‘As long as he doesn’t sneak in a couple of girls,’ Gordon joked.
‘Like father, like son.’
‘Not me, I only had eyes for you.’
Clare could see a romance developing, or maybe it was just the alcohol, but it was more than two people sharing a son. Clare could see the ruffled hair of Rose, the unbuttoned shirt of Gordon. She knew they had made love in that house. She smiled at the thought of it. Rose, who had not had a man for a long time, had solved that problem. She, the police sergeant, who had remained chaste for too many years, had not. She envied Rose her good fortune, although not her choice of man.
‘You’ve heard about Molly Dempsey?’ Tremayne said. Clare realised he had not seen the tell-tale signs of two lovers.
‘Tragic,’ Rose said. ‘She said some wicked things about us in the past, but it’s still sad. Do you know who did it?’
‘Not yet. The woman was a busybody, everyone agrees on that, but she was regarded as harmless. She was against your plans for Coombe Farm,’ Tremayne said directing his comments at Gordon.
‘So’s my mother, but the application procedure is straightforward. Our paperwork will be meticulous.’
‘Your mother could delay it.’
‘It’s unfortunate, but that’s how it is. I’d like to make friends, but it’s not going to happen as long as I control the farm.’
‘How is the farm?’
‘It’s not going as well as it should be. I’ve advertised for a farm manager, but no takers yet.’
‘William?’
‘It’s his if he wants it, but with our mother, it’s uncertain.’
‘A standard question. Where were you between the hours of 1 p.m. and 2 p.m. today,’ Clare asked.
‘I was at home preparing food for Crispin and his friends.’
‘I was outside working on the car.’
‘I thought it was new,’ Tremayne said.
‘I’ve bought another, a vintage Aston Martin. I intend to fix it up. Crispin’s going to help me with it.’
‘Show me,’ Tremayne said.
‘Okay, bring your glass with you.’
Chapter 25
‘Rose, what’s the truth? Are you back with Gordon?’ Clare asked once the two men had left the house.
‘You know?’
‘I’m a woman. Of course, I know. You and Gordon are lovers.’
‘It’s easy with him. It’s not love if that’s what you’re thinking. He still misses Cathy, still loves her, and I needed a man.’
‘Your involvement with Gordon throws you into conflict with his mother.’
‘I know. I don’t know how it’s going to resolve itself, do you?’
‘It will, once we arrest the murderer or murderers.’
‘More than one?’
‘It’s possible. Molly Dempsey wasn’t shot, her head had been held under water. Do you know she had been with Marge?’
‘I told you she was heading in the direction of Molly Dempsey’s cottage.’
‘She was going to work with Gordon’s mother on opposing the rezoning and development of Coombe Farm.’
‘I’m against it as well. I’ve told Gordon that I don’t approve.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘Before I came back here, I couldn’t care either way, but now I don’t want it to change. I want Gordon to make this farm work.’
‘Can he?’
‘He can’t, but others can.’
‘Such as?’
‘His brothers, Marge, even me with time.’
‘And what will Gordon do?’
‘He’s torn between being dynamic and forward-thinking, and pulling out of the deal with Dowling.’
‘Can he?’
‘He needs legal advice. Dowling’s incurred costs. He’ll want them covered, and Gordon doesn’t have that sort of money.’
‘He’s just bought a vintage car.’
‘It’ll cost more than the value of the car. He could always borrow from the bank, but the last few years, the weather’s been against Coombe Farm.’
‘Are you taking an active involvement in the farm now?’
‘If Gordon asks my advice, I’m willing to give it. The car’s pure folly, but that’s the man. He means well, but he doesn’t have the discipline for this farm. Marge would have done a better job, Cathy as well.’
***
At the garage, not more than thirty yards from the stables, Tremayne looked over the Aston Martin. All he could see was something old and probably unreliable.
‘It’s worth a fortune once it’s fixed up. I’ve offered Crispin half the profit if he helps.’
‘Does he know much about cars?’
‘Nothing at all. I’m a competent mechanic, and besides, with cars of this vintage, it’s not for the amateur. We’ll need to bring in professionals to fix it up.’
‘Expensive?’
‘So is life. This is what I enjoy, not farming. I remember the early starts as a child, tramping across frozen fields to feed the cattle, and my father there, excited, oblivious to the discomfort. The man loved farming, the same as William, but Nicholas and I, we’re not so keen.’
‘What’s it with you and Rose?’ Tremayne asked.’
‘We’re just friends. I’m not sure I want anyone after Cathy.’ The man stood to one side, tears welling up in his eyes. He took stock of himself and stood up straight. ‘Sorry about that. Cathy was special, Rose is a good friend.’
‘Will she spend the night?’
‘Probably.’
‘What did you reckon of Molly Dempsey and your mother?’
‘My mother phoned me to tell me that she was going to lodge a formal objection to the development of the farm.’
‘What did you say?’
‘I didn’t get much of a chance. She just gave me the facts and hung up.’
‘Are you prepared for her?’
‘Dowling will be.’
‘I hope you're careful with him.’
‘I know of his reputation, and Rose, she thinks that Cathy was right in objecting to it.’
