A Thrust to the Vitals

by Evans, Geraldine

  ‘I had instructed reception to simply text their messages to my mobile. Continually ringing phones can be so annoying, don’t you find? And, of course, I took the trouble to get chatty with the hotel staff before Sir Rufus’s big night so I could discover who were the laziest amongst the security staff. Easily enough accomplished. I soon learned that both Arthur and Watling were well-known for their idleness and inattention to duty, so I specifically asked for them to do door duty that night.’

  ‘But why should you want inattentive security guards for the door? You deliberately set Mickey up and must surely—’

  ‘True, but I felt it would look a little too set-up if his name was immediately known. Besides, I thought a mystery man would add a certain piquancy to your investigation.’

  ‘You could have added another suspect to the mix. Why didn’t you draw our attention to the fact that Nigel Blythe had turned up at your boss’s Norfolk home? You must have recognised him when he arrived at the reception as he sat in your office for an hour before Seward sent him off with a flea in his ear, but I had to find out his presence there for myself when I viewed your security tape.’

  ‘Let’s just say Mr Blythe wasn’t convenient for my plans. I already had one patsy, I didn’t need another to confuse the issue. It was a mistake, I see that now. I suppose that’s what first made you suspect me.’

  ‘You were always a suspect, Mr Canthorpe, so let’s just say your failure to mention the interesting Mr Blythe made you even more interesting to cynical policemen than he was, especially when it was you who found your boss’s body. It was the second time you came to my attention during the investigation. And when I began to think more clearly about who had the best opportunity to send my brother an invitation, the best opportunity, too, to learn all about the history between him and Seward and who was physically present the night he was murdered, you stood out from the crowd.

  ‘Your failure to reveal you recognised Mr Blythe was curious enough on its own. You now say you didn’t need a second patsy in Mr Blythe, so why did you try to point the finger at Ivor Bignall?’

  ‘I didn’t feel I had any choice about that. I assumed I hadn’t been the only one to notice that Ivor Bignall was decidedly cool towards my boss that night. Better, I thought, to mention it than not. I didn’t feel I had a choice, as I said. But Mr Blythe was, I thought, my little secret. The only other person who knew of his presence at the Norfolk estate that day was Sir Rufus. And I knew he wouldn’t be saying anything to the police. Why draw your eye from the ball I’d put so neatly in place? Nigel Blythe was a wild card I didn’t want or need. I’d already decided on my patsy. I saw no reason to confuse matters.’

  By now, Marcus Canthorpe seemed to have accepted his fate. He was certainly being obligingly chatty about what he had done. Even so, his voice held a certain rueful resentment as he added, ‘But if I’d known my patsy had a police inspector for a brother, I’d have done without the piquancy. Imagine how I felt when I learned an Inspector Rafferty was to lead the investigation and enquiries revealed that you were one of the three brothers that Sir Rufus had been at school with?’

  Canthorpe gave an arrogant, self-congratulatory smile. ‘In the circumstances, I think I showed a quite remarkable sang-froid.’

  For once, Rafferty’s lack of languages didn’t let him down. He recalled Llewellyn using the expression once and he’d looked it up. ‘You’re right,’ he told Canthorpe. ‘Your blood is cold. A good match for your heart, I imagine.’

  Canthorpe simply stared at him for several seconds before he demanded, ‘Do you want to hear the rest?’ When Rafferty gave a brief, curt nod, he continued. ‘Anyway, your brother was perfect for my plans. And the sharpened carpenter’s wood chisel really was a particularly pleasing touch. And what a stroke of luck for me that it should be the carpenter Rafferty brother who took the invitation bait rather than one of the other possible patsies. It was a case of him being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Nothing personal.’

  Nothing personal? Rafferty thought. By Christ, it had felt personal!

  To restrain his urge to beat Canthorpe to a bloody pulp, he demanded, ‘So what would you have done if Mickey hadn’t turned up that night?’

  ‘Bided my time, of course, till the next occasion. Seward had a party planned for New Year’s Eve at his Norwich estate. I managed to hook another couple of grudge-bearing losers into accepting invitations for that, much as I did your brother for this reception. All it took was to enclose the celebrity guest list with the invitation. Some people will eat any amount of humble pie when the chance to peer down Jordan’s cleavage is dangled in front of them.’

