Dead by Morning

by Dorothy Simpson

  ‘Mr Martindale appears to have been run down by a vehicle and it seems possible that it was this one. As you are apparently in charge of it –’

  ‘Now just a minute. Are you suggesting …?’ Head down like an angry bull, Tiller appeared ready to charge.

  Thanet sensed the tension in his men. The situation must be defused. He smiled. ‘I’m not suggesting anything, Mr Tiller. I merely want to ask you some questions. I’m sure you’re as anxious as we are to get at the truth of the matter.’ He turned to one of the policemen. ‘Arrange for the van to be towed in, for inspection.’

  Tiller hesitated, his eyes searching Thanet’s face for any sign that he was being misled. Abruptly he turned away. ‘This way,’ he said gruffly.

  He led the way to one of the outbuildings and pushed open the door. It was a storage shed for gardening equipment, with tools, work bench stacked with flower pots and other clutter, sacks of peat, fertiliser and compost leaning against the walls and several motor mowers of assorted shapes and sizes. It was only marginally less cold than outside.

  Tiller leaned against the bench and folded his arms. ‘Well?’

  No point in beating about the bush or attempting to soften the man’s mood. Thanet glanced at Lineham to check that he was ready to take notes. ‘Tell us about the van.’

  ‘What d’you want to know?’

  ‘I understand you’re in charge of it?’

  ‘Sort of.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Everybody uses it. So why pick on me?’ Tiller was becoming belligerent again.

  ‘Please, Mr Tiller, do understand that I’m not accusing you of anything.’ At this stage, anyway. ‘I’m merely trying to find out who drives it, when and for what reason, that’s all. And the sooner I find out the sooner this interview will be over. So if you could just give me the information …’

  ‘Mr and Mrs Hamilton, Mr Talion, Mr and Mrs Byfleet, Andy – the lad who helps me. That’s it.’

  Thanet’s heart sank. ‘I see. All of them have keys to it?’

  ‘Yes – except for Andy. He borrows mine, when he needs it. The van stands out there in the yard, and whoever wants to use it uses it.’

  ‘Mr Talion. He’s …?’

  ‘The farm manager.’

  ‘I thought Mr Hamilton managed the estate.’

  ‘Mr Hamilton administers the estate. It’s Jack Talion who actually runs it.’

  ‘I see. And where does Mr Talion live?’

  ‘In Home Farm.’

  ‘And where is that?’

  Tiller waved a hand. ‘Over the other side of the Hall.’

  ‘And you?’

  ‘Where do I live, d’you mean?’

  Patience, Thanet told himself. ‘That’s right, yes.’

  ‘Here, in the stable yard. They converted one of the outbuildings,’ he added grudgingly.

  ‘I see.’ Thanet did see. This meant that everyone who had keys to the van lived sufficiently close to have had access to it last night.

  ‘So, did any of them use the van last night?’

  ‘How should I know?’

  Thanet sighed. It looked as though every drop of information was going to have to be squeezed out of Tiller. He signalled to Lineham to take over.

  ‘What about you, Mr Tiller? Did you use it?’

  ‘What if I did? I had every right, didn’t I?’

  ‘No one is saying you didn’t. But in the circumstances …’

  ‘Why don’t you come right out with it? You think I ran him down, don’t you? Go on, admit it.’

  ‘Mr Tiller, as Inspector Thanet has explained, we have no preconceived ideas about what happened last night –’

  ‘Don’t give me that guff. In that case why aren’t you talking to the rest of them, eh? Go on, tell me why.’

  ‘Because,’ said Lineham with admirable restraint, ‘we have only just discovered that it is likely to be this particular vehicle that was involved in the … accident.’

  ‘You did it too, didn’t you?’ said Tiller triumphantly.

  ‘Did what?’

  ‘Paused before you said “accident”.’ His eyes flicked at Thanet. ‘Just like he did, just now. Go on, admit it, you don’t think it was an accident at all, do you? You think it was deliberate.’

  ‘Mr Tiller, can’t you understand that at this stage we really don’t know what happened? We are, I repeat, merely trying to find out. We shall of course,’ said Lineham, raising his voice as Tiller again opened his mouth to interrupt, ‘be talking to all the other people who have access to the van, but as you are nominally in charge of it we came to you first. So if you could just tell us if you did use it last night, where you went and what time …’

  Tiller was shaking his head in disbelief and shifting impatiently from one foot to the other.

