Deadly Deceit

by Nancy Buckingham

  Sick with fury when this filtered back to her, Kate had known that a counter-attack would only make things worse. In a man’s world, it was the man’s word that counted. She could only grit her teeth and get on with the job. But poetic justice hadn’t been long in coming. Driving home one dark night, Kate had chanced upon Don after what had clearly been a bruising encounter with an irate husband. It was in her power to make him a laughing stock among the lads if she chose. Only she didn’t choose. Instead, she left Don dangling under the threat. To this day he was still very wary of her, but he hid his anxiety under a show of bravado.

  Now she was landed with him as Office Manager of her Incident Room. Of all the filthy luck.

  Kate spent a few more minutes discussing the murder squad with Boulter, naming the people she wanted and learning of the ones she couldn’t have. Then they went downstairs to confront Sebastian Knox.

  The man seated at the small table in the interview room sprang to his feet as they entered. He looked irate. Kate recognised him as one of the solicitors she’d seen at the local Magistrates’ Court, though he’d never been involved in one of her cases. Six-one in height, and around thirty-two or three (surely too old for an unsophisticated girl like Jillian?) he had a presence that could be used to intimidate. There was a harshness about his well-formed features and a latent cruelty in his steel-hard eyes, their colour echoed in the greying strands of his dark brown wavy hair. His lean build made the ideal framework for his tailored double-breasted suit.

  ‘At last,’ he burst out. ‘I hope you’ve got a damn good reason for bringing me here. So far I’ve not had one single word of explanation. It’s simply not good enough.’

  Kate said in a mild tone, ‘I apologise for the inconvenience, Mr Knox, but I assure you that it’s necessary. I’m Detective Chief Inspector Maddox, and this is Detective Sergeant Boulter. Please be seated.’

  He ignored the invitation, remaining on his feet in a threatening posture. Kate herself calmly sat down opposite him. Behind her she heard the scrape of a chair as Boulter followed suit. Knox, left looking rather foolish towering above them abruptly slumped back into the chair.

  ‘I hope this isn’t going to take long. What the hell is it all about?’

  Kate opened the file she’d brought with her, and took a few moments studying the top sheet, making him wait. Then she looked up and met Knox’s eyes.

  ‘It’s about murder.’

  ‘Murder?’ He looked shocked; he sounded shocked. But solicitors were good actors. Even if he was the killer, the shock could still be genuine, due to the fact that the police had zeroed straight in on him.

  ‘You knew Barry Slater, Mr Knox.’

  ‘Are you saying that a Barry Slater is dead?’

  ‘I expect you’ve heard about the body found on the disused airfield at East Hadleigh this morning?’

  The pause this time was barely perceptible. ‘That was Slater?’

  ‘That was Barry Slater. Now tell me, Mr Knox, how did you come to know him?’

  ‘I, er ... I must have heard his name mentioned somewhere.’

  ‘Are you claiming that you never actually met him?’

  ‘I believe I did, once. Briefly.’

  ‘In what circumstances?’

  ‘It was at a pub. We exchanged a few words.’

  ‘The pub being the Lythgate Arms Hotel in Wynchford?’

  ‘Yes, as a matter of fact, it was,’ he said in a neutral voice.

  But Kate had caught a flicker of astonishment in his eyes. The facade of self-assurance was beginning to crumble. The expensively tailored suit seemed not to fit him quite so perfectly.

  ‘You had received disturbing information about a relationship between Slater and your girlfriend Jillian Murdoch?’

  ‘Let’s keep my fiancée out of this,’ he snapped.

  Kate didn’t comment. She leant back in her chair and waited expectantly.

  ‘Have you been talking to Jillian?’ he asked at length.

  ‘I have.’

  Knox frowned. ‘What did she tell you?’

  ‘Let’s hear what you’ve got to tell me. Start from the day, about a month ago, when you took her to view a house you thought might suit you when you get married.’

  A long pause this time. ‘Very well. You presumably know that Jillian and I had a difference of opinion that afternoon.’

  Kate waited again, observing him without expression.

  ‘Jillian went off in a silly tantrum,’ he continued, ‘and when she encountered that man Slater in the bar of the Lythgate Arms, she allowed him to chat her up. It was simply her way of getting back at me.’

