The DI Tremayne Thriller Box Set

by Phillip Strang

  ‘Why don’t you believe it?’ Clare asked.

  ‘He was very much alive the last time we saw him.’

  ‘When you two had a threesome with him, is that it?’

  ‘What’s with you two? Are you here to judge us? The man looked after us; we looked after him,’ Polly Bennett said.

  ‘What you ladies did with Alan Winters does not concern us. What we are interested in is when you last saw him.’

  ‘He left at one o’clock in the morning.’

  ‘Was there anyone waiting for him outside?’

  ‘Only Gerry.’

  ‘He doesn’t come in.’

  ‘Alan’s the one with the money. And besides, Gerry’s rough with his women,’ Liz said.

  ‘How would you know?’

  ‘Before Alan struck it rich, when we were younger, we’d sometimes mess around with him.’

  Are you upset that Alan Winters is dead?’

  ‘Should I be?’

  ‘We’re asking the questions. Are you sad that Alan is dead?’

  ‘His bitch wife will want everything back.’

  ‘Alan’s wife has instructed Gerry to deal with it.’

  ‘We’ve not seen him.’

  Tremayne took note. According to Mavis Winters, Gerry Winters, her brother-in-law, was dealing with the reclaiming of all assets from Alan Winters’ mistresses, yet he had not got around to Polly Bennett and Liz Maybury. If that was the case, then there were other women, or he was intending to maintain the relationship with the two women, substituting himself in their affections.

  ‘When did Alan die?’ Polly asked.

  ‘You’ve taken a long time getting around to asking,’ Clare said.

  ‘We believe that Alan Winters died between the hours of two and four on the morning that you last saw him. Are you certain of the time he left you?’

  ‘One o’clock. Gerry was waiting for him.’

  ‘Can you confirm it was Gerry?’

  ‘It was the Bentley. I assume it was.’

  ‘And you’ve not heard about the death at Stonehenge?’

  ‘Why? Did he die there?’

  ‘Are you telling us that since the news of the death at Stonehenge, you’ve heard nothing?’

  ‘We don’t listen to the news,’ Liz said. ‘And we were at home last night, drank a few too many bottles of wine.’

  ‘Yet you are smart enough to run this place?’

  ‘That’s as maybe, but we don’t concern ourselves with local gossip.’

  ‘The murder of a man is hardly gossip.’

  ‘Alan was murdered?’

  ‘His throat was cut. It took two people to carry him up to the site, two people with a reason to want him dead. Had he told you that he was not going to sign over the deeds to this business? Is his wife taking control? Did Gerry pick him up, or have you hatched a deal with him once he transfers Alan’s wife’s affections to him? It seems that you women had a strong motive for his death, and this nonsense about not knowing he was dead, I can’t believe you,’ Clare said.

  Tremayne sat back, taking in how his sergeant was dealing with the women. He had to admit that his mentoring was paying off.

  The two women sat still, not sure what to say. Polly was the first to speak. ‘We did not kill him. A person has got to use whatever to get ahead. Alan, maybe we’re sad to some extent, but our arrangement with him was business, not emotional. The thought of someone slitting his throat sounds gruesome, but it wasn’t us.’

  ‘Mavis Winters?’ Tremayne asked.

  ‘The woman hated us.’

  ‘Have you been to the Winters’ house?’

  ‘Sometimes.’

  ‘When Mavis was there?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And what did she say?’

  ‘Not a lot. She called us tarts, hit Alan once, but we took no notice, and besides, she had someone there.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘No idea, but Alan said she had another man.’

  ‘And you believed him?’

  ‘Believe, not believe, what did it matter?’

  ‘As long as you two were fine, is that it? What about the children, Rachel and Bertie? Were they there?’

  ‘Bertie’s a space cadet, and Rachel, we never saw her.’

  ***

  Tremayne was a man who did not judge people, not even Polly Bennett and Liz Maybury, and if the two women wanted to screw Alan Winters, he had no issues either way.

