Murder on the Heath: a suave murder mystery with a great twist

by Sabina Manea

  ‘No luck here. What next?’ asked the policeman, ready to call it a day and head back to the high street for an overpriced coffee.

  ‘Give me a minute.’ Lucia walked through to the kitchen and proceeded to open all the cupboards. They didn’t contain a lot – sugar, coffee, a few teabags. The fridge was empty apart from a sad-looking egg sandwich, which she assumed was Elsa’s lunch as it was still in date. Lucia looked behind all the various packets and got as far as the cutlery drawer. Carliss watched her, halfway between boredom and fascination. She lifted the cutlery tray and placed it on the worktop, and as she reached to the back of the drawer, she let out a victorious ‘Aha!’

  ‘What have you found?’

  ‘This was taped all the way inside,’ she said and held up a piece of paper that had been hastily folded in four. A quick scan, and her face folded into a frown. ‘Oh my. This explains a lot. Look, it’s an order for lithium.’

  ‘What do you mean, lithium?’

  ‘The medication.’ She thought fast. ‘It’s used to treat manic depression. Sorry, bipolar disorder, as it’s now called. And look at the name.’ Lucia held out the paper for him to see.

  The policeman could just about make out the contact details and the name of the product.

  ‘Max Penney. You think he bought it for himself?’ He paused, knotting his forehead into a frown. ‘Does this mean he’s bipolar?’

  ‘Seems likely. All that erratic behaviour when you interviewed him got me thinking. This adds up – he was probably on a manic high.’

  ‘Hold your horses. What do you mean, a manic high?’

  Lucia took a deep breath and made a conscious effort to slow down.

  ‘Sorry, got ahead of myself. Bipolar disorder is characterised by low and high episodes – depression followed by elation, and back to depression, and so it goes on. When you spoke to him, he was probably in a manic phase – hyperactive, talking quickly, overenthusiastic about everything. Does that ring a bell?’

  ‘I suppose it does. He was pacing around the room, talking at a million miles an hour. But if he was bipolar, where does that leave us? There’s no law against having a mental illness, is there?’

  ‘No, but the fact that he’d ordered lithium from a – how shall I put it – less than official source suggests he was keeping his condition under wraps. Why not get it prescribed by his GP? No, I think he kept his illness quiet. I’m sure the relevant authorities would have something to say about a psychiatrist not disclosing his own mental affliction and continuing to treat patients as if nothing were amiss. If it came out that he was brushing it under the carpet and self-medicating, he’d probably be struck off.’

  DCI Carliss scratched his chin. ‘Yes, I get it. But why was the prescription here, in Alec’s kitchen?’

  ‘Come on, you can venture a guess.’

  The inspector let out a frustrated groan. ‘You look like you’ve already made up your mind, and I’m probably going to get it wrong. I’ll have a go anyway, even if just to embarrass myself. Max hid it somewhere safe, away from prying eyes?’

  Lucia couldn’t hide a disappointed grimace. ‘Not quite. I reckon Alec found out Max was buying his own drugs.’

  The detective’s very blue eyes widened. ‘So you think Alec got hold of the prescription and hid it in the drawer so he could, what, blackmail his own brother?’

  ‘Not sure about blackmail, but certainly taunt him with the knowledge and push him out of the business,’ replied Lucia. ‘I think Max came to Alec’s office that night to look for this prescription. But there’s only one way to confirm it. We need to squeeze it out of Max himself.’

  ‘I’ll get the station to arrange a follow-up with Max Penney, shall I?’ Carliss busied himself with his diary and phone. ‘What made you look in the drawer anyway?’

  ‘I read this article ages ago that you should hide valuables where burglars are less likely to look. In the kitchen cupboards was one suggested place. So, I figured this might apply here too.’

  ‘Should have known. Another one of your wacky ideas. You watch too much trashy TV.’

  ‘I suggest we dispense with arranging a polite rendezvous. We need to surprise Max Penney, ask him upfront.’ Lucia looked at her watch. ‘He’s likely to be at home. Why don’t we make our way over now?’ Before her superior could protest, she was already at the passenger door of the car, raring to go like an overexcited puppy.

