‘As I said, Miss Maybury, we were friends. I also knew Alan from back then, as well.’
Outside the shop, Tremayne lit a cigarette. ‘What did you reckon, Yarwood?’
‘There’s no question in my mind as to their relationship.’
‘Lesbian?’
‘Probably bisexual, but yes, the two of them are not lonely in their beds; they’ve got each other.’
‘Capable of murder?’
‘Without a doubt. They could have engineered all of this, but it seems unlikely.’
‘What do you mean? Forcing Mavis Winters to hand over the shop to them?’
‘Only if they have some dirt on her.’
‘Would they?’
‘Who knows? Alan Winters in bed with those two would talk. Who knows what he could have said.’
‘It’s an angle worth exploring, Check it out, Yarwood. Let’s go back to the station,’ Tremayne said. ‘You’re driving.’
Chapter 11
Clare had not been inside a prison before, a situation for which she was thankful. She felt that Pentonville, C Wing, was not conducive to the rehabilitation of a criminal, only a means of removing a man from society for the allotted period of time deemed necessary by judge and jury.
Clare had driven. They had had an early start, and she had picked up Tremayne from Bemerton Road Police Station at seven in the morning.
‘We’ll see Stan today, Fred tomorrow,’ he said. Tremayne had a newspaper with him, as well as a form guide.
‘Stan and Fred Winters, character witnesses?’
‘We need some background on the suspects.’
‘Do we have any? None of them has any record of violence.’
‘Gerry Winters does. That’s why we’re seeing Stan and Fred, to see if any of the others are capable. They can’t have been involved, the perfect alibi.’
‘In prison courtesy of Her Majesty.’
‘That’s it, although I suppose she doesn’t come to visit them too often.’
Stan Winters, forty-one years of age, and a man whom Tremayne had known for over thirty years. ‘Tremayne, what are you doing here?’ Winters said when they met.
‘They told you we were coming?’
‘They did. You can’t pin Alan’s death on me.’
Separated by a table, Clare and Tremayne sat on one side, Stan Winters on the other. The man was not deemed violent, the reason they were allowed to be in such close proximity. In one corner, a prison officer. Both Clare and Tremayne had shaken the man’s hand on entering, Clare noticing that he held onto her hand for longer than Tremayne’s, even pulling her in closer. She realised that it must be hard for a man in his forties to be denied female company. It had made her uncomfortable, but she said nothing.
‘We realise you’re not involved, but we still need to find a murderer. Whoever killed Alan could kill again.’
‘He was harmless. Apart from the money, that is. Not that it did me much good, and he refused to fund my appeal.’
‘I’ve read your case file. You and two others were caught red-handed, and you’ve only got just over a year to go.’
Clare could see that the man was not pleased to be in prison, but that was understandable. She knew she would not have lasted there for long, as the place was functional but austere. As they had walked through the prison gates, and through the intervening secured doors, she had not seen any warmth in the surroundings. The building was spotless, she’d accede to that. It reminded her of a public toilet, the old-fashioned type with its porcelain implements, the brass pipes, the white tiles on the floors and the walls.
Stan Winters, a similar height to Gerry Winters, was physically impressive. It was apparent that he worked out in the prison gym. The tattoos on his arms and neck looked crude, prison style. Even so, he retained some politeness, especially towards her. With Tremayne, he was blunt. Tremayne had told her that it had been necessary to be tough, or seen to be tough, in the area where Winters had grown up, or else you were likely to find yourself face down in the mud.
‘One of your police officers lied at the trial, that’s all I’m saying. The man they claimed that one of us had hit, it wasn’t true. He slipped and fell.’
‘Stan, let it go. You can plead your innocence with me all you like, but I’ll not buy it. Yarwood may, but she’s willing to listen to any hard luck story. You were a hooligan as a child; you’ve not changed.’
Winters sat still, looking at Tremayne, glancing at Clare. She was pleased that she had worn a heavy jacket, buttoned up to the neck.
