Undermined

by Ripley Hayes

  “But sir, isn’t it useful for the police to know everyone’s business?”

  “Only if they don’t know yours Owen. I need a report with everything you can find out about Roy Edwards. We’ve booked you into a hotel in case you didn’t want to drive back tonight. Tomorrow morning, you can check Edwards’ alibi.”

  Daniel’s confusion must have shown on his face.

  “What, Owen?”

  “I was told I’d be part of the investigation, sir. I’d like to know more about the victim, talk to the neighbours...” he trailed off.

  “If you think you can get anything other than grunts out of the residents of Cwmcoed, Inspector Owen, then be my guest. Knock yourself out. But I want that report, and I want that alibi checked by first thing tomorrow, and that’s not a request.”

  Everything is wrong with this, Daniel thought, everything. Kent’s expression told him nothing. The hostility had started to fade, but it hadn’t been replaced by any warmth.

  He might be the best looking man I’ve seen in years, but there’s something wrong here. Are we investigating this murder or not?

  “Alibi. Report. By tomorrow. Yes sir.”

  Chapter 2

  The hotel wasn’t horrible. His room would have had a view of wooded hills, if it hadn’t been dark, and the double glazing cut out most of the noise from the motorway. The shower worked. The bed was comfortable. The restaurant had food he could eat. There was a TV, free wifi and a decent phone signal. But he couldn’t stop the fit of megrims thinking about the sinkhole in the woods, or Suzanne’s body lying there. I’m too soft to be a policeman, he thought, and everyone knows it.

  He phoned Bethan. She told him that Roy said that he was working on a house renovation with three or four of his men, and that they were his alibi. “I’ll double check though,” Bethan said, and he knew she would. She asked him about the case and talking to her helped him see the next steps, and to hell with Kent. He needed to talk to Suzanne’s friends and neighbours, and no matter about his horrors, he needed to find out how the murderer knew where to dump her body. Edwards was the obvious suspect, especially if Suzanne was expecting to become his third wife, but how did a man from north Wales know how to find a collapsed mine shaft in the Valleys?

  “Megan says Edwards’ first wife died,” asked Daniel, “Do you know any more?”

  “No, just that she’s dead. I’ll find out.”

  Daniel had no way of knowing whether anyone had talked to Suzanne’s neighbours. Kent had implied not, but the guy had non-communication off to a fine art. Daniel told himself that he should just have dinner, watch TV and go home in the morning. Or even just go home now. That would be the sensible thing. He could tell his bosses that Glamorgan Police had a viable suspect, and that he was helping to check the alibi. He could run in his race with a clear conscience. Instead he washed his face, changed his shirt and drove back to Cwmcoed.

  There was a light on at 10 Bute Street. A man of about Daniel’s own age answered the door, and waited as Daniel introduced himself.

  The man replied: “Gavin Price, Suzanne’s son. I was wondering when someone would come.”

  Daniel offered condolences, and Gavin nodded, and led them into the kitchen. It was modern, warm and bright, although the only sign of food was a box of biscuits and a multipack of crisps. A poster sized photograph of Gavin and his mother at a fairground hung over the kitchen table. Gavin slumped into a chair, in front of a glass of wine and a half full bottle. A mobile phone kept pinging on the table, but Gavin ignored it. Daniel sat down opposite him, noting that the table and chairs were good quality, and apart from the rings left by Gavin’s glass and bottle, the room was pristine.

  “Did you live here with your mother?” Daniel asked.

  “I’ve got a rented place. But I’ll probably move here now. They want me out of where I am.”

  “Could you tell me a bit about your mother, Gavin? Why did she move here from north Wales? What she did as a job, hobbies, friends, anything that might help us understand why this happened.”

  Gavin looked blank and took a pull at his wine. He seemed to realise his failings as a host.

  “Can I get you a glass?” he asked.

  “That would be great, thanks,” Daniel said, thinking that he could work on Kent’s non- judgemental interview technique. Gavin produced a fresh glass and filled it to the brim, then refilled his own, emptying the bottle and going to the fridge for another one. Judging from the smell in the room, it wasn’t his first new bottle.

