Up till that time Clare had taken little notice of her, apart from saying hello to her when she arrived.
‘We’d thought you’d gone.’
‘We were leaving and then we decided to take a walk around outside, where the old cathedral was.’
‘What happened?’
‘We were fooling around, seeing who could get to the car first. I’m up ahead, Geoff’s behind me, and then all of a sudden, nothing. I thought he was just playing a game. I went back, but I couldn’t see him.’
‘We’ll find him,’ Tremayne said.
Two uniforms, who had hoped for an early night, took out their torches and headed in the direction of the cathedral ruins. They came back within ten minutes. ‘We’ve phoned for an ambulance,’ one of them said.
‘Is he hurt?’ the girlfriend asked.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Serious?’ Clare asked.
‘He’s gone off the side of one of the ruined walls. There’s a significant drop. He’s landed heavily by the look of it.’
Tremayne and Clare, as well as the uniforms, the girlfriend, and Freestone, headed over to the area as fast as they could. It was dark, and the only torches were being held by the uniforms. ‘He’s down there,’ one of the uniforms said.
Clare walked further along to some wooden steps. She descended, one of the uniforms with her, Geoff Pearson visible on the ground twenty feet in front of them. Clare approached the body, careful not to disturb the surrounding area, while the uniform shone the torch. She shouted up to Tremayne. ‘We need Jim Hughes up here,’ she said.
‘Dead?’
‘He’s fallen heavily, broken his neck probably.’
The girlfriend collapsed into Tremayne’s arms. He led her away.
Clare came back up the steps. The uniform shone his light at the area above where the body lay, the signs all too clear. ‘It’s murder. The man was pushed.’
She then phoned Hughes to confirm that the man’s death was no longer suspicious as the signs of his being pushed were visible on the grass above where he fell.
Tremayne, once Clare had updated him, took control. The uniforms were establishing a crime scene, ensuring that no one else was in the area. Freestone confirmed that all the cars belonging to the dramatic society members had gone, except for Pearson’s. The girlfriend sat in Clare’s car, keeping warm with the heater on. Tremayne knew she would have to be interviewed and then taken home. Once again, as he’d expected, the one murder had become two; he was sure that Pearson would not be the last.
Clare came back from the crime scene, visibly upset.
‘You need to detach yourself, Yarwood.’
‘It’s still sad.’
‘Maybe it is, but we’ve got a job to do, and remember, he may have been one of the murderers.’
‘Is that likely?’
‘Why not? If he was, then the other one has dealt with him, destroying anyone who may have had a guilty conscience. What do you reckon?’
‘Fiona Dowling, Phillip Dennison.’
‘The spurned lover, the cheated husband. Anyone else?’
‘Fiona Dowling won’t be able to keep the affair secret from her husband.’
‘Maybe he knew. He’s a suspect as well. That’s three. Any more?’
‘It’s enough to be going on with.’
‘We’re in for a long night.’
‘Jim Hughes may be able to tell us if it was male or female.’
The crime scene team arrived at Old Sarum. They came equipped with a truck with a generator on the back. Within two hours, the site was ablaze with floodlights. A statement had been taken from the girlfriend, a blossoming romance in that she and Pearson had only been together for two weeks. Clare organised one of the police cars to take her home.
Tremayne was anxious for a definite suspect; Hughes was trying to do his job. ‘Give me time, Tremayne,’ Hughes said.
‘Male or female?’
‘The grass is damp underfoot. The man could have just slipped.’
‘I don’t believe it, neither does Yarwood.’
‘And when did you two become experienced crime scene investigators?’
‘It’s murder, I know it is.’
‘You may know it, but I need to prove it. They're not the same,’ Hughes said.
