She forced her hands to lie still in her lap, as long pent-up fury threatened to explode.
‘Greg had a child.’
From the corner of her eyes, she saw Kate’s leg twitch. ‘Yes, Kate. He never told me and nor did you – and I thought you were my best friend.’
38
Motive
Discussing Greg’s son had taken all Imogen’s strength.
She stopped talking and slumped in her chair, eyes closed, as Adam took over. ‘Leaving the past aside for a moment, and the parentage of Greg’s son, let’s jump forward to your reunion. There seemed to be no connection between Greg’s death and the reunion. But then, this earring appeared near the murder scene. The last time Imogen saw it was at the reunion.’
Steph held up a hand. ‘OK, I’ll confess. That’s my earring. When you showed it today, I was too shocked to admit it was mine, but I don’t see that it matters. I’ve no idea how it came to be in Imogen’s hotel garden.’
Imogen opened her eyes. Adam’s smile was sad. ‘Just one of the mysteries associated with this case. One of the problems has been, not lack of clues, but an overabundance of them. Clues have popped up everywhere we looked. Enough for a treasure hunt, and most of them planted deliberately to point the finger anywhere except towards the killer. Greg’s body was left in Imogen’s back garden. Was that designed to put her under suspicion? Steph’s earring was planted in the same garden. Was that so she’d come under suspicion, or did she plant it herself, to muddy the waters – a kind of double bluff?’
He smiled. ‘The hotel garden is important to this investigation. Greg died from poison – rat poison, used routinely in the hotel garden and kept in the potting shed. Another pointer towards Imogen, or perhaps a member of staff at the hotel? It’s the same back garden,’ he looked straight at Daniel, ‘where you discovered the councillor’s involvement in the theft of rare plants.’
Daniel sounded confused. ‘All I did was paint them, and I lost the job as a result. I know nothing about this earring.’ Tears sprang to Imogen’s eyes as he added, ‘I can’t imagine why anyone would think Imogen capable of killing anyone.’
‘On the contrary,’ Adam interrupted, ‘I believe any of us could kill if we had strong enough reasons, but let’s stick to the evidence. Imogen and I have sifted through leads, false leads, and misdirection. So, instead of following clues that we came to realise had been planted, we came back to motive. Any one of you had the opportunity to kill each of these three people, and probably could find the means – but why should you want to? That’s the key.’ He held up a hand. ‘Let’s look at possible reasons for killing the councillor. There are plenty.’
He ticked them off on his fingers. ‘One. He was involved with various crimes. Never doing the dirty work himself, always on the periphery, but raking in the money. The police will find it in some hidden account; they’ve been tracing his affairs. He was being blackmailed by an old friend on the town council.
‘Second, he’d sacked you, Daniel, and set your career back by years.’
‘But I didn’t kill him, no matter how you twist things. I’ve managed just fine since then.’ Daniel’s expression hardened and tension crackled between the two.
Adam cracked a reluctant smile. ‘True enough, and I agree. You didn’t kill the councillor, not because you never would, but because you have no motive to murder Julian or Greg. Try as I might, I couldn’t find one, and there’s only one killer here.
‘Let’s look at motive for killing Greg, then.’ Adam touched a third finger. ‘He cheated three of you. Toni, by dropping you and moving on to Kate. Kate, by fathering your child and marrying Imogen, and Imogen, by keeping his child a secret.’
He waited.
‘All three of you had motives for killing Greg, out of jealousy. That narrowed the field a little. Imogen had sent Greg packing, glad to see the back of him. Why would she kill him? He wasn’t rich, although he’d emptied their bank account. Even the police have realised she had nothing to gain from his death, or that of Julian. Once again, a motive for one death, that of her father, but not the others. We can clear Imogen.’ He looked at Steph. ‘Apart from keeping quiet about the earring, and having a hand in organising the reunion, you had no motive for any of the three murders. You’re off the hook, too.
‘So, we’re left with Toni and Kate. Imogen’s old school friends. Friends, who both had reason to hate her. She was always in the way, wasn’t she? The boys liked her, even shy little Julian. Greg wanted to marry her, and Daniel admired her from a distance.’