  “There’s plenty more,” he said, “she had to get lots in for when Roy came. And then she moaned about his drinking. There’s the first thing you need to know about my Mum - she’d encourage you to do something and then complain when you did it.”

  The picture Gavin painted of his mother wasn’t flattering. He said she’d moved to Cwmcoed to be closer to her only child, and to help him out where she could. “Only it was mostly an act. And she was letting Roy undermine what we had.”

  Gavin talked about a person who, on the surface, was sociable and community minded, who was a thoughtful mother and generous aunty, but resentment kept slipping in as the level in the wine bottle dropped. Yes, Suzanne had paid the deposit on Gavin’s flat, but she turned up regularly and criticised the way he looked after it. Yes, Suzanne had helped organise a party for a neighbour’s birthday, but she’d also put the woman’s age on a banner, embarrassing the neighbour and everyone else. Yes, Suzanne always remembered her nephews’ and nieces’ birthdays, but her gifts often included an implied criticism - a slinky swimsuit for a self-conscious overweight teen, a cowboy outfit for a little boy who liked dolls.

  “It’s like with Roy,” Gavin said, his words starting to slur, “she tormented him about his weight all the time, told him he was unhealthy and he’d have a heart attack and die, then she filled the house with sweets and cooked these great big dinners. She never made me big dinners, just Roy. He’s a lardarse, and I keep fit. I’d have eaten her fucking dinners.”

  Gavin’s resentment of his mother seemed to go beyond dinners. “She wanted to go into business with him. Holiday Lets or something. She said he’d done it before. Didn’t ask my opinion.”

  “Did you argue?”

  “No one argued with Mum. No point. She did what she wanted.” Gavin had started to slide down in his chair and when he reached for his glass, he knocked it over.

  “Come on mate, you’ve had enough,” said Daniel, pushing his own hardly touched wine out of harm’s way. “Let’s get you somewhere comfortable with a glass of water.”

  Gavin could barely stand, so Daniel half carried him to the sofa in the front room, fetched a blanket from the back of a chair, and by the time he’d filled a pint glass with water, Gavin was snoring. He would sleep for hours.

  Daniel thought he’d take the chance of a quick look round the house, to get more of a sense of Suzanne and her son. Gavin appeared to have a lot to gain from his mother’s death, and Daniel had seen that there was plenty of booze in the house. If he happened to come across some prescription sleeping tablets, well, then they could come and search legally. He’d already seen the kitchen and living room, so he peered in to the cupboard under the stairs, which held the usual vacuum cleaner, step stool, mop and bucket, bags and suitcases, and what looked like a rolled up sleeping bag. He headed upstairs to the two small bedrooms and bathroom.

  The bedside cabinet in the double bedroom held viagra, condoms and a box from a well known supplier of sex toys. Daniel left that unopened. Suzanne had a wardrobe full of clothes in each of the bedrooms, all ironed and neatly hung up. She seemed to have had multiple iterations of the same jeans, shirt, and sweater outfit. In the chest of drawers he found underwear much more spicy than the outfits would suggest.

  Gavin was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs.

  “You’re spying on me. Why are you spying on me? What are you looking for?”

  Daniel told a lie about painkillers for Gavin, but Gavin was
having none of it. “You were looking for something on me, you bastard,” Gavin stepped forward into Daniel’s space, getting ready to throw the first punch.

  “No, honestly, I was only seeing if I could find paracetamol,” he said, looking as unthreatening as he could.

  “Pretending to help then going behind my back.”

  Daniel could hear the drink talking, Gavin winding himself up. And Gavin was between Daniel and the door. He could get past, use his height and training to win the fight Gavin was spoiling for, and then he could try to explain it to Kent and wave goodbye to any hope of promotion, or staying on the case.

  Gavin took another step forward, both hands clenched into hard looking fists, face twisted with determination.

  Here it comes.

  And tripped over the rug, straight into Daniel’s arms. Daniel gripped him hard, and led him back to the sofa, pushing him down into its soft depths.

