The Murder House

by Simon Beaufort

  Donna hesitated, then forged on. ‘This is probably totally useless, but I went to the same school as James – I was a couple of years below him, but I knew his friends. There was a couple he really liked: Gary Sheldick and Frances Moorfield. They probably haven’t seen each other for years, but they were good pals. They might be able to tell you what James was like.’

  ‘And you can’t?’

  ‘Not really. He was always too busy for us, so all I know is that he didn’t like peas and I saw him steal ten pounds from his mother’s purse when he was twelve.’

  ‘Any idea where I might find these friends?’

  She gave an elegant shrug. ‘I believe Gary used to live in Redland, and I think he works for an insurance company. But that’s all.’

  Oakley drove home and looked up ‘Gary Sheldick’ online. There were two listed in the Redland area. He dialled one, and hit gold the first time. He told Gary why he was calling, and arranged for him to visit the station early the following morning with Frances. He put down the phone and forced the case from his mind, determined to enjoy his evening with Catherine. Then he spent the whole night talking to her about it.

  Tuesday, 28 August

  Frances Moorfield and Gary Sheldick were apprehensive when they arrived, telling Oakley that they’d never been in a police station before, let alone made a statement. They were an earnest pair, conventional and decent. Frances wore a blue suit with a pearl brooch in one lapel. Her engagement ring was discreet, indicating that money hadn’t been wasted and was probably being put away for a deposit on a house. Gary wore grey trousers and had three pens of different colours neatly lined up in his shirt pocket.

  ‘This won’t take long.’ Oakley suspected ancient school friends wouldn’t have much to reveal, but was unwilling to leave a stone unturned. ‘I’m sure you’ve heard that James Paxton was found dead earlier this month. We’re interviewing friends and family to build up a picture of him.’

  ‘Well, I’m afraid we can’t help,’ said Gary apologetically. ‘We haven’t seen him for a couple years now. We used to meet fairly regularly, although I always sensed he’d be away to more illustrious acquaintances once he was on the road to success.’

  ‘You make him sound callous, Gary,’ objected Frances chidingly. ‘But he was just a social butterfly. We were his best friends at school, and he’ll come back to us in time.’ She realized what she’d said and flushed. ‘Or he would have, if …’

  Oakley thought she was being overly generous. The staid pair who sat holding hands under the table weren’t the sort of friends who’d have benefited Paxton, and he imagined the lawyer would have been less likely to deal with them, not more.

  ‘He went to Oxford after school,’ Frances went on. ‘But he had a year out in the middle of it and worked here in Bristol. I think that was when he decided to go into criminal law.’

  ‘No, he decided that at school,’ corrected Gary. ‘I remember him talking about it. I recommended contract or industrial law, because that’s where the money is, but he said there was money in criminal law if you were good.’

  ‘Do you remember him as dishonest in any way?’ asked Oakley. This was blunt, but neither seemed surprised by the question.

  ‘He cheated in school exams,’ said Gary reluctantly. ‘I often saw him looking at other people’s papers, reading what they’d written. But I shouldn’t be saying this. It can’t have any relevance to his death, and it’ll only upset his mother if she hears about it.’

  ‘And he stole purses on school holidays,’ added Frances. ‘He was arrested for shoplifting from Woolworths, too, but his mother got it sorted out, so you won’t find anything in the records. She said James couldn’t go into law if he had a criminal record. You can ask Colin Fairhurst about that – he and James were pretty tight at the time.’

  ‘Mrs Paxton said Colin was a bad influence on James.’ Gary gave a wry chuckle. ‘But it was the other way around. Colin’s a really nice bloke.’ He leaned across the table and wrote a number on one of Oakley’s statement sheets. ‘That’s Colin.’

  ‘And Helen Anderson,’ added Frances. ‘She works here so you probably know her. She was at school with James, too.’

  ‘She was?’ asked Oakley, startled.

  ‘Well, yes and no,’ corrected Gary pedantically. ‘She was in our year but she hung out with a completely different crowd. I bet she and James didn’t say more than three words to each other the whole time.’

