The DI Tremayne Thriller Box Set

by Phillip Strang

  ‘Your life is not much better, is it? Gordon’s exercising his power. You’re back in Old Ted’s cottage.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Does it matter? It’s true, isn’t it?’

  ‘Rose, don’t pretend that I want to see you, but we need to talk.’

  ‘Very well. My house, you can follow me there.’

  ‘I know the address.’

  ‘Foolish of me to think that you didn’t. You know everything that happens with your family.’

  Marge Selwood left her trolley in the aisle and walked out of the store with the mother of her grandson. She opened the door of her Land Rover and followed Rose up to her house.

  Inside the house, small and utilitarian, she could see that Rose looked after the place well. ‘Crispin?’

  ‘He won’t be home for another three hours.’

  ‘I did not try to kill him.’

  ‘You’ll do anything for the good name of Selwoods. I remember the treatment I received when I became pregnant; how you forced my parents out of the village. It destroyed them. I wasn’t blameless, neither was your son, but what happened to him? A slap on the wrist, a pat on the back.’

  ‘That’s what men do. They seduce willing virgins. It’s up to the woman to resist, and from what I was told, there wasn’t much resisting.’

  ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘Is it important?’

  ‘It is to me. You knew about us, our friendship even as children.’

  ‘I encouraged it. I thought you were a suitable mate for him, but you were both too young.’

  ‘And then he went and married that other woman.’

  ‘You were better than her. Maybe I was wrong.’

  ‘Crispin is a Selwood. He’s not like Gordon, he’s responsible. I’ve kept him away from you and your family for all his life, but now he knows the truth. Why do you insist on laying the blame on me for your life? I have done nothing to you.’

  ‘If you two had waited.’

  ‘But we couldn’t. We were young, that’s all.’

  ‘You were only fifteen, under the age of consent.’

  ‘The past doesn’t matter any more, does it? If you did not attempt to kill my son, then who did?’

  ‘Are you sure it wasn’t an accident?’

  ‘As certain as I can be.’

  ‘Then it was someone else.’

  Rose Goode looked at the woman in her house. She could see that she had aged, although she still remained attractive. Rose knew the woman could not be trusted, and she would have preferred not to contact her, but the situation was dangerous. Her son knew the truth, and he was anxious to meet his father, but people had been murdered. It could only be something to do with the house and farm. She did not want her son to be attacked again.

  ‘I want Crispin to be acknowledged as a member of your family. You owe him that much.’

  Marge Selwood could see a determined woman. She knew a reply in the negative would not be wise. ‘Very well, bring him over to the village. I will take you both to see Gordon.’

  Rose knew she had done what was important. Her son was not safe as long as he remained hidden. She phoned Clare after Marge Selwood had left the house. ‘I’ve spoken to Gordon’s mother,’ she said.

  ‘Was she pleased to talk to you?’

  ‘She pretended to be ambivalent.’

  ‘But what do you really believe?’

  ‘Her? I don’t trust her for one minute. She’s agreed to introduce Crispin to his father.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Tomorrow.’

  ‘And you’re comfortable with that?’

  ‘No. I’m going out there now. I want you to be there with us.’

  ‘Where is Crispin?’

  ‘He’s at school. We’ll pick him up on the way.’

  ***

  Marge Selwood was angry. She had been compromised by a woman from the past. The agreement had been with her parents, not with her, in that there was to be no further contact after Gordon had married their daughter, and now, the young woman, only sixteen then, had reneged on that agreement. And all because her son had been in an accident.

  Marge Selwood knew that Crispin Goode, the son of the black sheep, was a capable young man and that Rose Goode was a decent woman. But it was not what she had planned. Nicholas and William, both of them, had had a life at the farm. They knew what was needed, whereas Crispin Goode and his mother, possibly well intentioned and honest, did not.

  William arrived at the cottage. He sat down, poured himself a beer from a bottle in the fridge. ‘What is it, mother?’ he said. It had been a long day; he did not want a diatribe about Gordon again.

