The Dead Squirrel (The Mac Maguire detective mysteries Book 2)

by Patrick C Walsh

  ‘About eighteen months I think. She told Anne once that she lived in London before that.’

  ‘What’s she like?’

  ‘Personally I like her. She’s good company usually but there are times when she’s a bit prickly, especially when the subject of marriage is raised. I’ve got the feeling that the break up with her husband might have been a bit on the traumatic side.’

  ‘Any idea why exactly?’ Mac asked.

  ‘She never said.’

  ‘Well I’ll guess I’ll have to ask her myself, won’t I? Is there anything else you can tell us that might shed some light on this murder?’

  Kay shook her head.

  ‘Sorry no. Making up plotlines is easy compared to real life isn’t it? This one has me totally stumped.’

  ‘Thanks for your time. I’ll leave my number, please ring me if you remember anything that might be relevant.’

  ‘Oh, but before you go can I ask a big favour?’ Kay asked.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Can I buy you a coffee some time? I have some questions about police procedures for my first novel. You could really help.’

  ‘Yes, no problem. You have my number but it would be good if you could leave it for a week or two until…’

  ‘Until you catch the murderer. Yes I understand completely. Thank you DCS Maguire.’

  Outside Leigh asked, ‘Have you ever been in a book before?’

  ‘Yes I have actually. Just the one but it wasn’t a novel, it was about a real case.’

  ‘Well, if I were you I’d buy Kay’s novel if it ever gets published. I’ll bet you’ll be in there somewhere, she seemed to be quite a fan of yours.’

  ‘Really?’ Mac could feel his face start to redden. ‘Anyway let’s get on with it.’

  Peggy Corning’s address was near the golf course and was one of a cluster of small sheltered flats for older people. She wasn’t in, a fact that didn’t displease Mac at all. The pain in his back was telling him that he desperately needed to get horizontal.

  He went straight to the settee when he got home and gratefully lay down. There was a sharp spike of pain that made him yelp but then it started to ebb away as did the feeling of pressure at the bottom of his spine. Before long he felt as if he was floating and it was almost blissful.

  He soon drifted off into a dream filled sleep. The dreams were jumbles of things that made no sense except for one, an image so strong that it made him sit bolt upright and, although now wide awake, he could still see it. It seemed to have been seared into his brain.

  ‘Are you alright Mac?’ Leigh asked with some concern.

  He turned to look at her and shook his head, trying to clear the vision from his eyes.

  ‘How long have I been asleep?’ he asked.

  ‘Not long, forty minutes or so. I take it that you don’t normally wake up like that. Did you have a bad dream or something?’

  ‘Yes a dream of sorts, I suppose, and not one you could describe as good, yet I can’t escape the feeling that my brain is trying to tell me something,’ he said as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

  ‘What did you dream of?’

  ‘I saw a woman. It was Philippa Hatch. I mean I haven’t seen a photograph of her yet but I knew it was her. She was hanging from the ceiling, her body twisting slowly, but instead of a rope around her neck it was a question mark. Sounds silly doesn’t it?’

  ‘Actually no, it doesn’t. You’ve thought all along that Catherine’s murder had something to do with Philippa Hatch’s suicide, perhaps you’re just reminding yourself of the fact.’

  ‘I’ve learnt never to ignore messages like that. Anyway I’d better have a wash and wake myself up.’

  ‘I’ve done some sandwiches if you’re hungry,’ Leigh said.

  ‘You’re a real star. Once I’ve washed and eaten I’ll be ready to go back into the fray. Well here goes.’

  He stood up carefully and said a little prayer of thanks, the pain was still there but it was manageable. He gave Leigh the thumbs up.

  He checked his phone before leaving the house. There was a message from Andy asking him to drop by the station.

  ‘Have you found something?’ Mac asked as he walked into Andy’s office.

  ‘Well, technically you did, I suppose. Forensics finally got around to looking at the evidence you got from Catherine Gascoigne’s house. Nothing from the stone and only one set of recognisable prints on the key, probably the cleaner’s I’d guess. However have a look at what the envelope contained.’

