The DI Tremayne Thriller Box Set

by Phillip Strang

  ‘Good luck, nothing else. Anyway, the newsagent got nothing. The brothers each received a cash payment of one hundred thousand and a solicitor’s letter to sign.’

  ‘Even Stan and Fred?’

  ‘Even them.’

  ‘And Dean?’

  ‘It was offered.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘That stupid wife of his. Have you met her?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Don’t bother. She’s a venomous toad of a woman. I’ve no idea what Dean sees in her, although he’s a weak man, the same as the others.’

  ‘He’s been successful.’

  ‘I’ll grant you that. Dean was the only one who did well at school, and he can be academic. Then he meets up with her, and she’s pushing him forward. Heaven to him, hell to anyone else.’

  ‘You never answered the question about Gerry. Was he entitled to a half-share?’

  ‘Just because he drove Alan to the newsagents? Get real. The man was entitled to nothing, the same as the other bloodsuckers. He got his hundred thousand, even Alan’s women, Polly Bennett and Liz Maybury. What else does he need?’

  ‘He’s fond of you,’ Clare said.

  ‘He’s not a bad man, but I’ve no need of him. I’ve just got rid of his brother. What makes you think I’d go back for seconds?’

  ‘Got rid of!’ Tremayne said.

  ‘A figure of speech, and you know it. It was luck on my part that he died, my lottery ticket if you like, and now the money will all be mine in another week.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘You’re releasing his body. We’ll have a get-together here after the funeral. You’ll come?’

  ‘We will.’

  ‘Come and enjoy yourself. Don’t come here as a police officer.’

  ‘But that’s what we are. You realise that his murderers could be among the mourners?’

  ‘I’m aware of it, but do you honestly believe this is related to the money?’

  ‘It’s the only motive that makes any sense, and now you’re the person with the money.’

  ‘I’ll make sure I have security.’

  ‘So did Alan and he ended up dead.’

  Chapter 10

  In one house, a woman, even if she could be hard with her relatives, had been friendly. In another, that of Dean Winters and his wife, there was no friendliness, and the hardness was like a brick wall.

  ‘Why do you keep bothering us?’ Dean Winters’ wife said. Tremayne and Clare were in the house, just. Further entry into somewhere more conducive was being prevented by a woman with a scowl on her face. In the background, peering through a slightly open door, the husband’s countenance.

  ‘Mrs Winters, a man has been murdered. If we need to come here a dozen times, we will, or else we can meet at the police station,’ Tremayne said.

  ‘Are you threatening us?’

  Clare could see that she was an unpleasant person, venomous as described. ‘Mrs Winters, DI Tremayne is correct. We can summons you to the police station, even arrange a police car with flashing lights and a siren to pick the two of you up, or you can show us civility and invite us in. The decision is yours, but we will question your husband, even you, if it is necessary.’

  ‘Very well, come in. And watch where you put your feet. I’ve just vacuumed the place; I don’t want you dirtying it again, or I’ll send the police a bill.’

  ‘Mrs Winters, they’ll not pay. I suggest you stop your bellyaching and let us in.’

  ‘You can’t talk to me like that. It’s police brutality. Dean, take a note of what they’ve just said. In my own house.’

  Tremayne turned to Clare. ‘How long before you can get a marked police car here?’

  ‘Ten minutes. I’ve got a friend at the local police station. Do we need handcuffs?’

  ‘Tell them to bring them just in case. And remember, we want the siren as well.’

  ‘The kitchen,’ Mrs Winters said.

  ‘I’ll put on the kettle,’ the husband said.

  ‘Don’t you bother. They’re not staying long.’

  ‘I’ll have mine with two sugars, milk. No sugar for Sergeant Yarwood,’ Tremayne said. He’d met enough awkward people over the years. He had no intention of letting this woman get the better of him.

  In the kitchen, not one thing was out of place, there was not a dish in the sink nor an animal in the corner. A table stood in one corner, and four chairs, each lined up in perfect symmetry. Tremayne pulled his chair back so he could sit down, making sure to drag the chair’s feet across the tiled floor. Clare looked at Mrs Winters, could see she was angry.