  ‘What do you know of Gordon and Rose Fletcher?’ Marge asked.

  ‘Gordon’s never spoken about it. I remember you and our father arguing, even shouting at Gordon.’

  ‘You’re old enough to know the truth. Gordon made the girl pregnant. She was under the age of consent.’

  ‘That was the rumour.’

  ‘I met her today.’

  ‘What did she say?’

  ‘She wants to introduce their son to Gordon.’

  ‘Is there a problem?’

  ‘He’s a Selwood. Her parents were threatening legal action. We didn’t want the publicity, so we agreed to Gordon marrying the fool girl. The son was legitimate when it was born.’

  ‘Are there any more children?’

  ‘None. That’s it.

  ‘Our inheritance?’ William asked.

  ‘It depends on Gordon and the child.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I’m going to pretend the son is welcome into the family. I want you and Nicholas to do so as well.’

  ‘And then what?’

  ‘We’ll see what happens, but rest assured, the farm belongs to you and Nicholas.’

  ‘And to you, Mother.’

  ***

  Clare was uncertain of what the reception would be when she agreed to go with Rose Goode and her son out to Coombe Farm. Whatever happened, she knew that it would serve as a catalyst.

  Tremayne had advised her to take care and to observe the reactions of the people. She had to admit that Crispin was similar in appearance to Gordon, although the young man was more studious. He had not had the luxury of a wealthy family, only the devotion of his mother, which to Clare seemed to be the better option.

  As Clare’s car drew close to the house, Rose in the front seat, Crispin in the back, they could see Gordon outside cleaning his Jaguar. ‘Great car,’ Crispin said.

  Clare could see issues with Crispin. He was at the impressionable age, and a father with money was not necessarily the best example. Also, she had noticed Crispin looking her up and down, although he had not made any comments, not with his mother there.

  The three left Clare’s car and walked the ten yards to where Gordon Selwood was. He looked up at their approach.

  ‘Sergeant Yarwood, what brings you here?’

  ‘Hello Gordon,’ Rose said.

  The man stood frozen for a moment before coming forward and putting his arms around her. ‘It’s been a long time,’ he said.

  ‘This is Crispin.’

  The two men shook hands, formally at first, before Gordon realising who Crispin was, put his arms around him. ‘I never expected to meet you,’ he said.

  ‘I never knew you existed,’ Crispin replied. Clare could see that he was overcome with emotion.

  ‘Today’s not a good day,’ Gordon said.

  ‘I’m sorry about your wife,’ Rose said. ‘Sergeant Yarwood told me she was a good woman.’

  ‘She was, and, well, you know what’s happened.’

  ‘I only came because of the situation.’

  ‘What situation?’

  ‘Someone tried to kill Crispin. Otherwise, I would not have told him about you, and we wouldn’t be here.’

  ‘Out of despair comes joy,’ Gordon said. ‘Please come inside the house.’

  ‘I�
�ve met your mother,’ Rose said.

  ‘How?’

  ‘I saw her in the supermarket. I felt it was time to make contact. I’m worried for Crispin.’

  ‘My mother, what did she have to say?’

  ‘She was agreeable, offered to bring us out to meet you.’

  ‘But you decided to come before then?

  ‘Yes. I wanted us to meet without her.’

  ‘She’s not here. She’s in Old Ted’s cottage.’

  ‘She’s not changed.’

  ‘Your parents?’

  ‘They’ve passed away. It’s just Crispin and me now. I was married for a while, a good man, but we separated, now divorced.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear about that. Cathy and I, we were close, and then someone kills her for probably the same reason they attempted to kill Crispin. Sergeant Yarwood, where are you on the investigation?’

  ‘We’ve no weapon, no one outside of your family who could be responsible.’

  ‘We’re a feuding family, but I don’t believe any of us would contemplate murder. The family bond is too strong. We’ll cheat each other, argue like crazy, but to kill someone, that’s something else.’

  ‘That’s as maybe, but someone’s responsible, but until we find that person, then others could die. Mrs Goode, Crispin, you’re both possible targets, even more so than before.’

