‘What made you think of the tip at Pendean?’
‘It seemed like a good idea. We put Knox in quite deep, and I reckoned that when more refuse had been dumped on top of him he’d be gone for ever. It was just filthy luck that they got that bulldozer down there doing some levelling.’
Almost with surprise, Kate realised that this was it. All over bar the paperwork. Another case wrapped up for her - a life-sentence for Vince Norden.
She looked at him across the table and said slowly, ‘If you hadn’t left that watch of Alec’s on Slater’s wrist, you might have got away with it all, Vince. That was the slip that led to your downfall.’
He didn’t react, just stared at her. Through her.
‘What now?’ he asked listlessly.
‘You’ll be formerly charged with the murder of Barry Slater. Then you can get some sleep. Other charges will follow later.’
‘Will I be allowed to attend Mum’s funeral?’
Fleetingly, she felt a kind of compassion for this broken man. ‘I’ll see to it that arrangements are made.’ She stood up, and said to Boulter, ‘See you in a minute.’
Outside the interview room, Kate glanced at her watch. Twenty to three. She longed above everything to go straight home and flop. Sleep was a desperate necessity. But some of the squad were still hanging around in the Incident Room, knowing that the boss expected to wrap things up tonight. She couldn’t walk away from them. It was their hour of victory as much as it was hers. The lads and the girls had had all the mundane tasks to work on, while the glamorous side, most of the excitement, fell to her and her sergeant. Kate waited for Boulter to join her. Pushing open the swing door, she was amazed to find at least twenty people there, lounging around, drinking coffee and talking. As she and Tim Boulter entered, an expectant hush fell.
‘Well, you guys,’ Kate said, and paused. ‘We’re home and dry.’
A babble broke out. They surrounded her, shouting congratulations. Bottles appeared as if by magic, and drinks were poured into paper cups. Kate drank with them, and at once knew she shouldn’t have done. The alcohol hit her tiredness like an exploding bomb.
A voice at her elbow said, ‘Let me drive you home, ma’am. You look all in.’
Kate had decided she’d better have a car take her home, and be fetched back to the DHQ in the morning. But why not accept Pippa’s offer? It would probably please the girl.
‘Won’t it be out of your way?’
‘Hardly at all. Well . . . not that much. It’s no trouble, honestly, and I’d like to, ma’am. I can pick you up in the morning, too, if you let me know what time.’
Kate smiled at her. ‘Thanks a lot, Pippa, you’re God’s gift to a flaked-out DCI. I warn you, though, I’ll probably nod off on the journey.’
But she didn’t nod off. The young WPC’s enthusiasm kept her awake.
‘It must be marvellous, ma’am, when you’re on a case and the pieces all start coming together. Then getting everything all sewn up, it must make you feel on top of the world.’
‘Well, it does and it doesn’t. You spend days and weeks charging around in all directions searching for evidence, looking for answers to the things that don’t fit. Then suddenly you’ve got all the answers and there’s nothing left to do but sweep up the debris. It’s great to have won, yes, but you also feel kind of empty. And sad, too.’
‘Sad, ma’am?’
‘You see, during an investigation you get to know your suspects pretty well. Most of them are trying to hide something, and you come to understand their viewpoint, however warped and misguided it is. In some cases you get quite fond of them, too. Even murderers aren’t freaks, not usually. They’re people who have made some wrong choices along the way. We all of us have our faults . . . we’re greedy, over-ambitious, ruthless. Or maybe weak and indecisive. The ones who commit serious crimes . . . well, they’re victims too, in a way. Do you understand what I’m trying to say, Pippa?’
‘I suppose I do, ma’am.’
But clearly she didn’t. She was too young to be able to see things in myriad shades of grey. Kate felt too tired right now to explain any more.
‘Sergeant Boulter must be a big help to you, ma’am.’
‘Yes, he is. He’s a fine police officer, a very good detective. Don’t tell Tim I said so, but I think he’ll go a long way in the Force.’
‘Oh, yes. And he’s a really nice person, too, isn’t he?’
In surprise, Kate glanced sideways at the girl, who was concentrating on manoeuvring her Metro through the gateway of the converted stable block. So that was the way the wind was blowing! Did Tim know? Did he return Pippa’s obvious tenderness for him?
And what if he did? Oh, hell, good or bad, it was life, wasn’t it?
‘Yes, Pippa, Tim is a really nice person. As nice as they come.’ She reached for the handle. ‘Thanks a lot for bringing me home. See you here in the morning . . . around eight o’clock. Okay?’
