Nobody said anything, apart from a shaking of the heads, a denial of involvement.
Chapter 9
Clare never enjoyed the visits to Pathology, and there she was, twice in the one week.
‘Tremayne, I thought I’d seen the last of you,’ Collins, the pathologist, said.
‘I couldn’t keep away. We need five minutes of your time,’ Tremayne said.
‘Which means ten. Carry on, what do you want to know?’
‘Is it possible that Gordon Mason did not die on the stage?’
‘It’s possible, but he had been knifed five times, two of the wounds were fatal.’
‘I’ll accept that, but is it possible that one or two of the wounds could have been inflicted at the time the body was not visible.’
‘After the assassination and when Mark Antony comes out from the Senate with the body?’
‘That’s it.’
‘It’s possible, I suppose. It’s not a situation I’ve considered.’
‘But it’s still possible.’
‘I’d be willing to consider it, although I have difficulty with all of the wounds being inflicted off the stage.’
‘That’s not what concerns me.’
‘What then?’
‘We’ve seven assassins, as well as Mark Antony. I just want to know if Mark Antony, or at least the actor, could have stabbed Mason as well.’
‘Anyone could have if it was out of sight.’
‘Even a woman?’
‘Why not? Do you have any suspects?’
‘There are others that I would consider.’
‘What about the stretcher bearers, the crowd outside, the servants?’
‘They changed their clothes, depending on their part. We’re working with the ten, possibly eleven.’
‘It’s not possible to give you an exact time of death, other than within a one-hour period. That will allow the stabbing to have occurred on the stage, or behind the scenes. Whatever happened, he would have been dead when he was brought out for Mark Antony’s denouncement of Brutus.’
‘Any reason?’
‘Yet again, it seems illogical. The man was stabbed on the stage; he’s in agony and dying, and you expect him to remain motionless for another thirty to sixty minutes. It just doesn’t make sense, that’s all. I’ll still hold to my opinion that he died on that stage and that neither Mark Antony nor Calpurnia and Portia were involved.’
‘I’ll still keep my options open. One more thing, you’ve been able to ascertain that two different blades were used.’
‘Yes.’
‘How?’
‘Imperfections in the blades.’
‘The two blades in the heart, were they different or the one dagger?’
‘Two. I believe I’ve told you this before.’
‘I just needed to double-check.’
‘Mark Antony, sorry, Phillip Dennison, could be one of those involved or totally innocent,’ Clare said.
‘We need to check him further. Maybe we can dismiss some of the others, the young man for instance.’
‘Why?’
‘Where’s the motive?’ Tremayne said.
‘I can’t see it at this point in time, but murdering someone just because they called you young or gay or drunk hardly seems to be a reason.’
‘It may do to the person being called it. We don’t know the mental state of these people. They’re an unusual bunch, that’s for sure.’
‘You’re getting the hang of it now, Yarwood.’
‘Are you putting me on the spot, testing me out?’
‘Not totally. I’m throwing up ideas, seeing where they fall. We can’t cover everyone with the same intensity, we need to prioritise, and we need a damn good motive.’
‘We’ll not find it here in Dr Collins’ office,’ Clare said.
‘Thank you, Sergeant. Please take Tremayne out of here and let me get on with my work.’
***
Tremayne, a perceptive man, able to separate the circumstantial from the relevant, had to admit confusion as to who the murderer was. There were plenty of reasons to dislike Gordon Mason, none sufficient to kill him. ‘Yarwood, what’s your take on this?’ he asked.
‘Why kill the man? He’s the sort of person that you meet from time to time but learn to ignore. If all the negatives against him are correct, it only shows the man to be a bigoted misogynist,’ Clare said.
‘Misogynist? Do you think he was?’
‘If what Cheryl Milledge said is true, his attempting to take advantage on a stage in front of an audience, then I’d say he was.’
‘You’re sure that he wasn’t a closet deviant, and she represented an object of lust.’
‘Trevor Winston called him repressed. Maybe Mason was unable to make it with a woman and was relegated to prostitutes.’
‘There’s no record of her selling herself,’ Tremayne said.
‘I’m aware of that.’
‘And we know that Fiona Dowling is probably no better.’
‘But she’s married, refined. Considering the two women went to school together, it’s hard to see two more dissimilar women.’
‘It still doesn’t solve the reason why Mason was murdered, and it needed two people or one person and two daggers.’
‘Or if he visited prostitutes.’
‘It’s possible he didn’t, and if he did, he’d want to keep it secret.’
‘Someone was blackmailing him?’
‘If they were, it would be him killing them, not the other way around,’ Tremayne said. ‘We need to find out the truth about Pearson and the lovely Fiona Dowling.’
‘Is that how you see her?’
‘Not really. I prefer Cheryl Milledge. Earthy, that’s what Dennison called her, an apt description. She’s an open book. What you see is what you get, no airs and graces,’ Tremayne said.
‘You wouldn’t want her cleaning your house.’
‘I can do that badly enough without her assistance, thank you very much. If I gave you half a chance, Yarwood, you’d be there making me run around with a mop and a bucket of water.’
