‘What did you do?’
‘Apologised the best I could and gave the twins a good talking to.’
‘Any point?’ Tremayne said.
‘In one ear, out the other, although after that they kept out of the park. The next day they’re on a bus to Salisbury, and I’m glad of it.’
‘Their mother?’
‘What could she say? She knew what they were. Mind you, Gavin, their brother, used to come out, and sometimes Marcia, Ethan’s daughter, drops in for a few minutes. Apart from that, I keep my distance.’
Tremayne realised that certain aspects of what the man was saying didn’t ring true. For one thing, why the gatehouse, and why now? And why hadn’t the man figured it out when the gold went missing.
Tremayne looked around the room, noticed no photos of a family. It reminded him of his home before Jean had returned into his life, although Mitchell’s was a lot tidier than his had ever been, and his attempts at gardening had been few and far between; more of the far if he thought about it.
‘When you first heard about Martin’s death, what did you think?’
‘I didn’t hear for a day. I’m not one for watching the television, and I wasn’t in contact with my relatives. The day after, I’m in the pub, and someone mentions about Martin.’
‘Who was it?’
‘The estate manager, a gruff Welshman. Everyone called him Taff. He’d seen it on the news, thought I’d be interested.’
‘The same man who returned the twins?’
‘The same one. He’s dead now, so you can’t go questioning him. His wife’s still around, not that she’d be able to help you much.’
‘What did he say?’
‘Nothing much, just some snide comment about how he had known that the two of them would come to no good, not that he can talk.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘His son ended up in jail a few years later, dealing in drugs. The shame of it killed the man.’
‘Did you go into Salisbury to offer your condolences to Martin’s family?’
‘I did my duty.’
‘Which means you had to agree with the estate manager.’
‘And why not? I could see, even when they were young, that they were destined for a life of crime. Neither of them was too bright, and both thought the world owed them a living, not the other way around. I’ve always worked hard, never asked for charity, and there they are, the family asking me to help with paying for the funeral.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I told them what I thought of them, and then I stuck my hand in my pocket, gave them what I could afford.’
‘Why?’
‘Guilt, I suppose. I could see them getting into trouble, and I was the one who put them on that bus. If they had kept coming out here, who knows? My influence may have helped, maybe it wouldn’t.’
‘You’ve not explained why you didn’t figure out the gatehouse as the hiding place for the gold all those years before.’
‘No reason to. I’ve not got a criminal mind, and I don’t go looking for hiding places. Hindsight is a wonderful thing, but don’t go trying to pin anything on me. Martin got what he deserved, so did Ethan.’
‘You’re a hard man,’ Clare said.
‘I was brought up to believe that a man is what he makes of himself. Ethan and Martin certainly did that, and from what I hear, so has Ethan’s son. Marcia, now there’s a bright young woman, out there working hard, and Gavin, Ethan’s brother, he’s more like me. Not too sociable, not making much money, but he’s honest.’
‘Ethan’s and Martin’s wives?’
‘Betty, Ethan’s wife, a good person, tried her best, but with Ethan and then her son, she’s had more than a few crosses to bear. Julie, Martin’s widow, she always saw herself as better than the rest. She married that Eric Wilson, and good luck to her.’
‘Why do you say that?’ Clare said.
‘I know him. Before I retired, I was a roofer. I did a few jobs for the man, always had problems with him when it came to payment.’
‘Apart from that?’
‘He’s just tough, that’s all. I’m a pay on the spot type of person, and I don’t like owing, but Wilson, he thrived on credit. Successful though.’
‘Honest?’
‘No doubt he cheats on his taxes, claims his wife’s car as a business expense when all she does is swan around the place with her rich friends.’
‘Betty never had much money.’
‘She married a decent man after Ethan, but he’s a dreamer. Works hard, no doubt, and he tried. If it had been me, Gerry would have felt the belt from me, may have done him some good, but from what I heard, Betty and what’s-his-name didn’t believe in corporal punishment.’
‘It’s archaic,’ Clare said.
‘Maybe it is, but it’s what made this country. That and compulsory military training.’
‘Conscription?’
‘Why not? I did my bit for Queen and country.’
Tremayne and Clare could see that the conversation had drifted away from the present and had entered the realm of nostalgia. It was time to leave; there was still plenty to do that day.
Chapter 10
Eric Wilson could not admit to liking all of the Mitchell family, even though he had married one of them, his wife, Julie. It was his wife’s house, as well as his, and if she wanted her family to be there, so be it. He only hoped they’d not scratch the marble floor in the hallway or stub their cigarettes out on the carpet.
Wilson looked around the room. There was Julie, putting the best china on display. She had arranged for a caterer to prepare food, and Wilson could see Gavin, the only remaining brother, helping himself. He had little time for the man, having found him to be singularly lacking in ambition, and then there was Betty, Julie’s sister. A pleasant looking woman, he had to agree, although her life had taken its toll. Not for her the benefit of holidays overseas or health farms every few months. He knew how much they cost, but Julie made an effort to look her best. He knew about her first husband, even before they had become serious. There had been occasional words between husband and wife in the early years of their marriage when she had become sad on Martin’s birthday, or the anniversary of the first wedding.
