“It’s my parish church. I go every Sunday.”
“But you were there on Saturday,” Amos persisted. “Why on Saturday?”
“I live on my own,” Tomlinson replied evasively. “I just wanted a bit of company.”
“Enough to dress up for?” Swift said, with a sarcasm that was wasted on Tomlinson.
“I always shave and wear my suit and tie for church. It’s only respectful in the house of God. Saturday’s no different. I just don’t bother much at home because there’s no-one to dress up for.”
“Shall we get to the point, Mr Tomlinson?” Amos asked impatiently. “You went to the Stump because Simeon Knowles was taking part in the abseiling, didn’t you? So how did you know him?”
“I didn’t know him. I’d never met him before in my life.”
“But you walked up to him in the church,” Amos exclaimed. “Are you telling me you walked up to and spoke to a complete stranger just on a whim, like you seem to be making out you just went to the church on a whim? And lo and behold, the man plunges to his death ten minutes later. A bit of an unfortunate coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”
Tomlinson fell into a sullen silence.
“Let’s start again,” Amos said. “You did go to Boston Stump because of Simeon Knowles, didn’t you?”
Tomlinson nodded his assent.
“Who told you he was going to be there. It was Dr Austin, wasn’t it?”
“Not actually Dr Austin. Her receptionist phoned and told me about it. She said I should be there.”
“Did she say why?”
“No.”
“I think she did say why,” Swift interjected. “I think she made it very clear that it would be worth your while.”
Tomlinson went quiet again.
“Which brings us to why Dr Austin thought you would want to see Simeon Knowles plunge to his death,” Amos took up the questioning again. “Why?”
“Nobody said anything about him dying. Just that he was taking part in the abseiling and to be there. Well, I was curious what it was all about, that’s all.”
“Why were you curious, Mr Tomlinson? How did you know him?”
“Everyone in Fens farming knew him. He had dealings with a lot of farmers.”
“What sort of dealings?”
“Oh, you know, this and that.”
“No, I don’t know, Mr Tomlinson,” Amos said in exasperation. His uncustomary impatience was developing into anger. Tomlinson got the message.
“He used to help out with money. For buying machinery or to tide people over.”
“So for example,” Amos asked, “if the harvest was late he’s the man you would turn to for a loan until you sold your crop?”
“That’s right. He was well known for it.”
“And how much interest did he charge?”
“I don’t know,” Tomlinson said with a strong accent on the word “I”. “I never borrowed from him. I wasn’t a farmer,” he said firmly.
Amos looked at him in blank astonishment. There were some inquiries where everyone seemed only too eager to cooperate and those where people were deliberately evasive for no obvious reason. This case was rapidly developing into the latter category.
“Did you have any kind of business dealings with him?” Amos finally asked.
“No. I’d no reason to. I didn’t move in his league.”
“So you knew him personally, then?”
“Not really. I was a member of the Fens Golf Club donkey’s years ago when he was chairman. I have to admit he got things done. The place fell apart after he left to join a better club. I hear he went back again a year or two ago but I’d given up golf by then. My knee’s about shot.”
“So why on earth would Dr Austin think you would be interested in seeing Simeon Knowles abseil down Boston Stump? And more to the point, why on earth were you? You turned up after all.”
“I don’t get out much, only to church on a Sunday, and she probably thought it would do me good. And that’s why I went.”
Chapter 28
“ Do you think we could find Hollyoaks Farm again?” Amos asked Swift. “It won’t be much of a detour.”
“You want to talk to Mrs Mason again?” Swift asked in surprise. “I can’t think she’s got anything much to add.”
“No,” Amos replied. “I’m anxious to know what her husband thought of Saint Simeon. In my experience, a lot of Lincolnshire farmers don’t let their wives know everything about their finances, especially when they get into trouble. I just wonder what Steve Mason has to say.”
Swift drove as they cut across eastwards to the A16, turned north then spotted the right hand turn that led to the farm.
“Go past the house,” Amos instructed his sergeant. “With a bit of luck at this time of day we’ll catch Mason in the fields. I’d rather talk to him on his own.”
Sure enough, they spotted a man on a tractor in a field adjacent to the road. Swift was able to pull in through an open five-barred gate and park on firm grassy ground just inside the low hedge. They watched for the tractor, which had been moving away from them when they first spotted it but was sweeping round the field and was soon heading towards them.
Mason pulled up alongside the two detectives and switched off the noisy engine, which was emitting a fair amount of pollution from its rusty exhaust.
Amos produced his warrant card, saying “We’re police officers” as he did so.
“I thought you were,” Mason replied. “I recognised you from my wife’s description the other day.”
“I gather from your wife that you knew Simeon Knowles,” Amos said.
Mason nodded.
“And you had some financial dealings with him?”
The farmer nodded again.
“Do you mind if I ask you about it? When was this?”
“It was a few years back,” Mason replied. “It all seems a long time ago now. It was just the once.”