‘You’re right there, guv.’
‘Not a chance. Let’s go and find out about this affair.’
‘Southampton?’
‘No. Let’s make Fiona Dowling sweat.’
‘It’s probably the only motive so far that’s strong enough to justify murder.’
‘It’s good enough, that’s for sure.’
***
As assumed, Fiona Dowling was busy, ready to go out. To Clare, it seemed that the woman always wanted to portray activity and importance. Clare was sure that she was addicted to the smartphone she clutched in her hand, its gold case clearly visible.
‘I can’t give you long. I’m meeting up with some friends. We’re organising a charity drive for the school.’
‘Are you involved with lots of worthwhile causes, Mrs Dowling?’ Tremayne asked. Clare could see that the man was not going to let her get out of giving him a straight answer.
‘I see it as my civic duty.’
‘Don’t you help your husband with his business?’
‘I’ve done my fair share. We set it up together, not a penny between us. I’ve told you that.’
‘Commendable, I’m sure,’ Tremayne said. ‘I suggest you cancel your meeting. Some questions need answering.’
‘Why me?’
‘You were at Old Sarum, you saw the man stabbed.’
‘I was around the back. I didn’t see it. I heard it, that’s all.’
‘We have one important question for which we need an answer.’
‘Give me two minutes. I’ll delay my meeting for an hour.’ Fiona Dowling took out her phone and made several phone calls. ‘One hour, is that sufficient?’
‘It should be,’ Clare said.
‘What do you want to know?’
‘We don’t have a reason for the man’s murder. We’re certain that two people are responsible. There may be some conjecture there
, but at least one person wanted him dead,’ Tremayne said.
‘Why on a stage?’
‘The sense of the theatrical?’ Clare said. She realised that it was a valid point that the woman had raised.
‘Sergeant Yarwood is probably right. The ultimate accolade – to commit murder in front of a live audience,’ Tremayne said.
‘But no one knows who it was,’ Fiona Dowling said.
‘That’s as maybe, so why do it if there is no acknowledgement? Do actors suffer from self-doubt, the inability to believe in themselves, the need to convince themselves that they are the best, even if others don’t think so?’
‘You don’t know actors, Detective Inspector. They’re full of self-doubt and neuroses. Gordon Mason barely said two civil words off stage, but up there, he’s extrovert, pawing the females, projecting his voice.’
‘Pawing?’
‘Yes. He tried it with me, but I made it clear enough that if he got too close, I’d scream blue murder and have him up in front of the local magistrate. And yes, I know about Cheryl and Mason.’
‘What do you mean?’ Clare asked.
‘On the stage when he became excited.’
‘Outside of there?’
‘I wouldn’t put it past her. She’d be game for anything.’
‘That’s a damning indictment.’
‘I’ve nothing against the woman personally. We were the best of friends once, but now we have little in common.’
‘Is she an intelligent woman?’
‘Cheryl, very. She was certainly smarter than me, but she didn’t have the drive. It’s not the best who make it, it’s the most determined. You must know that.’
I’m determined to crack this case wide open,’ Tremayne said.
‘What is it you want to know?’
‘We are led to believe that you are having an affair with Geoff Pearson,’ Clare said.
‘What, are you joking? Who made such a scurrilous statement? I’ll take legal action.’
Clare could see that the woman was taken aback. Her protestations were a clear sign of guilt.
‘We have a strong belief that this is correct,’ Tremayne said.
‘It can’t be. I’m faithful to my husband, a good mother.’
‘We’re not here to judge, and this is confidential if it does not pertain to the murder enquiry.’
‘My position? What if people find out about this lie?’
‘If it’s a lie, what does it matter?’
‘You know it matters. The people I associate with thrive on gossip.’
‘You do as well, would that be correct, Mrs Dowling?’ Clare said.
‘I suppose so. It’s harmless.’
‘You also had a past in your youth that you’d prefer no one to know about.’
‘I admitted that to you before. I was young and into one-night stands, but that was a long time ago.’
‘Would your friends understand, your committees?’
‘Most of them have a past. That wouldn’t be an issue.’
‘But an affair would?’ Tremayne said.
‘An affair, yes. Some of them would shun me, tell Len. My life would be hell.’
‘Is it true? We will find out.’
‘Who told you?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘Was it Geoff?’
‘Our source does not matter. The truth is important.’
Fiona Dowling sat down and closed her eyes. Clare could see that the woman who had portrayed herself as one of the doyennes of the social set was in turmoil.
‘Sometimes, I feel the need. You don’t understand how hard it is pretending all the time, always making sure that I’m dressed correctly, the hair and the makeup are perfect.’
‘Then why do you do it?’ Clare asked.
‘Why, you ask me why I put up with some of those stuck-up bitches on their church committees? I’ll tell you why. Because I can. I grew up with Cheryl, spoke like her, screwed around like her, but I wanted more. I fought for what I have, dragged Len along with me. And, believe me, back then he was a whimpering fool, ambitious but clueless. I made him what he is today.’
‘Why the affair?’
‘You don’t understand, do you?’