  ‘That was why she had dinner with Slater?’ Kate suggested.

  ‘Well . . . yes.’

  ‘And why she went up to Slater’s room afterwards, and had sex with him?’

  His face became a stormy red, and he mumbled something incoherent.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mr Knox. What did you say?’

  ‘Jillian was acting completely out of character. She’s terribly upset about what happened.’

  ‘So you’ve agreed to forgive and forget? Treat her lapse as just one of those unfortunate little things?’

  ‘Not exactly, but . . .’

  ‘What, then? Did she perhaps tell you that she no longer wanted to marry you?’

  ‘No. Not at all!’

  ‘I must say, it’s very magnanimous of you to treat the incident so lightly. Most men wouldn’t be so forgiving.’ Kate was deliberately baiting the man to make him lose his temper. ‘Tell me, Mr Knox, do you really love Jillian? Or is your forthcoming marriage more of a social convenience?’

  Knox flushed angrily. ‘That’s totally out of order. Of course I love Jillian. I love her very much.’

  ‘In that case, wouldn’t you have been angry, extremely angry, when you discovered - only very recently, so I understand - that she’d been unfaithful to you?’

  Knox reacted as if he’d only just that second tumbled to what she was working round to. ‘Are you trying to make out I was so angry that I killed Slater?’

  ‘Now that you’ve posed the question, you might as well answer it. Did you kill Slater?’

  ‘That’s a ludicrous suggestion. Of course I didn’t kill the man.’ He’d gone white, but wouldn’t anyone in the circumstances?

  ‘I think we can settle this very easily, sir. Just tell me where you were last night. During the evening and through into the early hours.’

  ‘I’ve already told you that I didn’t kill Slater. And you can’t have anything but the wildest guesswork to make you think I did.’

  ‘I’m trying,’ she persisted patiently, ‘to eliminate you from my enquiries. I’m sure, Mr Knox, that a man in your position would wish to give the police every co-operation.’

  For a moment Kate thought he was going to be obstructive. As a solicitor, he knew the precise limitations of her power. Then he decided to be reasonable. Or to appear to be reasonable.

  ‘Chief Inspector, I - I wouldn’t want this to go any further.’

  Kate waited. He also knew perfectly well, being a solicitor, that she could make no promise of confidentiality. After a moment’s cogitation, he began again.

  ‘Last night, I left my office at about six o’clock, and went home for a meal.’

  ‘Home being, sir?’ asked Boulter, and jotted down the address he gave.

  ‘Do you live on your own?’ asked Kate.

  ‘No, with my mother. My father died last year.’

  ‘I see. And after you’d had a meal, what then?’

  ‘I, er . . . I went out. It would have been about eight-thirty, I suppose.’

  ‘For how long?’

  Knox gave her a considering look, finally saying, ‘For the whole night, if you must know. I arrived home at about seven this morning, knowing that my mother would probably still be asleep at that hour. She is inclined to be a little old-fashioned in her views, and I didn’t want to upset her unnecessarily.’

  ‘Ar
e you telling me that you spent the night with a woman, Mr Knox?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Let me get this quite clear. You were with some other woman, not with your fiancée, Miss Jillian Murdoch?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  What a pair they were - engaged, yet both of them leaping into beds where they didn’t belong.

  ‘If you’ll just give me the lady’s name and address, sir,’ said Boulter.

  ‘Is that really necessary?’

  ‘It’s very necessary,’ Kate told him coldly. ‘How else can we confirm what you’ve told us?’

  More cogitation. Then, reluctantly, ‘Oh, very well. But please be discreet. Her name is Dawn Grainger, and she lives in a flat in the Aston Pringle Road. I can’t recall the number offhand.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Knox. Do you have access to a gun?’

  He drew in a sharp breath, then said, ‘Yes, I own a pair of guns which I inherited from my father. A very nice pair by Cogswell and Harrison. And I have a licence, as you can easily verify from your records.’

  ‘You use the guns, do you?’

  ‘I go on a shoot occasionally. But I don’t have much time for leisure pursuits.’

  ‘I’d like to arrange for an officer to call at your home to inspect your guns, Mr Knox.’

