Deadly Deceit

by Nancy Buckingham

  ‘Your mother can’t leave Lisbon yet. She won’t be allowed to. There are formalities. Besides,’ Kate went on pressingly, ‘she really does need someone here right away. Are you sure you can’t manage the air fare, Mr. . . sorry, I don’t have your surname.’

  ‘It’s Norden. Vince Norden. All right, then, I’ll be there as soon as I can manage it. I daresay one of my credit cards will come up trumps. First plane I can get. They were staying at their usual hotel, I suppose? That Palacio place . . . what’s its name?’

  The Palacio Palmela.’

  ‘I’ll find it. Er . . . look, give Mum my love, will you, and tell her to try and bear up?’

  Mercifully, Heather slept for what little remained of the night. Kate dozed in an armchair with a spare blanket over her. In the morning, when the breakfast tray arrived, she succeeded in getting Heather to drink a cup of coffee and eat half a croissant. Kate herself felt ridiculously hungry, but limited her intake from a feeling of sensitivity.

  Afterwards, she ran a bath for Heather, then left her to it while she went along to the Bletchleys’ suite to see about getting Heather something more suitable to wear than the dress she’d had on last night.

  A police officer in the shape of a darkly handsome young man in a crumpled uniform stood guard outside the door. Kate tried to explain her needs to him but he understood not one word.

  ‘Momenta, senhora.’ He opened the door and spoke to someone inside.

  A small, portly figure came bustling out. He fixed Kate with a glare.

  ‘You are, senhora -?’

  ‘My name is Maddox. Mrs Kate Maddox.’

  ‘Ah, yes! I am Inspector Vitorino de Freitas. Come this way, if you please.’

  Importantly, he led her to a nearby suite which the police appeared to have commandeered as a temporary office. He waved her to a seat, but remained standing himself.

  ‘You, Senhora Maddox, so I am informed, are an officer of the English policia.’ He said it not as a question, but as a theory that was surely beyond all rational belief.

  ‘That’s correct. I’m a Detective Chief Inspector, of the South Midlands Police.’

  He understood ‘Detective’. But ‘Chief Inspector’, what did that signify? One of the very highest rank, or more equivalent to his own level? Come what may, he seemed to decide that his dignity would not permit him to kow-tow to a woman.

  They’re the same, Kate, the whole world over!

  ‘Senhor Gower has indicated to me the circumstances of your presence at the scene of the crime last night. I presume your own account will concur with his?’

  ‘Undoubtedly. It was Mrs Bletchley who actually found the body, of course. Mr Gower and I had been to a Fado club with her, and when we returned to the hotel at about two-forty-five we went to our respective rooms. But moments later we heard a scream, and we hurried to see what was wrong. Mrs Bletchley was standing at the doorway of their suite in a state of near collapse. I looked inside and saw her husband’s body on the floor. Major Bletchley was dead - that was immediately obvious. So I asked Mr Gower to call the police, closed the door to hide the body from the view of other guests, then took Mrs Bletchley to my own room, where she spent the rest of the night. I stayed with her.’

  ‘I comprehend,’ was all he said.

  ‘Have you any theories yet?’ Kate asked.

  ‘Theories, senhora?’

  ‘About the motive for the killing?’

  ‘Ah yes, there is no doubt about the motive. The killer was an intruder, a thief. Major Bletchley must have been wakened by this man, who then killed him in a panic.’

  It seemed the likeliest explanation. ‘Was anything taken?’

  The inspector lifted his shoulders. ‘The victim’s wallet, we must assume. There is no sign of a wallet in the room. Also, Major Bletchley wore a signet ring. The mark is there on his finger. Similarly a wristwatch.’

  ‘An expensive gold watch,’ Kate told him. ‘I noticed it last night. Likewise the ring.’

  ‘They are both missing now.’

  ‘Entry was made through the window, was it? The door didn’t appear to have been forced.’

  ‘Through the window, yes. There are clear signs of entry. It would not be difficult for a man of daring to clamber up the trellis to the balconies here. In the warm weather, guests unwisely leave their windows open. The next door suite was also entered, and jewellery taken while the occupants slept.’