‘A bit late now?’
‘Not too late, although Dowling won’t like it if I pull out.’
‘He’ll get his brother, Chris, on to you. Have you met him?’
‘What do you reckon to him?’
‘He’s smarter than Len, tougher too.’
Tremayne walked away from the car, opened a packet of cigarettes and took one for himself. ‘How about you?’ he said, offering a cigarette to Gordon.
‘Sorry, Cathy, I know they’re not good for me.’ Selwood looked skywards as he took one of the cigarettes.
The two men stood outside looking at the front garden of the house, the lights of the village down below. ‘Cathy loved this place,’ Selwood said.
‘And you?’
‘As a young man, I couldn’t wait to get away, but now, I’m happy to stay. It’s just this damn farm that concerns me. As much as I want to be enthusiastic, I can’t.’
‘Your mother telling the neighbourhood about Cathy?’
‘I told Cathy to ignore it.’
‘Was she upset by it?’
‘Not that she’d show it, but yes. A tough woman, but she still had a soft side. Why else would she have chosen me, a lame dog.’
‘You’re not lame.’
‘Immature then. Here I am, with a farm and a beautiful house and responsibilities, and I’d rather spend hours in a garage fixing up an old car. That’s for adolescent teenagers.’
‘It’s a big job looking after this place. I wouldn’t want to do it,’ Tremayne said.
‘You’re right. You’re a policeman, that’s what you want to be. I want to spend time buying and selling luxury motor cars, vintage mainly. I could run the business here, fix up one of the barns as a place to keep them. Other men are doing it, making plenty of money. Enjoying themselves, doing what they’re best at.’
‘How do you resolve this place? William is hardly likely to come back here as a
farm manager, a man on a salary.’
‘He’ll come, so will Nicholas in time. They’re Selwoods, they’ll do their duty. My mother always wants to portray me as the black sheep of the family, but I’m not. That’s how families like mine gloss over those who don’t fit in.’
‘Why such emphasis on your family history?’
‘The class structure, it was much stronger in the past. Some of the old men in the village, when I was a child, would doff their cap to my mother. Nowadays, the younger generation won’t do it, although my mother would like them to.’
‘What do you know about your mother?’ Tremayne asked.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Why does she like the doffing of the cap?’
‘Her father was an army officer, so I suppose she was used to men saluting him.’
‘That was military regulations. In Coombe, it’s a subtle line between who is superior to the other.’
‘Our mother loved the family history, the pure bloodline. She’d do anything to preserve it, even…’
‘Kill? Is that what you were about to say?’
‘I’m not accusing my mother of murder. Have you seen the family tree?’ Selwood said.
‘No. A few rogues and villains in there?’
‘A few, and not all were black sheep. One was a bishop, kept a mistress in Salisbury. That’s a few hundred years back. Another, when fighting the French, had his troops burn down a church where the villagers had protected some enemy soldiers. A war crime if it happened today.’
‘Back then it would not have been.’
‘Bad form killing civilians, but the man was one of the most illustrious in the Selwood dynasty. It was he who started buying up some of the smaller farms around Coombe. Coombe Farm was a lot smaller then. At one stage, the family virtually owned the village.’
‘And now?’
‘It’s been progressively sold off over the years. Apart from the development in Coombe, the Selwoods own nothing else.’
‘What are you going to do about your mother? Does she stand a chance with Salisbury City Council?’
‘She can slow it down.’
‘And if she does, you’ll be taking on additional cost.’
‘I know. Len Dowling says it’s costed in.’
‘Do you trust him?’ Tremayne said.
‘Do you?’
‘I wouldn’t let him sell a garden shed for me.’
‘That bad?’
‘Selwood, you’ll lose this farm and this house if you let Dowling and his brother control you. It’s not my job as a police officer to tell you this.’
‘Why are you?’
‘Out of respect for Cathy. My sergeant, she’s a soft touch. She liked the woman.’
‘You’re a soft touch, as well,’ Selwood said.
‘I’d appreciate it if you’d keep that to yourself. And Rose, she’s a good person, as is your son.’
‘And me?’
‘I’ll reserve judgement on you.’
‘I would never have harmed Cathy.’
‘How about Molly Dempsey? She was causing trouble.’
‘What trouble? She had no real clout.’
‘Your mother was going to work with her, to give her the assistance she needed.’
‘Then why didn’t they kill her.’
‘They?’
‘He, she, I don’t know who. My mother is a force to be reckoned with, not Molly Dempsey, not Old Ted.’
‘Why kill Old Ted? Did he know something about your inheritance?’
‘It’s not open to dispute. My father gave it all to me.’
‘He gave it to his son. Are you, Gordon Selwood, the legitimate son of Claude Selwood?’
Tremayne noticed Selwood take two steps back. The man did not speak for at least two minutes as he walked around the car he had just bought.
‘My mother is desperate,’ Selwood said once he could no longer avoid answering the question.
‘Is this how your family acts?’
‘Too often, I’m afraid.’
‘How far would you go to maintain control?’
‘Are you suggesting murder?’
‘I’m not suggesting. I’m putting forward the hypothesis.’