  Canthorpe, expecting Mickey’s imminent arrival after having arranged with reception to text his mobile when each guest arrived at the hotel, now revealed he had concealed himself in the large walk-in closet down the short hallway leading to Seward’s bedroom till he could be sure Mickey had actually reached the penthouse suite. From there, he had been able to see the door to the suite reflected in the large mirror on the wall opposite.

  Rafferty could only presume it had been this same mirror via which one of the Farraday twins had spotted Canthorpe’s strange behaviour in concealing himself in one of the floor-to-ceiling cupboards lining the passage to Seward’s bedroom.

  Once sure of his patsy’s arrival, and after recognising the hesitant Mickey from an earlier surveillance at his address, Canthorpe had covered his suit with the long raincoat for added protection from blood splashes and hurried down the short hallway leading to Seward’s en suite bedroom. It was just then that Superintendent Bradley had spotted him and mistaken him for a young woman.

  Mickey had clearly not been sober, Canthorpe told them. His less than steady gait and pugnacious expression meant that Ivor Bignall took more note of his appearance than he might otherwise have done. It was probably with a certain satisfaction that Bignall had directed the clearly spoiling-for-a-fight Mickey to Seward’s bedroom. This encounter had only improved Canthorpe’s ability to use Mickey as a scapegoat and chief suspect.

  Once Canthorpe knew his patsy had arrived, he crept into Seward’s bedroom, the sharpened chisel stolen from hotel maintenance ready in his pocket.

  Canthorpe explained that he knew he couldn’t waste any time with his patsy’s entrance imminent. ‘I approached Seward, who was writing at his desk. As usual, Seward didn’t trouble to look up. He was a rude man and invariably ignored underlings and made them wait if they wanted his attention.

  ‘However, I had no intention of waiting this time. Instead, after having helped myself to a large bath towel from Seward’s en-suite for additional stain protection, I immediately plunged the chisel into Seward’s back, having taken the added precaution of keeping the chisel in a plastic bag in my pocket and sliding on a pair of cotton gloves from a plastic bag in my other pocket before I touched the chisel’s wooden hilt. I’d already given the chisel a good scouring to remove any traces of the maintenance man, as I didn’t want it revealed exactly where it had come from in case you started asking questions of the staff.

  ‘I’d already put on thin rubber gloves so none of my DNA traces would come into direct contact with the cotton gloves. The large towel and charity shop raincoat I’d previously purchased protected my clothing from any blood spurts.’

  Having murdered his hated boss, and hearing Mickey question Ivor Bignall about Seward’s whereabouts, Canthorpe told them he had quickly concealed himself in Seward’s en suite bathroom. With the door ajar a fraction, he witnessed Mickey’s horror as he took in Seward’s clearly dead body and watched as he left the bedroom and did what he had been sure he would do — leave the scene of the crime without telling anyone what he had seen.

  Satisfied, Canthorpe had waited in the en suite till the main hallway was deserted, rehung the raincoat in one of the closets and discarded the protective towel in the suite’s main bedroom. He had then re-joined the party, confident, given the inebriated state of the remaining guests, that he wouldn’t
have been missed. For, between Mickey’s arrival, Seward’s murder and Mickey’s hasty departure, no more than five minutes had elapsed.

  Of course, he hadn’t taken the snooping twins into consideration. One or both of them must have seen him, in the mirror reflection, conceal himself in the closet. It would be enough to spark curiosity in anyone, but in people as eternally nosey as the Farraday twins, it was a curiosity that was to prove fatal all round. The twins had brought their own downfall as well as Canthorpe’s, as he bitterly commented.

  The twins were spying little gits — always had been in Rafferty’s fading recollection of their shared schooldays. He had suspected that one day their activities would be the death of them. And so it had proved.