Imogen put in, ‘Toni, you risked your son’s career, asking him to tell you when I was in the police station. Did you really hate me that much?’
Adam interrupted. ‘Maybe she did. You married Greg, the boy she wanted, but that was no reason for her to kill him. They hadn’t even met for years.’ He glared at Toni. ‘You weren’t off the hook entirely, until we discovered someone else with more reason to hate Imogen.’
He waited, as everyone in the room slowly turned towards Kate. Adam spoke to her directly. ‘Recently, you renewed your affair with Greg.’
Colour drained from Kate’s face. ‘Nonsense,’ she snapped.
Adam said, ‘Not nonsense at all. Oswald, the gardener at the hotel, saw you together one day. Only, he was confused – he thought you were Emily, the hotel manager, and inadvertently threw us off your trail. It was an easy mistake to make – you look a little alike, especially to an old man with fading eyesight. You’re both small, with neat blonde hair, cut in a similar style.’
Kate’s hands flew to her head, as though trying to cover her hair.
‘You met Greg in the orangery, away from prying eyes. Unfortunately for you, you took things too far – planted too much evidence and told too many lies.’
39
Talent
Livid purple suffused Kate’s face. Her eyes, dark with hate, bored into Imogen. ‘You were always the special one, weren’t you? Clever, your father a big shot in town, Greg fawning all over you when he was supposed to be with me – and even Julian wanted you.’
Kate jumped to her feet, kicked over the coffee table, sending cups flying, coffee splashing the carpet, and made a dash for the French doors.
David got there first. He slammed his hands against the glass. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said, in a conversational tone. ‘You’re not getting away. You murdered my best friend; Julian was the kindest, brightest person I knew, and you killed him.’ He ground his teeth. ‘If you weren’t a woman…’
‘That’s enough, sir.’ DCI Andrews came in from the foyer. ‘We’ll deal with the lady.’
The young constable followed him in, marched across the room and took Kate’s arm in a firm grip. ‘No need for a fuss, ma’am.’
Kate’s gaze flew around the room, searching, but there was no escape.
David returned to his seat, his lips white with anger, his hands still clenched into fists.
Adam asked, ‘Who invited Julian to the picnic that night?’
David said, ‘Kate. She told me she fancied him and got me to bring him along.’
‘And you noticed something that didn’t seem to matter at the time…’
David nodded. ‘She had a hammer in her bag. I saw it when we were trying to break through the end of the tunnel. It was blocked up and she said, “I thought this might happen.” We took it in turns to attack the wall with the hammer, but we didn’t hit too hard – we didn’t want to cause so much damage the staff would investigate. After a few taps, we saw the wall was solid, so we stopped trying. I didn’t notice what happened to the hammer. I suppose she dropped it back in her bag.’
He took off his glasses and polished them. ‘When we left the tunnel, we were all pretty woozy from the drinks. Julian dropped behind us all. I could see he was upset because Imogen had turned him down. He blew his nose, like he was crying or something, so I pretended I hadn’t noticed and left him behind – didn’t want to embarrass him. Kate was beside him and I thought
she’d cheer him up. I bought the whole “accident” idea, but looking back, I’m sure she hit him. It never occurred to me she could do anything like that.’ His eyes gleamed suspiciously bright, as though tears were close. ‘I’d pushed it to the back of my mind, until you arrived on my doorstep last week, Imogen.’
Kate’s snarl shocked everyone. She sounded inhuman; like a caged animal. ‘Julian deserved what he got, and it was all Imogen’s fault, not mine.’ Her voice rose to a screech. ‘I’d invited Julian to the picnic. She’d already taken Greg away from me, and then she got her claws into Julian. It wasn’t fair. I couldn’t bear it, so I gave Julian a little tap on the head.’ Suddenly, shockingly, she sniggered. ‘That taught him a lesson.’
Imogen said. ‘You got away with murder for thirty years.’
Kate spat back, ‘I just wish I’d killed you at the same time, that night. Then, I would have got Greg back.’
The constable tightened his grip on her arm.
Daniel asked, ‘But, why the others? The councillor and Greg? Why did you kill them?’
