He’s trying to sound casual, thought Juliet: as if he really hasn’t given this much thought before. But he’s still on edge. He’s certainly hiding something from us.
“When did you finally succeed in buying the land, Mr. Bevelton?”
“It was in the spring of 1977. I can look up the date exactly, if you like.”
“How did Mr. Atkins make his request about the tree? Did he accompany you and show it to you?”
“Yes. He was very particular that I should save the right tree. Well, there were a lot of trees to choose from!” He gave his uneasy chuckle again. “But that one was standing by itself – it wasn’t part of the main orchard. So keeping it wasn’t a problem. I thought that it might be nice for the lads to be able to help themselves to the apples when they came, too: but they were all cookers.”
“How big was the tree when he showed it to you?”
“Not very big at all. As I’ve said, it was just a sapling.”
“Would you personally have a problem if we were to uproot that tree?”
Henry Bevelton looked doubly uneasy.
“Not personally, no. But I did promise Ronald. Still I suppose that thirty years is a long time to have kept a promise – he couldn’t in fairness expect more than that, could he?”
“Thank you,” said Juliet. “Was it with Ronald Atkins you negotiated the sale, or with Colin Atkins?”
“With Colin Atkins, since you ask. Well, he was the owner of the house and the orchard. So I suppose Ronald had no right to ask for any favours anyway?”
“Anyone can ask a favour,” said Juliet. “Whether it is granted, and for how long, depends of course on the person giving it – and their motivation.”
Henry Bevelton looked down at his feet.
She turned to Gary and Giash. “Can you find someone who can cut that tree down? A tree surgeon, or whatever they’re called?”
Three hours later, two men who had been requisitioned from Robertson’s timber yard by Gary Cooper had cut down the tree. It was now after four o’clock in the afternoon, and as at the same time on the day before, darkness was now approaching.
“Best to call it a day,” said Henry Bevelton. “They’re going to have to dig that stump out manually: they can’t get a digger into that corner without knocking the wall down; and I’m certain that your boss won’t want the bill for that as well.” He raised an eyebrow at Juliet.
“No,” she agreed. “You’re right. It’s better if we all go home now. Thank you very much for all your help today, Mr. Bevelton. How early can we start tomorrow?”
Henry shouted across the yard to Jason Beech.
“Jason? Come here a minute, will you?”
The foreman arrived quickly, his hard hat pushed back off his forehead, the straps hanging loose.
“What’s up, boss? I’d like to get off now, if no-one minds. It’s Carol’s birthday today, and I’m taking her to the pub for supper.”
“We won’t keep you for more than half a sec. Just tell us what time you can start tomorrow.”
“Well, it won’t be light until eight: but I guess we could start at 7.30, the same as usual, if we use one of the big floodlights that we hire out for the harvest. Then perhaps we can get the job finished tomorrow.”
“Do that then, will you, Jase? And give Carol my love.”
Jason Beech looked vaguely disgusted at the message. Juliet wondered why. Perhaps Jason – or Carol – had their own private views about Henry? Or perhaps it was even because Henry had tried it on with Carol? Juliet had caught him leering at Gloria once or twice. But Henry Bevelton didn’t seem to notice his foreman’s reaction to his words. He clapped Jason on the back as walked away. Jason had the use of one of the company Land Rovers and he could be heard starting it up a few moments later.
“Well, I’d best be going home, too,” said Henry quickly.
Juliet was gazing at the house next door. She thought that she saw an upstairs light flick on and then off again, quickly. The upstairs windows were glowing dully, but she could not make out whether that was because a light had been left on deeper in the house – on the stairs or landing perhaps – or whether they were just reflecting the last of the dying sunlight. The two PCs were flanking her. They were also both observing the house. She turned back to face Henry again. Once more she was struck by his air of unease.
“Just a couple more questions, Mr. Bevelton, if you don’t mind. Then we’ll let you go. It’s been a long day for everyone.”
“Of course,” Henry said, bowing his head rather unctuously. “Would you like to come up to the office?”
“That isn’t necessary. But perhaps we could just stand in the workshop for a few minutes.”
