Deadly Stuff

by Joyce Cato

  Then she stopped instantly, as both policemen jumped as if they’d been simultaneously goosed. ‘How the hell did you know that?’ Trevor roared, whilst, at the same time, the sergeant spluttered ‘That’s almost what she said word for word!’

  Trevor, breathing rather hard now, looked at the cook grimly. ‘Do you have someone on my team feeding you information?’ he demanded coldly.

  ‘Good grief, no!’

  ‘You don’t have one of us bugged, do you?’ he asked, not quite totally joking.

  Jenny laughed nervously. ‘Don’t be daft! It’s just that it’s obvious that that was how Laura Raines would react. She’s well and truly head over heels in love with Simon Jenks, right?’ she asked. ‘You said that’s the impression you got?’

  ‘Oh yeah, besotted with him, I reckon,’ Trevor confirmed, but not looking particularly mollified by the cook’s obvious attempt to mend her fences. ‘I’ve seen it before: a good-looking, middle-aged woman in a dead marriage; they find some young handsome bloke, and it’s love’s young dream all over again. I think they’re trying to recapture their youth, or something. Perhaps they think it’s their last chance at romance, or having a last bite of the big, emotional cherry. All I know is, when they get like this, they fall harder than a ton of bricks.’

  Jenny winced slightly at the inspector’s rather sexist psychobabble but understood well enough what he was saying. It was only what she’d thought herself, minus the smug, superior judgmental aspect of it.

  ‘Well then,’ she said simply, and shrugged.

  Trevor manfully fought the urge to pull his hair out. ‘Well then, what? What exactly is going on with those two?’

  ‘You want my best guess?’ Jenny asked guilelessly.

  The inspector, although grimly coming to the conclusion that the large, beautiful young woman in front of him had somehow suckered him, nevertheless nodded.

  ‘I’d be very interested in hearing your best guess, Miss Starling,’ he said, with exaggerated politeness.

  Jenny caught it, but let it go. She could be magnanimous that way.

  ‘OK. I think Simon Jenks probably was the man that Debbie saw. I think that afterwards, he left the college and went straight to Laura and told her what had happened, stressing the fact that he was innocent of all wrong-doing, naturally. And Laura Raines, a woman very much in love with him don’t forget, needed to believe him, and wanted to believe him, but probably hadn’t quite managed to believe him, until the moment you told her about finding her missing mobile phone. Which confirmed some part of his story. And then, of course, she began to actually believe him, which is what made her so happy. Hence, her odd reaction at the interview.’ Jenny took a deep breath and smiled radiantly. ‘It’s really simple and not at all complicated when you think of it like that.’

  Trevor stared at her incredulously. Peter Trent simply sat and blinked.

  ‘Now look here, Miss Starling,’ Trevor began, but before he could work up a full head of steam, they were interrupted.

  The door opened, and a uniformed WPC came in. ‘Sir, I’ve had an urgent message from the financial consultant you ordered to look into the taxidermy society’s ledgers. He say’s he’s uncovered evidence of embezzlement. What’s more, he thinks it’s likely that our murder victim had discovered it too!’

  Trevor rose politely as Vicki Voight was ushered into the room by his sergeant. Although he had by no means finished his conversation with the aggravating cook, he’d decided to postpone it for a short time.

  He was very much aware that he needed to work all the angles now, especially since Jenny Starling had just pointed out all the flaws inherent in rushing to arrest either Laura Raines or her lover. Besides, this business about embezzlement needed to be sorted out. After all, money was one of the prime causes of murder, as any good police officer knew. Although the cheating couple remained top of his lists of suspects, he wasn’t averse to having another line of inquiry to pursue. It would at least keep his bosses happy.

  ‘Ah, Mrs Voight. Thank you for coming. Please, take a seat. I take it you don’t mind if Miss Starling remains?’ he greeted her cordially.

  Vicki shot the other woman a curious look, and was clearly not at all sure whether she minded or not. But she didn’t seem in the mood to quibble.

  ‘I was just preparing the closing speech of the conference for tomorrow, Inspector. As you know – or maybe you don’t – that was Maurice’s prerogative, but with him gone, it falls to me now, so …’ She let the sentence trail off, but it was clear where she was going with it.

  Trevor smiled obligingly. ‘I’ll try not to waste too much of your time, Mrs Voight,’ he said with a wide smile.