  Clare took her seat, careful not to aggravate the situation. The husband came over with the tea: four cups and saucers, a sugar bowl, and the milk in a jug. All the cutlery matched. ‘Make sure you use the table mats,’ Mrs Winters said.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Dean said. ‘Barbara likes a tidy house.’

  ‘And no interruptions.’

  ‘Mrs Winters, do you want it recorded that you are a hostile witness?’ Tremayne said.

  ‘I’m not hostile. We have no dealings with those people. Why should we be subjected to questioning as if we are common criminals?’

  ‘You are assisting the police,’ Clare said. The woman opposite was clearly a tyrant who controlled her husband, even though she was significantly shorter than him, even slight in stature. One puff of wind and she’d blow over. She was no doubt keen on eating sensibly, dragging her husband along for the ride whether he liked it or not.

  ‘Mr Winters, you say that you’ve not been to see Mavis Winters since Alan died,’ Tremayne said.

  ‘That is correct,’ Dean Winters said. He was sitting next to his wife, ensuring that he did not put his elbows on the table.

  ‘Yet your wife, who is clearly hostile to your family, is upset that you have not offered your condolences in person. Why is that?’

  ‘I’ll answer that,’ Winters’ wife said. ‘It’s the Christian thing to do, that’s why. We’re strong believers in the Lord.’

  ‘Yet you do not want your husband to associate with them?’

  ‘A family of criminals, that’s what they are.’

  ‘Mrs Winters, what is your background?’

  ‘I’m from Southampton. I met Dean at the place where he works.’

  ‘The boss’s daughter,’ Dean Winters said.

  ‘My father was a hard-working, God-fearing man. He’s worked hard all his life, never cheated on his taxes or my mother.’

  When did you first meet your husband’s family?’ Clare asked.

  ‘He took me up there after we were engaged.’

  ‘And you disapproved?’

  ‘Of course. They were living in a slum. The place was dirty, there were bottles of alcohol everywhere. And do you know where they took us for a meal?’

  ‘You tell us.’

  ‘A pub lunch: mushy peas, soggy chips, and a limp piece of undercooked fish. It was an insult, and then they expected Dean to pay.’

  ‘You did?’ Tremayne asked, looking over at the husband visibly shrinking in his seat.

  ‘Yes. They had no money. Alan had spent his salary the night before getting drunk, Cyril was penniless, as was Stan.’

  ‘And Fred?’

  ‘He was in jail.’

  ‘Mrs Winters, did you know about your husband’s family before you went there?’

  ‘Dean had warned me, but I didn’t believe him. No family could be that bad, I was certain of that.’

  ‘And were they?’

  ‘Worse, and then his mother sits there and tells me about their father and the men she had been with. I’m still cringing to this day.’

  ‘You still married your husband.’

  ‘I made a commitment to God to look after him. I wasn’t going to let him down. I have made it my life’s work to raise Dean from that cesspool to become someone worthy of my family’s name.’

  Tremayne pitied the man.

  ‘You’ve not mentioned Margie
, your husband’s sister.’

  ‘She wasn’t there. I never knew about her until after we were married.’

  ‘How did you find out?’

  ‘She ended up here on our doorstep after we had been married for two years,’ Barbara Winters said.

  ‘She had your address?’

  ‘Dean, he’d kept in contact with her. Even been helping her with money.’

  ‘She’s my sister. I can’t ignore her, the same as the others,’ Winters said. Clare thought that he was a compassionate man.

  ‘She was dead, is dead. How many times have I told you? She’s given herself over to the devil. Let him look after her.’

  ‘We’ve seen her recently,’ Clare said.

  ‘How was she?’ Dean Winters asked.

  ‘She was living in a terraced house near to Wyndham Road. Her condition was not good, although she seemed safe. There were a lot of cats.’

  ‘That’s where I last saw her.’

  ‘Is she?’

  ‘Say it out loud, will you. Is she still selling herself?’ Barbara Winters said. ‘If you’re willing to bring your family’s shame into this house, you may as well tell the police, tell the neighbourhood. Why I put up with you and your family, I’ll never know. If it weren't for the Lord, I’d turn you over for someone else.’