Steph’s head jerked up. ‘I think I can guess. You and Greg cooked something up, didn’t you?’
Kate shrugged. ‘We bumped into each other one day when I came back to Somerset to organise a home for my father. My son wanted to see the place I grew up. He went to a football match – Camilton Town were playing Bristol – while Greg and I had dinner at Georgiou’s. Greg told me he’d always wanted me, not Imogen, and he’d married her for the rich father-in-law. We made a plan, Greg and I, and I called in to the hotel one evening, to scout out the place.’
Adam nodded. ‘You and Greg decided to kill the councillor. His fortune would go to Imogen, and Greg knew she didn’t care about money. He planned to get his hands on it all and then you and he would disappear together.’
‘Very clever,’ Kate’s top lip curled. ‘It would have worked, as well. It was a good plan.’ She gave a little sigh. ‘The beauty of it was, no time pressure. We worked on it for months – setting little traps for the councillor’s car, draining oil from it, fly-tipping where we knew he’d go. She grinned at Imogen, ‘Greg often visited your father. Two of a kind, they were, Greg selling your father goods cheaply off the back of a lorry. No scruples, either of them.’ She smiled at her audience. ‘I wonder how much of the furniture in the hotel is stolen – passed on from Greg to the councillor at a knock-down price.’
Her laugh grated painfully on Imogen’s ears.
‘Your father had the luck of the devil. We couldn’t kill him, no matter how hard we tried. None of our traps worked. It took so long, we began to think we’d never get our hands on the money, so we had a rethink, and Greg remembered the spiders.’
‘Spiders?’ Imogen exclaimed, aghast. ‘My father hated them – well, he was scared stiff, to be honest – but how did they help you?’ And, how could Greg have got involved with this unhinged woman?
‘We left a few in your father’s car, in the glovebox. Clever, don’t you think? I’ll admit Greg took care of that part. He wasn’t entirely stupid. He bought a load of old scrap from Haselbury House. He’d done some business with the new owner there, got the stuff at a knock-down price, dumped it by the road and threw a few nails on the road itself. Then, he went out and got drunk in Camilton.’
Imogen thought she might be sick. She breathed deeply. She couldn’t leave now – she had to hear the full story.
Kate talked on, pleased with her cleverness. ‘I phoned the councillor, pretending to be one his latest girlfriends – he always had a couple, the dirty old man, and Greg knew some of their names. I told him the police had called round about some stolen computer equipment and he’d better meet me, or I’d talk. That got him in the car like a shot, and the spiders did the rest.’
Imogen gasped aloud. ‘If he saw a spider, he’d panic. He was terrified of them. No wonder he didn’t notice the nails on the road.’ She thought it through. ‘The spiders would have crawled away from the car by the time the vehicle was examined.’ It was horribly clever, and her father’s worse nightmare.
‘Almost the perfect crime, don’t you think?’ Kate boasted.
Disgust threatened to overwhelm Imogen. ‘So, why did you kill Greg?’
Kate’s lips twisted. ‘He backtracked. He had cold feet. He wanted out of the deal. Said he’d get you back and stay with you.’ Hate flashed from her eyes. ‘You again, Mrs Wonderful, the oh-so-clever and talented woman everyone loves. You stole Greg away from me, thirty years ago. Then, when I thought he’d come back to me, you stole him again. And I still don’t know what he saw in you.’
She spat out the words, venom distorting her face. Imogen shivered.
‘I decided Greg had to die, as well. You see, I’d found I was good at killing. Julian’s murder was a spur-of-the-moment thing, but his death helped me discover my special talent. It’s easy to kill if you’re clever enough, brave. Greg’s death was a pushover. I did a bit of research on poisons and saw how perfect it would be to incriminate Imogen in her husband’s murder. I chose brodifacoum, because I’d noticed it in the potting shed, that evening I spent with Greg, planning the councillor’s death. It was perfect. Wouldn’t it have been great to watch Imogen sent to prison?’