  Whilst he’d been waiting for Peter to come back with his witness, he’d been on the telephone to his financial expert, and had made plenty of notes. An email of his full report would be on his desk by the end of the day, but he felt sure he had enough of the facts now in order to take the stuffing out of the impatient treasurer of the Greater Ribble Valley and Jessop Taxidermy Society.

  Vicki sighed, but sat down. ‘I take it that it is all right for all of us to leave tomorrow?’ she asked tentatively. ‘We are all due to go, and some of the others have been asking me. They’re not quite sure if we’re “free to leave town” so to speak.’

  Trevor smiled. ‘That’ll be fine, Mrs Voight. We have everyone’s contact details.’

  Vicki slowly relaxed. ‘Good.’

  ‘But we do have one or two more questions for you,’ Trevor said smoothly, and Vicki instantly tensed up again.

  ‘Oh?’ She laughed nervously. ‘What can I do to help? I’ve already told you everything I know.’

  ‘Well, you can start by telling me just what it was that Maurice Raines did when he discovered that you were stealing from the society, Mrs Voight,’ he said mildly.

  The colour slowly drained from the other woman’s face, leaving her make-up standing out in stark relief on her face. Jenny glanced away, not wanting to intrude on such a moment, and looked out of the window instead.

  ‘How did…? I mean, I haven’t stolen anything. Not really. Only technically. It wasn’t a lot, and it only happened a few times when I got really desperate. All the money’s back in place now.’ The older woman’s stumbling voice broke off in a sob, and Jenny turned back just in time to see the inspector hand over a large tissue from a box of them on his desk.

  Obviously, he’d been prepared.

  Vicki cried into her tissue for a while, big, gulping, unlovely sobs that had to be genuine. Eventually, she composed herself and turned defeated, mascara-smudged eyes back to the inspector.

  ‘It started last year. When the recession really began to bite. My husband lost his post, and it took him a while to find another job. Not as well paid, but….’ She shrugged, and then smiled. She began to shred the tissue. ‘You don’t want to hear about that. Anyway, one month, we just couldn’t meet the mortgage payment. It came as a bit of a shock, even though it shouldn’t have. We’d already had to sell the second car, cancel the holidays and, well, the upshot was, the bank was forgiving enough, but then, after we were months in arrears, I simply had to find a way to meet the payment and so I borrowed it from the society funds.’

  ‘And Maurice found out, didn’t he?’ the inspector said, keeping his voice sympathetic and choosing, for the moment, not to take issue with her choice of words. He rather doubted that any of the other society members would see her actions as ‘borrowing’ anything.

  ‘Oh no. Well, not right away,’ Vicki said quickly. ‘I had to borrow about four more months’ worth of mortgage payments after that, but then my husband got a job, like I said and, after a while, I was able to siphon the money back in again. It was’ – and here Vicki snorted with bitter laughter – ‘ironically enough, it was when I was doing that, paying it back in I mean, that Maurice twigged as to what was happening. It was a sheer fluke that he did, really, but then again, Maurice was always very smart. He seemed to have an instinct for
trouble,’ she added, her tone in equal part sad and grim.

  ‘He threatened you?’ Trevor asked quietly.

  ‘What? No. What do you mean? Threaten me with what?’ Vicki asked, clearly surprised.

  Trevor shifted a little on his seat, not happy with her unexpected response. ‘Oh come on, Mrs Voight,’ he cajoled heavily. ‘Mr Raines was the bigwig of the society, wasn’t he? The chairman, or managing director, or whatever you want to call it. The head honcho. He couldn’t have taken it kindly to find out that his treasurer had her hand in the till.’

  Vicki flushed an ugly red at the deliberately insulting turn of phrase, then sniffed into the tissue again. ‘I told you, it wasn’t like that. It was only a few times, and the money was back in place. OK, he tackled me about it and, being Maurice, he was infuriatingly smug and couldn’t resist giving me a blast of his moralistic lecturing. But he listened to what I had to say, and he understood that times were hard. Even his own company has felt the pinch. In hard financial times, big taxidermy jobs are hardly anyone’s top priority. Maybe it made him a bit more sympathetic than he usually is. A bit more human. Anyway, he said that since the money was back, he wouldn’t take it any further. Besides,’ Vicki forced herself to sit up straighter and go on the offensive, ‘it’s not as if there were people hammering at the door to take on the treasurer’s job. It’s not a paid position, you know, and it’s a lot of work, and takes up a lot of free time. If Maurice forced me out, he’d have to take it on himself, and if you knew anything about Maurice, you’d know he wouldn’t be keen to do that. He liked to think of us as his slaves rather than his unpaid fellow members.’ Vicki took a shaky breath. ‘Look, the money’s back. No harm has been done, and nobody’s any the wiser. You don’t have to take this any further, do you?’