  ‘I’m not involved,’ Rose said. ‘I have no claim on the house and the farm, but Crispin does.’

  Clare could see there was to be no drama. She left the three and moved away to the front of the house and called Tremayne.

  ‘There’s been a lead on the pellets,’ Tremayne said.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘They’re a Crosman Premier Pointed .22 pellet.’

  ‘We knew that before. What does it mean?’

  ‘It means you can’t buy them locally. There’s a name for someone in the village who has purchased them recently. Probably not the only one there with an air rifle, but we’ll question him. I’ll be there in twenty-five minutes. Is it safe to leave Gordon Selwood with his new-found family?’

  ‘As long as they stay at the house.’

  ‘Okay, twenty-five minutes. I’m bringing some uniforms.’

  ***

  Clare returned indoors. The three were sitting around the kitchen table. ‘I’ve got to go,’ Clare said.

  ‘I’ll make sure Rose and Crispin get home safely,’ Gordon said. ‘Cathy?’

  ‘They’ll release her body in a few days.’

  ‘Can we go in the Jaguar?’ Crispin asked.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘We have a lead on who fired the air rifle at your father,’ Clare said.

  ‘Thanks for bringing Rose and Crispin out here.’

  ‘It wasn’t my idea. It was Rose’s.’

  Outside, Tremayne beeped the horn on his vehicle. Clare walked out of the house and over to Tremayne’s car. ‘Follow me,’ he said.

  A two-minute drive and Tremayne stopped outside the church.

  ‘Why here?’ Clare said.

  ‘Your vicar has bought pellets in the last few weeks. We can’t find anyone else, and it’s not conclusive.’

  ‘A man of the cloth?’

  ‘Why not? It wouldn’t be the first time a vicar has been guilty of a crime.’

  Tremayne knocked on the door of the rectory; it slowly opened. ‘DI Tremayne, Sergeant Yarwood, please come in.’

  ‘We’re here officially,’ Tremayne said.

  ‘What can I do to help?’

  ‘You own an air rifle?’

  ‘Yes, I do. I fire at targets in the field at the back.’

  ‘It hardly seems to be something a man of the cloth would be interested in.’

  ‘Why not? I’m not a monk. I’m allowed to do whatever I like as long as I don’t break the law or offend my God.’

  ‘Can we see the rifle?’

  ‘It’s locked up in the hall cupboard. I’ll fetch it if you want. What’s this all about?’

  ‘You purchased some pellets: Crosman Premium Pointed .22.’

  ‘That’s correct. They’re nothing special. You can buy them anywhere.’

  ‘Not in Salisbury, you can’t.’

  I buy them online.’

  The vicar opened the hall cupboard, Tremayne standing alongside. ‘A few weapons in there,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t use them very much, but I used to be keen once. I belonged to a club at my previous parish, but not here in Coombe.’

  ‘Leave them there,’ Tremayne said. He turned to Clare. ‘Phone Jim Hughes, tell him to get a couple of his CSI’s over here in the next forty minutes.’

  ‘What is this? Are you accusing me of murder?’

  ‘Not murder, but the pellets you bought give us concern.’

  ‘They’re on their way,’ Clare said. She looked at the vicar, could see the man wasn’t comfortable with the situation. She hoped Tremayne knew what he was doing.

  ‘Can we sit down?’ Tremayne said.

  ‘In the kitchen,’ a curt reply.

  Once in the kitchen, Tremayne continued. ‘We know you had issues with Claude Selwood and that the man was interventionist.’

  ‘I’ve already told you this before. He wanted to tell me what to preach.’

  ‘And you argued with him?’

  ‘Argued? It was more of a discussion.’

  ‘I put it to you that you were upset with his intervention and you decided to teach him a lesson. I’m not accusing you of murder, but of aggravated assault with a deadly weapon. They’ll also be another charge for shooting the horse. Vicar, how do you plead? Are you guilty? If one of those air rifles matches up with the pellets removed from Claude Selwood and the horse, then it’s a custodial sentence.’