‘Not really,’ Clare said.
‘You’re still young and pretty. I’m getting old. I need to be loved.’
‘You have a husband.’
‘He’s getting old as well. I need more. I need a young man, virile and strong. I need Geoff Pearson. Is that enough for you?’
‘That’s fine,’ Clare said. ‘We’ll leave you alone now.’
‘Are you satisfied?’ Fiona Dowling asked.
‘Satisfied? We’re police officers, not arbiters of morality. We deal in facts only. Unless it is vital, what you have told us here today will remain confidential.’
‘I hope it does. You don’t know how it feels to get old, to not turn a man’s head.’
Outside the house, Tremayne turned to Clare. ‘That woman has got enough neuroses for all of the Salisbury Amateur Dramatic Society.’
‘And some. She’s not much older than me.’
‘She’s a woman who could hate.’
‘Murder?’
‘She’d be capable if it was to protect her perfect life.’
‘Do you call that perfect?’
‘Give me Cheryl Milledge any time. At least she’s good for a pint and a laugh. With Fiona Dowling, I’d be forever treading on eggshells.’
‘Len Dowling must know what he’s got. He can’t be that naïve.’
‘We’ll need to interview him again. We’ll not bring up the affair, of course.’
‘It’s bound to come out sometime.’
‘It may have already. I wouldn’t have thought that Cheryl, for all her good points, is the sort of person to keep a secret indefinitely.’
‘A motive for murder?’
‘Without a doubt. The woman would murder to keep it quiet.’
‘Or Gordon Mason may have found out about it, threatened her.’
‘Money?’
‘Not money. The man was desperate. He would have enjoyed forcing Fiona Dowling to have sex with him to protect her secret, the ultimate misogynist’s degradation.’
‘What happened to a good old husband beats wife, wife kills husband murder?’ Clare said.
‘You’d be bored within a day. This case has legs. We just need to wind up the suspects.’
‘All ten?’
‘All of them. Who’s next?’ Tremayne said.
Clare could see why Tremayne liked Cheryl Milledge, they were both open books. What you see is what you get.
Chapter 10
Tremayne and Clare waited outside the Dowlings’ house for twenty minutes. Fiona Dowling came out of the front door, slamming it shut. She then opened the driver’s seat of her Range Rover and drove off.
‘The woman doesn’t give up, does she?’ Tremayne said.
‘She’s even fixed her makeup. She intends to continue relentlessly, no matter what was just said,’ Clare said.
‘I always thought that Len Dowling was the driven one, but apparently it’s her.’
‘It could be both. She’s not the sort of woman to give credit to others.’
‘It’s strange that everyone is willing to offer a comment about Cheryl Milledge, yet it’s her friend who is much worse.’
‘How do we find out if Mason was pressuring her?’
‘Bank account records.’
‘The woman doesn’t look short of cash, judging by the house and the car.’
‘Can an estate agency make that much?’
‘It probably does well enough, but they may have investments.’
‘Dodgy deals?’
‘Some of those. We can ask Fraud to check out Dowling.’
‘What’s for us?’
‘Samantha Dennison,’ Clare said.
‘Why her?’
‘She’s a mercenary woman and a hater.’
‘She’s
not the murderer.’
‘She’d know the dirt, especially if her husband had told her. I doubt if she’s discreet either. She can fill us in on the background of the others. It may help.’
‘You know the address.’
‘I’m driving, is that it?’
‘Yarwood, you’ll make a great detective inspector. I can see the sixth sense there.’
‘Just because I figured out that you’re too lazy to drive.’
‘That’s it, and besides, I need to check the form for tomorrow.’
‘You mean which horse should win, and the day after, why it lost.’
‘Just drive, no potholes either.’
‘Yes, Detective Inspector.’
Samantha Dennison was at home when they arrived. Clare had taken the precaution to phone ahead.
‘Where’s your husband?’ Clare asked once they were inside the house.
‘He’s got a place at the end of the garden; his den, as he calls it.’
‘What does he do there?’
‘That’s where he conducts his business. Unless it’s vital, I’m not allowed there.’
‘Harsh,’ Tremayne said.
‘It doesn’t concern me. Let him have his little secrets if that’s what he wants.’
‘Mrs Dennison, we need to know about your secrets.’
‘Why? I wasn’t there when that man died.’
‘We’re aware that you’re not involved. It’s just that you were there once, your husband had a run-in with Mason, and you’ve probably got a good eye for people.’
‘If you mean I’m nosy?’
‘Not at all. You’re an impartial observer. Everyone we’ve interviewed so far could have a vested interest, could even be the murderer.’
‘Including Phillip?’
‘It’s possible,’ Tremayne said.
‘What do you want to know?’
‘The one time you went to one of their productions. What can you tell us?’
‘It was a rehearsal. It was Phillip, he was keen to show me what he got up to, or to convince me that he wasn’t playing up with one of the women.’
‘Was that likely?’
‘You’ve seen me, you’ve seen Phillip.’
‘What are you getting at?’
‘I’m not under any illusions, are you?’
The DI Tremayne Thriller Box Set Page 35