“You borrowed money from him, I gather. You were a bit strapped for cash at the time.”
“It was just a temporary setback. One bad year. The bank was being a bit difficult. You know the old saying that there’s only one way to persuade the bank to lend you money and that is to prove conclusively that you don’t need it.”
“A few thousand?” Amos surmised.
Mason shrugged his shoulders noncommittally.
“Is that a yes?”
“I can’t remember the details.”
“You can’t remember the details?” Amos exploded. “You get a lifesaving loan from a good Samaritan and you can’t remember the details?
“I tell you what, Mr Mason. Do you think you might remember the details in the comfort of your front room? Perhaps your wife could help you to remember.”
“There’s no need to involve Irene,” Mason said hastily. “She’s gets high blood pressure. I don’t want you worrying her.”
“As you didn’t with the details of the loan, I take it.”
Mason nodded sullenly.
“So how much did Simeon Knowles lend you?”
“Five thousand.”
“And he charged you interest?”
Another nod.
“More than the bank would have charged?”
“Quite a lot more as it turned out. It was all a bit informal and I didn’t quite realise how much he was charging at first. I was worried sick about the farm and was trying to keep the extent of the problem from Irene so I was a bit distracted. And because it was done privately I couldn’t set the loan off against tax.
“We just had to tighten our belts. It was more than a year and a bumper harvest before I could clear all the debt and I had to sell off some land even then but at least I got a good price for it. The Danes were just starting to buy up land in Lincolnshire. It provided us with some savings to invest in case we got into difficulties again. Irene doesn’t know one half of it. Please don’t tell her.”
“I’m sure that won’t be necessary, Mr Mason,” Amos assured him.
“Yet you went to the Stump on Saturday morning to support him,” Swift interposed suddenly.
She was really pushing her luck, Amos thought to himself. Mason was not on the list of people named as being on the photographs.
Mason stammered a denial. It was impossible to say if he was telling the truth or bluffing. For the time being, there was no choice but to assume he was telling the truth.
Chapter 29
Paul Amos and Juliet Swift cut back to the A16 and headed towards Stickney for their next port of call. The woman who answered the door, tall, dark, slim and in her fifties, was easily recognisable as the second woman on the photographs that the American tourist had taken in Boston Parish Church on Saturday morning before Simeon Knowles fell to his death.
She had entered the church at the same time as Eve German and her son.
Amos showed his warrant card, introduced himself and Swift, and requested a chat about events at the Stump. The woman hesitated, then invited them in, peering round to ensure that no nosey neighbours were watching.
“I believe you are Mrs Rebecca Dyson,” Amos said, after the three of them were settled into chairs in the front room. “I believe your husband died some years ago and that you live here alone.”
The inspector had cribbed the information from notes provided by CID at Boston, gleaned partly from the phone calls from members of the public responding to the TV appeal and partly from the electoral register, which showed her as the only voter registered at this address.
“I am,” the woman replied, “though I don’t see what the rest of it has to do with anything.”
Amos moved on without answering. Dyson was probably right, though it often helped to have as full a picture as possible of the person you were interviewing.
“Why did you go to Boston Stump on Saturday morning?”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“Mrs Dyson, you are surely aware that a man fell to his death from the top of the church tower that morning.”
“Am I a suspect?”
“Not at the moment, though you’re going the right way about becoming one,” Amos said in exasperation. “We’re talking to people who were there. Did you see anyone with Simeon Knowles – the man wearing a safety harness – in the church before he climbed the Stump?”
“I know who Simeon Knowles was,” Dyson replied tartly. “He was a passing acquaintance.”
“So did you see anyone with him? Anyone who could have tampered with his safety harness?”
“Quite a few people could,” Dyson said unhelpfully. “Dr Austin wasn’t watching him all the time. Quite a few people were milling about and some spoke to him but I’m not sure who. It was a bit chaotic.”
“You went to the Stump with Eve German and her son,” Swift interjected. “Why?”
Where on earth did that come from, Amos wondered, but he said nothing, for Dyson was clearly weighing up how to respond. Swift could have made the right guess. The two women and the boy had entered the church at the same time, thus causing temporary confusion over which woman the child was with. Only now from Swift’s question did it occur to Amos that the three might have arrived together, that the boy was in effect with both women.
The sudden change of tack disconcerted Dyson, as did the keen stare of both detectives directly at her. Having no telephone and no means of communication, Eve German had had no opportunity to warn Dyson what the police did and didn’t know. If Swift was right, the two officers had the advantage.
Finally she said: “Yes, I went with Eve and Stephen. It was company.”
“You went right up to Knowles, didn’t you? You were seen touching his harness,” Swift said, attempting to pursue her advantage but overreaching herself.
Dyson spluttered indignantly.
“I never touched him,” she said indignantly, “and neither did Eve.”
“But you went up to him,” Amos said, inferring that she had done so in the absence of a denial.
Dyson went silent.
