by Alex Pine
‘We’re just about done here,’ DS Stevens said when James went upstairs to tell him that Sonia wanted to retreat to her bedroom. ‘We haven’t found anything that gives rise to suspicion, but I’ve got a few things for the techs to have a look at in the lab.’
He held up a carrier bag and explained that it contained the couple’s laptop and three long-bladed knives from the kitchen in the flat, plus two from the restaurant downstairs.
Then he dipped a hand into the bag and took out a Christmas card with an image of Santa Claus on the front.
‘This was on the mantlepiece in their living room,’ he said. ‘It’s from Mrs Jenkins to her husband. As you can see, the writing is smaller and much neater than the message that was scrawled on the card that you received. It doesn’t look to me as though they were written by the same person.’
James took the card and read it.
To Charlie
Merry Christmas from me. Love you lots and always will.
Sonia x
James agreed that the writing was very different, and it served to reinforce the conclusion he was coming to that Sonia Jenkins was not responsible for the Twelve Days of Christmas threats.
‘To do a proper sweep of the flat and the bar, we’ll need to bring in SOCOs,’ he said. ‘But it’s my guess they’ll be hard-pressed to come up with anything that’s hugely significant.’
Back downstairs, James told Sonia that they were taking some objects away for analysis. She didn’t even bother to ask what they were and this suggested to him that either she had nothing to hide or she knew they wouldn’t find anything incriminating.
As she went up to the bedroom, James instructed one of the uniforms to hang around until the family liaison officer arrived. He then thanked Beth, Josh and Father Silver for staying with Sonia. Beth and Josh left immediately, but the priest held back, eager to have a quiet word with James.
‘That poor woman had nothing to do with her husband’s death,’ he said. ‘I am absolutely certain of it. Her grief is real and she simply doesn’t have it in her to commit murder. Surely you can see that.’
‘You might well be right, Father,’ James said. ‘But we have to go through the motions. The fact is, she had a good reason to be angry with Charlie, which gave her a motive. And there’s no one to verify her story that she was in bed asleep when it happened.’
The priest shook his head. ‘My mind keeps leaping back to the card that was left for me at the church, Detective Walker. I’m convinced that the message inside it was from someone other than Sonia Jenkins. Surely that’s obvious.’
‘I’m inclined to believe you, but we haven’t established a link between the cards and Charlie’s murder, so we can’t just assume that there is one – we need proof. In the meantime, we have to handle this investigation like any other, which entails identifying and interviewing potential suspects.’
‘Does that mean you’re still not prepared to make public the existence of those cards and messages?’ the priest said.
‘It does, Father. And for the same reason I gave you before. It would serve only to scare people and cause panic.’
The priest tilted his head to one side for a few moments and sucked on his bottom lip in concentration.
Then he said, ‘Well, I just hope that you know what you’re doing, Detective. I would hate for someone to die because the police decided not to warn people that their lives are in danger.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The priest’s words continued to play on James’s mind as he and DS Stevens left The White Hart. But he was forced to accept that there was no simple answer to the problem that confronted them.
In London, which had a population of almost nine million, it wouldn’t have mattered so much if the anonymous threat was made public. But Kirkby Abbey was a community of only seven hundred residents and so the impact on the villagers, if they got wind of it, would be far greater.
He could just imagine how some would react, especially elderly people living by themselves and those with children. It just wouldn’t be fair to instil fear in them if the threat did indeed turn out to be a hoax.
‘Where to now, guv?’ Stevens said, breaking into James’s thoughts.
James looked at his watch. It was almost three o’clock and he couldn’t believe how quickly the time had passed.
‘I’d like you to go back to the hall,’ he said. ‘See what information you can drum up on Charlie Jenkins and his wife, and run their two members of staff through the system. They worked for the guy so we need to check them out.’
‘And what about you?’
‘I’ll go and talk to Janet Dyer. She told Sonia that Charlie threatened her, so she has to be a person of interest to us.’
