by Rack, Ruin
‘Yes, I did tell you that. Had you heard of the place before?’
For the barest second Hemmings was tempted to lie. His face didn’t tell it but his body language did. He seemed to hold his breath and stiffen. Then he relaxed.
‘Yes, I did remember – after I’d seen you – that I had heard of it before. Well, it’s local to us in Weston St Ambrose, isn’t it? Or almost.’
He had realised that if Carter were here to talk about it, the superintendent already knew or had guessed something. Now Hemmings would try to find out just how much. But two could play at that game.
‘It’s a big place, lots of land,’ Carter said conversationally, reaching for his coffee cup.
‘So I believe,’ said Hemmings, watchful.
‘House is in a terrible state, of course.’
The developer nodded. ‘So I’ve been told.’
‘Oh?’ Carter asked, setting down his cup. ‘Who told you?’
‘Damn!’ said Hemmings, ‘This coffee is a bit too hot for me!’ He put down his own cup hurriedly.
But not quickly enough, old son! Carter allowed himself an inner smile. It’s not burning your tongue you’re regretting, it’s falling into such an easy trap.
‘I asked around about it, after you told us about Jay being found there …’ Hemmings’s excuse sounded feeble and he knew it. ‘It made me curious.’
‘You haven’t been over there to visit the place, quite recently, since Jay’s death and since the owner, Monty Bickerstaffe has been staying with relatives?’
There was a silence. Hemmings stared at him moodily. ‘All right, Superintendent,’ he said at last. ‘Cards on the table.’
‘I’d appreciate it,’ Carter told him.
‘You’re a man who likes to come to the point, so am I.’ Hemmings cleared his throat. ‘Jay told me about the house. He’d got to know about it. He thought there was land for development there. I’m in that line of business, so he came to me with a proposition. He knew me as a racing acquaintance. A lot of business is done, or started at least, on the social network. You meet up with someone and get chatting… Well, that’s what happened. He suggested he and I could develop the land together, form a partnership. My first question was, how likely was it the land and house would become available and when? You’ve got to be practical. I’ve heard people float all kinds of wild ideas to make a cartload of money – if only this or that big problem can be overcome. “First things first, Jay, old chap,” I told him. “Who owns this land and the house? Is he putting it on the market? Who else knows about it?”’
‘He told me the present owner had no plans to sell, wouldn’t want to sell it. But he was elderly and not too fit, a bit of a drinker, it seems. Circumstances could change rapidly. The next owners might think differently. If we got in now, we’d be the first. No one else was on to it. I told him I was definitely interested.’
‘You weren’t concerned you might not get planning permission?’ Carter asked him.
Hemmings had the answer to that one. ‘The house is old but it’s not listed. I checked. A sympathetic development scheme would go down well in the planning office. After all, once it’s vacant, once the present owner is – has passed on – it’ll stand empty and that’ll suit no one. It’ll soon be in a dangerous state. Already doesn’t look too safe to me at the moment. I – I made a few general enquiries of the council.’
‘It might make a hotel, or a nursing home…’ Carter suggested.
But Hemmings was shaking his head. ‘No, too far gone and not suitable. Believe me, the only thing you could do with Balaclava House is pull it down.’
‘You’ve seen it yourself, then. You’ve viewed the property, as they say?’
Hemmings was no longer bothering to pretend. ‘Yes, of course. First thing I did, after Jay came to me with his big idea, was go over there and take a look at it for myself. Second thing was to approach the planning department, like I told you. Balaclava House – ‘ he nodded knowingly at Carter – ‘is a very good business prospect, take it from me. Ripe for development.’
‘Been over there again recently?’ Carter asked again. ‘I don’t think you quite answered that question.’
Hemmings grimaced. Then he shrugged in defeat.
‘Yes, as it happens, a couple of days ago. Just to see if there was any sign of anything happening. There wasn’t. I was pleased about that. There’s been quite a bit in the local press about the place since the – since Jay’s body was found there. Some other developer might be getting ideas. I might have to move quick.’