* * * *
The misdoings of Senora Dona Carlota Martinez would be a matter for the Spanish police to deal with, thank God. All relevant information was being shunted through to them. For Murdoch, and the jeweller Lawrence Allbright, holding charges had been formulated pending further investigations into the complex details of their crimes.
‘It’s Jillian Murdoch I feel sorry for in all this,’ Boulter declared next morning, when they took a breather from the mountain of paperwork. ‘At least she’s free of that bastard Knox. I wonder what’ll become of her?’
‘She’ll end up marrying Martin Denby, I imagine. Those two have got “Made for each other” stamped all over them.’
‘Even though it was him who put us on to her father?’
‘I hope Jillian will be able to forgive him for that. She ought to realise that he had no choice.’
‘Pity Denby made such a balls-up of things, guv. He’d have made a good copper eventually.’
‘Don’t you think, Tim, that he’s made a pretty good showing already, all things considered? I know he was lucky that Murdoch and Norden virtually dropped into his lap. But Denby was quick to follow through when he realised that something fishy was going on.’
‘Yep, I’ll give him that. He was also bright enough to wait for you to get back from Lisbon, and not let Trotton make a mess of it all.’
Kate looked up at the sergeant and said ruminatively, ‘It seems to me, Tim, that if Martin Denby gets booted out of the Force for giving Jillian that fake alibi, it would be a shocking waste of good material.’
Boulter considered, then nodded his head. ‘I’d go along with that, guv.’
‘I’m a great believer in the idea that every negative situation has to have its positive side, if you look for it hard enough.’
Boulter waited in silence for her to get to her devious point.
‘Take this case we’ve been working on. Though we’ve reached a successful conclusion, it didn’t help us one bit having to contend with an inefficiently-run Incident Room. Am I right, or am I wrong?’
‘You couldn’t be more right, guv.’
‘Where’s the positive side to that, you might ask? Well, now, just let’s suppose that, as a result of that inefficiency, the particular file containing PC Denby’s misdeeds was found to be missing. I don’t see how any action against him could be proceeded with. Do you, Tim?’
‘An impossibility, guv,’ he said, with a perfectly straight face.
Kate glanced at her watch. ‘I reckon you’re overdue for a refreshment break, sergeant. Off you go.’
He returned about twenty minutes later. ‘On my way back upstairs I dropped in at the Incident Room. That file on Denby seems to have vanished without trace. If you find that hard to believe, ma’am, you’d better go and have a look for yourself.’
‘No need for that,’ she said, grinning at him. ‘I have complete trust in you. What an extremely intelligent and capable sergeant you are. And,’ she found herself adding, ‘WPC Hamilton agrees with me on that score.’
‘Oh?’ Rose-pink colour started climbing to Boulter’s face.
* * * *
Towards the end of the afternoon, Kate rang Stonebank Cottage. She’d been feeling guilty recently about the unavoidable neglect of her aunt.
‘Hi. I’m back in circulation, Felix.’
‘I heard you’d made several arrests. Everybody’s talking about it, girl, and I’m basking in your reflected glory. But what a shock, hearing that Heather Bletchley had committed suicide. Of course, I realise now that you must have cottoned on to her long ago. All those questions about her you were getting Richard to ask.’
‘They were only vague niggles in my suspicious mind, back then. I didn’t have any idea what had really been going on.’
‘Which was? The whole district is buzzing with rumours. Somebody told me she’d heard it was Heather and her son who murdered her husband in Lisbon. But I knew that couldn’t be true, because you were with Heather when he was killed, weren’t you?’
‘Listen, Felix, how about us having a bite together this evening?’
‘That’d be great, girl. Tell you what, why don’t you come here for dinner, and bring Richard, too? I’ve just been given half a dozen trout and I haven’t bunged them in the freezer yet, so we’ll eat them tonight instead.’
‘Okay. I’ll give Richard a ring and see if he’s free.’
Felix chuckled. ‘If I read that man correctly, he’ll make damn sure of that.’
Chapter Twenty-One
Evening sunshine shone through the windows of Stonebank Cottage. It was instant serenity after the crazy pace of the past few weeks. The trout were delicious - Felix had a way of serving them with a sorrel-flavoured sauce which made them irresistible.
Over the meal, Kate launched on a resume of the case for Richard and her aunt. The only bit she intended censoring completely was the disappearance of the file on Martin Denby. That little item was not even for Richard’s ears.
When she touched on Fred Blackwood, Felix said, ‘You were interested in him before this murder case ever cropped up, weren’t you? That was connected with Carlota Martinez too.’