  Yarwood, Tremayne knew, was more uptight, a believer in common decency, the distinction between right and wrong, and she had not approved of the two women. Tremayne thought it was her upbringing, her parents, especially her mother, whom he had met when she was fussing over Yarwood’s cottage. He had to admit he had not warmed to the woman, even if she was ingratiatingly pleasant. He understood why Yarwood preferred to be in Salisbury with him. Even so, the mother had subjected him to the third degree: how is Clare coming along? What are her promotion prospects? Is she cut out to be a police officer, so much unpleasantness, so much crime?

  He had left the woman feeling as though he was Yarwood’s school teacher giving an end of year evaluation at a parent’s evening instead of a work colleague. Clare had apologised for her mother afterwards, although it wasn’t important.

  ‘What do you reckon? Tremayne said as the two officers drove to Pathology.

  ‘They’d do anything if it was to their advantage.’

  ‘Most people will, but we’re looking for two people who committed a murder. Would they have been capable?’

  ‘Liz Maybury, maybe,’ Clare said.

  ‘Polly Bennett?’

  ‘I’m not so sure about her. She seems more responsible, although she didn’t care that the man was dead.’

  ‘As if they already knew. But why pretend to us? It can’t be a great secret in Salisbury. Even customers in their business must have been talking about it. It’s been on the television, another case of the downfall of an average man who strikes it lucky.’

  ‘They knew,’ Clare said. ‘As to why they said they didn’t needs to be added to the board in the office, and why’s Gerry sitting in the car while Alan’s with the women?’

  ‘The man must not have liked that, and Gerry Winters would be capable of murder.’

  The two officers arrived at Pathology and entered the depressingly cold and austere premises. They found Stuart Collins, the pathologist, washing up after completing his investigation. He was pleased to see Clare, not as much to see Tremayne standing next to her.

  ‘Alan Winters, I assume?’ Collins said.

  ‘What can you tell us?’ Tremayne asked.

  ‘Considering that I’ve just concluded my examination, you’re a little premature.’

  ‘You’ve had the body for a day.’

  ‘We’re not here for you. We have other responsibilities. And besides, I needed to send some samples away for analysis.’

  Clare, sensing the tension, entered the conversation. ‘What can you tell us before you file your report?’ she said.

  Collins mellowed. ‘As you know, a male aged forty-eight, in reasonable health considering.’

  ‘Considering what?’ Tremayne said.

  ‘Tremayne, just hang on and let me speak. Winters was carrying about twenty pounds too much weight, his liver was showing the early signs of cirrhosis.’

  ‘The heavy drinking?’ Clare said.

  ‘As you say, but it wasn’t advanced; he probably hadn’t noticed any of the signs such as fatigue, fluid build-up in the legs, yellowing of the skin, itching. There are other symptoms; I’ll not go into them now.’

  ‘You’d sent off some samples?’

  ‘The man was taking high dosages of Viagra.’

  ‘He needed it,’ Tremayne said.

  ‘He also had pancreatic cancer, although it was in the early stages. Yet again, he would not have known about it until it was too late. The man was a smoker, tending to obesity. Over time, it would have claimed his life.’

  ‘I
f he had known?’ Clare asked.

  ‘Assuming he did, then moderating his lifestyle: no smoking, healthy weight, salads, low red meat diet.’

  ‘That would have been anathema to Alan Winters,’ Tremayne said.

  ‘Then the man would not have made fifty-five years of age.’

  ‘What can you tell us about the wound to the back of the head?’

  ‘It was probably inflicted with a metal object, flat, and used with a degree of force.’

  ‘Could a woman have inflicted the wound?’

  ‘I don’t see why not,’ Collins said. ‘Also, his throat had been cut with a sharp knife. A kitchen knife would have sufficed.’

  ‘Type, brand?’

  ‘I’m a pathologist, not a clairvoyant. It’s a kitchen knife, approximately six inches long, small serrations, and very sharp.’

  ***

  Clare left Tremayne at Bemerton Road; he had some paperwork to deal with, a few phone calls to make.