  ‘Very well, Mr Tiller,’ said Thanet. ‘If you don’t choose to tell us at present, that is your prerogative. But we must have this information, so if you’d be so kind as to accompany us back to headquarters we can all wait in greater comfort until you are ready to give it to us.’

  Tiller was nodding his head with satisfaction. ‘Just as I thought. Arresting me, aren’t you?’

  ‘Not at all.’ Thanet was holding back his exasperation with difficulty. ‘In fact, if you’d just give us the information we need we’d all be able to get on with our work that much quicker.’ Then, as the man still remained silent, regarding him suspiciously through narrowed eyes, ‘Come on, man, let’s get it over with. As I said before, the sooner you tell us, the sooner we’ll be finished, can’t you see that? If you have nothing to hide there’s nothing to worry about.’

  Tiller gave a contemptuous snort and turned his back on them to gaze out at the yard through the cobwebbed window.

  Silence.

  Then, just as Thanet was about to give up and hand the man over to be taken back to Sturrenden to cool his heels for a while, Tiller swung around. ‘I suppose you’re right,’ he said reluctantly. ‘If I’ve nothing to hide …’

  Thanet nodded. ‘That’s right,’ he encouraged.

  Tiller hesitated a moment longer. ‘As a matter of fact I did use it last night. I went to the pub.’

  The atmosphere eased. ‘Good,’ said Thanet.

  ‘What time was that, Mr Tiller?’ said Lineham.

  ‘Half-past eight or thereabouts.’

  Tiller, it seemed, usually spent Tuesday evenings in the village pub with a woman friend called Sonia Rankle, who also lived in Sutton-in-the-Weald, half a mile out on the Sturrenden road. He would pick her up soon after 8.30 and take her home at around 10.30 before returning to his own quarters at Longford Hall.

  ‘And this was what happened last night?’ said Thanet.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Now think very carefully, Mr Tiller. Did you, either on your way to the pub or on the way back, see Mr Martindale at all?’

  The answer, of course, was predictable.

  ‘No, I did not!’

  A thought struck Thanet. ‘You do know who I’m talking about, don’t you?’ To the groundsman Martindale might just have been one amongst a number of guests.

  ‘I know him.’ Tiller’s response was wooden, arousing Thanet’s interest.

  ‘You mean, you know him because you’ve seen him around over the last couple of days, or because you knew him when he used to live here?’

  ‘I’m local. I knew him before.’

  Thanet strained to catch the overtones in Tiller’s voice which, in contrast to all his previous responses, continued to be strictly neutral.

  ‘And you’re absolutely certain you didn’t see him when you were out last night?’

  Suddenly the man’s belligerence returned in full force. ‘I’ve bloody told you, haven’t I? I knew you wouldn’t believe me.’

  ‘Is there any reason why we shouldn’t believe you, Mr Tiller?’

  ‘No! There is not!’

  ‘In that case, we’ll get on with our work. Come on, Sergeant.’

  Ti
ller unfolded his arms as it dawned on him that the need to be on his guard was over. ‘You mean, I can go?’

  ‘Certainly. Thank you for your cooperation.’

  They left him gazing after them in apparent disbelief.

  SIX

  ‘Interesting,’ said Lineham, as soon as they were outside.

  ‘What, specifically, Mike? The fact that he was so on the defensive or the fact that he clammed up when I asked if he knew Martindale before?’

  ‘Both. I’d say he definitely has something to hide, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘No doubt about it. But it won’t do any harm to let him stew for a bit while we find out if anyone else drove the van last night.’ Thanet frowned. ‘Pity so many people had access to it, though.’

  ‘Who’re we going to see first?’

  ‘Out of courtesy it’d better be the Hamiltons. We’ll start with him, I think. Presumably he is officially its owner.’

  They went back into the house to find out where Hamilton was and were told that in the afternoons he usually worked in the Estate Office, which was in the stable block at the back of the house.

  Retracing their steps Lineham said suddenly, ‘So did Mrs Byfleet, for that matter.’