Hemmings’s small dark eyes flickered at him. ‘I was seen, was I? You appear to know all about it.’
‘Something like that,’ murmured Carter. ‘So, you and Taylor were about to form a business partnership to develop the land in the future – and you were prepared to wait for Mr Bickerstaffe to die for you to get ownership? That could be years. He’s only seventy-six and, far from being frail, as Taylor would have had you believe, my understanding is that he’s remarkably robust.’
‘Yeah, well, things can change fast, can’t they? It’s not like old Bickerstaffe has a car and can drive himself around. He’s isolated out there in that house, high and dry like he was on a desert island, almost. He can’t live there alone much longer, no matter how spry you reckon he is,’ said Hemmings confidently. ‘He’ll have to sell up within the next year or so – or the next owner will.’
He hesitated briefly. ‘Jay reckoned we wouldn’t have to wait for the old man to die. He thought, if the old fellow found he couldn’t live there any longer, he might gift the place to someone, a family member. It’s been in the family for over a century and a half and he’d want it to stay that way. Jay seemed sure about that.’
‘A family member? A woman, perhaps?’ Carter waited.
Hemmings considered that carefully. ‘I can’t tell you,’ he said at last, ‘because I don’t know. That’s the truth. It’s a thought, though, I’ll give you that. It just seemed to me Jay might have some card up his sleeve. I’ve no idea what kind – a bird or anything else – and I could be wrong. Whether he was right to be so certain about it is another matter, and I can’t help you there, either. I was just satisfied, from my own observation of the place, that the old man couldn’t reside there himself for very much longer. That house, take it from me, is coming on the market very soon now. All the indications are there and I know how to read ‘em!’
Carter put the tips of his fingers together, a gesture that seemed to dent Hemmings’s last confident statement. ‘Right, let’s see if I’ve got this straight. You and Taylor would be partners. You’d oversee the development from your office here. But what would be Taylor’s input, other than telling you about the house? He didn’t have access to large amounts of cash. What would qualify him to be your partner?’
Hemmings took a deep breath, his gaze fixed on Carter’s hands. ‘That’s why I reckoned Jay had some card up his sleeve, an ace.’ Hemmings looked up, squinting at his visitor. ‘Jay had found out something; something that would help him get his hands on that land. He kept hinting heavily that if things worked out, we wouldn’t have to pay a penny for it. “You’ve got to be joking,” I said to him. But he grinned and told me to trust him. Don’t ask me any more. Jay was playing his cards very close to his chest until he was sure I’d come in with him. I don’t blame him for that. I’d do the same. You never give away any information until you have to, do you?’
Carter suspected this was an appeal to him to overlook Hemmings’s failure to tell the investigating officers any of this before now. If so, it fell on stony ground.
‘Keeping back information isn’t always a good idea. If Jay had been more open about what he’d discovered, he might be here to tell us about it himself, now.’
Hemmings looked uneasy. ‘Perhaps I should have asked him, should have made him tell me all about it. Well, I was going to, soon. We’d got to that point where I was ready to sign on the line but to do that, I would have insisted o
n knowing what trick he’d got tucked away – whether it was a woman, as you seem to be suggesting, or what. But I didn’t know he was going to get himself killed, did I? When you told me he’d turned up dead in that ruddy house, it gave me a helluva shock, I can tell you.’
Hemmings ran his fingers nervously over his mouth. ‘This whatever-it-was he found out, you reckon it killed him, then?’
‘I don’t think his murder was motiveless,’ Carter told him. ‘I think, Mr Hemmings, it’s not a good idea in the present circumstances for you to go wandering about Balaclava House and grounds. Whoever killed Taylor might also see you as a threat.’
Billy Hemmings had been looking uncomfortable. Now he began to look worried.