“Of course,” said Henry again. He pushed open the workshop door and flicked a switch. It illuminated the row of lights, fashioned in the style of Chinese coolie hats, which were suspended over the main workbench, a sinister-looking construction made out of huge railway sleepers, and blackened with use. “Come in, come in. I’m not sure that it’s warmer in here: but of course it’s very private. No-one to listen to us in here.” Juliet thought that this was an odd comment to make, but she let it pass.
“Yes. That actually touches on what I wanted to ask you about. Do you see much of your neighbours?”
“You mean the Atkins, or the Needhams?”
“Either of them, but I particularly meant the Atkins. Your acquaintance with Ronald Atkins obviously goes back a long way. Do you meet him or talk to him regularly – or on any occasion, in fact?”
“You forget that Ronald did not actually live there until quite recently, except when he was a child. He was not living in that house when his mother died, just staying for a while. After his divorce – and all the other things that happened – I believe that he moved out of the council house that he had lived in with his first wife and rented a small property in Winsover Road. I don’t know how long he lived there, but I imagine that he moved again when he married Doreen. I believe that they lived with her parents, who owned a house a few miles out of town, on the main road to Boston. It took Ronald a long time to get his hands on the property next door. They’ve only been living there for a few months. Colin Atkins died more than ten years ago, but there was some difficulty over the will. I think that Colin’s brothers’ descendants contested Ronald’s right to inherit, or something like that.”
“You seem to be very well-informed about Mr. Atkins, Mr. Bevelton; but you still have not answered my question. Do you speak to him much now that he does live next door to your property? Or the Needham ladies, since you mention them?”
“Pair of witches, they are,” said Henry, grinning, perhaps to indicate that he was not being entirely serious. Juliet still sensed the same fidgety uneasiness that she had noticed before. “We do see them occasionally, but only when the younger one comes to complain about the noise.”
“And Mr. Atkins?” Juliet persisted. Henry hesitated, and then came out pat with his story.
“Naturally, he came and made himself known to me again when he moved in. I’ve seen him in passing a couple of times. And I’ve said hello to his wife when she’s walked past me in the street.”
“You know his wife, then?”
“I know what she looks like. I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”
“Thank you, Mr. Bevelton. Have a good evening.” He nodded, and disappeared up the stairs to his office.
Gary and Giash followed Juliet out to the street.
“I guess you’ll be needing us again tomorrow?” asked Gary.
“Yes, please. It should be the last day you have to come here. We’ll find out one way or the other whether there’s anything buried under that yard. I’ve got a feeling about that apple tree. I’m going to ask Detective Inspector Yates if he can come here tomorrow, too. If he does come, he will brief you: see what he says, but
I’m going to recommend that you keep an eye on the house next door as much as you can without being conspicuous. We’ll want to know if we get any kind of reaction from Ronald Atkins when we start digging again.”
Tim called Juliet on her mobile while she was still walking back to the station. She stood in the shelter of the doorway of Molson’s the Chemist while she was speaking to him.
“Got something to tell me?”
“They haven’t found anything yet. But I’ve got a hunch about a single apple tree that stands in the corner of the yard. It wasn’t part of the original orchard, and we think it’s much younger than the trees in the orchard would have been. Gary Cooper’s one of the PCs who’s been watching the work today, and apparently his Dad was a bit of an expert on apples. Gary says that he thinks that tree can’t be much more than thirty years old, whereas the other trees would have been at least twice that. We’ve had the tree cut down now, but they need to dig out the stump before we can get to anything that might be underneath it. They should do that in an hour or two tomorrow morning: they’ve agreed to start work at seven-thirty. I think that this could be our breakthrough, sir. I really think you should be here, if you can.”
“I’ll be there. What about Henry Bevelton? Is he being co-operative?”
“Super co-operative with me, though apparently there were some grumbles yesterday when his inspection pits were dug up. They’re going to cost quite a lot to replace, incidentally: Henry never wastes an opportunity to tell us. I don’t like him, actually. There’s something really shifty and nervy about him that I can’t put my finger on.”
“He’s probably like a lot of people in the vehicle industry: seventy-five per cent businessman, twenty-five per cent crook. He’s been done for a couple of things in the past, but he hasn’t served time. Fines and warnings, that sort of thing. Of course, that doesn’t mean he isn’t hiding something bigger than that that he doesn’t want us to know about.”