‘Tremayne, you’re a bastard, always were,’ Winters said. ‘What do you want to know?’
‘Alan’s murdered at Stonehenge. If anyone’s after his money, then why there? And what’s the point? The money goes to Mavis and then her children.’
‘You’re the police officer, not me.’
‘It’s their backgrounds we need to understand. We know that Mavis can be tough, Bertie, the son, is incapable, and Rachel, the daughter, does not appear to be interested.’
‘What about Cyril and Gerry?’
‘They’re your brothers.’
‘I’ll tell you what you want to know. Not because I need to, but I’m glad of someone to talk to, other than the prison officers and the other prisoners.’
Tremayne knew that what he meant was that he was glad that Yarwood was with him.
‘Give us a rundown of your family.’
‘Cyril, lazy, Gerry, could be violent, not ambitious though. Dean, you’ve met?’
‘And his wife.’
‘I was there that day we went down the pub with her.’
‘She mentioned it.’
‘And what was her recollection?’
‘Mushy peas, soggy chips, and a limp piece of undercooked fish.’
‘The woman had us saying prayers, holding hands, before we ate. And it wasn’t what she described. It was good pub food.’ Tremayne knew what the man meant, having enjoyed a meal in a pub on many occasions.
‘So why did she lie to us?’
‘She didn’t lie. That’s how she sees us, the trash of society. If it were up to her, she’d have us all sterilised, let us die out. Poor old Dean, all that education, and what happens to him: hen-pecked, doing what he’s told.’
‘Instead of being in Pentonville,’ Clare said.
Stan Winters laughed. ‘You’ve got a sense of humour,’ he said. ‘At least I’ll be free at some stage, he won’t be.’
‘Completely under the thumb?’ Tremayne said.
‘Completely. If she tells him to jump, he jumps.’
‘If she tells him to kill Alan for whatever reason?’
‘Hold on, Tremayne, don’t go putting words in my mouth. Murder, that’s serious. Just because Dean does what he’s told, doesn’t mean he’d be capable of murder.’
‘Anyone in your family capable?’
‘Fred can be violent, but killing someone is different, and why Alan? The man had the money, and he was generous.’
‘But he wouldn’t fund your appeal.’
‘He still made sure I had a hundred thousand pounds.’
‘You’ve still got it?’
‘Yes. It’s invested with the bank, not that they pay much in the way of interest. They lock you up for robbing a building society of a few thousand pounds, and they’re ripping us off for billions. There’s no justice in the world.’
‘Life isn’t fair. If it were, I’d be a superintendent, and you wouldn’t have been caught.’
‘Mr Winters, does anyone visit you here?’ Clare said.
‘Dean comes occasionally.’
‘His wife?’
‘Not her; she probably sits in the car, but she’d not come in here.’
‘Anyone else?’
‘Alan used to come occasionally, as did Gerry. Even Mavis.’
‘Why did Mavis come?’ Tremayne said.
‘She’s a decent person, you know that. You were friendly with her once. She’s single now, maybe you two
could get together again?’
‘Everyone seems to know about us,’ Tremayne said.
‘I was just a kid, peering through cracks in windows. Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. And you were a decent man back then. You could have rounded us up. Why didn’t you?’
‘I’d grown up in a similar neighbourhood, played up the same as you had.’
‘What happened?’
‘I grew up, became a police officer.’
‘And I became a criminal.’
‘The dice rolls in the direction you want,’ Tremayne said. ‘And besides, you’ve not answered my question: why Stonehenge?’
‘No one in my family would have done it. Dean’s wife, she’s crazy enough, but she’d not get Dean to do that. Anything else, but not murdering his own brother.’
‘He refused to accept the one hundred thousand pounds.’
‘He told me on one of his visits. I told him that he was mad. It got quite heated.’
‘What happened after that?’
‘He must have told her. I didn’t see him for a few months after that.’
‘She told him not to come?’
