In The Shadow of Evil

by Frank Smith

  ‘Understood, sir,’ said Paget.

  ‘Right.’ Brock eyed Paget narrowly for a long moment. ‘Right,’ he said again. ‘In that case I’ll leave you to get on with it, and I shall look forward to your progress report first thing tomorrow morning.’ With a brisk, dismissive jerk of the head, Brock opened the umbrella and stepped out into the night.

  Tregalles appeared as if by magic at Paget’s side. ‘Never known the chief super to come out to a crime scene before,’ he observed mildly. ‘Especially on a night like this. Sort of gives you a warm glow all over, knowing that he cares, doesn’t it, boss?’

  Paget suppressed a smile. ‘I’m surprised you could feel it from wherever you were while he was here,’ he said. ‘So tell me, what were you doing?’

  ‘Checking out the rest of the barn,’ Tregalles told him. ‘This place is bigger than it looks, and you wouldn’t believe all the things they’ve got stored here. And there’s a room that looks like it might have been some sort of farm office at one time, but I think it’s been used for other things more recently. I think you should take a look for yourself.’

  ‘Later,’ Paget told him. ‘I’m told Mr Bromley is waiting for us, so let’s go and see what he has to say.’

  FOUR

  Having stripped off their protective clothing and donned their coats again, they followed Hurley to the end of the track, where he pointed his torch at the door in the wall on the other side of Manor Lane. ‘Go through there, sir,’ he told Paget, ‘and you’ll see the back door to the manor on the other side of the driveway down the side of the house. Renshaw will meet you there.’

  PC Renshaw was waiting to let them in. He led them into a tiled passageway where the smell of freshly painted walls was almost overpowering, and there were drop-cloths neatly folded on the floor. One side of the passage was lined with wooden coat pegs, but they were bare and empty now.

  ‘Paint’s still a bit wet,’ Renshaw explained as the two men shrugged out of their coats. ‘So I’ll just take them along to the kitchen before I take you through.’ He took their wet macs from them and disappeared through a doorway farther down the hall.

  ‘Didn’t think anyone still used oil-based paints,’ Tregalles muttered, rubbing his eyes. ‘Place stinks to high heaven.’

  ‘Makes my eyes water and gets me in the throat,’ Renshaw said as he rejoined them. ‘But Mr Bromley said it’s better in the long run, because it lasts something like five times longer, when I asked him why they used it. It’s not as bad in the rest of the house, so if you’d like to follow me I’ll take you to him now.’

  Their footsteps echoed hollowly on the tiled floor as they followed Renshaw down the long corridor. He took them past the foot of narrow service stairs leading to the upper floors, then abruptly turned a corner where they found themselves facing a set of padded double doors. Renshaw shouldered one aside and held it as they stepped through into a wider hallway . . . and another world.

  The hallway was carpeted, and the wainscoting gleamed softly in the subdued light of wall-mounted lamps. They had, it seemed, crossed a demarcation line dividing those who served from those they served; a sort of lateral version of Upstairs, Downstairs, thought Paget.

  ‘This is Mr Bromley’s study,’ Renshaw told them in hushed tones as he came to a halt before a recessed door. ‘Thorsen’s in there with him. Mr Bromley thought it best not to disturb the others in the house for the time being. Except for Mrs Bromley, of course. She had to be told as it was her daughter who was killed. See, before she married Mr Bromley, she was Mrs Halliday, so the girl who was killed . . .’

  ‘I think we understand,’ said Paget. ‘Where is Mrs Bromley now?’

  ‘In her room upstairs, sir. Naturally, she was very upset. Mr Bromley was with her for a while, but he’s given her something to make her sleep, and the housekeeper is with her now.’

  ‘Have either of the two men in here said anything to you about what happened out there tonight?’

  ‘No, not really, sir, but Mr Bromley is most anxious to talk to you. He says he has important information for you.’

  As if on cue, the door of the study opened and a tall but slightly stooped grey-haired man, whom Paget judged to be in his fifties, came out and shut the door behind him. He looked drawn and very tired, but he made a visible effort to overcome it as introductions were made.

  ‘I’m sorry we have to trouble you at a time like this, sir . . .’ Paget began, but Bromley brushed his words aside.