  Trevor sighed. He wasn’t particularly interested in the penny ante frauds of an obscure little taxidermy society. ‘I’m not sure that it’s quite as innocent as you make it sound, Mrs Voight,’ he persisted doggedly. ‘I only have your word for it, after all, that Maurice was as forgiving as you say he was. Suppose he threatened to expose you, to tell the others, or your husband, or even to call the police in. You might have good reason to try and silence him in that case.’

  Vicki again went pale. ‘What? You think I wanted to kill him?’ she squeaked incredulously. ‘All over a few thousand pounds? Are you insane? Besides, I told you, he wasn’t going to tell on me. Oh, I’m not saying he didn’t want something in return—’ Vicki said hotly, then suddenly stopped talking as she realised what she’d just said.

  Trevor and Peter Trent both snapped to attention and watched her like a dog spotting a running rabbit.

  ‘Oh? And just what was it that Mr Raines wanted in return?’ Trevor asked, eyeing Vicki’s long, honey-coloured hair and rather rounded figure speculatively. Had he demanded sexual favours, and Vicki, in disgust, had preferred to bury a knife in his neck? ‘He was something of a ladies man, wasn’t he?’ he said delicately.

  Vicki looked in turns appalled, chagrined, and then amused. Finally, she managed to laugh. ‘No, it wasn’t that. I wasn’t quite young enough or thin enough to suit his exacting standards,’ she said bitterly. ‘No, it was the tiger he wanted.’

  Trevor’s jaw dropped. He looked at his sergeant, wondering if he’d heard the same thing. For a second, he was utterly incapable of speech.

  Jenny, smothering her laughter behind her hand, coughed gently. ‘You mean the contract to stuff the tiger the wildlife park had offered?’ she clarified gently.

  ‘Yes,’ Vicki said, then seeing the policemen’s continued puzzlement, sighed heavily. ‘You see, Inspector, our society had been offered the chance to stuff a tiger for an educational exhibit. It was a hotly contested contract, as you can imagine, since such large and exotic animal commissions are few and far between. We had competition not just in the north, but nationwide. Still, we fought hard for it, and got it. Naturally, the choice of who was to take it on was, technically at least, open to any one of the members, but in reality only Maurice’s firm, and perhaps a co-op consisting of some of the other members, was in the running. Myself, Ian Glendower, and a few others, were in the co-op. But when Maurice found out about my borrowing the money, he made it clear that he wanted me to drop out of the competition. Which I did, of course,’ she added, her shoulders slumping in defeat. ‘And when I did so, one or two of the others decided it might be too much to take on, and our bid sort of fizzled out a bit.’

  ‘So Maurice would be almost certain to get the contract to, ah, stuff the tiger,’ Trevor said. ‘Yes, I see.’

  ‘So he had no intention of dropping me in it over the money, and I had no motive for killing him,’ Vicki pointed out, with a return of spirit.

  Trevor smiled briefly. ‘So you say, Mrs Voight,’ he murmured.

  Vicki’s eyes flashed. ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake! If you want to harass someone who did have a grudge against him, and really did have one massive argument with him not so long ago, why don’t you talk to Ian? He was really mad when I dropped out of the bid. I don’t know how he found out, but I know he blamed Maurice for it. If you really want to talk to someone who was angry enough to kill him, you should speak to him!’

  Vicki, breathing hard, slumped back in her chair, emotionally exhausted.

  Trevor Golder looked at her for a moment, remembered her solid alibi for the time of Maurice Raines’s death, and nodded.

  ‘All right, Mrs Voight. I’ll do just that,’ he said mildly. ‘Thank you for your time.’

  Vicki needed no second telling and left, rapidly.

  Trevor turned wearily to his sergeant. ‘Well, we’ve had one wild goose chase,’ he said flatly. ‘We might as well go on another.’ Because, unless his memory failed him, Ian Glendower had an alibi every bit as solid as that of Vicki Voight.