  ‘I see.’ Kate knew what the drill would be now. The police would search their records for the names of any criminals with a similar modus operandi. And they’d ask dealers to be on the lookout for Alec Bletchley’s ring and watch and whatever items were taken from the other suite.

  ‘I shall require now to interview the widow,’ Inspector Freitas went on. And no more messing me about, senhora, his tone said plainly.

  ‘Mrs Bletchley understands that,’ Kate said. ‘But first she must have some suitable clothes. She has only what she was wearing last evening to go to the Fado club. I need to collect some things from her suite.’

  He considered the request ponderously, fingering his lustrous moustache. Agreement was going to be through his magnanimity.

  ‘I think I could permit that,’ he conceded. ‘Come, and I will give the needful instructions.’

  The body, of course, had been removed by now. Under the watchful eye of another officer, Kate collected clean underwear and a suitable outfit for Heather, together with her toilet bag and make-up. On the way back, she encountered Richard in the corridor.

  ‘What’s happening now, Kate?’

  She filled him in. ‘I think I ought to stay with Heather for a while longer, until her son arrives. Then, hopefully I can leave her in his hands.’

  Richard nodded, not liking it. ‘Just so long as it’s not for another night.’

  * * * *

  Vince Norden had made good time. He arrived at around noon. With a brief acknowledgement of Kate, as she let him into the room, he went straight to his mother and hugged her closely. The affection between them was very evident.

  ‘Vince, dear, this is Kate Maddox,’ Heather said after a few tearful moments. ‘She’s been so sweet and kind and helpful. I honestly don’t know what I’d have done without her.’

  ‘It was you who phoned me, wasn’t it?’ Vince held out his hand to Kate. He was very like his mother, though less good-looking. His features were coarser than Heather’s, but engaging nevertheless. She guessed that in normal circumstances he would exhibit something of Heather’s bubbly joie de vivre. About five-feet-ten and slimly built, he wore his fair hair short and his brown eyes were bright and alert.

  ‘Thanks a lot, Kate, for what you’ve done for Mum,’ he went on. ‘I’m really grateful.’

  ‘Glad I was on the spot to help.’

  ‘Kate’s a police officer,’ Heather explained. ‘A Detective Chief Inspector, no less. And the amazing thing, Vince, is that she’s stationed at Marlingford in the Cotswold division. Right on our doorstep.’

  ‘Wow, that’s some coincidence! Maybe you can tell me what’s been happening, then. Have the police here got any closer to finding whoever did for poor old Alec? I suppose they haven’t caught the bloke yet?’

  ‘No, I’m afraid not.’

  Kate realised that Vince wouldn’t know any more than she’d told him last night on the phone, so she gave him a brief update of the situation. They talked for a while, going round in circles about how terrible it was for a life to end so tragically, for no better reason than that Alec Bletchley had wakened and interrupted a sneak thief. Tears were trembling under Heather’s eyelids again, and Kate decided that it was the right moment for her to withdraw and leave mother and son alone together.

  ‘I’ll be around the hotel somewhere,’ she said. ‘Have me paged if there’s anything I can do.’

  ‘You’ve done more than enough already.’ Heather looked at her son with an anxious expression. ‘Vince, this is Kate’s room . . . Kate’s and her friend Richard’s.
Will you arrange with the hotel to sort out other accommodation for us? I couldn’t possibly go back to . . .’

  ‘Of course not, Mum. I’ll ring down to the desk and see what can be done. We’ll be out of here just as soon as poss, Kate.’

  ‘No need to hurry.’

  All the same, it was a great relief when she and Richard were reinstated in their room just under an hour later.

  ‘Our long weekend of sin and luxury has taken a hard knock,’ she said with a rueful grimace.

  ‘Hasn’t it just? Still, it’s not over yet, Kate.’

  ‘But are we still in the mood?’

  ‘We’ll put that to the test tonight. Meanwhile, let’s get the hell out of this place for a few hours.’

  They hired a car and drove to Sintra to see the Moorish Castle and the weird and wonderful Palacio da Pena, perched high on a mountain crag. Then down again for afternoon tea in the pampered splendour of the Seteais Palace Hotel. The horror of the previous night began to ebb away.