  He shrugged. ‘As you wish. Though what you hope to prove, I can’t imagine.’

  Kate had a distinct impression that Knox was beginning to feel more confident than when he’d been brought in. As if realising that she’d never be able to pin anything on him.

  ‘To get back to Slater,’ she said. ‘You’ve admitted that you met him on one occasion. When was this?’

  ‘The other evening.’

  ‘Which evening? What time?’

  ‘Er ... it would have been Monday. About seven.’

  ‘The evening before Slater was killed.’

  ‘If you say so. But it doesn’t follow that I killed him.’

  ‘Tell me about your meeting with Barry Slater at the Lythgate Arms. This didn’t occur by chance, I take it?’

  ‘Well, no. I went to see him there.’

  ‘You met him at the hotel?’

  ‘Outside, actually. In the car park.’

  ‘How did you know he’d be there?’

  ‘I phoned beforehand to check. Then at the hotel, I phoned again from my car, and spoke to Slater. Asked him to come outside.’

  ‘That sounds as if you were spoiling for a fight.’

  Knox gave her a look of distaste. ‘I just wanted to speak to him in private. It was a delicate matter, and I didn’t want to be overheard.’

  The delicate matter being his relationship with your fiancée?’

  ‘Yes.’ His expression now was challenging. ‘It was perfectly natural for me to want to take the matter up with Slater.’

  ‘Who told you about it? Not Jillian herself, presumably?’

  ‘Hardly. It, er . . . it had cropped up in conversation in the bar ... at Sunday lunchtime, I think it was. Just a chance reference.’

  ‘From whom? Who made the reference?’

  He frowned thoughtfully. Trying to remember? Or working out how best to avoid naming his source?

  ‘I really can’t recall. The bar was crowded, a large number of people must have spoken to me.’

  Kate regarded him sceptically. This wasn’t just a casual bit of bar chat, Mr Knox. You had just learned that your fiancée had been unfaithful to you. And you expect me to believe that you can’t remember who it was gave you this piece of information?’

  Knox shrugged. ‘Whether or not you believe me is up to you. The truth is that I can’t remember.’

  ‘So, having received this disquieting information, you decided to take it up with Slater. The following evening you phoned from your car to say that you wanted to see him outside, and waited for him to come out. What then?’

  ‘When Slater appeared, I went over to speak to him.’

  ‘Announcing yourself as Jillian’s fiancé?’

  ‘Yes. I told the man exactly what I thought of his behaviour with a nicely brought-up girl who was young enough to be his daughter. I said that in future he’d better make sure he stayed well clear of Jillian.’

  ‘Or what?’

  Knox looked at her with a puzzled expression.

  ‘Did you threaten Slater?’ Kate asked.

  ‘Not in the way you mean.’

  ‘What way is that?’

  ‘You’re suggesting that I threatened to kill hi’

  ‘So explain to me how it actually was.’

  ‘My threat was of a more subtle kind. Being a solicitor, it wasn’t difficult for me to scare him about the serious legal consequences of molesting a young woman.’

  ‘I see. Very well, Mr Knox. Thank you for coming in.’

  Surprised at this sudden release, he rose unsteadily to his feet. He was hastily trying to put his self-confidence back in place.

  ‘I didn’t kill Slater, Chief Inspector, and you could save yourself a lot of time by forgetting me and looking elsewhere for your murderer. But I suppose it’s a waste of breath telling you that.’

  ‘Good day, Mr Knox. The sergeant will arrange for a car to return you to your office. Or take you home, whichever you prefer.’

  He remained staring at her for a few moments, then with a curt nod he turned and followed Boulter out of the room.

  Knox said not a word to Boulter as they went downstairs. In the lobby, the sergeant halted. ‘If you’ll just wait here a moment, sir, I’ll make arrangements about the car to take you back.’

  ‘Don’t bother, sergeant. I’ll take a taxi.’ Knox headed rapidly for the door.

  Boulter followed him, protesting, ‘There’s no need for that, sir, we won’t keep you waiting long. Why pay out several quid on a taxi when we’ll be happy to drive you back to Wynchford?’

