by David Beard
‘There were photos.’
‘Yea, but not the fucking day after was there? When they did come out, well, I’d lost track by then.’
It became clear to Tiley why Ted had not made it as a brain surgeon. ‘Don’t blame yourself, Ted. I know you would have called in if you had realised,’ Tiley said, wondering how this man had the ability to hold down any job.
As he was about to leave, his mobile rang. Tiley left the car and walked across to his own. He needed the privacy. It was Smalacombe on the line. He gave him an outline of his morning and told him to begin to organise Hillman’s arrest for the following morning. Tiley knew he would first have to go to the Timbletown and then nip down to Longtor to visit Mrs. Cooper. He hoped he and his boss would have time to meet before the day was finished.
Things were fraught on the home front, too. Avril had made it clear, when he left that morning, that she was feeling very neglected, especially as she was still suffering from morning sickness and still trying to hold down a full time job. He looked at his watch. How could he fit it all in and come out of it all without upsetting someone?
To his relief the visit to the Timbletown was very quick, partly because he wanted only a few pieces of information and partly because the manageress was very co-operative. She confirmed Ted’s information about the dates that Anna had stayed with them and the time she left. She was sure she had had no visitors whilst she was in residence but she did use the phone, mainly for incoming calls but also, she made a number herself, especially on the morning she left. The manageress handed Tiley a copy of Turle’s itemised phone statement and after he made a few calls himself, he knew of Turle’s contacts that morning.
Clive Tiley did not have time to knock on the cottage door before Mrs. Cooper opened it.
‘I’ve been expecting you, Mr. Tiley. I saw you coming up the lane. Come through.’
Tiley perched himself on the settle in front of the open hearth. It could hardly be described as settling in the settle he mused. It was just about the most uncomfortable seat he had ever had the misfortune to sit in. Mrs Cooper sat in the Windsor chair to its side. Billy wandered over and settled down on the floor at her feet.
‘Mrs. Cooper, you’ve not been exactly honest with us have you?’
‘Well, I’ve told no lies, Mr. Tiley, you must agree with that. It is fair to say that I haven’t volunteered anything over and above what you have asked for. You see, I wasn’t sure how relevant all of these things….’
‘Yes, yes, Mrs. Cooper. This is a murder investigation and everything is relevant. Anna Turle visited you on the day, or the day before she died.’
Mrs Cooper said nothing. Tiley waited patiently. He broke the silence. ‘That was not a question, Mrs. Cooper, that was a statement of fact.’ Mrs. Cooper clasped her hands and leaned forward.
‘She arrived about dinner time I think, completely unannounced….’
‘No,’ Tiley interrupted her again. ‘Mrs Cooper I’m simply here to confirm facts, as much as I am here to find them out. Anna Turle rang your daughter that morning and she also rang you. What I want to know is why?’
‘I really don’t know,’ she said and when she noted the look of exasperation on the officer’s face she added, ‘I really don’t. All I know is there was something going on between her and Joan. I think it was a money thing but I’m not sure. What I do know is that Horry wouldn’t have Anna in the house, so she rang me to arrange to see Joan, here.’
‘Well, this house isn’t that big. You must have overheard some of their conversation at least.’
‘No, you see they asked me to leave, so I took Billy boy for a walk,’ she explained and ruffled the dog’s head.
Tiley gave a great sigh. ‘The taxi driver waited for well over an hour before you went out and paid him off.’
‘Yes, but you see when she arrived she was not well, not well at all. She seemed exhausted. We had a light tea. I’m very fond of making scones, with sour milk you know, that’s always the best way. She had some with Devonshire cream and strawberry jam. Whatever the business was, it wasn’t discussed at the outset. It was after the taxi left that I went out with Billy.’
‘And what happened when you returned?’
‘Joan said that Anna had gone upstairs to soak in the bath. I suppose she hoped it would make her feel better. There’s nothing more relaxing than a hot bath Mr. Tiley. Sometimes…’
‘Please Mrs. Cooper; let’s just stick to the facts. What happened when she finished her bath?’