  With their predilection for spying on people, their concealed paperwork collection had revealed that they had found Seward’s many parties and functions an especially fruitful ground for discovering sordid secrets that they could use to their advantage. Doubtless it was the reason they had taken employment with Seward in the first place; they had probably both thought becoming Seward’s employees might be a big help in their little hobby

  They’d only been on the staff for a matter of months, so Canthorpe, so much younger than the twins and without the advantage of having gone to school with them, had failed to notice in time their habit of spying on others.

  Once they had revealed what they had seen and demanded money for their silence, their fate was sealed. With so much at stake, Canthorpe had made use of their greedy love of drugs to help the pair to their own deaths.

  Rafferty stood up and, for the tape, said, ‘Interview terminated at 3.15 p.m.’ As he took the twin tapes from the machine he stared at Canthorpe, was about to add something not for the tape, then changed his mind. Marcus Canthorpe had already put him, Mickey and the rest of their family through hell. Mickey had come close to being charged with murder, he’d come lose to losing his career and being banged up. In view of all that, he refused to lose his dignity also.

  Canthorpe wasn’t worth wasting any more of his energy over. He needed every ounce of it to get his Christmas shopping sorted. All of it. And if he chose his shops with care, maybe they’d even wrap the gifts for him? And in a far more attractive manner that his ham-fisted efforts were likely to achieve. He could even co-opt Llewellyn as arbiter of taste for the job. After all, with the investigation concluded, that only left the paperwork to be done. And even Bradley wouldn’t demand they complete that chore on Christmas Eve.

  As Rafferty told Llewellyn on the drive back to Elmhurst, the shopping successfully and speedily accomplished in the nearest department store which offered beautiful gift-wrapping, in his own way, Marcus Canthorpe had become every bit as callous and ruthless as his boss. ‘I suppose he’d spent the last five years watching and studying, in Rufus Seward, a ruthless professional at work. Something was bound to rub off.’

  ‘Rather like your poor spelling has an adverse effect on my own,’ Llewellyn murmured.

  Rafferty chose not to hear this. ‘Even so, imagine deliberately setting up an entirely innocent man, a complete stranger, to take the rap for murder. I’m still having trouble getting my head around that.’

  Llewellyn shrugged and commented, ‘As you said, he didn’t lack an excellent tutor in the ways of evil. He’d spent years watching how his boss operated. It was only too likely some of that behaviour would rub off.’

  Rafferty nodded. Poor Mickey, as he had discovered, had merely been a randomly-selected patsy for Seward’s murder. Canthorpe had sent out a number of invitations to people whom, as he had learned during his long employment with Seward, had reason to bear his boss a grudge. Mickey had been the only lowly such invitee to accept the party invitation. Canthorpe hadn’t been quite daring enough to target the not-so-lowly, like Ivor Bignall or Idris Khan. Talk about it’s the rich wot gets the pleasure and it’s the poor wot gets the blame…

  As Canthorpe had told Rafferty, it had been: ‘Nothing personal’.

  But, he reflected again, it had sure felt personal to Rafferty, Mickey and the rest of their family.

  ‘By the way,’ Llewellyn interrupted Rafferty’s musings, ‘you never told me what the superintendent said when you rang and told him he was in the clear.’

  ‘Didn’t I?’

  ‘I hope he thanked you, at least.’

  ‘Not a bit of it. He bawled me out for even daring to consider him a suspect in the first place. I’d be off his Christmas card list for sure — if, that is, I’d ever been on it.’

  Llewellyn gave a heartfelt sigh. ‘Bosses. They were ever thus.’

  ‘Ain’t that the truth,’ Rafferty replied, before it occurred to him that he was Llewellyn’s boss. He frowned. Was Llewellyn having a sly dig? But I’m nothing like Bradley, he felt like protesting. He wanted to ask his sergeant if he did consider him on a par with Bradley, but then he thought better of it. He wasn’t altogether convinced he would like Llewellyn’s reply.

  He wasn’t too keen on what Llewellyn said next, either.

  ‘So are you going to tell me now where it was you hid your brother? I finally remembered a couple of days ago where I’d met him before,’ he revealed. ‘Or are you going to deny his disappearance was your doing?’