Her gaze swept over her spellbound listeners. Her cheeks glowed with delight. ‘I bought the poison over the internet and asked Greg to meet me in the orangery, the day of the councillor’s funeral, for old times’ sake. I dropped a nice big dollop in a bottle of champagne – he loved pinching wine from the hotel – and poured it for him. I kept topping up his glass until his nose began to bleed. He tottered around, panicking, and I ran for it, locking the door behind me with his key.’ She sneered, ‘Imogen dear, you should put locks on the gate at the back of your precious hotel and sort out the garden keys – Greg stole the spares ages ago . By the way, did you enjoy finding your husband there?’
Imogen watched the woman she’d called her best friend, horrified at the madness behind Kate’s eyes. ‘Even then, you hadn’t finished. You planted Steph’s earring.’
Kate tossed her head. ‘Steph dropped it at the reunion and I picked it up. You never know what might be useful. I got my son – our son, Greg’s and mine – to take it to Greg’s resting place. I told him Greg gave me the earring and I wanted it buried by the orangery, for old times’ sake. I gave him a couple of bottles of beer and told him to toast his father after he did it.’
‘Oswald found the bottles in the orangery,’ Imogen said. ‘But, how could you do that to your own son? Involve him in murder?’
Kate grinned and whispered, as though telling a juicy secret. ‘Our son’s not the brightest star in the firmament, I’m afraid. He takes after his father.’
‘Three murders,’ Imogen murmured.
‘Only three,’ Kate confirmed, ‘that is, unless you count dogs.’ She chortled with glee. ‘I hope that big mutt of yours enjoyed the nice juicy steak. I told your manager it was a special treat. I wonder if he’s finished it yet.’
40
Steak
Imogen leapt to her feet. ‘What have you done? Where is he?’
Before Adam could stop her, she shot from the room, her shriek echoing through the hotel.
‘Emily, where’s Harley? What did you do with that steak?’
Emily had spent the past hour in the office, pretending not to listen to the drama unfolding in the lounge, but she’d heard every word. She stammered, ‘Your friend – that woman in there, I thought she was your friend – she gave it to me in a brown paper bag, when everyone was arriving.’
She sobbed so hard Adam could hardly make out the words.
‘It was a present for Harley,’ she mumbled. ‘She said we were probably too busy with the concert to think about him. I thought she meant to be kind. I was busy, so I gave it to one of the kitchen staff to put in Harley’s dish behind the reception desk.’
Imogen ran back into the lounge, waving Harley’s bowl. ‘He’s eaten it already.’
; Adam feared the worst. ‘Where did he go?’
Imogen rushed to the French doors. ‘He must be in the garden. I’ll find him.’ She ran into the fading evening light.
Adam fought to keep his temper. History was repeating itself – his beloved cat had died at the hands of criminals looking for vengeance. Now, the stray dog who’d lolloped into Adam’s heart had suffered the same fate. He pictured Harley lying dead in the grass.
His voice shook with fury as he confronted Kate. He shook his fist in her face, ‘You…’ he growled. Words failed him.
Kate grinned, red lips curling, showing her teeth. Every trace of the demure, middle-aged facade had disappeared, leaving behind a deranged killer. Excitement dilated her eyes.
Keeping a tight rein on his anger, Adam hissed, ‘What did you put on the steak?’
Loving every second of her moment in the spotlight, Kate crowed with triumphant laughter. ‘A little treat I bought online,’ she exulted. ‘It worked so well on Greg; I couldn’t bear to let it go to waste.’
‘Brodifacoum? Rat poison?’
‘Well done, Mr Hennessy,’ she sneered. ‘You’re wasted as a pub owner.’ She spun round, hair swinging, and smiled in the police officer’s face. ‘You can take me to your station now, young man.’ She smiled over her shoulder. ‘Enjoy the rest of your evening, everyone.’
The old friends left in the lounge sat like statues, too stunned to move.
‘What just happened?’ Daniel asked.
Adam wasted no time on explanations but sprinted outside, his thoughts whirling. Did rat poison work on dogs? How long would Harley survive? Could a vet save him?
He hurtled towards the orangery, ran up and down beside the stream, but there was no sign of either Imogen or Harley.
In despair, panting with the exertion, he sank onto the wooden bench.
A Village Murder Page 19