‘Joan said she would take her to Newton Station. That would be about five I suppose.’
‘And did she?’
‘Oh yes. They left here and I saw them off.’
Tiley raised his eyebrows and looked up to Heaven. ‘But, she never arrived in Newton Abbot did she?’
‘It would appear not.’
‘You’re quite sure your daughter left, with her in the car?’
‘Quite sure.’
‘But, the fact remains; Anna Turle never left this village, did she? How do you account for that?’ Mrs. Cooper kept her composure but made no attempt at enlarging upon the officer’s last statement. Tiley decided not to wait for a reply he knew wasn’t coming and ploughed on. ‘What about Mr. Hillman? Did he still remain in the manor?’
‘Oh yes, he never came near us. He certainly wanted nothing to do with the girl.’
Now, Mrs Cooper, is that the lot? Have I got to come back again tomorrow to wheedle more information from you?’
‘That’s about it, Mr. Tiley.’
‘I will be revisiting your previous statement again Mrs. Cooper to check for inconsistencies. It’s a serious offence to withhold information from the police, you know that.’ He paused to note her reaction. Her body language gave nothing away. He came to the conclusion that Mrs. Cooper was not the innocent lady she pretended to be but she was a very good actor. ‘I will want you to make a formal statement of what you have just told me. I will take you down to the parish hall and you can do it now.’
Before he hurried back to Exeter he remained in the incident room and went through all of the statements once more.
After Golding had completed her statement and left, Smalacombe walked across to the SIO’s office. As soon as he sat down he sensed that Sheila Milner’s mood was a mixture of satisfaction and apprehension. One moment she was relieved that real progress had at last been made but then she worried about the consequences if Golding’s statement was unreliable.
‘Let’s be frank, Dexter. Golding is a tart. How reliable is that?’ She didn’t wait for Smalacombe to answer. ‘You know the type. A smarty lawyer will tie her up in knots.’
‘Not this one Sheila. She has a double first at Oxbridge.’
‘You’re kidding?’
‘She’s a bright cookie. So was Turle incidentally. Both extremely clever and extremely greedy, a formidable combination and I am beginning to think it was Turle’s downfall. I trust Golding’s account; the two were very close, right through from university’
‘Lovers?’ asked Milner monosyllabically.
‘Oh yes. Pretty obvious really, when you think about it, although, I’d rather not.’
‘Does it make any difference?’
‘Well, it could put Golding in the frame, I suppose, but she was too far away at the time, screwing a cabinet minister, I believe.’
‘For heaven’s sake steer away from that one; we’ve had enough trouble with the press already.’
‘My sentiments entirely, mam,’ he agreed, forgetting his new found licence to call her Sheila. ‘I think we can find other witnesses too and I’m pretty sure forensics will come up with something substantial.’
‘I’m not sure what you hope to get from them.’
‘Well, it’s not very pleasant.’
‘Oh come on Dexter, I’ve counselled more rape victims than you’ve had hot dinners,’ she interrupted with a tinge of anger as she sensed he was reluctant to fill her in with all the details.
&
nbsp; ‘She sat on the floor hugging her knees. My guess is she must have leaked. Do I need to say any more?’
‘That would only prove intercourse, not rape. In any event it will probably only be circumstantial.’
‘Golding has testified that they never have unprotected sex by choice, for health reasons apart from anything else. Besides, many people must have seen him frogmarching her around. It’s just another nail in Hillman’s coffin.’
‘The way things are going I just hope that that expression is not as apt as it appears.’ Sheila Milner stood up indicating to Smalacombe that she had other things to do. ‘OK, Dexter, go ahead with it all. I’ll back you on this.’ She looked down and fiddled with the papers on her desk.
‘Thank you, mam.’
