Death at Beacon Cottage

by Betty Rowlands

  ‘I’ll clear this lot away,’ said Fergus. He stood up and began stacking the used plates. ‘Mum, d’you mind if I go round to Anita’s when we’ve finished? She was a bit miffed when I wouldn’t tell her why I had to cancel our date yesterday.’ He glanced at Jim, who had just re-entered carrying a bowl of fruit salad. ‘Is it OK to tell her what’s happened?’

  Jim put down the bowl and thought for a moment before saying, ‘I’d prefer you not to go into any details until it’s been decided how much of this morning’s events are going to be released to the press. You can just say that a police operation was mounted at your house, an arrest was made and your mother’s a heroine,’ he added. The love and pride in the smile that he gave Sukey made her heart glow, yet at the same time she felt a pang of sadness on Nina’s behalf.

  Shortly after Fergus left, Jim said, ‘Sook, I’d like to stay a bit longer, but I’m on duty over the weekend so if you don’t mind I’ll go home now. What about you, Nina? I believe you left your car in the multi-storey… would you like a lift into Gloucester?’

  Nina hesitated. Sensing a reluctance to accept the offer, Sukey said quickly, ‘Why don’t you stay here till tomorrow and keep me company? The spare room’s full of junk, but you’d be quite comfortable on the couch.’

  ‘Thanks, I’d like that,’ said Nina gratefully. When Jim had gone, the two women settled in armchairs in the sitting room with cups of coffee. After a moment, Nina said, ‘Thanks so much for the offer of a bed.

  I wasn’t looking forward to a night on my own.’

  ‘I guessed as much. Was it because of all that chat about Roddy? I thought it must have hurt, knowing how you feel about him.’

  ‘It did, a bit.’

  ‘You haven’t told me how you made contact with him.’

  ‘As you know, I’m with the Regional Crime Squad. We had a request for a volunteer to infiltrate Roddy’s circle and I was picked for the job because before I joined the police I worked for a firm of sherry importers and knew something about the wine trade. Roddy was a known womaniser; he and his friends used to meet in a wine bar in Soho and chat up the birds. I made contact with him there; he was with two men who I later got to know as Crowson and Morris. I pretended we’d met briefly – he didn’t remember, of course, but he was very polite and friendly and bought me a drink. I asked him if there was any chance of a job with his firm and he said unfortunately there wasn’t, which was a bit of a blow because we understood they were looking for a PA, but there was no reason why we shouldn’t see one another again. I’d given him my cover story… I was married to a man who was always off on business trips and it all went like a dream. We wined and dined and partied… and I managed to keep his interest by not jumping into bed with him straight away. He wasn’t used to that.’ Nina’s face lit up for a moment, as if the words brought pleasurable memories, then darkened again as she added, ‘I really believe he came to care for me… almost as much as I care for him.’

  ‘What do you think will happen to him now?’ asked Sukey.

  ‘He’ll have to play along with whoever’s running the show, whether he likes it or not. Once he realises what he’s got mixed up in, he’ll loathe every minute of it.’

  ‘He could refuse to cooperate.’

  ‘You think so?’ Nina shook her head decisively. ‘It would be suicide – he’ll have no choice if he wants to stay alive.’ Her eyes were brimming with tears. ‘Sukey, I’m so afraid for him – and the worst part of it is, I’ll never know what becomes of him.’

  Twenty-Seven

  On Saturday morning Sukey drove Nina into Gloucester. ‘I guess it’ll be a relief to get back to normal duties after all the excitement,’ she remarked as she pulled up a short distance from the entrance to the multi-storey park where Nina had left her car.

  ‘It will in a way.’ There was a touch of wistfulness in the policewoman’s voice and Sukey stole a sideways glance at her. She was looking straight ahead, making no attempt to get out of the car.

  Impulsively, Sukey put a hand on her arm. ‘It’s been great knowing you,’ she said warmly. ‘I owe you my life – I’ll never forget that.’

  Nina gave a faint smile, but did not turn her head. ‘All part of the job.’