  But he was talking to empty air. Knox was out of the building and went striding off across the forecourt. Boulter hurried back upstairs, frowning. The DCI wasn’t going to be best pleased about this outcome.

  * * * *

  The moment he was out of sight of the police station, Knox started looking for the nearest phone box. He had to walk nearly a hundred yards, growing more and more agitated, before he found one. Inserting a phonecard, he dialled a familiar number.

  ‘Hi’ said a lazy voice at the other end.

  ‘Dawn, thank God you’re in. Listen, there’s a little favour I want you to do for me.’

  The woman gave a throaty chuckle. ‘You know me, darling, as long as it’s not too kinky.’

  ‘No, no, nothing like that. It’s just that I want you to back me up in something I’ve told the police.’

  ‘Police?’ She sounded wary. ‘Hey, I don’t like the idea of that. I don’t want to get involved. You’ll have to think of someone else.’

  ‘For God’s sake,’ he exploded. ‘There’s no risk.’ With an effort he controlled his anger. ‘It’s nothing much, Dawn, nothing important. Never mind why, but I told them that I spent last night with you.’

  ‘Last night? That was a fib, wasn’t it, Sebbie?’

  Knox gasped in exasperation. ‘Will you just do as I ask? Say I spent all night with you, from soon after eight-thirty right through until almost seven this morning. Have you got that?”

  ‘Yes, I’ve got it. But I don’t know that I want to get mixed up in anything.’

  ‘Dawn, trust me, there’s no risk in it for you. Do this for me, and I’ll make it worth your while.’

  Dawn repeated the times, to make sure she’d got them right. As she replaced the phone, she was smiling, calculating what Sebbie would consider the favour worth. Besides, it was always good to have something on one of her regulars. One never knew when it might come in useful.

  Entering Kate’s office almost at a run, Boulter was on the defensive as he explained about Sebastian Knox’s hasty departure.

  ‘He was off before I could stop him, guv. Short of arresting the guy, there was not
hing I could do.’

  His chief, Boulter knew, would have been counting on the fifteen minutes or so that Knox would be in the police car for his return journey to Wynchford to contact the woman he’d claimed to have been with last night. Before Knox could get at her himself and prime her, that is.

  ‘Okay, Tim, not your fault. I’m right, aren’t I, that this Dawn Grainger is a high-class tart?’

  ‘Yep. Never been in real trouble with us, but she’s sailed pretty close to the wind now and then. I remember once a client from out of town came to us claiming she’d rifled his wallet while he was asleep recovering his strength. In the end, though, he wouldn’t press charges. Afraid his wife might get to hear about it somehow.’

  ‘Let’s get round to her flat, Tim, and see what we can learn.’

  It was an apartment on the first floor of a classy block. The woman who opened the door was immaculately groomed. Pushing thirty, she had a curiously elfin face with large green eyes and pouting lips. A long hank of blonde hair hung down over one shoulder almost reaching to her waist. Her breasts strained against the purple silk blouse she wore with a black sharkskin skirt. She looked like what she was - the professional man’s tart.

  She recognised Boulter as police, and affected not to notice Kate.

  ‘Well, well, darling, this is a surprise. A lovely surprise. I’d like to ask you in, but I’m expecting a friend.’

  Kate said dryly. ‘All the same, I think we’d better come in, Ms Grainger. This shouldn’t take long.’

  ‘This is Detective Chief Inspector Maddox,’ Boulter said stolidly.

  ‘Big shot, eh? Well then, I don’t suppose I can stop you coming in, can I?’ She led the way to her living room, which was lavishly furnished with ultra-modern pedestal chairs and lots of glass and steel fitments. A huge black leather sofa was strewn with multi-coloured cushions. A well-stocked bar, backed by tinted mirrors, stood in one corner.

  ‘So what can I do for you?’ she drawled.

  ‘We’d like to know where you were last night,’ Kate told her. ‘From mid-evening through until this morning.’

  Her jokey mood vanished. ‘Here, what’s this about? Sounds serious.’

  ‘Just answer the question, please.’

  There was a lengthy silence. Dawn Grainger turned away from them and gazed out of the window at the horse chestnut trees outside. Finally, she turned back, the expression on her elfin face puzzled but defiant.