  ‘I quite understand what you have to do, Chief Inspector,’ he said, ‘so the sooner we get on with it the better. I assume Chief Superintendent Brock told you about what happened here tonight? This man, Nash . . .?’ Bromley frowned and shook his head as if deeply puzzled. ‘He’s normally such a mild-mannered man, and I was sure he had gone away, but it seems I was wrong.’

  ‘Perhaps we could go inside,’ Paget suggested, indicating the closed door, but Bromley shook his head. ‘Thorsen’s in there,’ he said tersely, ‘and there’s no need for him to hear this.’

  ‘Is there somewhere else we can talk?’

  ‘The library. It’s just down the hall.’ Bromley turned to lead the way.

  ‘In a moment, sir.’ Paget turned to Tregalles. ‘Take Mr Thorsen’s statement while I see what Mr Bromley has to say, then come along to the library when you’ve finished.’ He turned to Renshaw. ‘And make sure Mr Thorsen gets home safely, then come back here and stand by in case we need you.’

  ‘Right, sir.’

  For a man who had been so anxious to tell his story, Charles Bromley seemed reluctant to begin once they reached the library. He walked to the window and stood there in silence, hands thrust deep inside his jacket pockets as he stared into the darkness.

  He was younger than Paget had perceived him to be in the soft light of the hallway. Late forties or early fifties might be closer to the mark. ‘When you’re ready, sir,’ he prompted.

  Bromley turned to face him. ‘I’m sorry, Chief Inspector, but as I said, I’m still finding it very hard to believe. I should have listened to . . . Sorry. I’m not being very clear, am I?’ He took a deep breath and let it out again. ‘I believe the man you want is George Nash. He’s a plumber; he’s done a lot of work for me over the years. He has a shop and yard in Silver Street in Clunbridge and he lives behind the shop. Earlier this evening –’ he paused to look at the clock on the mantelpiece – ‘or I should say last evening, Nash burst in on us while we were at dinner, and he threatened to kill Toni for injuring his young daughter. There were half a dozen witnesses.’

  ‘I think you’d better sit down and begin at the beginning,’ Paget said quietly. He took out his notebook and sat down himself.

  Bromley brushed a weary hand across his face. ‘Yes, yes, of course,’ he said testily. ‘Must get things in the right order, mustn’t we?’ He lowered himself into an armchair and sat hunched forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him.

  ‘I suppose it all really began yesterday afternoon,’ he said, and went on to tell Paget what had happened when Toni Halliday had lost control of the car and hit a child. ‘Her name is Tracy Nash,’ he said. ‘She’s the five-year-old daughter of George and Sheila Nash, and she’s in critical condition in hospital in Broadminster. Toni was arrested at the scene, but was released into my custody overnight, and she was supposed to appear in court later today.

  ‘We had just sat down to dinner last evening,’ he continued, ‘when George Nash burst into the room and started shouting at Toni. He was angry because she was here and not in jail, while his young daughter was in hospital fighting for her life. And then he threatened her, saying he would kill her if Tracy died.’

  ‘Did Nash actually approach her or make an attempt to attack her physically?’

  ‘No. In fact he stopped just inside the door. He was distraught, shouting and crying at the same time. To be honest, I felt sorry for the man.’

  ‘But he did say he would kill her. Can you remember exactly what he
said? His exact words?’

  Bromley made a face. ‘As I said, the man was in a terrible state, so it was a bit of a jumble, but I do remember one thing he said very clearly, and those words have been playing over and over again in my mind this past hour. He said, “I’m telling you, if our Tracy dies, she won’t be the only one, because you’ll be next!” And he pointed straight at Toni.’

  ‘Tell me about Nash,’ said Paget. ‘How did he get into the house?’

  Before he could answer, there was a light tap on the door and Tregalles entered the room. ‘Sorry to interrupt,’ he said, ‘but I thought you’d like to know that Thorsen’s statement was pretty straightforward, and Renshaw is seeing him home. He lives just down the lane.’

  ‘Thank you, Sergeant. Mr Bromley was about to tell me about a man who threatened Miss Halliday last night,’ Paget said, then went on to tell Tregalles what he had learned so far as the sergeant sat down and took out his own notebook.

  Paget turned to Bromley and repeated the question.

  ‘He came to the front door and rang the bell,’ Bromley said. ‘When Gwyneth opened the door, he pushed his way inside and demanded to know where Toni was. When she told him we were all at dinner, he forced her to lead him to us. Gwyneth is our maid.’

  ‘I see. And when he came into the dining room, what happened?’