Chapter 18
Balaclava house, when Jess reached it, was deserted. To make sure, she toured the building on foot, peering in windows. This is what Jay Taylor had done, she thought. But then Seb and Rosie were watching him from above. If anyone is watching me, he or she is keeping very quiet. She rattled the front door handle but now it was locked. She walked back slowly down the drive to the lane and scoured the ground for signs of a car having parked here, fresh footprints other than her own, anything that would have indicated a recent presence. There were marks of tyres outside the gates, but both Carter and Tansy Peterson had parked there the day before and had probably left the traces. If either Bridget or Tansy had been intending to drive here this morning, there was no sign of either. Footprints in the garden were those seen by Carter and already no longer fresh.
Jess returned to her car and thought desperately. Monty might deliberately have put her on a false scent. But she remembered Monica Farrell telling her that Monty wouldn’t tell an out and out lie, not to Jess who so resembled his late wife. If Monica was right, Monty might have been telling the truth about the previous evening’s argument; but he could still have drawn the wrong conclusion when he saw the two women drive off in such a panic and in separate cars that morning.
No, decided Jess. Monty didn’t think it out wrongly. The women had argued violently about Balaclava House only the night before. The quarrel or dispute, whatever it was, was left unresolved. They would have picked it up again this morning. When they did, it resulted in Tansy running out of the house, closely followed by her mother. They were coming here. So, where are they?
She looked around. This was a benighted spot. Everything was in need of repair: the potholed surface of the lane, the collapsing sign at the entrance to it, poor Balaclava House sinking into ruin, a shadow of its once-proud self. Jess drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. Tansy had left The Old Lodge first. Bridget had followed her. Therefore it was a question of where Tansy had been heading. The assumption by Monty and by Jess herself was that the destination was Toby’s Gutter Lane. But if not to Balaclava itself, then where?
The Colleys! Jess gave the steering wheel a little slap of triumph. Bridget would not have any time for the Colleys but Tansy told Ian Carter that she and Gary Colley had been pals when children. Tansy used to go to the Colley homestead and ride Gary’s pony round the field there.
‘And Tansy’s gone there again,’ said Jess aloud. ‘I knew those Colleys were mixed up in this somehow!’
She drove the short distance to the Colley pig farm. Leaving her car outside, she pushed open the gate and walked through. As she did so, she remembered Morton telling her about the dogs. Boldly to walk up the drive unannounced might not be the best idea. She turned back to her car, drove through the opened gate, got out and closed it as Morton had done on his visit. She then continued down to the complex of buildings Phil had described to her.
There it all was, just as Phil had said, house, old stable block, pigsties and dog run… and she was not the first, nor even the second, visitor today. Two cars were parked in the muddy yard: Bridget’s little two-seater and, in front of it, Tansy’s Fiesta.
Bingo! thought Jess, allowing herself a moment’s satisfaction at having found her quarry. She looked across towards the dog run to check it was safe to get out.
This influx of visitors seemed to have thrown the dogs into some confusion. Probably they had been ordered sternly not to bark at the previous arrivals and so did not know what to do about Jess. They crowded to the wire to stare at her suspiciously but didn’t bark, not even when Jess got out of her car.
Others had heard her, however. Both Dave and Gary emerged from the former stable block and stood watching her.
Jess walked towards them and they watched her approach with the same mix of hostility and caution as shown by their dogs. Gary obviously recognised her, but this was the first time she’d met Dave, his father. She took out her ID and held it up so that he could see it.
‘My lad’s told me about you,’ said Dave.
Jess wasn’t going to waste time. ‘Where are they?’ she asked briskly. ‘Where are Mrs Harwell and her daughter, Tansy Peterson?’
‘Gone walking up over Shooter’s Hill,’ said Dave. ‘Nice day like it is, after all that rain. They decided to stretch their legs.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Jess said curtly. Tansy might ramble over Shooter’s Hill for the fun of it. Bridget was not the hiking type. ‘Don’t waste my time, Mr Colley. That’s obstruction and an offence. I want to speak to both women and I want to know where they are right now.’
Both men stayed silent, hostile, watchful and wary. Dangerous, too? Should she have waited for Phil to join her before tackling them? The Colleys stood shoulder to shoulder in the open entrance to the former stables. It was as if they blocked it. They are blocking it, she thought.