  “You stay there Mr Price, and I’ll be off.” Daniel was through the front door before Gavin realised he’d gone. His heart was pounding as he pulled the door closed, terrified that Gavin would follow before he could get to the Land Rover.

  Immediately the door to the next house opened, throwing a rectangle of light onto the pavement.

  Jesus is there no escape?

  “You the police then?”

  Daniel produced his warrant card. “DI Owen, Clwyd Police.”

  “Gogs is it now? Come on in lovely, we’ll tell you what you want to know.” He felt himself being pulled into the house.

  Please don’t be Gavin’s best friend.

  The speaker was in her forties, hair dyed pink with dark roots, dressed in leggings, a long pink sweater and a pair of furry slippers with ears. She led him into the front room where another woman sat on one of a pair of leather sofas at least two sizes too big for the space. He had to edge round the door to get in. Children’s toys were piled in the corners of the room and the TV played silently on the chimney breast.

  “Ooooh Sasha, what have you brought me? He’s lush. Come and sit over here sweetie, while Sasha brews up.” This woman had to be Sasha’s sister - though her hair was mauve and although she wore skinny jeans instead of leggings, the two could have been clones. She patted the sofa by her side.

  “It’s a policeman Rhi, behave yourself.”

  “So? He’s got lovely long legs and beautiful blue eyes. Stick the kettle on Sash, I’m gagging,” and giggled at her double entendre.

  “Well don’t start without me,” more giggles, “how do you want your tea lovely?”

  Daniel obligingly sat on the sofa, heart still racing, asked for no milk or sugar and waited.

  “This is about her next door?”

  Daniel nodded.

  “Is it true you’ve arrested that Roy?”

  Daniel gave the standard can’t comment on an ongoing investigation line.

  “Well if you can’t talk about that, at least tell me you’re single and free tonight.”

  Daniel smiled for the first time in what felt like weeks, and the day’s tension started to drop away. The sisters were loud and brash and some of his mother’s friends would have called them common, but he thought they were probably a lot of fun. In small doses. And not Gavin’s type. Rhi looked at Daniel and the penny dropped.

  “You’re bloody gay aren’t you? Why are all the good ones bloody gay? Sash, you’ve only gone and brought me a poofter.”

  “Where’s the fire brigade when you need them?” asked Daniel with an innocent expression and Rhi fell back against the sofa cushions and cackled.

  “You can stay,” she said, patting his knee, and Sasha came back with the tea.

  The sisters were more than willing to talk about Suzanne Price, Roy Edwards, Gavin Price and the sinkholes in the woods. Daniel’s problem was not going to be getting them to talk, it was going to be getting them to stop in time for him to have dinner at the hotel.

  “We thought she was lovely when she first came, didn’t we Rhi?”

  “Bit of life about her, always ready for a coffee and a chat.”

  “But I didn’t like the way she treated that Gavin. Giving him things then wanting them back again. Or saying why couldn’t he find a nice girl - laughed at him she did. Because she always had a bloke and he couldn’t get a girlfriend.”

  “Yeah, but Gavin thinks women are all after his money - not that he’s got any.”

  “Paranoid. That’s the word for Gavin. Weird.”

  “And once she got that Roy she had no time for anyone. Said they were going into business together as soon as he got money from some investments. Spent her time on trips to the hairdressers, and the gym, and into Cardiff for new clothes, and a new phone every time one came out.”

  “I never thought much of Roy, dunno about you Rhi, but she carried on like he was something special. Full of how he owned property in Spain and god knows where else. I never believed a word of it. And you wanted to know about the sinkhole? She probably found it herself, always dragging him off for walks...we’ve got to get rid of this big tummy haven’t we Roy?”

  Every few minutes Daniel managed to get a question in - did Suzanne talk about getting married to Roy? Did they know where her money came from? But other than the information that Suzanne had been married several times, the sisters couldn’t help. He got the impression that after her initial popularity, Cwmcoed had become wary of Suzanne Price. Rhi thought Suzanne was simply thoughtless, but Sasha was convinced that the dead woman knew exactly what she was doing, and deliberately set out to cause trouble and offence.

  Daniel asked whether they’d seen either Suzanne or Roy the day before.

