The DI Tremayne Thriller Box Set

by Phillip Strang

  ‘And you’re worried?’

  ‘I’ll deal with it when it happens.’

  ‘Your philosophy on life?’

  ‘You’ll be the one dying of an ulcer, not me,’ Cyril Winters said. Tremayne thought the man’s comments banal as he, DI Keith Tremayne, was still active and motivated.

  Tremayne left the man to his rest and walked down the driveway. As he closed the gate, he could see Cyril Winters turn on the television, a reality show, set on a tropical island. In the man’s hand, a can of beer. Tremayne knew that later that night he’d have a few beers himself in the pub, and woe betide anyone who flicked the channel on the television high in one corner of the room from horseracing to a reality show or a quiz with insipid contestants answering insipid questions, revelling in their stupidity. He’d had enough of that with one of the Winters brothers. He still had three more to see. Although two could not have committed the murder, the third was a distinct possibility.

  Chapter 6

  ‘I’m giving you two whores thirty minutes to vacate this shop and to hand over the keys to that fancy place Alan rented for you, and no showing your assets, the same as you did to Gerry. I’m not interested,’ Mavis Winters said as she stood in the furniture store. On one side of her stood Gerry Winters, on the other a couple of customers with a young child.

  The customers moved away and quickly left the shop, Gerry bolting the door after them, turning the sign to closed.

  ‘You’ve no right to come in here demanding anything,’ Polly Bennett said. Liz Maybury, the third member of Alan’s threesome, also Gerry’s the first time he had tried to evict them, stood slightly behind Polly.

  ‘I’ve every right. I put up with you when Alan was alive, had no option, but now you’re out, and if that means you’re back on the street, letting any drunk screw you, that’s up to you.’

  ‘We were running this place for Alan, making a good job of it as well, turning a profit. Don’t you want us to continue?’

  ‘A lousy thousand pounds a week. Do you think I care about that?’

  ‘Just because you married money, what makes you think you can order us around?’

  ‘It’s ours,’ Liz Maybury said.

  ‘Gerry, grab hold of them and kick them out. You know where they live?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘I want the keys now. You’ve organised some men to deal with their belongings?’

  ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’

  ‘Gerry, watch what you’re saying. I’ve got control of the money. Any trouble with you and you’ll be on the street with these women, or keeping Cyril company in that hovel he calls home.’

  ‘For your information,’ Mavis said, addressing Polly Bennett, ‘I didn’t marry money. I married a weak and lazy man who happened to buy a lottery ticket and was rapidly throwing it away on whores like you. You’ve got thirty-five minutes now before I call the police.’

  ‘We’ve not broken the law. Alan gave us this place, the cars, the flat.’

  ‘Legally, or just when you and your friend were screwing him?’

  ‘Legally,’ Polly said.

  ‘Where’s the proof?’

  ‘It’s with my solicitor.’

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘He’s out of town.’

  ‘Gerry, grab hold of these women and their bags. I want the keys.’

  ‘Did you kill Alan?’ Liz Maybury blurted out.

  ‘You bitch,’ Mavis said as she lunged at the woman, grabbing her by the hair, forcing her to the ground. Polly joined in, pushing Mavis’s head to the floor. Gerry stood back, not sure what to do. If it had been three men, he would have grabbed the first one, hit him across the head, before starting on the second, but three women? Gerry had to admit that he was enjoying the spectacle: two women that he had slept with, another one that he wanted to if he played his cards right, although if he helped Polly and Liz out of their current predicament, they’d see him right later that day. If he helped Mavis, she’d see that his current employment lasted, and he’d be able to drive the Bentley, an ideal machine for picking up women.

  He chose Mavis as the more in need of his attention. He leant down, took hold of Polly’s arm and yanked her up. ‘You bastard, we screwed you, not that we enjoyed it, and now you’re taking her side,’ she said.

  ‘Gerry, take hold of this other tart. I don’t pay you to screw the women.’ Mavis said. ‘I pay you to do your job, to protect me from the parasites with their bleeding-heart letters, their lives that have gone wrong, and the first time there’s something for you to do, you stand there gawping.’