  ‘I apologise for my wife. The strain of Alan’s death has affected us badly.’

  ‘Talk for yourself. One less mongrel on this planet.’

  ‘That’s a cruel thing to say,’ Clare said.

  ‘The world is full of the deserving, and then that mongrel goes and wins a fortune. Where’s the justice in that?’

  ‘All of the brothers were offered a substantial cash payment. Did you accept yours, Mr Winters?’

  ‘Dean did not,’ his wife said.

  ‘Why not? Surely you could do with the money?’ Clare said.

  ‘It is the result of gambling. It would be a sin to accept it.’

  ‘You’d rather hold to your beliefs than accept the money?’

  ‘God will remember us on the day of judgement.’

  ‘Mrs Winters, you hated the Winters, especially Alan for his wealth,’ Tremayne said. ‘Was it enough to want the man dead? Not that you would have benefited financially, but spiritually you may have believed that you were doing God’s work, and Stonehenge may have been another blow to those who hold different beliefs.’

  Barbara Winters was up on her feet; Dean Winters stayed seated. Clare could see that he was enjoying the spectacle. ‘That’s slanderous. I’ll sue you for everything you’ve got. I’ve no doubt your superiors will take action once I contact them.’

  ‘Mrs Winters, my superiors will do nothing. You’ve shown your hatred for the Winters, your abhorrence of the money they have, ill-gotten according to you. Someone murdered Alan Winters, and all those who may be suspect will be subjected to rigorous questioning. I repeat yet again – did you murder Alan Winters?’

  ‘Leave my house this instant.’

  ‘We are leaving, but we will intensify our checks into you. A person who refuses to accept a substantial cash payment with no obligations must have some issues. You must now be a prime suspect. Mr Winters, did you assist your wife?’

  ‘Not with Alan.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘He was my family. I cared for him, the same as the others. We all suffered as children in that house. It’s a bond that cannot be broken. My wife doesn’t understand.’

  ‘You bastard,’ Barbara Winters said.

  ‘For once in your goddamn life, woman, just shut up.’ It was the first time that Dean Winters had spoken to his wife in such a manner. He had to admit it felt good.

  ***

  ‘You were tough in there,’ Clare said on the drive back to Salisbury. As usual, she was in the driver’s seat.

  ‘We need to break through these people, push them to the limit. Barbara Winters is a clever woman, careful in what she says, how she says it. The only way she’ll speak the truth is when she’s angered,’ Tremayne said.

  ‘Did you break through?’

  ‘Not totally. The woman shows her hatred well enough, her prejudices as well, but this not accepting the money still seems bizarre. Who could resist that much money?’

  ‘Some people believe strongly in the concept of right and wrong. Let’s accept her at face value.’

  ‘And then what? Are you saying that she’s innocent of all crimes?’

  ‘Not at all. You were on the right track there. A lingering hatred, the confusion between how the meek shall inherit the earth, better a sinner repented, that sort of thing, and then one of the fallen had hit the jackpot, while she, no doubt devout, has won nothing, apart from a subservient husband. Mind you, he cheered up at the end, told her to shut up.’

  ‘It’ll be fun in that house for a while. What do you think happened after we left?’

  ‘Fireworks. I’m not sure who would have got the better of the situation.’

  ‘My money is on the wife.’

  ‘Where are we heading?’ Clare asked as they crested the hill on the A36, the sight of Salisbury Cathedral spire in the distance.

  ‘Liz Maybury.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘We’ve not spoken to her since her time in the hospital, apart from a gentle questioning. We know Polly Bennett’s account as to what happened, but not hers.’

  ‘She said it was an accident, so did Liz Maybury. And now Mavis Winters is letting them stay where they are. They’ll not be truthful.’

  ‘I know that, but let’s see.’

  The furniture store was again open, some cars parked outside. Inside, Polly Bennett was near the cash register, making phone calls. On the floor, Liz Maybury was attempting to entice a couple into buying a coffee table.