“I suppose if he’s a petty crook, that could explain it. But from the depth of his knowledge about the man and his affairs, I’m pretty sure that he was quite close to Ronald Atkins at the time of Doris’s murder, though he is at pains to deny it, and he vehemently denies that he and Ronald are on more than nodding acquaintance now. I don’t get it. There’s no particular disgrace in being an associate of Ronald Atkins, is there? None that we know of, anyway.”
“Not from Henry’s point of view, I wouldn’t have thought. I’m as certain about Ronald as you are about Henry that he’s got something to hide, but in the eyes of his neighbours he is respectable enough. Perhaps that’s what it is, though,” said Tim, his voice rising in sudden inspiration. “Perhaps it is a shared secret that neither of them wants us to know about. In which case, it probably is something to do with Doris Atkins’ murder or Bryony’s disappearance, or both. Because I’m damn sure that Ronald hasn’t told us all that he knows about either of them. Did you or the two PCs see Ronald while you were there?”
“Not exactly.”
“Not exactly! What does that mean?”
“We’ve each seen lights in the upstairs windows of Ronald’s house at different times, sometimes a light shining from deeper in the house. But often it has been in darkness. Some of the time it was so dark outside that if he had the lights off, Ronald could have been standing at one of the windows without our having seen him. I don’t have any positive proof, but I wouldn’t mind betting that he’s watching what’s going on.”
“If Bryony’s remains are under that tree, do you think he might do a runner?”
“Difficult to say. You’ve spent more time with him than I have. My guess is that he won’t. I think that he’ll say that Dorothy did it, or that he knew nothing about it, and that solicitor of his will back him up with a coherently pieced together story.”
“It might be no more than the truth, of course. If there was another murder, maybe it was Dorothy who did it; or someone else altogether.”
“Well, if it wasn’t Dorothy and it wasn’t Ronald, we’re running out of suspects. Who do you think it might have been? The old granny? Or Uncle Colin?”
She could almost hear Tim shrugging.
“Anything’s possible,” he said. “Go home and soak in a hot bath. You must be frozen through. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Bright and early,” he added ruefully. “I’ll pick you up.”
Hedley, Tim said to himself. It must have been Hedley. If we find Bryony under that apple tree, of course. There’s not enough evidence to nail him without a body. Perhaps not even with one. But why? And why would they all have protected Hedley by keeping it a secret? They weren’t a close-knit family, and neither Dorothy nor Ronald seemed to be particularly fond of him. And is there a connection with Kathryn Sheppard’s disappearance, or not? I don’t get it, he thought, echoing Juliet’s earlier comment. But I’m not going to worry about it now. This is one evening when I do stand a real chance of getting home early enough to eat with Katrin.
Chapter Thirty-Three
It was the night of the Crimewatch appeal. The Crimewatch team had agreed to show again the 1990 reconstruction of Kathryn Sheppard’s last known movements, and follow the clip with the new information about the discovery of the skeleton and the scraps of cloth, the ring and the plastic Red Indian. It was the first time that this information had been made public. Some new details were also revealed about the circumstances of Kathryn’s disappearance, including the fact that she had called her office on that last Friday and asked to take the day as holiday.
The main programme had finished, and had precipitated a surprising number of calls. The Crimewatch researchers were trying to sift through all the responses they had received before the Crimewatch Update that followed the news. Despite requests made during the broadcast that people should not contact the police about where the friendship ring might have been purchased, or provide them with information about other owners of such a ring, many of the calls did relate to one or the other. Despite this, Andy’s swift run through all of the calls that had come in while the programme was still on air with had yielded two possibly exciting results.