  Mavis pulled herself up from the ground, steadying herself on Gerry’s spare arm. In the other Polly Bennett wrestled, trying to free herself from his grip. ‘I’ll have the law on you,’ she said. ‘This is assault. There are laws in this country.’

  ‘What chance do you think you’ll have? The only money you’ll have is from spreading your legs, and not much judging from what I’ve seen here today. I don’t know what Alan saw in you two, both skinny with barely an arse between you. Your breasts, a bicycle pump every night, is that it?’

  ‘You’d know his taste in women,’ Liz said, standing at some distance away. ‘A worn-out old prune for a wife.’

  Mavis took her hand from the table she’d been using for support and launched herself at the woman again, almost a flying leap. Both of them hit the wall behind, Liz collapsing to the ground unconscious.

  ‘You’ve killed her. It’s murder. I’m a witness,’ Polly screamed. Gerry, stunned by what had happened, released the woman.

  ‘Check her out,’ Mavis said.

  Polly had hold of Liz’s head. ‘Can you hear me?’ A weak murmur from the woman on the floor.

  ‘She’s alright,’ Mavis said.

  ‘It’s assault. We’ll sue.’

  ‘Join the queue. You’ll not be the first, not the last either.’

  ‘She’ll need a doctor,’ Gerry said.

  ‘Rubbish. The woman’s feigning injury, hoping that I’ll relent, give them some money.’

  ‘I don’t think so. She’s genuinely hurt.’

  ‘Okay, take her to the hospital, get her fixed up.’

  ‘In the Bentley?’

  ‘Not a chance. Take one of their cars. And when you’ve finished, bring both of the cars to the house.’

  ‘You’ll pay for this,’ Polly said, her friend slowly coming around.

  ‘Pay? I’ve paid enough for you two already, screwing my husband, disturbing my life. Once she’s better, you’re out of your flat, two days maximum. At least she’s gained some experience of being flat on her back. All she needs is a man on top of her, and she’s got it made.’

  ‘It wasn’t like that, us and Alan,’ Polly said.

  ‘Rubbish. You thought he was an easy touch, plenty of money. How you two got past the other tarts is beyond me, but you did. You’ve had your fun, but now it’s over. Forty-eight hours and you’re out, and next time I’ll send someone other than Gerry. If he comes, he’s more likely to screw you than do his job. And let me be clear, if he stuffs up one more time, brother-in-law or no brother-in-law, he’s out on the street with you two. Maybe he can pimp for you.’

  Gerry said nothing, realising that his chances of getting into Mavis’s bed were looking very remote indeed.

  ***

  After dealing with Margie, Clare found Rachel Winters, the eldest child of Alan Winters, to be a breath of fresh air. She was hard at work at Salisbury Hospital on Odstock Road. ‘I’m interested in hospital administration,’ she said. Clare could see the resemblance to the mother, although the young woman looked after herself, the mother did not.

  The two women sat in the cafeteria; Clare bought herself a latte, another one for Rachel. ‘You seem to be handling the situation well enough,’ Clare said.

  ‘Not really. I just need to keep busy.’

  ‘What can you tell me about your father?’

  ‘He was a weak man, I suppose you know that.’


  ‘We do. What about his behaviour after the lottery win?’

  ‘It destroyed him, Mum as well.’

  ‘All that money?’

  ‘Before, my dad didn’t do much, but he’d go to work, come home, get drunk, and my mother was there for him. The pair didn’t have the greatest of marriages, not many do, but at least they were together, and most times they were content.’

  ‘And you?’

  ‘I had a child when I was young, but you know that.’

  ‘An accident?’

  ‘Young and silly, I thought it was love. Never considered that I’d end up pregnant. Anyway, he died.’

  ‘Sad about that?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Devastated.’

  ‘At the time, but I’m okay now. I’m still young, there’s still time to find another man, have a few children.’

  ‘You’re not like your parents,’ Clare said.

  ‘Bertie’s like my dad; I’m the spitting image of my mother.’

  ‘I can’t see it.’