Jim Hughes checked the man’s body. It was clear that he had a broken neck, as Clare had ascertained, and that he had hit his head hard on the exposed wall of the cathedral as he fell, the blood visible in the grass beside the body. Hughes’s team of investigators were up above, tracing the movements of three people: Geoff Pearson, his girlfriend, and the person responsible for pushing him over the wall. It was clear to Hughes that the fall, whereas a long drop, would not have automatically killed him. It would have caused broken bones and severe bruising, but the body would have been relaxed, not able to see where it was falling.
The verdict for him was either an unfortunate accident or attempted murder, as death was by no means certain. He knew Tremayne wanted clear proof of murder, but he was not going to get it.
‘Okay, what is it?’ Tremayne asked. He had moved away from the immediate area to smoke a cigarette, but now he was back.
‘Yarwood was correct. The man’s neck has been broken.’
‘Male or female?’
‘If you are referring to who he had an altercation with, then it’s a female.’
‘Are you certain?’
‘We’ll need to do further analysis, but the size of the shoe print is only small, the shape is feminine. Anyone you suspect?’
‘A jilted lover.’
‘Not the young girl that was here before?’
‘She’s not involved.’
‘It’s going to get nasty.’
‘When hasn’t it been. I’m afraid the Salisbury Amateur Dramatic Society is the same as everyone else, full of love and hatred.’
‘A Shakespearean tragedy,’ Hughes said.
‘That’s what it is,’ Tremayne said. ‘It’s not over yet.’
***
Fiona Dowling arrived at Bemerton Road Police Station at two in the morning with her husband, Len. His brother, Chris, came five minutes later.
‘You can’t be in the interview, Mr Dowling,’ Tremayne said to Len Dowling.
‘Chris?’
‘If he’s Mrs Dowling’s legal representative.’
‘He will be.’
Tremayne commenced the interview, followed the procedure. At 2.38 a.m. the first question: ‘Mrs Dowling, you are aware that Geoff Pearson has died at Old Sarum?’
‘That was explained on the phone to me.’
‘Do you wish to make a statement?’
‘I was not involved. Why am I here?’
‘Mrs Dowling, we have proof that Geoff Pearson was firmly pushed off the ruins of the old cathedral. We know from our crime scene team that a woman was close to him when he was pushed.’
‘He was there with a young woman.’
‘We’ve discounted her. And besides, she had no motive.’
‘Neither do I.’
‘Mrs Dowling, we know that you had a reason to hate the man,’ Clare said.
‘Does Chris need to be here?’ Fiona Dowling asked.
‘He is here at your request. I would suggest that he stays. The charge for Pearson’s death will be murder, and at this time, all the evidence points towards you.’
‘What proof do you have?’ Chris Dowling said.
‘We have a shoe print which will be subjected to further analysis. We also have a motive.’
‘What motive?’ Chris Dowling asked.
‘Do I have to tell him?’ Fiona Dowling asked Tremayne.
‘We have sufficient proof to place a charge. It cannot be avoided.’
‘It will destroy my marriage, my life.’
‘I’m afraid that you should have considered that before.’
‘Very well, but I did not push the man. It was an argument, that’s all.’
‘With his
girlfriend nearby.’
‘She wasn’t his girlfriend. He had no right to be with her.’
‘Why?’
‘Because he was mine.’
‘Fiona, what are you talking about?’ Chris Dowling asked.
‘We were lovers.’
‘You and this man?’
‘Why not? Your brother couldn’t keep it up. I needed a man, a real man.’
Chris Dowling sat back, shocked by his sister-in-law’s revelation.
‘Mrs Dowling, you will be held in custody. Pending confirmation from the crime scene examiner, you will be charged with murder. Is there anything else that you wish to say in your defence?’ Tremayne asked.
‘Nothing. I was angry. I didn’t know there was a drop. He belonged to me, not to that young girl.’
‘It can be used in your defence,’ Tremayne said. ‘Are you able to assist in the murder of Gordon Mason? Was he blackmailing you over your affair? Did he know?’
‘He knew. He wanted something in return to keep quiet.’
‘What was that?’
‘What do you think?’