He had told her enough times that the past was the past, and it was no use feeling upset over a man who had been a waster, but she had been firm in that he had been a good man when they had first met.
In time, her looking back to the past had lessened, but seeing the entire Mitchell family in that one room, he knew they would start reflecting on what had happened, and why Ethan was in that church, and who amongst them had killed him. He knew his wife would not be in a good mood that night and for a few nights after. Wilson left them to it and went to his office on the other side of the house. He settled down, switched on the laptop, and randomly surfed the internet.
‘They found the missing gold,’ Gavin Mitchell said. He was not pleased to be away from his shop and the small flat above. No amount of flaunting of money with the fancy furniture and the silver tray, and the designer clothes that Julie was wearing, was going to distract him. He knew why the family was assembled. Not to discuss Ethan’s funeral, and certainly not to go over a life well spent, and what a tragedy it was that he had been taken from them at such a young age.
We’re here to reflect on Ethan,’ Betty said. Gavin could see that she had not bought Bob Galton, her current husband with her. Wet fish that he is, he thought.
‘Ethan’s dead, killed by one of us.’
‘One of the men,’ Betty said.
‘Not according to the police. It could have been a woman,’ Gavin said.
‘He was my father, and I loved him, faults and all,’ Marcia said.
‘But you didn’t want him in our lives again, did you?’ Julie said.
‘I’m not sure what I feel. He had been in prison for so many years, it was hard to know what I would have done. And now we’ve got Gerry heading down the same roa
d.’
‘At least he hasn’t got a brother he could kill, and not enough ambition to hijack a security van,’ Gavin said.
‘As long as he’s alive, that’s all I care about,’ Betty said.
‘He tried to rob a jeweller’s, didn’t even notice the security cameras, the alarms. Not very smart, if you ask me.’
‘We’re not asking you, Gavin. Please keep your offensive comments to yourself. She can’t be expected to desert Gerry just because he’s wild. Maybe with time he’ll settle down,’ Julie said.
‘He won’t,’ Betty said.
‘Then what are we here for?’ Gavin said.
‘To ensure that when the police come knocking on our doors, we’re prepared.’
‘Prepared for what? I’ve done nothing wrong.’
‘Do you think they’ll believe you when they find some of the bars missing?’
‘Are they?’ Gavin said. The woman’s statement had caused everyone in the room to sit upright and to take notice.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Three of the bars are not there.’ Betty Galton, the wife of Bob, widow of Ethan, mother of Gerry and Marcia, stood and moved over to near the window. She aimlessly looked out at the garden, not sure what to say, or how.
‘Mother, what is it?’ Marcia said.
Even Sandra, Ethan’s and Martin’s sister, attempted to lift herself out of her wheelchair. ‘Are you guilty of a crime?’
‘I knew where the gold was. I even took some.’
‘But you live so poorly. Why?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe I wanted security for the future, but once I had the bars, I didn’t know what to do with them.’
‘Where are they now?’ Gavin asked. All those years he had struggled, and there was this silly woman with close to a million pounds, and if melted down, it was untraceable.
‘I’ve hidden them well. If I’ve committed a crime, then I will pay for it, but Gerry needs a competent defence lawyer, and our family, barring Julie, need help.’
‘Are you willing to tell us where it is?’ Gavin said, almost salivating at the thought of it. He knew why he had been honest all his life: not out of an idealistic notion of right over wrong, not because he believed in the law as opposed to crime, but because he had always feared being caught. He remembered back to a childhood indiscretion when he had stolen some chocolate from a shop, only to be apprehended and locked in a back room until a local constable had come along and given him a kick up the backside, and told him to get along, and not to err again.
‘I want no part of this,’ Julie said.
‘That’s because you don’t need it,’ Betty said. ‘I only want it for Gerry.’
‘You can’t protect him, mother,’ Marcia said. ‘He committed the crime. He needs to be punished.’
‘I know, but he will only learn from hardened criminals in prison. He will only make the mistakes that his father and uncle did.’
‘I cannot be a part of this,’ Sandra said.
‘You need to tell the police,’ Marcia said.
‘I will give you forty-eight hours to decide,’ Betty said. ‘After that, I will throw myself on the mercy of the law, and tell them where the three bars are.’
‘There’ll not be much mercy,’ Gavin said. ‘And how long have you had this gold?’
‘For sixteen years. I went out there, it was dusk, and I was frightened, but I persisted.’
‘And you found it and climbed down into that hole?’
‘I did. It was awful, and I couldn’t use a light. I took what I could and left. I’ve never been back.’
‘Why did you tell the police about where the gold was?’
‘I felt guilty for Ethan’s death. It was all because of the gold, and now he’s dead. He wasn’t a bad man, just unlucky, the same as Martin.’
From behind a door to the rear of the room, Eric Wilson listened. He was intrigued, and he was determined to use what he had heard to his advantage. It was true that he had worked hard to earn what he had, but there had been shortcuts, the occasional bribe, the occasional theft of building materials from another construction site in the early days. He knew what the gold could do for him. He also knew where he could dispose of it.