  ‘Mum never had the opportunities or the education. She’s a hard worker, always there for Bertie and me, and then with Dad, well, he was another child as well, even before we had money, and then after the win.’

  ‘You’d prefer that it hadn’t happened?’

  ‘I suppose so, but how can anyone resist that much money? It would drive anyone mad. The fact that you never have to worry again about paying the bills, the ability to indulge every obsession, every fantasy.’

  ‘The women?’

  ‘Dad never looked at another woman before, except in his mind, but then, there they were, so many.’

  ‘He had two specials.’

  ‘Polly and Liz.’

  ‘You knew them?

  ‘Vaguely, before they latched on to Dad. Polly, I liked, not so much Liz, but they were decent enough, but then the money and the clothes, and being squired around in a Bentley. Any woman would be seduced.’

  ‘I wouldn’t,’ Clare said. ‘You weren’t.’

  ‘Don’t get me wrong. I love the money, the fact that I can drive a nice car, live well, but I need the mental satisfaction that I’m contributing, not just hanging like a leech on the fortune. It’s good to know that I can attend all the courses, buy all the books I want, but I refuse to let the money dictate my life.’

  ‘The people here? Do they hassle you?’

  ‘Not the people I work with, although if someone in one of the wards finds out, they can sometimes be a nuisance.’

  ‘Your brother?’

  ‘Same as Dad, but with money. My father could only drink so much with no money, Bertie has no such restraint.’

  ‘Your father could have stopped him having the money to buy drugs.’

  ‘My mother will deal with Bertie.’

  ‘Will she?’

  ‘As long as she controls the money.’

  ‘And now, will you stay at the house?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I’ve got a boyfriend, or I think he’s my boyfriend.’

  ‘You’re not sure?’

  ‘There’s been a few who’ve fancied their chances, but I’ve never been sure if it’s the money or me.’

  ‘You’re an attractive woman,’ Clare said.

  ‘Maybe I am, but I can’t be sure if it’s me they want. You won’t tell Mum, will you?’

  ‘Your secret is safe with me.’

  ***

  Clare was preparing to leave the hospital and to drive back to Bemerton Road Police Station when her phone rang. ‘Stay where you are,’ Tremayne said.

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Liz Maybury. She’s in the Intensive Care Unit.’

  ‘How? Why?’

  ‘I’ve just had a phone call from Polly Bennett. Apparently, there was an altercation with Mavis Winters. It’d be best if you get over to her as soon as possible, find out what’s going on.’

  Clare locked her car and walked the hundred yards from Administration to the Intensive Care Unit. She found Gerry Winters soon enough. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Liz, she hit her head hard on a wall. There’s internal bleeding in the brain.’

  ‘Polly Bennett?’

  ‘She’s nearby. It was an accident.’

  ‘After we’ve found out her condition, we need to talk.’

  ‘Mavis blew it, took her anger out on the women.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘At the furniture store. Mavis wanted them out, the cars back, and then to evict them from the flat Alan had set them up with.’

  ‘She’s within her rights.’

  ‘I know, but Mavis is acting unreasonably. Alan was the one with the money. Polly and Liz were just taking advantage, trying to survive.’

  ‘Are you defending their behaviour?’

  ‘Not me, but I’ve known what it is to be poor, the same as them. And besides, Liz could die. It’s an accident, but you’ll distort the evidence, make it out to be manslaughter.’

  ‘Mr Winters, we do not distort evidence.’

  ‘Sorry. I’m just angry that this has happened.’

  ‘Do you like the two women?’

  ‘I’ve nothing against them. It’s alright if you win the lottery, but others have to survive, kowtow to those who’ve had the luck, even if they did not deserve it.’

  ‘We’re not here to discuss the injustices of life,’ Clare said, realising that if life were just, then Harry Holchester, her fiancé, would still be alive, but he wasn’t, and that was fate, nothing to do with luck.

  Tremayne arrived to find Clare and Gerry Winters sitting in the waiting area. ‘What’s happened? he asked.

  ‘There’s been an altercation between Liz Maybury and Mavis Winters,’ Clare said. ‘If the woman dies, it’s manslaughter.’