  Back at their Lisbon hotel, after dinner, they lingered over coffee on the lamplit terrace. Vince Norden emerged, spotted them and came across.

  ‘Hi!’

  ‘Hi!’ said Kate, and introduced the two men. Richard, making an effort, nudged a third chair with his foot.

  ‘Why not join us?’

  ‘Thanks.’ Vince sat down, and Richard signalled to a waiter for more coffee.

  ‘How is your mother feeling now?’ Kate enquired.

  ‘She’s a bit calmer, poor love. They’ve moved her into another suite and put an extra bed in for me, so I can be close at hand. We’ve just been having dinner up there - Mum couldn’t face coming downstairs. Now she’s going to have a doze, she says, so I’ve come out for a breather.’

  ‘This is a difficult time for you both,’ Kate said sympathetically.

  ‘It’s been a real shaker for me, I don’t mind telling you. But for poor Mum, finding Alec like that... it just doesn’t bear thinking about. And she’s going to miss him like hell.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure. I only met him just the once, for a few minutes last night, but he seemed very pleasant.’

  ‘Sure.’ But Vince sounded less than convinced. He shrugged apologetically. ‘I won’t pretend I’m grieving about him, except for Mum’s sake. It’s not like he was my own father . . . and I can’t say Alec treated me like his son. Far from it. For most of the past three years, since they got married, I’ve only seen Mum when she managed to slip up to London on her own. Otherwise . . . well, her husband made it abundantly clear that I wasn’t welcome in his house.’

  ‘Too bad,’ said Kate.

  ‘I’m not suggesting that Mum was unhappy with him or anything. Alec really cared for her, and she was fond of him. Poor darling, she deserved a bit of comfort and cosseting after the tough time she’d had.’

  Kate made interrogative noises.

  ‘Well, she had to bring me up on her own after my old man walked out on us when I was just a kid. But I never wanted for a damn thing it was in her power to give me.’

  ‘Why was it that you and Alec didn’t get along?’

  The directness of Kate’s question made Richard raise his eyebrows slightly. But Vince seemed not to mind. He gave a short, bitter laugh.

  ‘I didn’t happen to fit Major Alec Bletchley’s mould of what a decent and worthy young Englishman ought to be. If I’d joined a posh regiment as an officer cadet, now . . . Sandhurst and all that - it would have been a whole different ball game.’

  ‘What do you do for a living?’ Richard asked.

  Vince’s coffee arrived. He sugared and stirred it. ‘Oh, I’m into public relations.’

  ‘Nothing wrong with that.’

  ‘Right. But no way was it classy enough for my step-papa. Oh well, mustn’t speak ill of the dead, as they say.’

  Kate said, ‘I’m sure it’s been a great help to your mother having you here to see here through all this.’

  ‘Hope so,’ Vince said with a smile. ‘We’ve been talking a bit this morning, making plans. Me and my girlfriend have just split up and I’m a free agent, so I’m going to move down to St Agnes-in-the-Wold to live with Mum for a while.’

  ‘Are you thinking of commuting, or will you have to change your job?’

  ‘There’ll be no problem. It’s marvellous how much you can do over the phone.’

  * * * *

  Making up for lost time, Kate and Richard packed a lot of enjoyment into what remained of their long weekend. Apart from covering several more of the tourist ‘musts’ they spent a lot of time just happily wandering round and soaking up the Lisbon atmosphere. At one point Richard paused at a flower stall by the ferry station to buy a posy for Kate, and they were tickled pink when he was handed a huge armful of exotic blooms in exchange for a few escudos. In a dark little shop in the Alfama district Kate fell in love with an enormous brass lantern. She couldn’t resist it - never mind the problem of getting it home on the plane.

  On Monday evening they took a taxi to Estoril along the coast. They dined splendidly and danced between courses. Richard was able to dance after a fashion, when he was in the mood, and when his leg permitted. Afterwards, they adjourned to the casino, and lost more money than they’d ever meant to.

  They said goodbye to Heather and Vince before leaving for the airport early on Tuesday evening, and were home by midnight.

  * * * *

  Kate was back at her desk at Divisional HQ in Marlingford on Wednesday morning. A message awaited her to contact her superintendent ASAP. Since there was nothing to be gained by delaying the inevitable, she went along straightaway to his office.