‘Dean’s a good brother, straight as they come, no petty crime with him. And yes, it was her. If you want someone mad, she’s the person.’
‘These women that Alan was messing around with?’
‘I told him not to upset Mavis, but what’s a man to do? These women are throwing themselves at him. How could he refuse?’
‘Would you have?’ Clare asked.
‘Sergeant, we’re not perfect, the flesh is weak. If I had won that lottery, I’d have been into the women and the good life, the same as everyone else.’
‘If Dean had won?’
‘She’d have given it to charity or refused to accept it.’
‘Would she?’
‘Ask her. Everyone’s got a price, what’s hers? Focus on that stupid woman, not my family.’
‘We’ve seen Margie,’ Clare said.
‘Still the same?’
‘Yes.’
‘Even Alan with his money couldn’t help her.’
‘I can remember her as a child,’ Tremayne said.
‘Pretty little thing back then, not so pretty now.’
‘Has she been here to visit?’
‘Never. Mind you, I’d prefer her not to come.’
‘Why?’ Clare asked.
‘You’ve seen this place. It’s hardly a resort. I stay afloat, we all do, by focussing on when we get out, our first beer, our first woman. Sorry, Sergeant.’
‘No need to apologise.’
‘I maintain positive thoughts in here. I deal with the daydream, not the reality.’
‘And Margie is the reality?’ Tremayne said.
‘You’ll go away from here, distracted by other things. For me, I’ll be thinking about her for days.’
‘Sorry about that,’ Clare said.
‘It’s fine. It’s good to see friendly faces, even you, Tremayne.’
‘The funeral is this weekend.’
‘I’ve made a special request to attend.’
‘Will it be granted?’
‘They’ll only agree to the church service, not the wake afterwards, and then I’ll be with a police officer, probably handcuffs.’
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Tremayne said.
‘No handcuffs, the prison officer in civilian clothes.’
‘We’ll deal with it.’
‘I trust you, Tremayne. And find out who killed Alan.’
***
Some things can't be predicted in every murder investigation, even Clare knew that. On the drive back from London and Pentonville, a phone call to Tremayne.
‘Put your foot down, Yarwood,’ Tremayne said on ending the call.
‘Another death?’
‘Not this time.’
‘Who?’
‘Rachel Winters.’
‘Why her?’
‘How the hell should I know? Supposedly, she’s been in a car accident. She’s in the hospital.’
‘Serious?’
‘According to Mavis, it’s not.’
Clare accelerated up past the speed limit, even for the motorway they took to get back to Salisbury. Tremayne leant over and switched on the grille mounted flashing lights. The just over two-hour trip reduced to one hour and forty minutes. At the hospital, out on Odstock Road, Clare parked next to the A & E. Inside they found Mavis with Gerry.
Mavis gave Tremayne a warm hug. ‘Thanks for coming,’ she said.
‘How’s Rachel?’
‘She’ll be fine. She’s suffering shock, a bad concussion, but apart from that, nothing.’
‘Do you know any of the details?’
‘You saw the car as you drove up here?’ Mavis said.
‘By the side of the road. It looks totalled.’
‘She was hit on the side by another car.’
‘The driver?’
‘The vehicle took off. That’s all we know. Rachel’s resting now. We can talk to her in a couple of hours’ time.’
‘We’ll wait,’ Clare said.
The four of them walked to a cafeteria and sat down. Mavis excused herself and went and organised a coffee for everyone. After driving faster than usual for an extended period, Clare would have appreciated a few minutes to close her eyes, but that was not going to be possible.
‘What has Rachel said?’ Tremayne asked as he sipped his coffee.
‘According to her, she was driving home, only slowly, when a car pulled out to overtake and slammed into her on the driver’s side.’
‘Have you experienced this sort of thing before?’
‘When Alan first won the money. Everyone thought they were entitled to a handout, some became aggressive. We had to hire a security firm to protect us for a few months. After that, Gerry has dealt with security, hired a few casuals as we needed them.’