  ‘It’s strange, isn’t it – we were constantly together for two days, but I know hardly anything about you. I don’t even know where you live.’

  ‘There’s no secret about that. I share a flat in Oxford with my brother. His wife died a couple of years ago and he’s got no children, so as we’re both on our own it seemed to make sense for him to move in with me. He’s away quite a bit, so I have the flat to myself most of the time. He’d have a fit if he knew what I’ve been up to,’ she added with a wry grin. ‘I’ve never let on about the firearms training.’

  Despite the lightness of her manner, Sukey detected an underlying sadness. She sensed that it would be a long time before she got over Roddy. ‘Why don’t we keep in touch?’ she suggested. ‘Oxford’s only an hour or so’s drive from Gloucester. Maybe we could get together some time when Jim’s on weekend duty and Fergus is out with Anita or staying with his dad—’ She broke off in some embarrassment; the suggestion had been well intentioned, but it had only served to underline the difference in their circumstances.

  There was no trace of self-pity in Nina’s manner as she replied, ‘That would be lovely.’ She rummaged in her handbag. ‘Here’s my card – call me when you have some free time.’ She got out of the car and grabbed her case from the back seat. ‘Take care, hope to see you soon,’ she said.

  Fergus had offered to cancel his plans for the weekend to stay at home with his mother, but she insisted that she was all right on her own. She managed to keep herself busy with household and gardening tasks, but they had never seemed more wearisome or arduous. The time dragged and the telephone remained infuriatingly silent until early on Sunday evening, more than forty-eight hours after Goreman’s dramatic arrest.

  Jim was on the line; he sounded weary but triumphant as, without any preamble, he declared, ‘We got a result! Wallis was picked up early this morning off the Isle of Wight on an ocean-going yacht laden with stolen antiques and art treasures, including most of the stuff from Bussell Manor.’

  ‘Brilliant! How did you get on to him?’

  ‘Goreman. It was a long time before we could get a word out of him, but in the end we got him to talk.’ Jim gave a hoarse chuckle. ‘You’ll never guess how we managed to persuade him!’

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘Later, love. I’m all in and I haven’t washed or shaved or had a proper meal for twenty-four hours. I’m going back to the flat for a shower and a change of clothes—’

  ‘You can have a shower here,’ she interrupted. ‘Gus can fix you up with a clean shirt and I’m sure he’ll be delighted to lend you the electric shaver his father gave him for Christmas. And then you can tell us all about it over supper.’

  ‘I’ll be with you in half an hour.’

  ‘I imagine it’s going to keep the lawyers busy arguing for quite a while,’ said Jim when he laid down his knife and fork after demolishing a plate of chicken and chips. ‘All I can say is, I’m glad it’s not my problem.’

  ‘Don’t start talking in riddles,’ said Sukey severely. ‘We’ve been very patient, but you won’t get your coffee and cake until you tell us what’s happened.’

  ‘Yes, come on Jim,’ Fergus urged. ‘We’re dying to know how you got Goreman to talk. We thought perhaps he’d be too scared, like that other guy, the one whose antique shop got done over—’

  ‘Greenleaf. Yes, it’ll be interesting to see how that joker reacts when he learns we’ve got his pal Wallis and busted the whole operation… at least, this end of it. Whether it’ll lead to the big fish is another matter. That part of it’s right out of our hands.’

  ‘Never mind that – just get on with your end of the story,’ said Sukey. She cut a large slice of fruit cake and put it on the table just out of Jim’s reach. ‘Talk!’ sh
e ordered with mock ferocity.

  ‘OK.’ He put up his hands in surrender. ‘It was Patterson’s idea, as a matter of fact. He’s been on our backs ever since Fiona spilled the beans about the way she and Stuart Lockyer planned their robbery at Bussell Manor. We let him know we’d made an arrest, but were having trouble getting information out of the prisoner. You’ll never guess what he came up with.’

  ‘I’m not going to try. You jolly well tell us,’ said Sukey in exasperation, but Fergus gave a sudden squeak of excitement.