  He eyed the cook sitting quietly in the corner and smiled grimly. ‘I suppose you knew all about the tiger as well?’ he said softly, and then held up a hand as Jenny opened her mouth to speak. ‘No, don’t bother,’ he said. ‘Of course you did.’

  Ian Glendower was the first one through the door, but right on his heels, and perhaps not totally unexpectedly, came Pippa Foxton. This time the young woman was wearing a pair of sea-green, tight-fitting pants with an intricate silver-thread design, and a floating sea-green, turquoise and cream top with a very low neckline. Large, turquoise and silver jewellery gleamed at her neck, ears and on her wrist and fingers. She was wearing as well her beloved Jimmy Choo shoes. Her eye make-up in particular was dramatic: in greens and blues, with heavy black eyeliner laid on to taper to dramatic points, she reminded Jenny a bit of the late Elizabeth Taylor in full make-up for her role as Cleopatra.

  ‘Hope you don’t mind me tagging along, Inspector,’ she said cheerfully, ‘but when your man here came along to nab my man,’ – she flashed Peter Trent a flirtatious grin – ‘I just had to come along and offer my moral support.’

  Trevor shrugged gallantly. ‘Not at all, Miss Foxton. It’s always a pleasure to see you.’

  He ignored the glowering look Ian shot his way, and could well see how the young man would object to Maurice Raines’s acknowledged flirting with his girlfriend. The youngster clearly had a thin skin where the vivacious Miss Foxton was concerned.

  ‘I just need to clear up a few details, Mr Glendower,’ Trevor began benignly. ‘When was the last time you spoke to Mr Raines again?’ he asked, deciding to approach the issue obliquely.

  Ian rolled his eyes and sighed ostentatiously. ‘I already told your people all this: it was just after breakfast on the day he died.’

  ‘Oh yes.’ Trevor made a show of consulting his notes. ‘It says here you were discussing real estate or something.’ He managed to make it sound so unlikely as to be ridiculous. ‘Sure you weren’t discussing wildlife instead, maybe?’ he asked archly.

  Ian’s already glowering face took on a genuinely puzzled look. ‘What? Wildlife? No, we were discussing the price of houses, like I said
. Pip and me are looking for a place of our own, out in the country somewhere. I hate Leeds, and Pip was brought up in the country, a nice little place called Wither Sedgewick, and she always said that she wanted to get back to the Dales, so we’d both decided that now might be a good time to relocate. I asked Maurice if he had any ideas on which areas were better value than others. It was the sort of thing he’d know about,’ he admitted grudgingly.

  Jenny Starling stiffened on her chair and then forced herself to relax. Her mind, however, began to race. Fortunately, the inspector didn’t notice and continued his questioning urbanely.

  ‘Ah. See, I thought you might have been asking him about tigers,’ he said silkily.

  ‘Tigers!’ It was Pippa who repeated the word with a hint of wonder in her tone. ‘Did you just say tigers?’

  Trevor smiled at her. ‘Yes. That was the reaction I had when they were first mentioned. But apparently there’s a contract up for grabs to stuff one, and we have information that Maurice was preventing your boyfriend from having the chance of doing just that.’

  Pippa bit her lip and cast a quick sideways glance at Ian, who was back to scowling ferociously. Wordlessly, she placed a warning hand on his arm. Her foot began to beat a nervous tattoo on the floor, attracting Jenny’s eyes to her shoes. Those quirky, high-heeled, ridiculously expensive Jimmy Choo designer shoes.

  Shoes.

  Jenny blinked. Shoes. Of course. Shoes.

  ‘Is that true, Mr Glendower?’ Trevor said sharply, making Pippa flinch.

  ‘He was trying,’ Ian said flatly. ‘I suppose you’ve been talking to Vicki? Well, she might have dropped out of the co-op, but I was rallying others. We were in with as good a shot as Maurice’s hot-shot firm to get the contract. So what?’ he added aggressively, his jaw thrusting out in defiance.

  Trevor found himself echoing the sentiment. Exactly, so what? He’d be laughed out of the office if he tried to put that forward as a motive for murder. Besides, Ian had a rock solid alibi. At the time that Maurice Raines was being killed, he was showing half-a-dozen people just how to stuff a squirrel, or whatever, with his fashion-plate of a girlfriend looking on in admiration.