  ‘It makes me tired just looking at you, all that boundless energy.’ The detective sighed and got behind the wheel.

  * * *

  Max Penney’s front door stood firmly shut, as if disapproving of the detectives’ presence. Lucia gathered her thoughts for a moment, trying to figure out how to broach the subject. A direct approach was best. After all, lithium wasn’t exactly over-the-counter medication. The man must have been paranoid about being found out, whilst also trying to keep his condition undisclosed.

  Max Penney took his time to respond to the ear-splitting doorbell – it was a good few minutes before the door was cracked open. He looked like he had just woken up from a hundred years of sleep.

  ‘Yes, what is it?’ Max groaned. He evidently didn’t recognise the inspector.

  ‘Police, Mr Penney. Detective Chief Inspector Carliss. I was here just the other day about your brother, remember?’ The man’s face showed no reaction. ‘May we come in, please? There are a couple of things we wanted to clear up if you’ve got a moment.’

  The door squeaked open a little wider. Lucia and Carliss stepped in, not knowing whether Max Penney had registered what was happening. He walked with difficulty, dragging his feet like dead weights. As he edged ahead, she saw the hair at the back of his head was matted, like a neglected dog. Lucia winced at the state of the place and the overpowering stench that came with it – the mustiness of unwashed clothes and skin.

  ‘Was it this bad when you came here with Cam?’ she whispered to her boss.

  ‘No, it’s definitely a lot worse. It was messy, but not on this scale, or we would have suspected something was amiss.’

  Max settled on top of the laundry piled up high on the sofa, like a hen on the nest. Lucia and Carliss stood awkwardly, wary of touching anything. Lucia couldn’t wait any longer and blurted it out.

  ‘Mr Penney, how long have you been self-medicating with lithium?’

  His head turned slowly, apathetically, with a glimmer of recognition in his glassy eyes.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You heard my colleague. We know you’ve been buying lithium. We found the prescription in your brother’s study,’ said Carliss.

  ‘In his study? But…’ Suddenly revived, Max stopped himself before he could go any further.

  ‘Is that what you were looking for when you went to see Alec the evening he died?’ asked Lucia.

  Max Penney scrunched up one eye, like a comical wink that didn’t quite work. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. At last, he ran a hand over his greasy forehead and decided to come clean.

  ‘OK, yeah. I assumed he’d hidden it there.’

  ‘But you didn’t find it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Was Alec in his study at the time?’

  ‘No. He wouldn’t have let me look for it.’ Max stared at Lucia as if she were stupid for even asking the question.

  ‘Was the kitchenette door open or closed when you were going through the study?’

  Max reflected for a few moments. ‘Closed, I think. Yes, I’m pretty sure it was closed.’

  ‘And you didn’t go into the kitchenette or see Alec at any point when you were there?’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘Why did you lie to us the first time around, Mr Penney?’ interrupted Carliss sternly.

  Max Penney creased his face into a defeated scowl.

  ‘Hardly the kind of information I’d want to volunteer, is it?’

  It was a far cry from the hyperactive, loquacious man that the inspector and DS Trinh had met only days earlier.


  ‘And why is that?’

  ‘I’m a psychiatrist. If it becomes public knowledge that I’m bipolar, I’ll lose my job and never practise again. I know, I should have got it diagnosed, got treatment and so on. I just couldn’t face it. I know all too well the rigmarole you have to go through, and I wasn’t having any of it. So, buying the lithium for myself seemed easy enough.’

  Max Penney rubbed his hands on his faded grey tracksuit bottoms. His nails were long and grubby. The contrast with the painstakingly preened appearance of his twin brother couldn’t be starker.

  ‘Until Alec found out,’ said Lucia.

  ‘Until Alec found out. I must have dropped that prescription somewhere, and he picked it up. Next thing I know, he summons me into his study to give me a right telling off, like I’m a naughty schoolboy or something.’

  ‘Did he threaten to expose you?’