  ‘I know!’ he declared. ‘He suggested that you do a deal with Goreman – let him know he might be in line for a big reward!’

  ‘Well done, lad.’ Jim reached across and gave Fergus a pat on the shoulder, then swung his hand round to snatch the plate of cake from Sukey’s grasp.

  ‘That strikes me as highly unethical,’ she said, making no attempt to stop him as she considered the latest revelation. ‘Isn’t there some law that says a criminal can’t profit from his crime?’

  ‘That was our first reaction, but Patterson pointed out that the insurance company was offering the reward for information leading to the recovery of the stolen property. Goreman had nothing to do with the robbery so he’ll claim that he’s perfectly entitled to the money. He’ll go down for a good long stretch for attempted murder, of course, which as things stand might be all we’ll be able to charge him with because the gun he threatened you with isn’t the one used to kill the other victims. At the moment there’s nothing to link him with those murders—’

  ‘—and when he comes out of prison he’ll have a nice little nest-egg waiting for him,’ Fergus finished with an air of triumph. ‘That’s what he’s hoping for. Whether he’ll get away with it remains to be seen. As I said, it should keep the lawyers happily arguing the toss for quite a while.’

  ‘What you’re saying is, you told Goreman that he’d be in line for the reward if he’d tell you where to find Wallis,’ said Sukey. ‘That sounds suspiciously like bribery to me.’

  ‘Oh, we used a much more subtle approach than that. We managed to let his brief overhear a reference to the fact that Patterson’s insurance company was increasing the reward. His ears nearly touched the ceiling,’ Jim added with a chuckle. ‘He couldn’t wait to report that little gem to his client.’

  ‘So officially it was Goreman’s own idea – that was really smart!’ said Fergus in admiration.

  ‘I’m glad someone appreciates our cleverness,’ said Jim with a sly grin in Sukey’s direction. ‘What the outcome will be I’ve no idea, but the point is, it worked. Wallis is behind bars – incidentally, Sook, you’ll be amused to know that one of the arresting officers complained about his excessive use of a very pungent body lotion. Patterson’s got his property back, including one picture with a damaged frame that he said he never liked much anyway, so everyone’s happy except the villains.’

  ‘Not everyone,’ said Sukey thoughtfully. ‘Well, everyone who deserves to be. If Fiona hadn’t gone along with Lockyer’s plan to rob her employer she might not be grieving for him now. There’s Donna Hoskins, of course. It’ll take her a while to get over Crowson, but at least she’s got her mother to take care of her.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so,’ Sukey agreed, her thoughts momentarily far away. She had not been thinking of either Fiona or Donna.

  He had not known a moment’s peace of mind since the final interview with El Dueño. Waking and sleeping, he was haunted by the memory of the cold eyes and the cruel, mirthless smile. He was tormented by the trail of death that he had unwittingly set in motion – first old Mrs Frampton, then Crowson and Morris and finally the brutal slaying of Stuart Lockyer. But the final blow had been the almost casual revelation about the woman who, in spite of her betrayal, was still the only one he had ever truly cared for.

  His mind went back to the final briefing, the handing over of passport and airline tickets together with documents and letters of introduction to support his claim to be Señor Ramon Alvarez, rightful heir to his late uncle’s business in Madrid. Only when he had stowed everything in his briefcase and was about to take his leave did the bombshell fall.

  ‘I forgot to mention, amigo,’ his tormentor had said with an urbane smile, ‘that your little English chica has been causing us a great deal of trouble. She shot the agent sent to eliminate her.’

  He remembered how thin and reedy his voice had sounded, as if shock had all but paralysed his vocal cords. ‘Pepita armed – a killer?’

  ‘Killer – no, at least not this time. Unfortunately.’

  ‘Why unfortunately?’

  ‘She only wounded our man and he has talked, which has caused us a great deal of inconvenience. It will take a while to repair the damage to our organisation, but we shall find time to deal with your Pepita eventually.’

  ‘What do you mean – deal with her?’ The question had been asked mechanically; he knew only too well what the man meant.