Smalacombe sat in his office with Tiley at his side. They both hugged a mug of coffee and Smalacombe had his feet up on the desk. They each took it in turns to deliver their findings for the day. Smalacombe came to the conclusion that it was the best day so far. For the first time, irregularities were appearing in stories and one person, Horace Piggman had been nailed. He would apply for custody and he was pretty sure it would be granted.
‘You don’t believe Cooper do you?’ Smalacombe observed.
‘No, I don’t. Her first statement is a fabrication and the last bit just doesn’t add up. The trip to Newton I mean. I’ve checked out all the statements from the door to doors and two things are seriously wrong. First, no one saw Winsom in her car that evening.’
‘Well that’s possible. You don’t sit by the window keeping records of when your neighbours go out for a drive do you?’
‘No, but the girl clearly never left the village. What you say is true, but this is the biggie. The old boy who lives down by the bridge has got prostate trouble…’
‘Oh come on Clive, we’re solving a murder here not sorting out people’s peeing problems.’
‘Wait a minute, not so fast. The poor old bugger is up and down all night. He saw Cooper standing on the bridge at six thirty or thereabouts.’
‘Confirms what she said,’ said Smalacombe.
‘Bloody doesn’t. He is confident that she didn’t walk down the river. He watched her for some time. He saw her arrive and he saw her go. She just let the dog wander down the river and she made a phone call from the bridge, not by the body.’
‘Well, perhaps she saw the body from the bridge.’
‘There are two things here. You know how intermittent the mobile service is down there. I’ve checked it out and there is no service where the body was found but it is possible to get a signal on the bridge. I’ve just rung the incident room and I got them to send someone to check if it was possible to see the body from the road. I mean, you could see all our covers and things but according to them it would not have been possible to see the body from there. Anyway, she said she went home to phone.’
‘Why has this taken so long? We’re a week into this investigation, who’s been checking the door to doors?’
‘It’s not as straightforward as that. The old man went into hospital on the Monday afternoon for an operation on his prostate. He didn’t get back until Friday afternoon. The lads checked him out on Saturday morning.’
Smalacombe calmed down a bit but Tiley felt the need to reassure him some more.
‘It wasn’t a cock up Dexter, it was all in hand.’
‘Not if you’ve got prostate trouble it isn’t.’ They both laughed. ‘I can’t believe the taxi man didn’t put two and two together, Clive.’
‘You haven’t met him; two and two is five; he was as thick as school custard.’
‘School custard is lumpy, Clive, not thick. School dinner ladies need years of experience to perfect it.’
‘All right. As thick as….’ Tiley lifted his arm in the air and let it drop to his knee as he searched for another simile, without success.
Smalacombe smiled. ‘It might be worth checking him out; he may well have form. I mean, if he is in league with Cooper…’
‘Seems very unlikely but I get the point. What about Cooper? Is it time to bring her in do you think?’
‘Not yet, there are still too many pieces missing. We’ll have to get forensics in there and I’m pretty sure they’ll find evidence to back up our suspicions. I reckon we’ll fit it all together within a day or two. But as yet, we haven’t really got anything substantive.’
‘Oh come on Dexter, I mean, the PM found she was killed in the bath and then there are the scones. And then, you said the bathroom had been redecorated. Come on, it must have been done there.’
‘Wouldn’t stand up, we haven’t got enough yet. What was the murder weapon for instance? We’ll get forensics in and I’m sure they’ll back up our suspicions. Anyway, she’s going nowhere. Let’s take an early night.’
‘It’s six o’clock now Dexter!’
‘That’s early when you’re having fun. I think I’ll ring Freda and tell her I’m going to bring home an Indian.’
‘Can’t you manage it yourself these days?’
‘Piss off!’
CHAPTER 9
Tuesday July 4th
When Smalacombe finished his usual breakfast of toast and marmalade he packed away the paperwork he had been studying. He reflected that it was now the ninth day since he was called to Longtor. His superiors were getting impatient for a result, not least because they had been unable to pacify the press since he challenged them on the morning of Winsom’s death.