  ‘As I said, he just stood there at the door. I recognized him at once, of course, and I tried to tell him how sorry we all were, but I’m afraid that just set him off.’

  ‘And that was when he made that specific threat?’ said Paget. ‘“If our Tracy dies, she won’t be the only one!” Right?’

  ‘Yes. In fact those words came back to me very clearly when I saw Toni lying there in the barn. Believe me, Chief Inspector, you don’t forget words like that.’

  ‘Is Tracy Nash dead?’

  Bromley’s face clouded. ‘I don’t know,’ he said slowly. ‘I do know she was alive about nine o’clock last night because Dr Price rang me. He’s Tracy’s doctor, and I’d asked him to keep me informed. I felt it was the least I could do under the circumstances.’

  ‘And what time was it when Nash came into the room?’

  Bromley thought for a moment. ‘It would be shortly after seven,’ he said. ‘Toni had just dropped her little bombshell, and we were still digesting that when Nash—’ He broke off as Paget held up his hand.

  ‘Bombshell, Mr Bromley? I don’t recall your mentioning this before, sir. What was that all about?’

  Bromley sucked in his breath and rubbed his face vigorously with both hands. ‘Sorry, Chief Inspector,’ he apologized. ‘I’m afraid I’m not thinking too clearly right now. Toni had just finished telling us that the reason she’d been drinking was because she’d been in to see a doctor in Worcester that day, and he had told her she was pregnant. She was trying to justify her actions to her mother, and as I said, we were still digesting that little gem when Nash came through the door.’

  Paget turned to Tregalles. ‘Ring the hospital and find out how Tracy Nash is doing,’ he instructed with a nod toward the door. ‘And you might find out if Nash is there or has been there. If the girl’s condition is that critical, I’m wondering why her father would come all the way back here to threaten Miss Halliday, when one would expect him to be at his daughter’s bedside.’

  He turned his attention to Bromley. ‘What was Miss Halliday’s reaction to the threat?’ he asked as Tregalles left the room.

  ‘I think she was more stunned than alarmed. Now I come to think of it, I don’t think she said anything at all while Nash was here.’

  ‘Who else was in the room at the time, sir?’

  Bromley made a mental count. ‘There were eight of us, apart from Nash. As I said, Gwyneth was there, then there was my wife, Margaret, my brother, Paul, who is down here for the weekend, my son, Julian, Beth, or I should say, Elizabeth Etherton – she’s my first wife’s sister – then Toni, me, and Dr Lockwood. He’s our local GP. He was here to see Margaret and I invited him to stay for dinner, so that makes eight.’

  ‘Is everyone you mentioned, other than Dr Lockwood, still in the house?

  ‘And Gwyneth. She lives in the village, Hallows End. She comes in daily.’

  ‘Constable Renshaw mentioned a housekeeper.’

  ‘Mrs Lodge. Yes, but she wasn’t in the room at the time. She was probably in the kitchen.’

  ‘Any other staff?’

  Bromley shook his head. ‘There is a woman who comes in to help with the cooking for a few hours each day, but she’s usually gone by about four in the afternoon.’

  ‘I see. Please go on. What happened then?’

  Bromley hesitated. ‘It was odd, really, because once he’d made his threat, the man just stood there leaning against the wall. It was all he could do to stand up. He looked utterly exhausted. I couldn’t bring myself to believe that he’d really meant what he’d said, so I left the table and went to him. I tried to tell him again how sorry we were, and gradually persuaded him that he should be with his wife and son at his daughter’s bedside. Lockwood joined me, and offered to take Nash to the hospital in his car. But Nash refused, shrugged us off and said he didn’t need any help from us, then left the house.’

  ‘He left the house?’ said Paget. ‘No more threats? Do you know if he’d been drinking?’

  Bromley shook his head. ‘As far as I could tell, he was perfectly sober,’ he said. ‘It was really strange. It was as if he’d done what he’d set out to do, and that was it. Lockwood and I followed him out; he got into his van and drove off, and that’s the last we saw of him.’

  Paget sat back in his chair and said, ‘Tell me about Miss Halliday. You say she was to appear in court today, but judging by what I saw out there in the barn, it suggests to me that she was running away and was waiting there for someone to pick her up. Did she not have a car of her own?’