  For once Jolly Joliffe seemed in a good humour. He looked pleased with himself. His long lugubrious face was contorted into a smile.

  ‘Ah, come along in ... Kate.’ He still had a struggle to use her first name. ‘And just what were you getting up to in Lisbon, I’d like to know?’

  Kate bristled. He’d made cracks before about her relationship with Richard. ‘You knew I was going to Lisbon, sir. I left the address of my hotel.’

  ‘Of course, of course.’ He waved her to a seat with an impatient hand, then leaned back in his swivel chair. ‘But from what I hear, you seem to have embroiled yourself in quite a to-do out there.’

  ‘Not with intent, I assure you. May I ask how it came to your attention?’

  His enjoyment increased. ‘Your Lisbon counterpart found it difficult to believe that the charming Senhora Maddox could possibly be a high-ranking officer in the British police, as she claimed. We had to assure him that, incredible though it seemed, such was indeed the case.’

  With an effort, Kate hid her fury and showed only the mildest exasperation. ‘Every country seems to have its share of chauvinists, sir. More’s the pity.’

  Jolly Joliffe’s smile slipped. ‘I trust you didn’t get yourself too deeply involved in the murder case.’

  ‘No more than was necessary. You heard, I expect, that the victim was a local man?’

  ‘Yes. I knew Major Bletchley - slightly. We played golf once. But that was some years ago, and he was a widower then. What’s his new wife like?’

  ‘Very pleasant. Bright and attractive. A lot younger than he was - mid forties. She was very distressed, of course, but luckily she has a son who came out to Lisbon right away to see her through the worst. When the Portuguese authorities release the body, they’ll be bringing it home and having the funeral at St Agnes.’

  ‘Hmm! In the circumstances I suppose we should show a face there.’

  ‘I intend to go myself, sir. This is a traumatic time for Mrs Bletchley, and she can do with all the sympathy and support that’s going.’

  ‘Yes, yes, but don’t overdo the good work. We’ve quite enough on our plates as it is, and we’re not social workers, don’t forget.’

  Kate bit back a sharp retort, and instead smiled serenely at her chief. ‘With respect, sir, you’re a fine one to talk like that. You’d never be able to turn your back on so
meone in trouble.’

  No one, not even Jolly Joliffe, could be immune to the charge of having a soft centre. He smiled at Kate benignly, and waved her away.

  ‘You know me too well, Chief Inspector, you know me only too well.’

  Chapter Three

  Ne’er cast a cloud till May be out.

  Sound advice, Kate thought, shivering in the suede jacket she’d stupidly imagined would be warm enough for the end of May, even though the day had been dull and windy from the outset. She felt a stab of envy for Heather Bletchley, standing on the opposite side of the open grave in a full length . . . what was it? Sable, for sure. Not that Kate herself would have worn a sable coat, or any other fur.

  ‘Earth to earth, ashes to ashes,’ intoned the elderly vicar of St Agnes-on-the-Wold, his surplice flapping around his ankles.

  Afterwards, Heather and her son waited by the lych-gate to murmur their appreciation to the many mourners as they trailed out of the churchyard.

  ‘Kate and Richard, how very good of you to come to poor Alec’s funeral. You’ll join us back at the house, I hope?’

  Prepared for this unwanted invitation, Kate shook her head regretfully. ‘I’m sorry, Heather, both of us are up to our eyeballs with work just now.’

  ‘Oh, I do understand. Which makes it all the more kind of you to have found time to attend the service. Isn’t that right, Vince?’

  ‘Sure thing,’ he agreed. ‘Thanks for coming.’

  ‘Before you slip away, just let me introduce you to Reginald and Nina Bletchley. Reg is Alec’s cousin, you know. And this is their son, Stephen. Richard and Kate,’ she explained to the not-very-interested trio, ‘are the lovely people Alec and I met in Lisbon. They really helped me through that dreadful time.’

  Polite noises from the cousin, patently lacking in sincerity. Was it that he and Alec hadn’t got on? Or did he resent the fact that this woman his cousin had married, after serving only three short years as a wife, would be inheriting Alec’s surely not inconsiderable fortune?