  ‘But it was James who told her to come and meet us for a drink,’ said Frances. ‘About two and a half years ago. Maybe less. I can’t remember now.’

  ‘Colin will, though,’ said Gary with a meaningful smile.

  ‘I think I’ve met Colin,’ said Oakley, recalling that was the name of the man who’d been with Anderson the night he’d bumped into her at the harbour. It was indelibly etched in his mind, because he’d stunk of mortuary while trying to impress Catherine. Such a thing might have made a lesser woman think again, and he felt their relationship had taken a huge step forward that day.

  ‘He and Helen have been an item for a while now,’ said Frances. ‘It’s sweet. I’d no idea he liked her. Anyway, Colin will remember when she first started to join us.’

  ‘So Helen is part of a social circle that includes you two, Colin and James?’ asked Oakley, thinking he had better get his facts straight before he went to Anderson and demanded answers.

  ‘Not exactly,’ said Gary. ‘I think she stopped James for speeding and he asked her to join us for a drink – probably to get out of a ticket, although she gave him one anyway. But James was already going off us by then, so I doubt he and Helen met more than once or twice. But ask her.’

  ‘I hope we haven’t got her into trouble,’ said Frances nervously.

  ‘Is his father dead?’ asked Oakley, changing the subject. He had tried to broach the question with Maureen several days before but she had avoided answering, leaving him uncertain as to whether she was a widow or a divorcee.

  ‘Don’t you know?’ Frances was surprised. ‘I thought Mrs Paxton would’ve told you.’

  ‘Told me what?’

  ‘You’d better not tell her you got this from us,’ said Gary anxiously. ‘She won’t like it, and I don’t want her to make a scene at James’ funeral. Colin told us, about two years ago – maybe less – but he asked us to keep it to ourselves, so we have.’

  ‘What?’ said Oakley impatiently.

  ‘James’ father is in prison.’

  I’d celebrated too soon. I thought I was home and dry when the phone enquiry floundered, but I was just arriving for work when I saw Gary and Frances in the station. They were with Oakley.

  I did a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn and ducked into the briefing room, where a carrel provided a convenient screen. I risked a glance over the top, and saw Oakley shake hands in a friendly manner and open the door for them. What had they told him? That I’d known James? Had they, like Colin, guessed that I’d slept with him, and confided their suspicions? How long would it be before he put it all together? Or would he—

  ‘I understand you knew James Paxton.’

  Oakley’s voice right behind me made me jump a mile. I’d been so engrossed in my terrified musings that I hadn’t heard him coming. I could feel the blood draining out of my face, and my heart was thudding hard. Damn! I wasn’t going to have time to decide what to say, and hasty answers were likely to be dangerous. I took a deep breath to pull myself together – my life was on the line, and I had to be in control. I forced a smile, and hoped he couldn’t see my panic.

  He did notice, of course, because he was that sort of policeman.

  ‘You made me jump,’ I said in an effort to explain away my unease.

  ‘Why?’ he asked. ‘Do you have a guilty conscience? Did you kill Paxton because he got better A-levels than you?’

  My heart had given a painful lurch at his first comment, so when I saw he was being facetious, I was angry. ‘You shouldn’t sneak up on people,’ I sa
id sharply, then added, ‘sir,’ because berating inspectors was hardly wise.

  ‘I didn’t sneak,’ he objected. ‘I was walking quite normally. What are you doing here, anyway? Oh, I see – reading The Sun. No wonder you’re embarrassed. You claimed to be a Guardian reader, and you’ve been caught out.’

  I glanced down, and saw that someone had left a paper in the carrel. It was open on page three, so he probably imagined I was a closet lesbian, as well as a closet reader of The Sun. I closed it quickly and let him think he was right. It was better than the truth.

  ‘I’ve just spoken to a couple of Paxton’s school friends who said you were in the same year as him,’ he went on. I glanced at the door. Would he catch me if I made a run for it? Or should I stay and brazen it out? His manner was friendly enough, and he’d aimed at levity. Surely he wouldn’t do that if he was about to arrest me? I forced myself to calm down and sound suitably apologetic.