  ‘Okay, I did it. I knew the man’s routine, and his interference was annoying me.’

  Tremayne was surprised that it been so easy. It had been a hunch, and it had paid off. The vicar was led out of the rectory by two uniforms. He would be further interviewed at the police station.

  ‘He’s not the murderer,’ Tremayne said.

  ‘Rose and Crispin Goode are only going to cause complications.’

  ‘Complications lead to mistakes, mistakes lead to convictions.’

  ‘We better go and check out the house, see if they’re still friends.’

  ‘You’re looking for a happy ending. That’s not how it works,’ Tremayne said.

  Chapter 14

  The publican in Coombe was pleased to see Tremayne and Clare. ‘My first customers of the night,’ he said. Clare looked at her watch; it was after seven in the evening.

  ‘Business slow?’ Tremayne said.

  ‘About average. It got a little busier when Old Ted and Gordon’s wife died, local gossip, but after that, it’s quietened down. I saw you over the road with the vicar. Any news there?’

  ‘News or gossip?’

  ‘One and the same,’ the publican said. For a man going out of business, he still remained cheerful.

  ‘The vicar is helping us with our inquiries, that’s all.’

  ‘In the back of a police car, not likely. Is he the murderer?’

  ‘No. What do you know about him?’

  ‘He came here about nine or ten years ago. He’s popular in the village, not one of those fire-breathing, rot in hell types. He’d come in here, have a pint, as well as coaching the local football team, not that they’re any good. I reckon a one-legged man could outtackle half of them, but they’re keen, so’s the vicar. Is he coming back?’

  ‘Not tonight.’

  ‘Any night?’

  ‘You ask too many questions,’ Tremayne said. ‘What are you like on answers?’

  ‘It depends.’

  ‘Dr Fletcher, when he lived here, what sort of man was he?’

  ‘That’s before my time. They had gone before I got here.’

  ‘I would have thought us taking the vicar away would have brought the gossips in.’

  ‘Maybe later when
you’ve given me something.’

  ‘We’re not here to keep you informed. We’re here as police officers investigating a murder,’ Tremayne said. ‘What do you reckon? Who do you think could have killed two people?’

  ‘Anyone of the Selwoods.’

  ‘Marge Selwood said she wasn’t a good shot.’

  ‘Telescopic sights and it doesn’t matter, does it?’

  ‘Do you think she killed Old Ted and then her daughter-in-law?’

  Tremayne chose not to answer the publican’s question. There was a man of the cloth at Bemerton Road; he needed to be interviewed. He and Yarwood had one drink before heading back to the police station. Outside, a group of villagers were assembled. ‘You’ve no right to arrest the vicar,’ one of them said.

  ‘And you are?’

  ‘Molly Dempsey.’

  ‘And why shouldn’t we have arrested him?’

  ‘If he was taking shots at Claude Selwood, he had every right. Mr Selwood, he was a bad man, always interfering in this village, wanting to tell us how to live our lives.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘There’s a plan to build low-cost housing in the village. Mr Selwood, he was all for it, but none of us wanted it.’

  ‘This is the first we’ve heard of it.’

  ‘Why? His wife knew about it.’

  ‘And how do you know what we’ve arrested the vicar for?’

  ‘This is a small village. News travels.’

  And nosey people are everywhere, Clare thought. It was apparent that their conversation with the vicar had been overheard.

  ‘There are laws in this country. Are you suggesting we should ignore it and let the vicar go free?’

  ‘Yes. Reverend Walston was supporting us against the Selwoods.’

  ‘Are they all the same as the father?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Assembled before Tremayne and Yarwood, five women, one man, and all of them drawing their pensions. Clare realised that the people who stood between Tremayne and herself, although not in a menacing way, were the sort of people who would resist progress at any cost. In the past, the transition from horse-drawn to motorised, candlelight to electricity, the corner store to the supermarket, yet all had come, and the world had not stopped rotating on its axis.

  Tremayne and Clare sidestepped the people and left the village. ‘Funny bunch,’ Tremayne said as they drove away.