Kate chuckled. ‘There’s an ironic twist there. She suspected him of being on the fiddle in some way, if you remember, and her good friend the Chief Constable decreed that the man should be discreetly investigated. Then during the enquiry into Barry Slater’s death, I stumbled onto the fact that Sylvia Blackwood had been having a bit of a fling with Slater, which put Fred on our suspect list as a jealous husband. Except it soon became clear that Fred didn’t give a damn what his wife got up to, or who knew about it. Then I began to wonder if there could possibly be a blackmail angle in there somewhere.’
‘And was there?’ asked Richard.
‘Well, yes. But not blackmail leading to murder. On the strength of Fred being a suspect, I was able to put a couple of our lads to investigate his whole set-up at the stables. They uncovered quite a bit of petty and not so petty fraud . . . cheating his owners over items like vet’s bills and travelling expenses, and taking a hefty cut on top of his legitimate commission each time he negotiated the sale of a horse for them. Sylvia, who knew all about this because she did the accounts for Fred, was indiscreet enough to spill the beans to Slater - or at least spill enough for him to add two and two together. Then Slater, being Slater, put the screws on Fred, and Fred kept him quiet with a few dead-cert tips which brought Slater one or two sizeable wins. Incidentally, that was about the only time Slater made any real profit from his betting activities. As to how Fred Blackwood knew they were dead-cert winners, we haven’t yet established.’
‘Sounds like he was doing some nobbling,’ Richard suggested.
‘That’s the angle we’re working on. We’ll nail him in the end.’
‘But what’s the ironic twist you mentioned?’ asked Felix.
‘Oh, yes. The point is that although it was through the Spanish woman that we first got onto Fred Blackwood’s tricks at the stables, he never actually cheated her, only his other owners. He thought this Dona Carlota had too much clout to risk it, he admitted. And he turned out to be right.’
‘She was taking a big chance, though, wasn’t she?’ said Felix. ‘To complain to the Chief Constable, when she herself had so much to hide.’
Richard grunted. ‘That’s the way it goes, Felix. Some of these big-time crooks think they’re above the law themselves. But this one didn’t reckon on our Kate.’
They continued to discuss details of the case for a while over the fresh raspberries and cream Felix served for dessert. Then she went off to the kitchen to make coffee.
Richard said, ‘You looked whacked, Kate.’
‘I feel whacked.’
‘Your problem is that you give too much of yourself to the job.’
‘No way. The job I do is the job I want to be doing. There aren’t that many people who can say that. I’m one of the lucky ones, Richard.’
‘Okay, okay. So we’re a lucky pair. Running a potty little local rag is a load more fun than I ever thought it would be when I had to settle for a quieter life.’
They sat there grinning foolishly at each other, happily in sync. By God, you’re not wrong about being lucky, Kate. He’s a helluva nice man.
‘What are the chances of spending time together tomorrow?’ Richard asked.
‘The morning’s out,’ she said regretfully. ‘Maybe by lunchtime I can get away.’
‘Give me a buzz at home, will you? I’ll be on standby.’
Felix, coming back into the room with the coffee, must have overheard their last exchange. She glanced quickly from one to the other as she put down the tray. Her voice was over-casual,
‘By the way, if you’ve got in mind a Saturday lunch-time session at the Wagon tomorrow, you’ll have to count me out. I’ve got a, er ... an assignment that’ll keep me busy.’
Kate flashed disbelief to her aunt with a grateful smile, saying, ‘That’s too bad.’
And scarcely fifteen minutes later Felix was being tactful again.
‘Just look at the time. I don’t know about you two, but I need my beauty sleep.’
It was hardly gone ten o’clock.
‘Sounds like our marching orders,’ said Richard, getting to his feet at once.
‘I’m not pushing you out, am I?’ Felix said, with a deadpan face. ‘You must be tired yourself, Kate.’
‘Knackered, if you want the truth, Felix.’
‘Oh well, you’re still young. You’ll bounce back.’
They had come in Richard’s car. On the journey home, Kate leaned back in the seat contentedly. A half moon was rising above the dark hills to the east, and the night air smelled fresh and sweet.
‘Just how tired are you, Kate?’
‘Zonked.’ Then she became aware of his disappointment. ‘Well, there’s tired and tired, isn’t there?’
‘Which are you?’
‘I’m tired . . . but not tired.’
Richard flashed her a smile, and the car speeded up.
Copyright © 1992 by Erica Quest/Nancy Buckingham
Originally published by Piatkus Crime [ISBN 0740001301]
Electronically published in 2014 by Belgrave House
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part, by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying electronically or by any
other means without permission of the publisher. For more information, contact Belgrave House, 190 Belgrave Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94117-4228
http://www.BelgraveHouse.com
Electronic sales: [email protected]
This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.
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