  Like the partners in a long-established marriage, able to take up and lay down a thread of conversation without ever having to spell it out, Thanet knew at once what Lineham meant. ‘Yes. I suspect she’s either seen or heard something which she thinks would present the Hamiltons in a bad light.’

  ‘She obviously feels a very strong loyalty towards Mrs Hamilton, at least.’

  ‘Quite. That’s an interesting point, actually. She hardly mentioned him.’

  ‘Don’t suppose she sees much of him, it’d be Mrs Hamilton she works with.’

  ‘True.’

  ‘There’s the office, over there.’

  Preoccupied earlier with Tiller and the van Thanet had not noticed the tastefully discreet OFFICE sign screwed to the wall beside one of the doors in the stable block. Guests at the hotel presumably shouldn’t be made to feel that this was too much of a commercial enterprise.

  Hamilton was seated at his desk dealing with paperwork. ‘Ah, Inspector.’

  ‘Sorry to trouble you again, Mr Hamilton.’

  ‘Not at all, I was hoping for a word with you.’ He waved a hand. ‘Please, sit down.’

  It was an attractive place in which to work, thought Thanet as he and Lineham sat down on a couple of upright chairs facing the desk. The original brick stable walls had been painted white, the overhead beams sandblasted to a smooth honey, the old granite floor sets cleaned and polished. Sturdy pine furniture and a huge map of the estate added to the atmosphere of prosperous country living. Even on a day like today the room was comfortably warm.

  ‘I saw your men towing away our van. Do I gather that you think it was involved in the accident?’

  ‘It seems possible,’ said Thanet carefully. ‘That’s why I wanted to see you.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘We’re trying to find out who drove it last night, and I gather that a number of people have keys to it, yourself included.’

  ‘That’s true.’ Understandably, Hamilton’s tone was now guarded.

  ‘Did you, in fact, drive it last night?’

  Hamilton hesitated only for a moment, presumably realising that sooner or later the truth was bound to emerge. ‘Yes, I did, as a matter of fact. I went to pick up my daughter from Ashford, at about, oh, it must have been a quarter past eleven.’

  Well within the time limit set by Doc Mallard.

  ‘She doesn’t drive?’ Thanet was surprised. He would have expected a girl like Tessa to have taken her driving test soon after her seventeenth birthday, and he wouldn’t have thought that there would be a shortage of vehicles for her to borrow, if she hadn’t already been given a car of her own. Perhaps she was younger than she looked.

  ‘Yes, of course she does. And last night she borrowed the Range Rover. Unfortunately, when she was ready to come home, she found it wouldn’t start. So naturally she rang to ask if someone could come and collect her.’

  ‘It seemed to be working all right this morning.’

  Hamilton shrugged. ‘It’s a bit temperamental sometimes. Last night it was a very simple matter. When I got there I checked the sparking plugs’ – he gave a self-deprecating smile – ‘that’s about my limit as far as mechanical failure is concerned. Anyway, I was in luck, one of them was loose and she was able to drive it home.’

  ‘You’ll understand that I must now ask if you saw your brother-in-law either on your way out or on the way back.’

  ‘No I didn’t. Anyway, what on earth do you think he would have been doing, wandering around outside at that hour on a freezing night like that?’

  Thanet shrugged. ‘What time did you get back?’

  ‘Around ten past twelve.’

  ‘Was it snowing then?’

  ‘It was just starting as I turned into the drive.’

  ‘Do you know of anyone else who drove the van last night? Presumably, when your wife went to pick up your son from the station, she would have used her own car.’

  Hamilton’s lips tightened. It was obvious that he had been expecting this. ‘As a matter of fact no, she didn’t.’

  ‘She used the van?’

  ‘Yes. The car she usually drives, the BMW, is in for repair. Some idiot backed into it when it was parked in the Stoneborough Centre in Maidstone last week. And of course, Tessa had the Range Rover.’

  ‘And the BMW is the only car you have, apart from the Range Rover?’

  ‘Well, there’s the Rolls, but that’s used strictly for business, to meet hotel guests or ferry them about. It’s one of the luxury services we offer. She certainly wouldn’t use it to pick Adam up from the station. Anyway, it wasn’t here. Byfleet had driven it to Gatwick, to pick up the Americans and he didn’t get back till eight.’