  ‘He said I needed to get my act together and clean up, and until I did, he didn’t want me to have anything to do with the business.’

  Lucia had been right again – that explained the brothers’ parting of ways. ‘In other words, he sacked you. How did that make you feel?’

  ‘Angry, of course.’ Max paused as he cottoned on to the implication of his admission. ‘But if you’re suggesting I had anything to do with his death… What the hell? He was my brother. I was planning to get treatment, honestly. Right after I got hold of that prescription. I just didn’t want to run the risk of it being out in the open.’

  Carliss took out his notebook, pen to the ready.

  ‘No more lies this time. Let’s go through the events of the evening of Alec’s death. You got to his offices and then what?’

  ‘Like I said to you before, I got there around seven. Elsa was at her desk. I went through to Alec’s study but there was nobody in. I was planning to confront him and ask him to give me the prescription back in return for promising to get proper help. But this was even better – an opportunity to steal it back. So, I looked and looked, but there was no sign of it. And before you ask again, yes, the kitchen door was shut. There was definitely no one there.’

  A sideways glance in Lucia’s direction indicated that the inspector was satisfied so far. They left Max Penney to his squalor and sat silently in the car before she eventually spoke.

  ‘Poor bloke. Stuck between a rock and a hard place.’

  ‘So, you don’t think he killed his brother?’

  ‘Seems unlikely. He’s got mental issues, but he doesn’t strike me as a murderer.’

  ‘And you’re basing that on… hard evidence? Or one of your famous hunches? We know Alec was alive when Roberta Musgrave dropped by. So, what happened to him afterwards? Was he shut up in the kitchen and didn’t hear Max rattle around? No, I don’t buy it. Max could have easily done it.’ Carliss’s eyes narrowed. ‘Of course, there’s another possibility.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Roberta Musgrave did away with Alec, dragged his body into the kitchenette and shut the door. That would account for Max’s story.’

  ‘But why would Roberta go back to the offices at a later date? Surely staying away from the crime scene would be the most logical approach. Why would she risk incriminating herself by turning up again and picking a fight with Elsa for that matter?’

  ‘Maybe she wanted to check she hadn’t left anything behind that could connect her to Alec’s death?’

  The inspector sounded unconvinced, as if he knew he was grasping at straws.

  Lucia frowned. Something simply didn’t add up. Roberta wouldn’t have called DCI Carliss with new information if she had been the guilty party. Lucia felt like she was staring at a gaping hole that she couldn’t fill, and it was driving her around the bend.

  ‘I need a drink. Are you busy?’

  Carliss checked the time. It was barely five in the afternoon but already pitch black.

  ‘We’re hardly going to get anything else done tonight. Why not? We’ve earned it. I’ll need to dump the car at home though. I know what “one” means when I’m with you.’

  * * *

  They settled on a quiet establishment just around the corner from Carliss’s house, a far cry from the raucousness of the Red Lion. The place was a single tiny room, and the only other customer was a red-faced old man who looked about the same age as the yellowed walls. The inspector nodded timidly in his direction and was vaguely acknowledged.

  ‘I don’t think they stock white Burgundy but the beer isn’t too bad.’

  ‘In that case, I’ll have a pint of Guinness. And a packet of crisps – that’s my dinner sorted.’

  She perched on a bar stool and breathed a sigh of relief. Tomorrow would be a better day, and the whole sorry affair would hopefully make a little more sense.

  ‘You’re a cheap date.’

  The irony wasn’t lost on Lucia as she smiled with a sphinx-like expression. Maybe it was time they did go on a date. All this repressed chemistry between them – it wasn’t good to keep it bottled up, but she thought of her budding career. Even a consultant investigator had to be careful about getting involved with her superior.

  ‘Oh, get a room, will you?’ They both jumped at the interruption. The old man in the corner had a higher voice than either of them had expected – a pitiful whine, slurred by a whole afternoon’s drinking.

  Lucia and the inspector smiled in unison, as if an understanding had formed between them.