‘Sexual intercourse?’ Clare said.
‘With that awful man, no way. I’ve got my standards.’
‘Instead of agreeing to his demand, you murdered the man.’
‘I didn’t kill him. You should have asked Geoff.’
‘He denied it.’
‘You believed him?’
‘We had no reason to doubt him. He kept your secret.’
‘He told Gordon Mason.’
‘To our knowledge he did not. On the contrary, he was always discreet.’
‘If he didn’t, then who did?’
‘We have no idea. Do you want to talk to your husband?’
‘Not tonight. Chris can tell him.’
Chapter 18
Superintendent Moulton was pleased to have one murder solved; Tremayne was not. The killing of Gordon Mason remained predominant in his mind. The death of Geoff Pearson, caused by a possessive woman who had pushed him, was probably not pre-meditated. It seemed to Tremayne that pushing someone in anger in a grassy area, not knowing about the drop to one side, would not necessarily be construed as murder, and that manslaughter may well be the eventual verdict. Even so, to Fiona Dowling, a woman whose public persona was all important, her time in jail would be a death blow to her social aspirations.
‘Yarwood, was Pearson involved in Gordon Mason’s murder?’ Tremayne asked.
‘Fiona Dowling revealed that Mason knew about her affair. It could be a motive for Pearson.’
‘I can see Pearson hitting the man, but not murder.’
‘It’s four in the morning, can we go home, guv?’ Clare asked.
‘I thought we were having fun.’
‘Tomorrow, early, as much fun as you like. For now, I need to sleep.’
***
The news of Geoff Pearson’s death and the subsequent arrest of Fiona Dowling sent shock waves throughout the dramatic society. Peter Freestone had wanted to disband the group, but now they had a common cause; the defence of Fiona, the shock and abhorrence at Pearson’s death. Cheryl Milledge took it particularly badly, but then it was known that she was an emotional person, able to fall in love with ease, to fall out at the same rate, the reason that her love life had been so varied.
Cheryl was the first to react on hearing the news. She arrived at the police station at seven in the morning after a phone call from Peter Freestone, who had been kept updated as to the situation. ‘I’d like to see Fiona Dowling,’ Cheryl said to the police constable on duty in reception.
‘Are you a relative?’
‘I’m a friend.’
‘I can’t let you see her without the permission of Detective Inspector Tremayne.’
‘Please ask. I’m sure he will allow me to see her. How is she?’
‘I’m not sure I know. She was remanded last night; she’s in the cells.’
Cheryl helped herself to coffee from the machine nearby and took a seat. Gary Barker was coming in later for moral support. After a ninety-minute wait, Clare walked in.
‘Sergeant Yarwood, how is Fiona?’ Cheryl stood upon her arrival to make sure that she was seen.
‘As well as can be expected.’
‘This has come as a complete shock.’
‘You’ve known her longer than anyone else.’
The two women moved to Clare’s desk in Homicide.
‘Our story is known,’ Cheryl said.
‘We know that Gordon Mason knew about the affair.’
‘Not from me.’
‘Would Gary have said anything?’
‘Gary wouldn’t have wasted his time telling Gordon. He knows about my past, and he never mentions it. As far as Gary would be concerned, if Geoff was playing around with Fiona, then good luck to Geoff. Gary rolls with the punches; he doesn’t take life too seriously.’
‘The garden centre, he seemed keen on taking that over.’
‘Only because he gets to play with the plants. He’s not got a head for business.’
‘Whereas you have?’
‘It’s a good business apart from his parents.’
‘We’re told that you don’t get on with them.’
‘Gary told you this?’
‘Yes. Is it true?’
‘They go to the same church that Mason did. If you think he was bad, you should meet Gary’s parents.’
‘He doesn’t seem affected by them.’
‘He left home in his teens, roamed around, got into trouble, nothing serious, before going back there.’
‘That must have been hard.’
‘It’s best if you ask Gary.’
‘You’re here. I’m asking you.’