***
Selwyn Cosford was ebullient. Tremayne did not like it. It was him and Cosford at the man’s stately home. ‘It’s a rare bit of luck,’ Cosford said as he handed Tremayne a glass of brandy. ‘It’s the very best.’
‘I’m still at work,’ Tremayne said as he savoured the drink. He had to admit it was smooth, and if it wasn’t for the circumstances, and why he was there at the behest of Cosford, and without Clare, he would have drunk more.
‘It’s the gold. It belongs to me, all of it.’
‘I thought the insurance company paid you out,’ Tremayne said. ‘And why did you ask only me to come?’
The two men were sitting down in a couple of leather chairs. He had to admit the house was magnificent and Cosford certainly had good taste, but something didn’t ring true, and it was niggling him. So much so, that he put down his brandy and focussed on the man opposite.
‘They paid me out, sure enough, all twenty bars worth. Do you know how much it’s gone up in value since then?’
‘You’re about to tell me.’
‘Nearly five hundred per cent. It’s better than money in the bank.’
‘It will be evidence for a while, and doesn’t it belong to the insurance company?’
‘Not if I pay back what they gave me plus interest. I’ll still be ahead by four hundred per cent.’
‘That doesn’t sound right to me,’ Tremayne said. ‘I thought that after they paid you out, whatever was stolen belongs to them.’
‘The insurance company confuses everyone with long-winded policies full of verbiage. No one ever reads the fine print.’
‘Which means you do.’
‘Damn right, I do. I might have to take them to court, incur some costs, but ultimately, I’m going to make a bundle out of this.’
‘Why didn’t you want Yarwood here?’
‘Tremayne, you’ve played fair by me. I want to play fair by you.’
‘Are you about to offer me one of the gold bars?’
‘Nothing as crass as that. Life must be tough for you. I wanted to know if there was anything I could do for you.’
‘Are you trying to bribe me?’
‘Not at all. You must have some worries.’
‘Apart from knees that creak, and a body that fails to defy age, I’ve nothing to worry about.’
‘But your house, your retirement?’
‘I suggest we stop here,’ Tremayne said, ‘before you incriminate yourself and I’m forced to act.’
‘I’m a man who looks after those who help him, that’s all.’
‘And I’m a policeman who does his job. I can envy you your success, even this house, but quite frankly, I don’t want them. I want whoever killed Ethan Mitchell, nothing more.’
‘You’re retiring at some time. Some casual work would come in handy.’
‘Selwyn, seeing that we’ve known each other for some years, I’ll forget this conversation. I suggest you do as well.’
As Tremayne drove away from the house, he glanced in his rear-view mirror. ‘All that money and he wants to bribe me,’ he said out loud to himself.
***
Gavin Mitchell was a confused man. He had first opened the door to his electrical repair shop fifteen years previously, after being made redundant from the local council maintenance department. At the time, the idea of a small shop fixing electrical goods had seemed ideal for him, a man who liked to tinker. He remembered the hiding he had received after he had attempted to fix the timekeeping of the clock that sat on the mantelpiece in the main room at home when he was young – it ran slow.
In the end, after Gavin’s backside had been tanned, the clock was put back where it had come from. ‘It’ll always remind us of Gavin,’ his father had joked. The rest of the family
thought it was hilarious, Gavin did not, as it was only correct twice a day, and the hands of the clock never moved again.
But now, as he surveyed his domain, Gavin, the eldest of the Mitchell brothers, realised that the business was dead. It had been three months since he had turned a profit, and that had only been marginal. He knew he was going slowly broke, and it was beyond his control. He had looked for an alternative career, but opportunities for a middle-aged man who was good at fixing things were not promising. It was the age of computers and programming, and he couldn’t understand either. Sure, he could send emails, had even mastered Word and Excel, but apart from that, the complexities of the machine left him baffled.
There was unemployment, but he had never taken the dole, or he could go overseas, try his luck on an oil rig. Even if that were possible, he didn’t want to go, but these were desperate times, and now, to add confusion, there was a solution. Betty Galton, his former sister-in-law, had in her possession a million pounds in gold. He opened his laptop and switched it on. How does one melt gold? How does one dispose of it? he thought.
He entered the search terms, fingering one key at a time, and pressed enter. If a criminal act was committed during the planning stage, then he was guilty as charged. And for once, he did not care. He hummed a tune to himself. It had been some time since he had been contented. For that night, he would forget what would be required and envisage what his life could be like with money in his pocket. Maybe a small place in the country, a dog, possibly a woman. How long had it been since he had enjoyed the closeness of another’s skin?
He picked up his phone and made a call. It was a special treat for himself and for once the budget was going to be blown. He knew she’d look after him, the way she looked after so many others.
Chapter 11
Clare woke early the next day; her phone was ringing. She leant over and picked it up. ‘Yarwood, I’m at the hospital,’ Tremayne said.
She could tell by his voice that something was amiss. ‘I’ll be there in fifteen.’
The DI Tremayne Thriller Box Set Page 100