  ‘I was wondering if I should mention it, Guv, but I didn’t want to waste your time. I stopped him for speeding some years ago. I can’t remember when exactly. He invited me to a gathering of old Redlandians, probably as a way to get out of getting reported, although I gave him a ticket anyway. I still see Gary and Frances, but I haven’t seen James for ages.’

  ‘That’s what they said. And you should have mentioned it. To keep it quiet looks deliberately obstructive – the kind of thing Wright would have done.’

  That was an unpleasant thing to say; I wasn’t at all like Wright. I went on the defensive. ‘Actually, I tried several times, but you were always busy,’ I lied. ‘And I didn’t want to demand an interview, because there’s not much I can tell you, and I didn’t want you thinking I was trying to force myself in the limelight over someone I knew a decade ago.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought any such thing.’

  I forged on. ‘But James and I barely acknowledged each other at school, and I only saw him for a drink with three other people years ago. It’s hardly information to help you find his killer.’

  ‘No, but you could have told me about Paxton’s father,’ said Oakley. ‘It would have been helpful to know that he’s inside.’

  I gaped at him. ‘Inside? You mean in prison?’

  ‘You didn’t know?’

  I really hadn’t, and I could see from his face that he believed my shock was genuine. No wonder he thought I should’ve talked to him! That kind of information was certainly relevant.

  ‘Blimey,’ I breathed. ‘There was never a father around for James at school, so I assumed he was dead. He never said anything to the contrary.’

  ‘Your friends said Maureen Paxton started using her maiden name after her husband’s trial, and they can’t remember what he was called. They think that whatever happened was just before James came to your school, though.’

  ‘He came late,’ I recalled. ‘When he was fifteen. And he was always called Paxton.’

  ‘How do you fancy a morning on the computer, going through old trials with a view to finding a defendant with a wife called Maureen?’

  I shook my head, but tempered my words with a smile. ‘I’m on duty in Broadmead today, and I’d better stick to what I’ve been assigned to do. We all know what happens if I don’t.’

  He wasn’t pleased, but that was too bad. If I’d asserted myself earlier then Wright wouldn’t have blown up at me, and I probably wouldn’t have had to kill him.

  ‘All right,’ he said. ‘I’ll get Dave Merrick to do it. By the way, I’m going to ask your boyfriend to come in later. The other two thought he might be able to fill in some gaps.’

  Oakley did call Colin, and arranged for him to drop into New Bridewell the following day. It could have been worse – Oakley could have questioned Colin before I’d had a chance to talk to him myself. Colin could tell Oakley anything except the fact that I’d slept with James. The rest of it – school, reporting him for speeding, having drinks after – was taken care of. Gary and Frances didn’t know about my night of so-called passion – or if they did, they hadn’t mentioned it to Oakley – and I was sure I could persuade Colin to be discreet.

  On the phone, Oakley asked Colin whether he knew the name of James’ father. Colin did, and Oakley mentioned it to me just as I was leaving the station. He was in a good mood, and told me that Colin had helped him tremendously – that his information had explained a peculiar reaction on Maureen’s part when the mention of trials came up. I had no idea what he was talking about.

  Apparently, James’ father, William Pullen, was an architect who’d raised buildings with substandard materials, but had charged for the best stuff on the market. That had been in the Midlands, and when the trial was over James and his mother had fled to the West Country to begin a new life. Colin had been a good friend, I thought, to keep that secret for so long.

  Oakley was driving to Birmingham to interview Pullen in prison that evening. I asked how he thought it would help with the murder enquiry, and he told me that Pullen could not have perpetrated fraud on such an enormous scale without a large number of iffy contacts. It was Oakley’s belief that Pullen had been recommending his son to powerful criminals. I suspected he was right: it would explain why James had had so many high-profile clients clamouring for his services. He was young to have earned such a reputation, but it made sense if he had a powerful backer in the criminal fraternity.

  I wished Oakley luck and set off to meet Colin. It had been another baking day, and I felt an urge to be by the sea, to walk along cliffs fanned by a cool breeze. Colin was waiting outside the station so I drove him to Brean Down, a mile-long peninsula that stuck into the sea like a swollen finger. Colin and I strolled along the soft, mossy grass, keeping off the path to avoid other people. The sun shot golden rays across the shimmering sea, and the air was full of the scent of salt, mud and hot vegetation. I began to relax.