Annie had texted him Janet’s address. It was quite close to the square, and he could easily have walked there, but the uniformed officer he chose to go with him had a patrol car to hand so they went in that.
The village was far less busy now, the carollers having dispersed. The place was still ablaze with Christmas lights, but James could tell that the atmosphere had changed. It was now sombre and subdued, and the yuletide jollity had vanished.
Janet Dyer lived in a small detached house just off the main road that passed through the village.
As they walked up to the front door after parking the patrol car at the kerb, James reminded himself what Annie had told him about her childhood friend.
She was divorced and lived here with her twin sons, who had gone to Carlisle to spend Christmas with her ex-husband. They’d been married for ten years before he’d left her and the kids and moved in with a woman he’d met at work.
Janet worked for an agency that provided homecare to old folk in the village and surrounding area and, according to Annie, she was a well-meaning woman who far too often allowed her mouth to run away with her.
From the way Annie had described Janet, he expected her to be a larger than life character with a domineering personality. So he got quite a surprise when she opened the door to them.
She was only just over five feet tall and had a pleasant face with delicate features. Her large brown eyes were swollen and traces of mascara were running down her cheeks. She was wearing jeans and a V-neck sweater that showed a hint of cleavage, and on her feet were a pair of fluffy indoor slippers.
She was clearly shocked to see them and caught her breath as she looked from James to the uniformed officer who was standing behind him.
‘I take it you’re Miss Janet Dyer,’ James said, holding up his ID.
She took a deep breath through her nose, causing her nostrils to flare.
‘Yes, I am,’ she said. ‘Is this about Charlie? I’ve had two people call me to say that his body was found in one of the fields. It’s awful. Like something out of a nightmare.’
‘It is about him, Miss Dyer. I’d like to talk to you because I know you had contact with him yesterday morning. My name is Walker. Detective Inspector James Walker.’
‘You’re Annie’s husband.’
‘That’s correct. May we come in?’
‘I suppose so, but all I know is what I’ve been told. I haven’t been out of the house all day.’
‘As well as investigating the circumstances of his death, we also need to build up a picture of the man himself,’ James said. ‘I’m hoping you can help us in that respect.’
The house was modest and quite messy inside. As Janet led them through to the living room, she explained that she was in the midst of giving the place a clean.
‘I’ve got my sister coming for Christmas, and I want it to look tidy. I don’t get a chance to do it when the boys are here,’ she said. ‘It’s their dad’s turn to have them for the holidays so they’re staying with him in Carlisle until the New Year.’
An artificial Christmas tree stood in front of the patio doors in the living room and decorations hung from the ceiling. There were framed photos of her twins on a sideboard and a bunch of toys were piled up in a corner. Janet had to
move stuff from the sofa so that James and the officer could sit down. She sat on the chair facing them and wrapped her arms around herself.
‘I assume you know that Charlie came here yesterday morning to have a go at me,’ she said. ‘I told Annie about it. He was out of order and I told him so.’
‘I gather you also told his wife.’
She nodded, a shadow crossing her face. ‘It was my way of getting my own back. He was horrible to me and I was really upset.’
‘You told Sonia Jenkins that he threatened you.’
‘That’s because he did. He said I’d regret it if I spoke to anyone else about what happened between us.’
‘Did it get physical?’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Did he hit you?’
She shook her head. ‘Of course not. Charlie wasn’t a violent man. Just self-centred and thoughtless. His bark was worse than his bite. That’s why I’m gutted that he’s dead. I loved him, you see – we had a connection.’
‘So how long did the affair with him last?’ James asked.
‘Almost four months. He came on to me one night in The White Hart when Sonia was away. I was flattered and it went from there. I knew it was wrong because he was married, but I didn’t care because I’d been single for so long and it excited me.’
‘So when did it end and why?’