  The door opened and Delia Hamilton came in with a flurry of cold air. ‘Giles, what’s all this I hear –’ She broke off when she saw Thanet and Lineham. ‘Ah, Inspector. Why have they taken the van away? Is it anything to do with my brother’s accident?’

  Patiently, Thanet went over it all again, the strong possibility that the van had been involved, the necessity of finding out exactly who had driven it last night.

  Delia had crossed to stand behind her husband, one hand on his shoulder as if to draw strength from the physical contact. ‘Giles, have you told them that I …?’ She faltered.

  ‘That you drove it last night?’ He reached up to lay his hand reassuringly on hers. ‘Yes, I have. So did I, if you remember.’

  She paled, the beautiful bone structure of her face suddenly accentuated, briefly almost skull-like. ‘Oh my God, so you did. To fetch Tessa.’ She put up the other hand and pressed her fingers into her temple as if to ease a sudden onset of pain. ‘I’d forgotten.’

  ‘It’s unfortunate that so many people have keys to the van,’ said Thanet. ‘I understand that apart from yourselves and Mr Tiller, who presumably uses it most, both the Byfleets drive it and so does the farm manager, Mr Talion.’

  ‘Jack! Oh God, he used it last night too! I didn’t bother to tell you,’ she said to her husband, ‘because it didn’t seem of any importance at the time.’

  She and Hamilton exchanged a look full of unspoken messages which Thanet tried to read and failed. One thing was certain, however. For some reason the farm manager’s name had some special significance for them, in this context. ‘Jack? Would that be Mr Talion?’

  ‘Yes.’ Delia was still looking at her husband. ‘Just after I got back from the station with Adam someone rang to say that some of our sheep had got out on to the road near the Linklaters’ house – that’s close to the junction with the Ashford Road,’ she explained to Thanet. ‘Jack – Mr Talion – had walked across from Home Farm to join us for a drink before dinner, he often does, and he said he’d attend to it. Of course, he didn’t have his car with him so he went in t
he van.’

  ‘That would have been at what time?’

  She shrugged. ‘Five minutes or so after I got back.’

  ‘And that was about twenty to eight, you say? So, say a quarter to eight.’

  ‘Something like that, I suppose.’

  ‘And how long was he away?’

  ‘I haven’t the faintest idea. You’ll have to ask him.’

  ‘He’s been with you long?’

  ‘For years. He was farm manager in my father’s time, and stayed on when my husband took over.’

  ‘How many years?’

  Delia frowned. ‘I’m not sure, exactly. He came when I was a child. Twenty-five, thirty years, something like that. Again, you’ll have to ask him. Or I suppose we could look it up in the records.’

  ‘No, it doesn’t matter. As you say, I can ask him.’

  But it was interesting to learn that Talion, too, would have known Leo Martindale before he left the area.

  ‘I didn’t ask before, but why, exactly, did your brother go away?’

  Delia gave an embarrassed laugh. ‘I’m afraid my father’s patience ran out. Leo was always a bit wild and Daddy was forever having to bail him out of one scrape or another. In the end, after he’d paid off his debts for the umpteenth time, he gave him a final warning: if he didn’t mend his ways he would be out on his ear, no allowance, nothing.’ She shrugged. ‘Leo didn’t pay any attention to the warning and out he went.’

  ‘I assume your father therefore also cut your brother out of his will.’

  Delia looked uncomfortable. ‘Well no, he didn’t. He couldn’t. The Hall is entailed.’

  ‘I thought most of those old entails were broken long ago.’

  ‘Yes, most of them were, in 1925 I think Daddy said. But unfortunately ours was a little more complicated than that.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘I can’t see how all this can possibly be relevant,’ said Hamilton.

  ‘It may well not be, Mr Hamilton. But I’d be grateful if your wife would explain, all the same.’

  Delia Hamilton looked at her husband and he gave a reluctant nod.

  ‘Well, it’s a question of something called an entailed trust, actually, and as a matter of tradition the arrangement has been continued from one generation to the next, right from the time Longford Hall was first built. What happens is this. On the twenty-first birthday of the heir, the trust would in each generation be renegotiated so that before anyone actually inherited it, it was tied up for the generation beyond.’