  Colin and I walked to the very end, and watched the sea surge and heave around the rocks below. We sat for a long time, as the gold of the sun faded across the water. Soon it was dark, and I knew we’d have a job getting back to the car, but it didn’t matter. We had all night, and we were both off work the next day. Stars began to twinkle, and I realized we were alone. I slipped under the fence that kept the foolish and reckless from going too close to the edge, and indicated Colin should follow.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he exclaimed, half-horrified, half-amused. ‘Come back. You’ll fall!’

  ‘I won’t. There’s a grassy area down here. Come on, don’t be a wimp! I used to play down here when I was six.’

  ‘Yes, but I’m rather larger than a child – there may not be room,’ grumbled Colin, climbing down with great caution. When he reached me I stripped off my shirt and pushed him down on the grass.

  ‘What? Here?’ He glanced around uneasily, as if hoards of people were watching.

  We fumbled with our clothes, and it was strange to feel the prickle of dry vegetation under my back and clinging to my hair. I felt reckless, wild, and I think he began to as well. Eventually, we lay back, slippery with sweat. I swatted at an insect that landed on me, then gazed up at the stars.

  ‘You’re going to see Inspector Oakley tomorrow,’ I said. By mutual consent, we hadn’t talked about work – his or mine – all evening.

  ‘He asked about James’ father, and I thought I’d better tell him, even though I promised James I never would. I don’t want to be arrested for non-cooperation.’

  I began to dress. ‘Unfortunately, we can’t arrest people for that. If we could, we’d have half the country locked up.’

  ‘You introduced me to Oakley, if you recall, and he seemed a canny sort of chap,’ said Colin, pulling on his trousers. ‘I don’t want him thinking I topped James because of you.’

  ‘Because of me?’ I asked in astonishment. ‘What do I have to do with it?’

  ‘He slept with you.’ He grinned at me in the darkness. ‘I know you said he wasn’t very good, but I didn’t think you’d have forgotten about it completely.�
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  ‘But it was years ago, and it didn’t mean a thing.’ I was beginning to have a bad feeling about the way this conversation was going.

  ‘Right,’ he agreed. ‘You know it meant nothing and I know it meant nothing, but did James? For all we know, he might have written in his diary that it was the greatest night in his life. That would make me Suspect Number One.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ I said impatiently. ‘And don’t tell Oakley rubbish, either. He’s really stumped by this case, and the last thing he needs is information to confuse him even more. There’s no point in telling him about me and James.’

  ‘But I’d never lie to the police,’ said Colin seriously. ‘I couldn’t. They’d know I was holding something back, and then I would be in trouble.’

  ‘Nonsense. All Oakley wants is a bit of background detail – not a list of who James slept with and who he didn’t.’

  I felt him stiffen. ‘Why don’t you want me to tell him about you and James?’

  ‘Why d’you think? Because I could lose my job.’

  ‘I hardly think they’d sack you for that! It’s not your fault James was murdered.’

  ‘No, but I didn’t tell them about it,’ I explained. ‘I couldn’t bring myself to – it’s not something I’m proud of.’

  ‘I can see why.’ Colin gave a short laugh. ‘You didn’t top him, did you? For being a bastard?’

  I was glad it was dark and he couldn’t see my face. ‘He wouldn’t have been worth the ensuing aggravation.’

  ‘I know about Noble,’ he said unexpectedly. ‘You arrested him. It was a big case, but James got him off.’

  I was puzzled. I hadn’t told Colin that I’d arrested Noble because by the time we’d started to go out I’d equated the whole incident with James stealing the file on the train – and poor Mark Butterworth’s subsequent death. ‘How did you know what I did?’

  He started to do a jig as he tried to put on his shoes without untying the laces. In another situation, I’d have found it endearing. Now I wished he’d keep still. ‘James told me. He lived near me, remember? We met occasionally at the supermarket and he mentioned it then – along with the fact that he’d slept with you. All because he’d regretted telling me about his dad.’