‘Is there any question that this was anything other than an accident?’ Clare said.
‘It’s suspicious, but we’ve had no trouble for some time. And why Rachel? I’m the one controlling the money.’
‘We’ve been to see Stan,’ Tremayne said.
‘How is he?’
‘He’s fine. Upset to be in prison.’
‘He did the crime,’ Gerry Winters said.
‘It’s still tough.’
‘He’ll be out soon, good behaviour.’
‘How about Fred?’ Tremayne said. ‘We’ve not seen him yet.’
‘We’re not looking forward to his release,’ Mavis said.
‘Why?’
‘You knew Fred. He’s more aggressive. He’ll cause trouble unless I pay him off.’
‘Will you?’
‘If it’s necessary. I don’t want him around the house all the time, or around the city, bad-mouthing us.’
‘Would he? I thought you were a close-knit family. Stan said you were.’
‘Close-knit if we’re threatened, but there’s bickering behind the scenes, you know that.’
Tremayne could see Gerry causing trouble. He had just heard Mavis offering to pay off his brother, Fred, and all he had was a salary and a hundred thousand pounds.
Two cups of coffee later, all four were back at A&E. A doctor came over, spoke to Mavis. ‘It’s okay. We can go in.’
‘I’ll go in with Yarwood later. We’ll need a statement,’ Tremayne said.
‘Then you can go first. I’ll be staying the night here, as will Gerry.’
‘Very well.’
The two police officers found Rachel propped up in bed, a bandage around her head, another around her right wrist. ‘I’m fine, just a little dazed,’ she said.
Clare compared it to where they had met Rachel’s uncle. There it had been cold and austere, here it was warm and inviting. In one corner of the room stood a vase containing flowers. Upon the wall, a flat-screen television. There was even a view out of the window. Stan’s view, even in the prison yard, was of a brick wall.
‘I think it was intentional.’
‘Why?’
‘I’ve driven down that road many times. There’s plenty of room to overtake, and it was a clear day.’
‘Did you see the car?’
‘It was blue.’
‘Any idea as to the make?’
‘It was so quick, and no. I’m not interested in cars, not like Dad who was out buying anything he could. I’d know a Bentley, we’ve got one of those, but apart from that, it was large and blue.’
‘If we showed you some pictures?’
‘Maybe, but don’t hold out much hope.’
‘If it was intentional, any reason why?’
‘Not with me. There are some crazy people out there, I know that. Maybe it was someone who was jealous of our good fortune.’
‘Do you sometimes experience that?’
‘Sometimes, but they are mostly harmless.’
‘Did you see the driver?’
‘Nothing. The car was bigger than mine, maybe it was a four-wheel drive. Apart from that nothing, sorry. Is Mum here?’
‘She’s outside with your uncle.’
‘Could you ask her to come in. She’ll only worry.’
Chapter 12
Dean Winters sat at the table in the kitchen of his and his wife’s perfect house in Southampton. His wife was standing up. ‘You’ve let that malignant family of yours rule your life. What did they ever give you?’ she said.
Dean Winters knew he was hen-pecked; he didn’t know why he tolerated the situation. He knew that his situation was intolerable. If he could speak to Mavis, instruct her to give him the hundred thousand pounds, then he could plot his way out to freedom.
‘And then you want to visit your brothers in prison. What have I been doing all these years? I’ve been making a better man of you, haven’t I?’ No reply from her husband. ‘Haven’t I?’ she said with emphasis.
‘Yes, dear.’
‘And what thanks do I get? I’ll tell you, nothing. And then all you can talk about is that whore of a sister.’
‘She’s my family. We stuck together as children, we’ll stick together now.’
‘Don’t give me that story about how you were neglected, how you starved, what a bitch your mother was. I’ve met her; she is a bitch, but you’re a man now. Stand up and be counted.’
The DI Tremayne Thriller Box Set Page 58