  Chapter 27

  It was dawn on a Saturday in early December. The nascent sunlight streamed into Lucia’s bedroom and reflected off the mirrored bedside tables, the only touch of extravagance in the otherwise bare space. She was occupied with packing for the trip that lay ahead – a weekend in rural Nottinghamshire, courtesy of the Lexingtons. The bed was strewn with all the clothes Lucia owned. Two days, and she couldn’t decide what to take. She’d dug out the kit she barely used these days – jodhpurs, a pair of well-worn riding boots and a couple of heavy woollen jumpers totally unsuited to the mild temperatures of the city. She tried to recall when she’d last been to Lexington Hall. It must have been at least a couple of years.

  Virginia Lexington, Nina’s mother, spent most of the week in London, ensconced in her bolthole on Barton Street, perfectly positioned so she could keep tabs on life in the Foreign Office. Guy Lexington, now he’d retired from Cambridge, preferred propping up the bar in the village pub in the easy company of local farmers, when he wasn’t busy writing yet another book on medieval country churches.

  The invitation couldn’t have been better timed. A break from the case would do them both the world of good. She was surprised at first that DCI Carliss had been invited and had considered her position carefully. Was it really a good idea to spend a weekend in the company of her boss? Then again, Virginia had insisted – she had really taken to the inspector – and it wasn’t like they were going as a couple. Lucia reasoned that, if anything, it might be a way to work out whether she wanted things to go further between them.

  In a somewhat better decorated bedroom in Kentish Town, DCI David Carliss was pained by a similar dilemma. The invitation had come out of the blue. Not only that, but it involved travelling outside the safe remit of the M25. Luckily, or perhaps very unluckily, Lucia had offered him a lift. Her shockingly blue Spider would break the speed limit as soon as its wheels touched the North Circular, if only to make him feel nauseous on purpose. Still, she knew he would relent – he hated driving long distances.

  He had laid out two of his best shirts, a well-cut jacket he had invested in some years previously, and two pairs of passably clean, unpatched chinos. He was already wearing his one decent jumper, the one without holes that he kept for best, and his coat and scarf would be thrown casually on top. His well-polished leather brogues sat waiting to be added to the pile, together with the sparsely populated washbag. The idea that outdoor clothing might be required hadn’t occurred to him, urban as he was through and through. He would have recoiled in horror had he known just how much mud there was be
yond the edge of the metropolis.

  Right on cue, as he closed the lid on his small suitcase, an offensively long beep emanated from the street. It had to be Lucia, and so he made his way hastily out of the door.

  ‘Travelling light,’ she remarked. Dressed in a flattering velvet jacket over a collarless shirt, she knew she looked the part.

  ‘You look good. I’m not sure what to expect, to be honest. I’m not the type who frequents posh parties. The closest I’ve ever got to a country house has been by kind permission of the National Trust. Let’s hope there isn’t a murder, like in an Agatha Christie novel.’

  Lucia laughed heartily. ‘No murderer would have the guts to show themselves in Ginny’s presence, unless they wanted to be shot on the spot.’

  Carliss smiled awkwardly as he made sure his seatbelt was safely on.

  ‘I’m not wholly convinced you’re joking. I don’t really want to imagine how good Virginia is with a gun.’

  As the tightly packed terraces of North London faded into suburbia and eventually into fields, the policeman began to relax a little. The repetitive flatness of Hertfordshire soon gave way to timid lumps and bumps, but it wasn’t until they strayed off the M1 that the East Midlands countryside revealed itself in all its quiet, solid glory. Despite the unrelenting December weather, it was still defiantly green, interrupted only by patches of multicoloured deciduous woodland and low hedgerows, wrapping themselves around the land like cinching belts.

  The terrain was etched into Lucia’s subconscious. Once they were done with the Fosse Way, her little vehicle weaved effortlessly through the muted landscape, along single lane roads and dirt tracks – the scenic route to Lexington Hall. They passed through village after village of inviting red brick and honey-coloured cottages, sprawling farms and the odd horse and rider ambling cavalierly on the side of the road. Fascinated, Carliss watched out of the car window like a child.