  ‘It’s an accident,’ Winters said.

  ‘We’ll take the statements later. We’ll decide then,’ Tremayne said.

  Clare could see that he was reluctant to consider laying charges against Mavis Winters; she realised it was understandable under the circumstances.

  Polly Bennett came through the doors that separated the waiting room from Intensive Care. ‘She’s under sedation. They think she’ll pull through,’ she said.

  ‘Her parents?’ Clare said.

  ‘I’ve phoned them. They’re on their way. I want to press charges against Mavis Winters.’

  ‘That’s up to us,’ Tremayne said. ‘We’ll take statements from everyone before we decide on a course of action.’

  ‘She did it on purpose. Gerry was there, he’ll tell you.’

  ‘Miss Bennett, Polly, we’ve got to consider your friend first. Standing here debating what we’re going to do does not help her. We’ll need to talk to her first,’ Clare said.

  ‘You’re right, I suppose, but I need somewhere to stay tonight. The bitch has kicked us out.’

  ‘That’s not true,’ Gerry said. ‘She’s given you forty-eight hours. Under the circumstances, she’ll reconsider, give you longer. She was angry; you know she had every right.’

  ‘You’ll not take our side?’ Polly asked, miffed that the man was hedging his bets.

  ‘I’ll tell the truth. An accident, unfortunate maybe, but she only wanted you and Liz out of her life.’

  ‘Was she angry enough to hurt the woman?’ Tremayne asked.

  ‘Angry, but she had been provoked. Liz was hurling insults. Apart from that wall, it would have ended there and then, and I would have evicted them that day. As it is, they can stay until Liz is better.’

  ‘You bastard. After the way we treated you,’ Polly said.

  ‘What does that mean?’ Clare said, looking at Gerry Winters.

  ‘The Alan Winters treatment, what else?’

  ‘What else indeed,’ Clare replied, knowing full well what the treatment entailed. She realised that Mavis Winters’ summation of the two women was spot on: they were a couple of whores.

  Chapter 7

  Bertie Winters: dissolute, reprobate, of
little worth. As good a definition of the man as any, Clare thought. He had not been hard to find after checking out of the facility where his mother had placed him in a last-ditch attempt to save him.

  ‘What do you want?’ the young man said after he had opened the door at Cyril Winters’ house.

  ‘Sergeant Yarwood, I’ve a few questions.’

  ‘You’d better come in,’ the twenty-two year old replied, his straggly hair touching on his collar, his three-day stubble clearly seen. Clare had to admit that behind the unkempt appearance there was probably an attractive man. The smell of marijuana pervaded the air.

  ‘No cocaine?’ Clare said.

  ‘That costs money.’

  ‘You’ve got plenty.’

  ‘Not anymore. That bitch of a mother has cut me off, told me to get a job.’

  ‘Your sister wants to work.’

  ‘Why should I? My father had plenty, and he did nothing for it. I’m entitled to do what I want.’

  ‘Your father had been lucky. Are you expecting to win the lottery anytime soon?’

  ‘I’ve got my legal rights. I’m entitled to some of the money.’

  ‘Legally, you’re probably entitled to nothing.’

  Clare could see the man looking her up and down. It made her feel uncomfortable. She had sometimes seen it at Bemerton Road. There they were careful not to be too obvious and smart enough to keep their comments in check, but she knew that Bertie Winters would get around to it soon enough.

  ‘What do you want anyway? I saw you round at my house the other day.’

  ‘Your father’s been murdered. Aren’t you concerned?’

  ‘Should I be? The man had a good time, plenty of good-looking women, and what did I get? Nothing, that’s what. Just an old Toyota to drive and an allowance. I’m not a child doing chores to receive pocket money, I’m a man. I need my own place, my own money, a few women. Dad, he wasn’t much, but he respected me, gave me money.’

  ‘He wouldn’t buy you a fancy car.’

  ‘He would have in time. I knew about him and those women. He’d have paid for me to keep quiet.’

  ‘If you’re referring to Polly Bennett and Liz Maybury, your mother knows.’