  Andy opened a file on his computer and showed him a photograph. The photograph was of a single sheet of white paper. In big letters right in the centre of the paper it said –

  BITCH YOU’RE DEAD

  Chapter Ten

  ‘So what do you make of that?’ Andy asked.

  ‘I’m not sure. Is it a statement or a threat?’ Mac replied. ‘I take it that you checked the post box when you were there on Sunday?’

  ‘Yes, it was definitely empty then,’ Andy replied.

  ‘It was hand posted so it was probably put in the post box sometime during Sunday night. I mean you wouldn’t want to be seen posting something like this would you? I take it there were no fingerprints or anything else that might help?’ Mac asked.

  ‘No prints, standard paper, standard printer so very little chance of tracing it that way.’

  Mac thought back to the wonderful days of typewriters when you could trace a letter back to a particular machine. Mac was still perplexed though. He was wondering why it was put in the letterbox when Catherine was already dead.

  ‘I take it that nothing like this was found in Catherine’s house?’

  Andy shook his head.

  ‘If there were more she probably burned them. Unfortunately that’s what people tend to do.’

  ‘But she must have told someone about them,’ Mac persisted.

  ‘We’ll just have to keep asking. Anyway it just confirms what we’ve been hearing about Catherine. In most murder cases we have to search hard to find people with a motive but in this one there appears to be droves of them,’ Andy commented.

  As he was getting in the car Leigh asked, ‘Where to first? Back to Peggy Corning’s or shall we try Diane Caversham?’

  Mac looked at his watch. It was now two thirty.

  ‘Let’s try this Diane Caversham first, she interests me.’ Mac looked at the address again. ‘Yes. I know where she lives. She’s in Wymondley in one of the little row of thatched cottages just past the pub. My daughter used to call them the hobbit-houses when she was young. So she’s not all that far from Willian then, where Catherine lived.’

  ‘Does that have any bearing on the case?’

  Mac didn’t answer Leigh’s question and was quiet as they turned right off the Willian Road.

  The row of black and white cottages with sculpted thatched roofs, beautifully situated in a picture card village, screamed of money to Mac. The names of the cottages were carved on wooden plaques above the front doors which Mac thought was a bit twee. Parr Cottage was one of the end ones. A shiny red Ferrari 458 was parked outside. Mac gave it a long look.

  ‘Why are men always so impressed by sports cars, especially red ones?’ Leigh asked.

  ‘It normally takes quite a bit to impress me but then again that’s a hell of a lot of car. Come on then, if that’s her car here then she must be in,’ Mac said as he got out.

  Amanda rang the bell while Mac gazed admiringly down at the Ferrari. The door was eventually opened by a tall, red haired woman dressed in a silk dressing gown. Mac thought that she was really attractive except for the fact that she had some redness around the eyes. Mac wondered if she’d been crying for some reason.

  Leigh showed her warrant card.

  ‘Come in. I’ve been expecting you,’ she said as she walked back inside the cottage leaving the door open for them.

  Mac followed Leigh inside and looked around. There wasn’t much space but what there was of it was tastefully furnish
ed. It had a manly feel to it. Mac felt as if he’d just stepped into a gentleman’s club or something.

  ‘Please sit down,’ Diane said with a strained smile, wafting an arm in the general direction of a dark brown leather corner sofa. ‘Can I get you anything?’

  Mac glanced at the side table next to her chair. It held a full bottle of red wine with the cork out and an empty glass.

  ‘No thanks. We’re investigating the murder of Catherine Gascoigne. I take it that you’ve heard that her death was murder?’

  Diane nodded.

  ‘News travels fast around here.’

  ‘Is there anything you can tell us that might help?’

  ‘No, I’m sorry but I haven’t seen Catherine for ages, although I shouldn’t say sorry really. On the whole I’ve been very grateful that she’s kept herself out of my way.’

  Mac looked closely at Diane as she talked. Her long hair was uncombed and she looked like she’d been living in her dressing gown for a few days.

  ‘Yes I’ve heard you and Catherine didn’t get on. Why was that though?’