‘You’re wide of the mark. It’s my mother who is the bane of my life, not anyone else.’
‘Could your mother have killed Cathy?’
‘Yes.’
‘Could you have killed Old Ted, even Molly Dempsey, to protect your lifestyle?’
‘Yes, but I didn’t. I’m innocent of all charges, apart from falling in love with a decent and now-dead woman.’
‘Thank you for your honesty. Will your mother be able to prove your illegitimacy?’
‘I don’t know. I wasn’t there, was I? Does my mother have a past that makes this possible?’
‘Unfortunately, she does. I’ll need to ask you for a sample of your DNA for analysis.’
‘Do you have a court order?’
‘No, but I could get one.’
‘Don’t bother. I’ll comply. When do you want to conduct the test?’
‘I have everything in the car.’
‘You’re a bastard, you know that, Tremayne.’
‘I’m a police officer doing my duty. If you’re the legitimate son, then you’re a target, and then, it will be Crispin.’
‘And if I’m not?’
‘Then you will no longer have any influence. Your importance will be significantly reduced.’
‘And the deal with Dowling will no longer be valid?’
‘You should have checked what you were signing. Whatever happens, you, Gordon Selwood, have single-handedly placed the Selwood family in serious trouble. I only hope your mother can get you out of it.’
‘If she’s free.’
‘She’s still our prime suspect.’
***
After Tremayne’s interrogation of Gordon Selwood, the two police officers left Coombe Farm, complete with a swab of Selwood’s saliva. There were questions from Rose as to what was going on, questions which Gordon Selwood could answer.
Clare could see from the faces of the two remaining in the house that there would be very little romance that night.
‘How did he take it, your accusation?’ Clare asked once they had left the house.
‘In some ways, he seemed relieved. He’s not cut out to run Coombe Farm, he knows that. He’s probably the only true innocent in this whole sorry saga. A child in a man’s world, that’s how I’d describe him, how he’d describe himself. If he’s got his expensive toys, he doesn’t want for much more.’
‘And Rose?’
‘What did you reckon? From a woman’s perspective, that is.’
‘They’re lovers.’
‘Is it love?’
‘Not from Rose. She’s matured, Gordon hasn’t. She doesn’t come with Cathy’s baggage, and she’s got a comfortable existence in the village. She may move in with Gordon at some stage, or she may not.’
‘The mother,’ Tremayne said.
‘It’s late to go knocking on doors.’
‘She’s the one who wants to know if Gordon is her son. We’ll do it for her legitimately, not through a third-rate laboratory overseas. Whatever the outcome, the Selwood family will have to deal with the facts.’
Marge Selwood did not appreciate being woken. The pieces were fallen together, Tremayne knew it, and nobody, not even the formidable Marge Selwood, was going to stop him.
Thirty-five minutes later, a sample of the woman’s DNA was in Tremayne’s possession. In Salisbury, Forensics had a record of Claude Selwood’s DNA on file.
It was three in the morning before Clare made it home, and Tremayne wanted her in the office by seven. Her cat was occupying her side of the pillow as she pushed it gently to one side.
Chapter 26
Fiona Dowling was not pleased. Molly Dempsey, a known opponent of her husband’s property developments, had been murdered. Not that the woman’s death concerned her, only th
e impact it would have on her becoming the next mayor of Salisbury. Guilt by association as she saw it.
Her husband disappointed her. He had let one old woman jeopardise his business plans, and for what? There had been no substance in the Dempsey woman’s arguments, and she had been largely ignored in her community and at the Salisbury City Council meetings, but now, she had been murdered.
Fiona Dowling knew what it would mean. The dead woman would become a martyr for the cause of restraint, for leaving sleepy villages such as Coombe as they were. There’d be an investigation into who could have killed her, who had a reason to want her to be dead, who would have been delighted.
Fiona knew the answer to the last two: her husband, Len. But he was a weak man. That was why she had picked him as her mate when they had been in their teens. He had been the most likely candidate to mould to her satisfaction. The man, never as intelligent as her, had the drive, the ability to charm, to convince, and above all, the ability to follow her directives.
She had warned him about impinging on her run to become mayor, and what had he said. ‘Don’t worry. Coombe will cause us no trouble. I’ve got Gordon Selwood under control, and, as for that interfering old woman, she’s just the laughing stock of the village.’
And now that laughing stock was dead, and people would realise she was only interested in her community, and those who had persecuted her with their unreasonable greed were responsible for her death, even if they had not thrust her head into the fish pond.
Fiona drove down to her husband’s office in town. She parked in Guildhall Square as she always did, and walked across to her husband’s office. Inside, the receptionist. ‘Mrs Dowling, how are you?’
‘Don’t give me any of your sweet words. I want that bastard who’s going to destroy us.’
The receptionist said no more. She had not seen the woman in such a mood before. Len Dowling came out from his office. ‘Fiona, come in.’
Inside Len’s office, his wife took a seat. ‘Are you still screwing that bitch outside?’
‘Please, Fiona, you know I’m not.’
‘What do I care? You’ve really done it this time.’
‘What?’
‘The old woman out at Coombe. The one they found dead.’
The DI Tremayne Thriller Box Set Page 90