  Mavis Winters was welcoming on Clare’s arrival, a pre-arranged meeting. The front room where the son had wasted his time on the previous visit was empty. ‘Bertie?’ Clare asked.

  ‘He’s in a clinic. He’s not coming back until they’ve sorted him out.’

  Outside in the driveway were two vans belonging to a professional cleaning company. Inside, a team of workers in overalls, the sound of vacuum cleaners pervading the house. ‘I couldn’t stand the mess anymore,’ Mavis said.

  ‘You could have done it when your husband was alive.’

  ‘Maybe I could, but it wasn’t my house then, not with him and his women, and then Bertie making a nuisance of himself.’

  ‘We’ve interviewed the women.’

  ‘Which ones?’

  Clare did not feel it was wise to mention their names. ‘Are there many?’

  ‘Two that I’ve seen here. He set them up in a furniture store.’

  ‘That’s who were interviewed.’

  ‘That Polly’s sharp. The other one, Liz, she’s not so much.’

  ‘You knew them from before?’

  ‘Polly, she’s the youngest daughter of one of my mother’s friends. Liz, she’s the extra. That Polly would have had me out of here in an instant if she could.’

  ‘She’ll not be able to do it now.’

  ‘Not a chance, and I’ve sent Gerry up there to deal with them.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Today. He was taking his time, probably anxious to grab them for himself, or maybe they laid on the charm, bedded the man.’

  ‘He’d disobey you?’

  ‘For a chance to get his leg over? What man wouldn’t? They’re all the same, you must know that.’

  ‘I suppose I do,’ Clare said, although she was sure that was not a suitable analogy to apply to all men.

  Once the cleaner had moved out of the room, the two women sat down. Clare looked around her. ‘We paid for an interior decorator to furnish the house. I couldn’t have done it, nor could Alan, although as soon as it was finished he was spoiling it,’ Mavis said.

  ‘Was he?’

  ‘It’s his mother. She never brought him up correctly, neglected him. Out every night on the town, bringing home stray men, even when he was a child. You can’t blame Alan for turning out the way he did.’

  ‘And you?’

  ‘My father was strong on discipline, and my mother was always at home. I had a good childhood, Alan didn’t.’

  ‘You still don’t seem upset that he’s dead.’

  ‘Stoic, a family tradition. I’m sorry that he’s dead, although I don’t miss him, never will. I had tried to make something of him, but he wouldn’t bend, and besides, I wasn’t much of a role model.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You saw how I treated Tremayne, what I said about him and me.’

  ‘It came as a bit of a surprise.’

  ‘Why? He was a good-looking man back then, fit and strong. It was me who grabbed him, and he’d had a few beers by then. After that, he didn’t come back for seconds. He’s a decent man, better than Alan was. I should have taken your detective inspector instead, but then he went and met someone else.’

  ‘Jean.’

  ‘That’s her. I used to see her sometimes, occasionally have a chat.’

  ‘Did she know about you and Tremayne?’

  ‘Not from me.’

  ‘You said that you weren’t much of a role model before.’

  ‘I’m common. Don’t say anything or try to deny it. You went to the best schools, elocution lessons probably. Me, I had the local secondary school, always in trouble. Not boy trouble, just a general disinterest in school really. I regret it now, but it’s too late.’

  ‘It’s never too late.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right, but my father was a strict disciplinarian, easy to anger. School and outside of the house was my chance to rebel. It’s a wonder I stayed a virgin until Tremayne.’

  ‘Why did you?’

  ‘I don’t know. I always think that I wanted my own place, my own house, the loving husband, the ideal children.’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘Rachel’s turned out fine. Bertie will once I’ve dealt with him. Alan was a major disappointment, and now I’ve got this house.’

  ‘Another man?’

  ‘In time, maybe. Who knows?’

  ‘Your mother-in-law?’

  ‘She took off upstairs to her room when the cleaners came in.’

  ‘What will you do about her?’

  ‘I’ll do the right thing. I’ll buy her a flat in town, make sure she’s got money. Apart from that, I don’t want to see her.’

  ‘Do you have access to all the money now?’ Clare asked.