The first was from a woman who sounded frightened. She asked for her anonymity to be respected, but she rang off without giving her name. It might have been true, as she claimed, that she might have been identifiable by the man who might have been Kathryn’s killer if all of the details that she had given were publicly disclosed. Despite her obvious fear, she said that she was unsure whether the information that she had would be valuable or whether it was just a red herring. She said that she had worked in Hedley Atkins’ office at the time when Kathryn Sheppard had also worked there, about thirty years ago. She remembered that Kathryn had exchanged a friendship ring with Hedley Atkins’ sister, Bryony, and wondered if that was significant. The Crimewatch broadcast had deliberately not mentioned Bryony, so Andy knew at this point that the woman’s call was genuine. She also said that she had continued working in Hedley’s office for some time after Kathryn had left, and that she was still there at the time of Doris Atkins’ death. Shortly after Dorothy Atkins’ arrest for Doris’s murder, Hedley had asked a favour of her. She had been dubious about agreeing even at the time, but the explanation that he had given for requesting it was very plausible, and although she had never met Bryony Atkins, she had wanted to help her. Hedley had said that his sister had been traumatised by her grandmother’s murder and the terrible invasion of privacy that the Atkins family had suffered. She had gone away to study at university under a false name, and could not face having anything to do with her family. There was a psychiatrist who wanted to interview Bryony about her mother’s state of mind prior to the murder. He had agreed to conduct the interview by telephone in order not to put undue pressure on Bryony, but she still could not face going through with it, even though the psychiatrist had prepared most of the questions in advance. Hedley wondered whether this woman would take the psychiatrist’s call instea
d, and pretend that she was Bryony. He would coach her in the answers to the questions. There would be no harm done, and it would help both Bryony and the rest of the Atkins family if she could smooth their path in this way. That was the exact expression he had used: ‘smooth our path’. She had thought that it was an odd request, but she had seen no real reason for not helping out at the time and, besides, Hedley was her boss. So she had agreed to do it. Almost immediately after the call with the psychiatrist had taken place, however, she had begun to think that getting involved had been a mistake. This was mainly because Hedley, who had always been a decent boss who had treated her courteously, now began to pick on her and victimise her on every possible occasion, so that she had become quite afraid of him and had eventually found another job. She had not thought much about him since, but she could still recollect the unsettling sense of fear that she had felt at the time. She couldn’t explain why she thought that the false call might have had something to do with Kathryn’s disappearance, but because Kathryn and Bryony had been friends, she thought that the police might be interested.
The second call was also made by a woman, but this time one who identified herself with some stridency. Immediately, Andy’s ears had pricked up, because the name was one that he recognised from conversations about the case that he had had with Tim and Juliet. The woman said that her name was Marjorie Needham. The call was a rambling one and at first the woman did not appear to be saying much, beyond that she had been trying to help the police with their enquiries and that it was a pity that they had not taken her into their confidence earlier, because then they would have found out how much she could help. It had been the same with the garden. You would have thought they would have learnt this time. Anyway, she was ringing about the plastic Red Indian. You would have thought that they would have put two and two together by now, but obviously they hadn’t. Colin Atkins had kept shop at the house in Westlode Street and one of the things that he had sold had, of course, been breakfast cereals. He was a tight old skinflint and rarely, if ever, gave anything away. That was why she remembered, quite clearly, that in the closing months of 1974 he had received a consignment of plastic Red Indians. She knew it was 1974, because her nephew had come to visit and he had emigrated to Australia with his parents shortly afterwards. The Red Indians were intended to be given away with Nubisk breakfast cereal, but Colin had received a double consignment by mistake, and even he had not had the brazen cheek to try to sell the surplus ones. He had therefore given some of them to local children who went into the shop on errands, including some of her own nephews and nieces who lived round and about. The nephew bound for Australia had come to visit and gone into the shop to see if Colin would give him one as well; but, when Colin had looked for the rest of the surplus bag of the models, it had disappeared. Only the other bag, from which he was taking the toys to give to purchasers of the breakfast cereal, remained. Colin had been very annoyed about this – unreasonably so, she had thought, but that was Colin for you. Of course, anyone but an old skinflint like him would have given the kid a toy from the other bag, rather than see him disappointed. There would surely have been people coming into the shop for cereal who didn’t want the gift. But that was typical of Colin, too. He had no sympathy or understanding for children. It was well-known that at Christmas all Bryony and Hedley ever received were packets of dolly mixtures past their sell-by date. Why, even Doris had had to pay for the biscuits that she ate with her elevenses. . . .
In the Family Page 25