“Mrs Dyson,” Amos said gently. “We quite understand your reluctance to say anything that might look bad for you or Miss German but I assure you that neither of you are suspects.”
“It sounded like we were,” the only partly mollified Dyson said sullenly.
“We have spoken to Miss German,” Amos went on reassuringly. “She has told us that she was the partner of Simeon Knowles’s son and that her boy is Knowles’s grandson. She admitted quite freely that she was at the Stump.”
Dyson looked at Amos suspiciously but she accepted his explanation.
“Look, I persuaded Eve to go and to take Stephen. She was a bit reluctant but I believed that I could persuade Simeon to acknowledge his grandchild if we confronted him together.”
“And did he?”
“No, but he didn’t really have a chance with all the commotion. I was all for talking to him after he had done his climb but Eve said it was useless and she should never have brought Stephen. They left and were across the river when Simeon fell. It was horrible. I felt so guilty at talking them into being there.”
“I suspect,” Amos said deliberately, “that Knowles made it clear he would not relent. That is why Miss German didn’t hang about.”
“You don’t understand. Simeon was a really sweet man, just a bit stubborn and set in his thinking. I could have talked him round if only I’d had the chance.”
Amos looked at her quizzically. “Were you and he having an affair?” he asked.
“We had been out together a few times, on and off. As a matter of fact we were very much back on and he had asked me to marry him. I said yes.”
“Off and on?” Amos asked. “And was it off at one point because of Dr Austin?”
Dyson blushed slightly and looked distinctly uncomfortable.
Finally she said: “Yes, Simeon and I did break up over Dr Austin but he came back to me.”
“How did you come to know about Eve German and Stephen?” Amos inquired.
“Dr Austin told me about them.”
Amos leaned forwards intently. “When?” he asked.
“A few days ago. She’s my GP. I happened to be in the surgery and she mentioned it.”
“And was it her idea for you to take mother and son to the Stump to confront Mr Knowles?”
“Well, yes … no … er, not exactly.”
“How do you mean?”
“She did mention how wonderful it would be if Simeon made it up with them. Good for all concerned. And she did mention the abseiling event at the Stump but she didn’t suggest I take Eve and Stephen there particularly.”
“No, she just planted the idea conveniently in your mind.”
“It wasn’t like that,” Dyson protested, but an element of doubt had crept into her voice.
“Let me guess,” Amos went on. “She told you where they lived and encouraged you to make contact right away.”
“Well, I suppose so, in a way.”
“You must have been surprised to see the dump they were living in.”
“Yes I was, but that only made me more determined to put things right, even when, as I said, Eve was reluctant. I’m sure I could have pulled it off.”
“Are you sure you weren’t blinded by love?” Swift asked. “We’re starting to discover that Simeon Knowles was not the saint some people thought he was.”
“No-one thought he was a saint,” Dyson said with a laugh. “I loved him, yes, but it wasn’t a mad, passionate, teenage love affair. He took me to nice places, places I couldn’t afford. New Year’s Eve at the golf club, charity balls, nice restaurants. He bought me expensive clothes.”
“In other words, he bought you,” Swift said disdai
nfully.
“No, no, he really cared about me,” Dyson protested, but Amos could see that his sergeant had struck home.
Swift was looking round at framed photographs of Dyson and Knowles and others of Dyson on her own.
“Did he choose what you wore out together?” Swift asked. “From what I can see, your taste in clothes suit you better than his.”
Dyson looked embarrassed but said nothing.
“How did Dr Austin feel about Mr Knowles returning to you?” Amos asked.
“I really didn’t discuss it with her,” Dyson said forcefully, as if anxious to take the conversation away from her own relationship with Knowles. “I think she was a bit peeved.”
“A bit peeved?” Swift asked with mock incredulity. “I should think she was pretty angry.”
Dyson fell back into silence. Amos felt that this was as far as they were going to get. He stood up, thanked the woman for her cooperation and led the way back to the front door.
Chapter 30
“That didn’t ring at all true with me,” Swift said as soon as they were back in the car. “Did she look like the grieving fiancée? I think it was all a façade to make it look as if she had every reason to want him alive and divert suspicion elsewhere, particularly towards Dr Austin.”
“I think you’re right,” Amos agreed. “Surely Knowles’s fiancée would have arrived at St Botolph’s with him rather than with the estranged mother of a grandson he refuses to acknowledge. No-one has suggested that they saw Knowles and Dyson in an affectionate greeting.
“Taking Eve German and her son along may have been just a cover for being there. There was certainly opportunity but we shall have to find a motive if she is indeed our killer.”
With plenty to think about, the two detectives set off for their next port of call.
Janet Sutcliffe lived further north, back towards Lincoln, several miles north west of Boston in flat open country not quite out of the fens.
“It’s a handy location for getting to Simeon Knowles’s home or to the golf club,” Swift remarked. “Perhaps she’ll turn out to be another fiancée.”
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