  ‘Sufficient. Until you solve Alan’s death, the full amount will probably be held up.’

  ‘But you know where it is?’

  ‘I know exactly where it is and how much is remaining. I’ll need a death certificate before I can access all of it.’

  ‘There’ll be no death certificate yet.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. I still have access to a few million, and no one’s going to get any of it unless I agree.’

  ‘Gerry, Alan’s brother?’

  ‘He’s an employee, would like to be more.’

  ‘Is that possible?’

  ‘After he took advantage of those two women, and them not kicking him out of their house? He’s tarred with the same brush as Alan, and he’s violent.’

  ‘Your claim on the money, is it indisputable?’

  ‘It should be. Apart from some money for Rachel and Bertie, then the rest is mine, and besides, I intend to contest Bertie’s share. He’ll only fall into bad company again.’

  ‘Let us come back to who would have benefited from your husband’s death?’ Clare said, her initial negative impressions of Mavis Winters moderated.

  A woman came in with tea and biscuits. Mavis said, ‘I’ve hired some help for the house. I’m not much of a cook, chicken and rice is about my limit, and I eat too much fast food. I intend to get myself into shape now.’

  ‘You look fine,’ Clare said.

  ‘Next to you with your perfect body? You’re too kind. Anyway, who would benefit from his death? I’m the only one. No one else has a clear claim. I know a few have their noses out of joint because Alan wouldn’t give them anything.’

  ‘Names?’

  ‘Cyril, his useless brother, but the man’s too lazy to tie his own shoelaces. He’d not be capable. There’s his brother, Dean. The only one of the brothers who’s amounted to anything. I’ve seen him once since Alan bought that ticket, but he’s never asked for a handout. There are the two brothers, Stan and Fred, but they’re both in jail. No doubt they’d appreciate some money, no doubt they’ll be a nuisance when they’re released.’

  ‘What will you do when that time comes?’

  ‘I’ll give them a cash settlement, legally tied up on the condition that they ask for no more.’

  ‘Bad men?’

&n
bsp; ‘Not really, just weak. Fred concerns me; Stan doesn’t.’

  ‘What about your side of the family?’

  ‘I’m an only child. I’ve a few cousins, but I’ve not seen them in years. Nothing there.’

  ‘You realise that if there are no more suspects, then the suspicion will fall on you and Gerry. There were two people at Stonehenge, and the link will be made.’

  ‘But no proof.’

  ‘No proof, but guilt by association will remain. It may delay your inheritance.’

  ‘Where was he the night he died? After the pub, I mean,’ Mavis asked.

  ‘Is it important?’

  ‘If he was with his two women, then I’d be looking to them. What does Gerry say? He’s normally the driver.’

  ‘We’ve not spoken to him about that night yet.’

  ‘Why not? He’s more integral to the investigation than I am. I’m just the wronged woman sitting at home waiting for her man to come back.’

  ‘You don’t qualify for that description.’

  ‘You mean the bitch with the rolling pin, ready to bash him over the head for his misbehaving.’

  ‘That’s more like it,’ Clare said.

  ‘I’ve already told you that I’m useless in the kitchen. I wouldn’t know one end of a rolling pin from the other.’

  ‘They’re the same,’ Clare said.

  ‘As you say, but I didn’t kill Alan. Whoever it was did me a favour. I know that sounds callous, but that’s how I feel.’

  ‘Did you know that his health was suffering?’

  ‘He was putting on weight, but apart from that, no.’

  ‘There was Viagra in his system,’ Clare said.

  ‘Not because of me,’ Mavis said. ‘We were sleeping in separate beds, almost from the day we moved in here. No doubt Polly and her friend reaped the benefit, not that I envy them.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘Alan was not one of the world’s great romantics. I can’t say I miss that side of our marriage.’

  ‘With someone else?’

  ‘Once I’m fit. Give me three months, and I’ll be giving you a run for your money.’

  ‘More of a saunter,’ Clare said.

  ‘A pretty woman like you? You must have plenty of men.’

  Clare did not respond, only smiled.

  Chapter 5