  “We wouldn’t have seen Roy. He only comes at the weekend.” More cackles. Neither could recall seeing Suzanne, but they promised to “have a think”.

  “You should ask Gavin, he was around,” said Sasha, only to be contradicted by Rhi who said it was the day before.

  Daniel decided that it was time to go when Sasha offered more tea. He started making his excuses. Rhi grabbed his arm as he stood up.

  “So tell me this. Why is a Clwyd copper asking these questions? Have we run out of police round here?”

  “There are connections with north Wales. I’m just assisting. A DCI Kent is in charge - he’s Glamorgan Police.”

  The sisters exchanged a look Daniel couldn’t interpret.

  “Mal Kent? That explains it,” said Sasha.

  Daniel wanted to know what it explained, but he also wanted to eat, and get away from Cwmcoed before he made any more cock-ups. He put the comment away for future reference.

  Daniel was dipping French bread into leek and potato soup when Bethan rang.

  “Tell me,” he said, biting into the bread.

  “You asked me to find out what Roy Edwards’ first wife died of? Well I couldn’t.”

  “Wha?” Daniel mumbled through a mouthful of soupy bread.

  “I can’t find out what she died of because she isn’t dead.”

  Daniel put his spoon down.

  “Not dead?”

  “Not even a bit dead. Alive and still running the bar in Spain. I spoke to her daughter Vanessa, and sorry boss, but she’s on the plane to come and see her Dad. That’s Roy. You’re picking her up at Cardiff airport in...an hour and a half. She’s called Vanessa Rios and she says you’ll recognise her because she’s seven months pregnant. I’ve booked her a room where you’re staying. She’ll explain everything when she gets there.”

  Daniel calculated that he could just about eat his dinner and get to the airport in time for Vanessa Rios’s arrival. But that if he did, there wouldn’t be time to ring Kent and update him. He sighed and hoped for voicemail. Much as he didn’t want to talk to DCI uncongeniality, it was Kent’s case. He could get away with arguing that going back to Cwmcoed had been sanctioned, but the existence of another wife, and the arrival of Roy’s daughter was news Kent was entitled to.

  Kent answered straight away, listened in silence and said, “I’ll pick y
ou up in twenty minutes. Be at the front.”

  Daniel wasn’t looking forward to more of Kent’s prickliness, but he wasn’t sorry to get into the sleek Mercedes and let somebody else do the driving. The car smelled as if it had just come from the valet, but without the fake air freshener. Kent smelled of something spicy and peppery.

  “You’ve been busy Owen.” It wasn’t a compliment.

  “Yes sir.”

  Kent sighed. “Just tell me what you’ve got.”

  Daniel recounted his evening with Gavin, Rhi and Sasha and the unpleasant impression he’d been given of their victim, skating over the almost fight. “But we haven’t been able to verify Edwards’ alibi yet, though my sergeant is working on it.”

  “And no one saw Edwards on the day of the murder?”

  “No. But I’ve only talked to three people. Um, I was surprised that those people hadn’t been contacted before sir.”

  “Resources, Owen. House to house is in hand, and we did try to get hold of Gavin Price, but he wasn’t at home. It’s still looking like Edwards to me.”

  “Only, sir, Edwards the only person we’ve talked to officially, and Suzanne Price seems like she might have made a few enemies.”

  “Are you criticising the way this case is being run Owen?”

  Yes.

  “No sir.”

  “Yes you are, and I don’t blame you, but there’s nothing either of us can do about it.”

  And that was it. No explanation, no discussion. Daniel looked over at Kent, and at the same moment Kent looked at him and gave the briefest of smiles. As their eyes met, Daniel’s gaydar pinged, loudly.

  I don’t care if he’s gay and the best looking man I’ve ever seen. He’s a miserable git who’s been going out of his way to be nasty.

  Vanessa Rios was as easy to spot as Bethan had promised, the only heavily pregnant woman in the crowd of people. Daniel and Kent almost collided as they both stepped forward to take her bag. She looked confused.

  “You must be Inspector Owen,” she said, “I was given your description. But...”