‘Gary wasn’t into drugs, not in a big way, but one day, after a severe reaction, he ends up on their doorstep. They take him in, get him detoxed. As long as he’s got his plants, he’s okay.’
‘And his parents’ fervent hatred of you?’
‘They know about my past. They see me as a bad influence.’
‘Have you been involved with drugs?’
‘Not me, or at least not seriously. I smoked, still do. I tried marijuana when I was younger, snorted cocaine once or twice, but nothing more.’
‘Alcohol?’
‘More than I should. It doesn’t control my life.’
‘Who could have told Gordon Mason about Fiona Dowling and Geoff Pearson?’
‘I’m not sure. I could see them looking at each other, not sure if her husband did, but then he was always a bit thick.’
‘Salisbury’s premier estate agent?’
‘Fiona was the driving force, you must have known that. Sure, he can stand up, talk the talk, make you believe in Father Christmas, but he needed pointing in the general direction. Why do you think Fiona stayed with him?’
‘I don’t know,’ Clare said. ‘You tell me.’
‘Fiona needs to control, and with Len, he was a prime candidate. He was someone she could mould.’
‘Did she love her husband, does she?’
‘She loved that she could mould him to what she wanted.’
‘Bill Ford mentioned that you and he went out together in the past.’
‘A long time ago, before he took over the funeral business from his father.’
‘What can you tell me?’
‘Is it relevant?’
‘Probably not, but you’re here. It’s a question that begs an answer.’
‘So did Fiona. What’s he been telling you?’
‘He said that you two had been wild, so had he.’
‘He was fun back then. Now he’s a boring man. It’s hard to believe that they are one and the same.’
‘Is that it?’
‘If you want me to mention the threesome, then yes.’
‘Fiona was possessive of Geoff Pearson. Have you seen that side of her personality before?’
‘She likes to control, I’ve told you that.’
�
��Did she try to control you?’
‘She always wanted to organise where we were going when we went out for the night. There’s nothing strange with that. She was driven, I was not. We went our separate ways. She married Len, I moved from man to man.’
‘Is she jealous of you now?’
‘Fiona? I don’t think so. She wouldn’t fancy Gary.’
‘Why not?’
‘You’ve met Gary. He’s not a person you can drive. He lets life pass him by, takes what it gives, asks no more.’
‘Apart from the garden centre.’
‘I gave him that idea.’
‘Do you stay with him because of it?’
‘Not a chance. It’s there, I’m getting older. I want children, a home, a husband, someone to care for. Gary will always treat me well, and I’ve no intention of changing him. That’s what Fiona likes doing, not me.’
‘Would you like to see Mrs Dowling?’
‘Yes, please.’
‘I’ll arrange it for you. You’d better get yourself another cup of coffee.’
***
Chris Dowling had the unenviable task of telling his brother, Len, what had transpired at the police interview, and the fact that his wife was being held in the cells at Bemerton Road Police Station.
‘I didn’t know,’ Len said.
‘Len, you can be stupid sometimes. Your wife is screwing Pearson, and you didn’t suspect?’
‘It’s the truth. She’s been a bit cold lately. I assumed it was because she was busy.’
‘Do you believe that Fiona has spent all those years waiting at home for you?’
‘I’ve always been faithful. I assumed she had.’
‘Even Mason knew about it.’
‘How?’
‘He kept his eyes open, I suppose. Maybe he wasn’t as naïve as you. He was attempting to blackmail Fiona.’
‘She never said anything.’
‘What did you expect her to say? I’m sorry, but I’ve been screwing Geoff Pearson, and now Gordon Mason is trying to blackmail me into having sex with him.’
‘Did she?’
‘She said she did not.’
‘Did she murder Gordon Mason?’
‘According to the police, it seems unlikely. Whoever put the daggers into Mason would have had to have been on the stage. She could have been an accomplice.’
The DI Tremayne Thriller Box Set Page 42