He knew he came very close to being removed from the case but he also knew they would have had difficulty in replacing him and it would have certainly been impossible to find someone of his experience and knowledge of the area. It gave him some satisfaction to realise that that episode had actually strengthened his position rather than weakened it. He knew that no one was indispensable, but as long as he was around, he was going to be a hard act to follow.
‘You look pleased with yourself,’ Freda said as she poured out another cup of tea.
‘Just thinking.’
‘Penny?’
‘I had a difficult problem a few days ago and it could have had serious consequences. You know, like early retirement and a compromise on the pension I suppose.’
‘You never told me,’ she said with a tinge of annoyance.
‘No, of course I didn’t. It’s all worked out to my advantage actually; that’s what I was thinking about. Why bother you with all of that. Besides, you worry too much.’
‘I do, because you work too hard. It’s about time you left it to the youngsters. I don’t want a lonely old age. It’s been all this weekend again and I suppose next weekend, too.’
‘No. I think today we are going to turn the corner.’ He rose from the table, closed his brief case and walked to the hall to get his coat. As he returned to the kitchen he said, ‘Prepare yourself for a shock. I shall be home by five at the latest and we will go down to Sidford to see Laura and the kids.’ Freda looked pleased. ‘We’ll go there first to catch the grandchildren before they go to bed and after, we will go to that little pub we used to visit when we were courting.’
‘During the Sidmouth festival?’
‘Yes.’
‘You old romantic you.’
‘It’s even more than that because I’ve now got to the age when I won’t be looking for anything in return.’
‘Well, that’s anything but romantic. You’ve really let me down now,’ she moaned. It made her feel her age. ‘I might turn the tables on you.’
‘And, I shan’t refuse. That’s a promise,’ he answered. He pecked her on the cheek and left for work.
He walked up to the front door of a square, small red-bricked terraced house with white plastic facings, typical of the nondescript architecture so prevalent of a fifties semi-detached. A pretty woman in her early thirties answered the door.
‘Mrs. Hempson?’ he asked.
‘Yes and who are you?’ she answered with great suspicion holding the door, which was still on the chain, firml
y between herself and the visitor. He showed her his ID and asked if he could come in.
The front room was cramped and there was much evidence of children with toys scattered over the floor and on the chairs. Behind the door was a basket of washing waiting to be ironed. She was embarrassed by the untidiness of it all and rushed around to find a place for him to sit.
‘It’s hard to keep on top of things when you’re on your own Mr. Smalacombe,’ she said apologetically. ‘Fortunately the youngest has just started Primary this term as well, so I do have some time to myself.’
‘Unless you’re interrupted by someone like me,’ he smiled. ‘I do understand. I’ve had kids myself; it’s hard work.’
‘Can I make you a cup of tea?’ Smalacombe answered in the affirmative and she disappeared into the kitchen. She reappeared surprisingly quickly with a cup in each hand with two biscuits in each saucer. ‘I only just boiled the kettle before you arrived,’ she explained.
They sat for a while and sipped their drink and indulged in a little small talk. When Smalacombe felt he had won her confidence he put down his empty cup and decided to get down to business but she pre-empted him.
‘Are you investigating the murders at Longtor?’
‘Yes, I am,’ he answered with great surprise. ‘I’m just trying to piece together as much as I can about the area, about the people. Look, I don’t want to distress you, but your husband’s name has cropped up during the investigations. So, I want a bit of background really. I’m curious as to why you left him and also when. I’m sorry if it sounds impertinent but it may help me.’
‘I knew he would be implicated in some way before long.’ She paused, picked up the two empty cups and took them out into the kitchen. Smalacombe could hear a tap running as she rinsed them out. When she returned she picked up where she left off. ‘You see, when I saw her picture in yesterday’s paper, I realised we had met. I’ve been wondering whether I should contact the police all day, so you’ve saved me the trouble now. I can’t say I knew her, but she has had a terrible affect on my life.’