  ‘Well she was just a cow, wasn’t she? A bully too, I hate bullies.’

  ‘Who did Catherine bully?’

  ‘Well me for one, or at least she tried. Then there was Molly and poor Pippa Hatch and I know Anne fell out with her about something. Believe me there’s a long, long list. Her latest victim was Ginny Hocking, really shocking that was.’

  ‘Who’s Ginny Hocking?’ Mac asked.

  ‘I’m not sure how long she’d been a member of the Society but she was definitely there before I joined. Anyway Ginny had a bit of a falling out with Catherine a couple of months ago, about ball dates or something. I heard it all got a bit acrimonious and then Ginny led a bit of a revolt and nearly won the vote. That really put Catherine’s nose out of joint. Only problem was that Ginny made the mistake of going on holiday because when she gets back there’s a letter waiting for her telling her she’s been kicked out of the Society. Well she went ballistic, even wrote a letter to the local paper about it comparing Catherine to Stalin. Pity they didn’t print it.’

  ‘How did you hear about this?’

  ‘I had Ginny over for a bottle of wine a week or two ago and she told me about it herself. I should have said a bottle or two as we both got quite squiffy.’

  ‘What else did she say?’

  Diane hesitated. Mac could see that she was debating with herself about something.

  ‘Oh I suppose she’ll tell you herself anyway. We were daydreaming about killing Catherine and how we’d do it. She said she favoured the toaster in the bath as the best option or running her over …’

  She stopped, a thought had obviously occurred to her. She didn’t seem to be in any hurry to share it though.

  ‘Or what?’ Mac eventually prompted.

  ‘Or poisoning her,’ she eventually replied.

  ‘Do you know where this Ginny Hocking lives and her phone number if you have it?’

  ‘Yes I’ll get my address book.’

  While Diane was out of the room Leigh whispered, ‘This Ginny might make a good suspect then.’

  ‘Perhaps but my first question is what’s Diane telling us all this for? Is she trying to divert our attention from herself? I’ve got a feeling she’s hiding something.’

  At that moment Diane returned and gave Mac a sheet of paper torn from a notebook. She gave it to him with some reluctance. Mac wondered if she was having second thoughts about telling him about Ginny Hocking.

  ‘Where were you the night that Catherine was murdered?’

  ‘Here by myself, as usual.’

  ‘That’s unfortunate,’ Mac said.

  ‘Yes it is. There’s never a man around when you need a good alibi is there?’

  Mac thought he saw the glimmer of a tear drop in the corner of her eye.

  ‘Tell me is that your car outside, the Ferrari?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Is that the only car you have access to?’

  Diane looked mystified.

  ‘Yes, why would I need another one?’

  ‘Have you ever heard of thallium?’

  Mac could sense a more than momentary hesitation.

  ‘Thallium? No, I don’t recall ever hearing the word.’

  Leigh noticed Mac looking intently at Diane with a look of puzzlement on his face.

  ‘Let’s return to you and Catherine,’ Mac said. ‘Why didn’t you two get on?’

  ‘As I said she was bully. I had enough of those when I was at school.’

  ‘Yes you’ve already said that but I think there’s a bit more to it than that, isn’t there Mrs. Caversham?’

  ‘What other reason could there be? By the way it’s Miss Caversham, it’s my maiden name. I was married but I didn’t want to keep anything of that bastard I was married to and that included his name,’ she said with some vitriol.

  Mac wondered if that was the reason behind the daytime drinking.

  ‘Is it true that you denounced Catherine at one of the Society’s meetings?’

  ‘Well it’s true we did have a bit of a slanging match. I resigned afterwards, got my letter in quick before they could hold a meeting and kick me out.’

  ‘Why did you have a slanging match though? It must have been something important to have caused such an outburst.’

  ‘No it was just a build-up of things. I suppose we just rubbed each other up the wrong way.’

  Mac gave her a sceptical look.

  ‘There was something though wasn’t there? Something very specific.’

  She didn’t reply but Mac could see from her reaction that he was on the right track.