She addressed Dave Colley. ‘Mr Colley, I don’t have a search warrant, but I can get one very easily. I don’t have to leave, I just have to phone through to my superintendent with a request; and he’ll be here within the hour with one.’
‘We can ask you to leave our property meantime,’ growled Dave.
‘Sure, why don’t you? And I’ll just wait outside your gate back there, blocking the way in and out, just as you are both blocking my view of that barn or stable or whatever you call it now. Neither woman will be able to drive away. Neither woman can get very far without transport. I can stay around for as long as it takes and, sooner or later, one of them if not both will have to come out and face me.’
‘What do you want them for?’ Gary asked truculently.
‘That’s police business.’ She paused. ‘I’d like to look around the barn now, please. I’d be obliged if you would give your permission. Mr Colley?’
The Colleys exchanged glances. Gary looked as if he would still object. Unexpectedly, Dave shrugged. ‘Go and look, then, if it makes you any happier. It’s nothing to do with either of us, is it, Gary?’ A minatory note sounded in his voice.
Gary hesitated. ‘No, right…’ he said unwillingly.
‘That’s very sensible of you, Mr Colley. If you are already in any trouble, you don’t want to make things worse, do you?’
They parted barely enough to allow her through. Jess stepped into the former stable block and into a lost age. She was surrounded by signs of its former, as well as present, use. One end was still divided into stalls. Dusty harness items hung from pegs on the wall, the leather dried and cracking. Touchingly, a painted sign still hung above one stall. It read ‘Brutus’. If Brutus had been a carriage horse, what had been the name of his pair? Caesar? Modern times had come. The elegance of a carriage and pair had gone and been replaced by a mud-splashed truck garaged at the other end of the open floor area. Against the rear wall a flight of wooden stairs rose into the loft above. The air was musty and made her nose itch.
‘Mrs Harwell? Tansy?’ Jess called. ‘It’s Inspector Campbell. If you are up there in the loft, come down, please. I need to talk to you both.’
There was silence. She sensed a collective holding of breath. A slight movement behind her, telegraphed by the disappearance of one part of the shadow falling through the open entry, caused her to turn her head. Dave Colley was still there, watching her su
llenly from the doorway. Gary, however, had vanished. Now, where had he gone? Jess felt uneasy, not having him in sight. Her ear caught the faintest creak above her head.
‘I’m coming up there!’ she called out.
She started slowly up the wooden stairs. They creaked ominously beneath her feet and she reached for the handrail. She could feel the intense gaze of Dave Colley’s eyes watching her every move. He himself had not moved, thank goodness. But where was the wretched Gary?
Jess had reached the top and the loft. The shadowy rafters, strung with ancient cobwebs, loomed high above her head. The place was packed with every kind of junk, ancient and modern, old tools, furniture, tea chests, some of it looking as if it had been there many years. Even wisps of Edwardian hay still lay in corners. What the Colleys planned to do with all this rubbish she couldn’t imagine. Perhaps they just didn’t bother to throw any of it away, keeping it as they had kept the old harness, useless but part of the place. The loft was brightly lit, more so than the floor below. The light streamed through one of the floor-length openings through which hay had been brought up so many years ago to feed Brutus and his companions.
Bridget Harwell stood on the far side of the loft, away from the head of the stairs, and framed by the opening behind her. She was standing too close to the edge for Jess’s liking; but she guessed it was a deliberate ploy on Bridget’s part to prevent Jess moving towards her.
‘Where’s Tansy?’ Jess asked.
‘We had another row,’ Bridget told her in her brittle voice. ‘She stormed out and has gone off walking over Shooter’s Hill somewhere to cool off.’
So perhaps Dave had almost been telling the truth.
‘We don’t need Tansy, in any case,’ Bridget went on. ‘I can tell you what happened. I suppose that’s what you want to ask.’
‘Yes, I do. I was at your home earlier and spoke to Monty. He said you and Tansy had a violent quarrel last night. You continued it this morning and first Tansy drove off and then you followed. I guessed the quarrel was about Jay Taylor. I do now know that Tansy was well acquainted with him. Was he her boyfriend?’