the stairs. I followed her. I.. I caught her by the arm and she must have lost her balance. She fell. It was horrible. I couldn’t believe it. I never intended to hurt her, honestly!’
‘And where was she, exactly, when she fell?’
‘About halfway up, I suppose.’
‘I see.’ Thanet’s eyes met Lineham’s. The sergeant no doubt had an equally clear picture in his mind of Jessica’s shoe lying against the staircase wall, three steps down from the top.
They were both startled by a slow handclap from the door of the sitting room.
‘Well done, Dad. Good try.’
A girl was standing with her hands on her hips, a slight figure in jeans and sweatshirt. Karen. Knowing her parentage Thanet briefly wondered how she could have failed to notice her resemblance to her mother over all these years. There was Jessica’s slightly pointed nose, and lips that were too thin for beauty. But her eyes were hazel instead of green, her hair brown not chestnut. Perhaps she had resembled her aunt, her adoptive mother, too. Genes often skipped about in the generations.
He could guess what she meant by ‘good try’.
SEVENTEEN
Thanet glimpsed relief then horror on Covin’s face before Covin cried ‘Karen!’ and erupting from his seat went rushing across to seize her by the elbow and attempt to steer her out of the room.
The horror Thanet could understand, but relief? No, that was beyond him.
Karen tried to shake him off. ‘Dad! Let go!’
‘I really don’t think this is a good place for you to be right now, love,’ said Covin. He was trying to sound calm but merely succeeded in sounding desperate.
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