  Shocked that Llewellyn had correctly deduced his involvement without once betraying a hint of it, Rafferty was happy to take guidance from his sergeant’s remark. I’m going to deny it, damn right I am, he said to himself. Deny, deny, deny. It’s much the best way. And he proceeded to do just that.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  With Mickey absolved from all suspicion — not to mention a similar absolution for Superintendent Bradley and the others who had made the suspects’ list — that evening, Rafferty and his family prepared to celebrate the festive season and Mickey’s own absolution in style.

  They all felt they had earned it, Rafferty not least. And even the God that Rafferty considered so vengeful wouldn’t, this time, he felt sure, dare to stick His Almighty nose in and try to cause Rafferty grief as he so often did.

  ‘Because if you do,’ Rafferty warned the many stars twinkling innocently in the night sky before he got in the car and drove off to release his brother from his caravan cell preparatory to joining Ma, Abra and all down the pub — even Llewellyn had condescended to join them with his wife Maureen, ‘I really will consider giving into the many temptations your oppo puts in my path and sign up for his army.

  ‘Who knows, if he ever has another go at starting a heavenly coup, he might be on to a winner, his army of sinners being surely much bigger than your saintly bunch. So think on, Big Boy.’

  CONNECT WITH THE AUTHOR

  Geraldine Evans is the author of twenty published novels, including fifteen in the Rafferty and Llewellyn procedural series, two in the Casey & Catt procedural series, one historical novel (Reluctant Queen), one medical suspense (The Egg Factory) as well as a romance (Land of Dreams), a collection of short stories and a short guide to epublishing with Amazon’s Kindle (How eFormat Your Novel For Amazon’s Kindle: A short But Comprehensive A-Z Guide). Her previous publishers include Macmillan, Severn House, Hale, St Martin’s Press and Worldwide (US).

  She started writing in her twenties, but never finished anything. It was only when she hit the milestone age of thirty that she managed to complete a book. For the next six years she completed a book a year, only the last of which was published. That was her romance, Land of Dreams (out of print).

  When her follow-up romance was rejected, she felt like murdering someone. So she did. She turned to crime. Dead Before Morning, her first mystery novel and the first book in her now 15-strong Rafferty and Llewellyn procedural series, was taken from Macmillan’s slush pile and published, both in the UK and the US. It was the beginning of a long and successful career as a mystery author.

  In late August 2010, she made the decision to part with her publisher and turn indie. She has now published most of her backlist as ebooks, as well as epublishing two new novels (Kill
and Kill and The Egg Factory) independently.

  Geraldine Evans is a Londoner, but moved to Norfolk in East Anglia, in 2000.

  If you have enjoyed this novel, the author would be grateful if you would take the time to give it a review. Here are the links with Geraldine Evans’ Amazon pages:

  Geraldine Evans' Amazon.com page

  Geraldine Evans' Amazon.co.uk page

  Geraldine Evans' Amazon.ca page

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  Other Books By Geraldine Evans

  Rafferty & Llewellyn procedural series

  Kith and Kill #15 (Self-Published)

  Deadly Reunion #14 (Orig Pub: Severn House)

  Death Dance #13 (Orig Pub: Severn House)

  All the Lonely People #12 (Orig Pub: Severn House)

  Death Dues #11 (Orig Pub: Severn House)

  A Thrust to the Vitals #10 (Orig Pub: Severn House)

  Blood on the Bones #9 (Orig Pub: Severn House)

  Love Lies Bleeding #8 (Orig Pub: Severn House)

  Bad Blood #7 (Orig Pub: Severn House)

  Dying For You #6 (Orig Pub: Severn House)

  Absolute Poison #5 (Orig Pub: Severn House)

  The Hanging Tree #4 (Orig Pub: Macmillan)

  Death Line #3 (Orig Pub: Macmillan)

  Down Among the Dead Men #2 (Orig Pub: Macmillan)

  Dead Before Morning #1 (Orig Pub: Macmillan)

  Casey & Catt procedural series

  A Killing Karma #2 (Orig Pub: Severn House)

  Up in Flames #1 (Orig Pub: Severn House)

  Standalones

  The Egg Factory: International Medical Suspense Novel (Self-Published)

  Reluctant Queen: Historical Novel About the Little Sister of Henry VIII (Orig Pub: Hale)