  ‘Inspector Tremayne, we never expected to see you in here,’ Polly said as the two police officers entered.

  ‘How’s Miss Maybury?’

  ‘Liz, she’s fine. Her memory of that day is a little hazy, but apart from that, there she is, selling away. She’s a good talker.’

  ‘You and Mavis Winters?’

  ‘There’s a legal agreement in place. It’s not as good as what Alan promised us, but we’ll go along with it. And besides, we both like to work.’

  ‘You could have done that all along, instead of sleeping with Winters,’ Clare said.

  ‘We’re not perfect, none of us is.’

  ‘Why run this place when you could find another man?’

  ‘Sergeant Yarwood, I’m a pragmatist, so is Liz. If a man is there, we’ll take advantage. In the interim, we’ll survive.’

  ‘You’re still looking?’

  ‘Always.’

  ‘Anyone else in Salisbury that interests you?’

  ‘Gerry Winters would if he had the money.’

  ‘That’s unlikely.’

  ‘It depends on whether he latches onto Mavis or not.’

  ‘Why are you telling us this?’

  ‘I’m testing you. You still don’t trust Liz and me. You see us as lesbians, witches practising satanic rituals, breaking the golden egg on a golden altar at Stonehenge.’

  ‘It’s plausible,’ Tremayne said.

  ‘That’s why I said it. I’m not a dummy, neither is Liz. If I can come up with it, so can you.’

  ‘Tell me,’ Clare said. ‘Now that you don’t have Alan Winters, what are you doing for a man. Surely you need someone in your bed.’

  ‘The same as you without Harry Holchester, lots of cold showers.’

  Clare realised that she had not thought about him for several weeks, even after driving past his old pub. She knew that she would visit his grave in the next few days; this time she would not go with Tremayne.

  Tremayne and Clare moved away from the cash register; the interested couple had been swayed by Liz Maybury’s eloquent sales pitch. Clare did not like the coffee table, could not see it fitting in with her decor at her cottage, although there was a bookcase that she liked, the price was
reasonable, and she knew they’d give her a discount. She couldn’t see any conflict of interest; she’d check with Tremayne first, register that she had had financial dealings with the two women in case it came up in a subsequent trial.

  ‘Inspector Tremayne, Sergeant Yarwood, pleased to see you. It’s worked out fine as you can see,’ Liz Maybury said as she approached them.

  ‘Unexpected,’ Clare said.

  ‘It wasn’t what we expected, but we’re pleased.’

  ‘How are you?’ Tremayne asked.

  ‘I’m fine, the occasional dizzy spell, but apart from that I just carry on as normal. You’ve been speaking to Polly.’

  ‘She says that Mavis Winters has been pleasant.’

  ‘She has. We like the woman. She knows the way of the world.’

  ‘It was her husband you were sleeping with.’

  ‘We’ve done nothing wrong except being foolish. It’s not so easy when there is that much money around. Mavis said that she had known Inspector Tremayne for many years.’

  ‘We’ve known each other since she was in her teens.’

  ‘Boyfriend, girlfriend,’ Liz said.

  Clare could see Tremayne blushing. ‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘We lived not far from each other. We used to talk occasionally. I understand that Polly’s mum was friendly with Mavis Winters.’

  ‘She was. I’m not sure if they still are.’

  ‘How about you?’

  ‘I came here from Bristol, following a boyfriend.’

  ‘And what happened to him?’

  ‘He fell by the wayside.’

  ‘Not enough money?’

  ‘He had some, enough for me, but he wasn’t ambitious, I am. He’s still around. I see him occasionally, but he’s pushing a buggy with two children in it, a pregnant wife at his side, and no doubt a mortgage. I could have had that, didn’t want it.’

  ‘And now, what does the future hold for you and Polly?’

  ‘We’ll run the shop, find ourselves a couple of men. Nothing firm, just ideas.’

  ‘Alan Winters is being buried this weekend. Will you be going?’

  ‘Not us. I don’t think we’ll be welcome. We may watch from a distance. Will you be going?’

  ‘We’ll both be there.’

  ‘Ex-boyfriends of the deceased’s wife excepted.’