  ‘Miss Caversham, please remember that this is a murder enquiry,’ he warned.

  Diane got up and started pacing up and down. Decision made she sat down and said, ‘Yes there was something, something specific. Nico.’

  ‘Is that Nico Panagos you’re referring to, the waiter at the Earl Lewin?’

  Dian nodded, she had a rueful expression on her face.

  ‘I met Nico about a year ago and we had a little…er…I don’t know what you’d call it.’

  ‘An affair?’

  ‘A sort of an affair, I suppose.’

  Diane looked up to the ceiling. From her face Mac could see that she wasn’t especially proud of what she was about to tell them.

  ‘I got lonely being here all by myself so I used to go to the Earl Lewin a lot and that’s how I got to know Nico. He’s a very good looking man and so I made him a proposition.’

  The light bulb went on in Mac’s head.

  ‘You paid him for sex,’ he stated.

  Diane looked a little agitated.

  ‘Well I wouldn’t have put it that bluntly but yes, I suppose.’

  ‘So what happened?’

  ‘Well after one of the Society’s meetings we all got a bit drunk and they started talking about men and sex and that kind of thing. Catherine virtually accused me of either being asexual or a lesbian so I told her about the beautiful young man who serviced me. I didn’t name names but I did mention the Earl Lewin so I guess it wasn’t hard for her to figure out that it was Nico. Anyway a couple of weeks later she made him an offer he seemingly couldn’t refuse. A month or so after that he told me that he didn’t have the energy for two women as well as his wife so that was the end of him and me. He was very sweet about it.’

  ‘I’d guess that you didn’t take that well.’

  She gave him a shame-faced look.

  ‘You’re right there, I definitely didn’t. At the next meeting Catherine and I had a big fight. They had to hold me back, I so wanted to punch her lights out.’

  ‘Is there anything else you can tell me?’

  ‘About Catherine, no. We never met again after that meeting.

  Outside Mac asked, ‘So what do you think?’

  ‘Well, speaking as a woman, I’d say that’s more than enough motive for murder,’ Leigh replied.

  ‘Yes, I’ve known
women murder for a hell of a lot less. Come on let’s see if this Peggy Corning’s come home yet.’

  She drove them back towards Willian. She turned left and then right up Letchworth Lane past the golf club and parked outside the retirement flats. Mac rang Peggy Corning’s bell and again got no answer.

  A head popped out of the window next door and a grey haired woman said, ‘There’s no-one home, he’s gone to his daughter’s for the week.’

  ‘He?’ Mac asked. ‘I thought a woman lived here?’

  ‘No, Mr. Mann’s been living there for over six months, ever since Peggy left.’

  ‘Is that Peggy Corning? She’s the person I’m looking for.’

  Mac showed the woman his card. She disappeared and a few seconds later the front door opened.

  ‘What would the police want with Peggy? She’s a really nice lady.’

  ‘Just routine. You say she moved out six months ago, do you know where to?’

  ‘Sorry no. I think she might have left a forwarding address with the warden though.’

  ‘Why did she move, do you know?’

  ‘Well she said she was moving back in with her daughter. She’d let her have the house when she got married and Peggy moved in here. The marriage didn’t take though and her daughter wanted her to move back. I suppose she was a bit lonely being by herself.’

  ‘How can I contact this warden?’

  ‘She lives there’, the woman said pointing to the flat opposite, ‘but she won’t be back until tomorrow sometime.’

  Mac’s phone went off.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said to the woman.

  He then turned and answered the phone.

  All Leigh heard was ‘Really! Yes, I’ll be there in ten minutes.’

  He ended the call and turned to her.

  ‘Come on, Olivia Parker’s been found dead in her house and they’re pretty sure she’s been poisoned.’

  Another poisoning

  He had to admit that he had finally found his calling. He’d expanded his operations to neighbouring towns and even London. His friend Mr. T hadn’t been rumbled once as he went quietly and efficiently about his work.

  He read the papers avidly and never missed the news as he was always on the lookout for his next project. His latest though proved to be much closer to home.