  Bromley shook his head. ‘She did when she first came down here,’ he said, ‘but she’d only been here about three weeks when she sold it. At least that’s what she told us, but judging by the way she was acting, I suspect it was repossessed. Toni told us a lot of things that turned out to be false, and she could go through money faster than anyone I know.

  ‘As for her running away, I suppose I should have anticipated it,’ he said wearily. ‘God knows she could never admit her mistakes, never own up to anything, and perhaps Nash’s appearance here made her realize how serious the charges were, and what could happen in court today. So she decided to make a run for it rather than face the consequences. As you say, she must have arranged for someone to pick her up at the barn, but what really puzzles me is how Nash could have known she’d be coming out of the house at all.’

  ‘Do you know if she had a mobile phone?’ Paget asked. ‘I didn’t see one out there.’

  ‘Yes, she did,’ Bromley told him. ‘She was always calling someone on it or texting messages.’

  ‘Do you have any idea who her friends were or where she might have been going?’

  Again, Bromley shook his head. ‘She said she’d been living with a friend in London, but she didn’t elaborate.’

  ‘Why did she move down here?’

  Bromley sighed. ‘It’s a long story,’ he said wearily, ‘but I’ll try to make it brief. Toni claimed it was to make amends for all the things she’d said about us to the Press five years ago – I’m sure you’ll remember. She said she realized how wrong she’d been, and she hoped her mother and I could forgive her. It was all claptrap, of course, but Margaret wanted so desperately to believe that Toni had finally come to her senses, that I didn’t have the heart to argue with her. After all, Toni is her – was her only child. But people like Toni never change, and I was suspicious of her motives from the very beginning.’

  Charles Bromley looked off into the distance, eyes narrowed as if reliving a memory. ‘And I was right,’ he said, ‘because it soon became clear that Toni’s real purpose was to persuade her mother to loosen the purse-strings on th
e trust set up by Toni’s father. He left money to be held in trust until her twenty-fifth birthday, but Toni wanted the money now. Margaret didn’t have the power to break the trust ahead of time, but Toni wanted her mother to advance her an equivalent amount from Margaret’s own holdings, which would be paid back when the trust is opened in two years’ time.’

  ‘How much money are we talking about?’ asked Paget. ‘In the trust, I mean.’

  ‘For Toni, roughly six million pounds. Her father, Bernard Halliday, was a wealthy man. The bulk of the estate went to Margaret, and Toni gets a generous allowance until she’s twenty-five, but I think Halliday knew his daughter well enough to make her wait until she was older before inheriting the rest of the money.’

  ‘Six million!’ echoed Paget softly. ‘I take it she didn’t succeed?’

  ‘She tried,’ Bromley said. ‘In fact, she put on quite a show for her mother. Did her best to be the loving daughter that Margaret so badly wanted her to be. She even tried to be nice to me for the first few weeks, but she couldn’t keep it up. She never did have any use for me, especially after I married her mother, so that didn’t surprise me, but I thought it best to let things run their course. Toni was Margaret’s daughter after all, and I felt sure that Margaret would come to realize the truth herself.’

  ‘Do you know what will happen to that money now? The money held in trust for Miss Halliday.’

  ‘Yes, I do. It reverts to Margaret.’

  ‘No strings attached?’

  ‘None that I know of.’

  Tregalles re-entered the room, and both men looked up expectantly. ‘I’ve just had a word with Tracy Nash’s doctor,’ he began, but Bromley cut him off before he could continue.

  ‘You spoke to Price?’ he said. ‘What is he doing at the hospital at this time of night?’

  ‘It seems the night nurse became worried when Tracy’s blood pressure suddenly dropped, so she rang Dr Price at home and he came in to see to her. He went home again at ten, but he was called back again about half an hour ago when it dropped again. I’m afraid it doesn’t look too good. According to Dr Price, it could go either way for young Tracy, so he’s going to remain at the hospital for the next few hours. But here’s the interesting part. He told me that both Nash and his wife have been at the hospital since before eight o’clock last evening. He says Nash was there when he signed in at two minutes to eight. I had the night nurse check the book, and she confirmed the time. Mrs Nash is still there, although Nash left the hospital about half an hour ago. Apparently Nash’s son rang the hospital to say there was some sort of emergency at home. So I got the doctor to put Mrs Nash on, and she told me that the family dog had gone into labour earlier than expected, and the son was in a bit of a panic about it. She said the dog and Tracy are virtually inseparable, so the last thing they wanted was for something to happen to the dog as well.’