  Once again had come that cruel smile. ‘I am not a fool, amigo. It is clear to me that despite her treachery you are still in love with her. That makes you a weak link in the chain; so long as she lives, you are not safe from detection. Have no fear – I shall see that you are informed when she has ceased to be a threat to your freedom. Now, I wish you a safe journey and good luck. I expect much of you. So long as you obey instructions to the letter, you have nothing to fear.’

  He would never forget the implied threat in the final words, nor the sense of revulsion at the contact with the smooth, well-manicured hand, tainted with the blood of countless victims, that El Dueño extended. The memory filled him with self-disgust and despair.

  The drive to the airport, the plane journey, the arrival in Madrid where he had been met by the secretary of his late ‘uncle’ had all been part of the waking nightmare. He had checked into his hotel and later rejoined the secretary – a middle-aged, severely dressed woman with mournful eyes, jet-black hair and skin the colour of wax – for an informal dinner. After the weeks of preparation, he had played his part mechanically, perfectly. Now, after arranging to be in the company’s office at eight o’clock the following morning, he was at last alone.

  He went into the bathroom and stared at his reflection in the mirror above the washbasin. His new reflection, one that he still had difficulty in identifying as himself. It was uncanny, the difference a few small changes could make. Gundlach had done his work well. Even his own cousin would not recognise him… but Pepita would know him immediately, if ever they had a chance to make love again. At the memory of the light touch of her fingers on that tiny, ineradicable mark, he broke down and wept.

  When he was calm again he finished undressing, switched off the lights and got into bed. He lay for a long time with his eyes closed, but sleep would not come. Like a recorded message, endlessly repeated, El Dueño’s words echoed monotonously, mercilessly, in his brain. So long as she lives, you are not safe. He got up and went to the window, where he stood for a long time staring down at the people in the street, the passing traffic, the lights in the shop windows. Among them was the illuminated green sign of an all-night Farmacia. He could buy something there to help him sleep.

  He dressed and went out. On his return he wrote two letters which he put in the same envelope, thankful for the foresight that had prompted him to buy stamps before leaving for the evening’s rendezvous. No doubt he could have obtained them at the front desk, but for all he knew the hotel might be part of El Dueño’s organisation. For the same reason, instead of using the mailbox in the hotel, he went back into the street and found one a short distance away. Then he returned to his room. As he lay in bed, waiting for sleep, a different message was running through his head. This time it was saying, ‘So long as you live, her life is in danger.’

  The chambermaid who serviced the third floor was a phlegmatic woman who had worked in the hotel for many years. She knew the importance attached by the owners to keeping intact its reputation as a well-run establishment, untouched by any whiff of di
sturbance or scandal. When, on entering room 307 the following morning, she found the occupant apparently fast asleep with an empty bottle labelled ‘Paracetamol’ on the table beside him, she quietly informed the manager, who called the room on the internal telephone. Receiving no reply, he sent for a doctor. When it was established that Señor Ramon Alvarez was beyond mortal help, the manager contacted a friend at police headquarters on whose discretion he knew he could rely. Thus it was that the staff of Alvarez y Cia were advised that, tragically, their new employer had died in his sleep from natural causes, and this information was duly relayed to the man known throughout the organisation as El Dueño.

  Three days later, Superintendent Sladden found a letter bearing a Spanish postmark on his desk. When he had examined the contents, he sent for DI Castle.

  ‘What d’you make of that, Jim?’ he said, tossing a single sheet of paper across the desk.

  Castle studied the letter in silence for several minutes. At last he said quietly, ‘If it’s all true – and I see no reason at this stage to think otherwise – it contains some valuable leads. Taken along with what we can get out of Wallis and Greenleaf, it might well lead to the break-up of a combined smuggling and money-laundering organisation, most likely linked to the drugs trade.’

  ‘It will have to be dealt with at the highest level.’ Sladden’s voice held a note of regret at the thought that such a high-profile operation would pass out of his hands. ‘Let’s hope that in due course our part in bringing it about will be recognised. I’ll be sure to mention your contribution in my report, Jim.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. Perhaps Mrs Reynolds too…?’