‘I called a halt to it a month ago because he finally admitted to me that he would never leave his wife,’ she said. ‘He’d led me to believe that he would and we’d even talked about moving to Carlisle together so it would be easy for my boys to spend time with their dad. I took him at his word but should have known better. I wasn’t the first woman he’d had an affair with.’
‘How did it ending make you feel?’
‘Really bad. He meant the world to me and I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.’
She inhaled a long, ragged breath and exhaled slowly. James paused for a few seconds to allow her to compose herself before continuing.
‘So Mr Jenkins was furious with you because you were indiscreet about the affair and mentioned it to one of the elderly gentlemen you visit in your role as a carer? A man named Ron Curtis.’
‘It was a huge mistake and I regret it,’ she said. ‘But I visited Ron the day after I ended it with Charlie. I was in a proper state, and when he asked me what was wrong I broke down and poured my heart out to him. He had no idea about the affair and I told him not to tell anyone. But I should have known that he would. And that it would eventually get back to Sonia.’
James was about to ask another question, but she interrupted him.
‘Are you aware that Charlie went to see Ron yesterday, after he left here?’ she said.
‘No, I didn’t know that.’
‘Well, he did. Ron phoned me afterwards to have a moan. He was really cross because Charlie barged into his house when he opened the door and yelled at him. He told Ron not to spread gossip about him again and called him a mischievous old bastard.’
‘I’ll need to go and talk to Ron Curtis. Do you have his address?’
She gave him the address and he wrote it down in his notebook.
‘Is it true that Charlie was stabbed repeatedly by whoever attacked him in the field?’ Janet asked. ‘Nobody seems to know exactly what happened. All kinds of rumours are circulating.’
James decided not to reveal details about the murder and concluded the interview by asking her where she was last night around the time Charlie Jenkins was murdered.
‘I had an early night,’ she said. ‘I went to bed after taking a sleeping pill and woke up about ten this morning. I didn’t hear what had happened to Charlie until earlier this afternoon.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
It seemed curious to James that the Curtis name had come up twice during the past couple of days.
First Annie’s uncle said that he saw Daniel Curtis hanging around outside the school on Friday evening. Then it emerged that Janet had told Daniel’s father Ron about her affair with Charlie Jenkins, which had sparked an almighty row after Ron passed it on to someone else.
James was now wondering whether it was significant that Charlie was murdered only a matter of hours after he angrily confronted Ron Curtis in his home.
Had the old man sought retribution or got someone else to seek it for him? It didn’t seem likely, but James had to acknowledge that it wasn’t inconceivable.
Ron Curtis’s bungalow was on the outskirts of the village between a doctor’s surgery and a small garden centre. James told the uniformed officer to wait in the patrol car and headed towards the front door. There were no cars on the driveway and he wondered if that meant Ron’s son Daniel wasn’t in.
He felt uncomfortable at the thought of coming face to face with the man who had been Annie’s first love all those years ago. What made it worse was the fact that the guy had turned out to be a child molester, and had spent a couple of years inside.
It therefore came as a relief when the front door was opened by a man who was probably in his eighties. His thin, drawn face had been ravaged by age and there were only a few strands of grey hair lying flat across his scalp. He was wearing a dark brown cardigan and baggy jeans, and he did not look strong enough or fit enough to walk very far by himself, let alone stalk and then murder someone half his age.
James showed his warrant card. ‘Good afternoon, sir. I’m Detective Inspector James Walker with the Cumbria police. Are you Mr Ron Curtis?’
‘I was the last time I checked,’ came the response. ‘What do you want?’
‘I’d like to talk to you about Charlie Jenkins. I know he came here to see you yesterday.’
‘He did indeed, and I told him in no uncertain terms to fuck off after he had a pop at me. He wouldn’t have been so lippy if I was younger or if my son had been here.’
‘Out of curiosity, where was your son at the time and where is he now?’ James asked.
‘He had to go back to his place in Keswick to attend to some business,’ Ron said. ‘He stayed there last night and is coming back later on this evening to spend Christmas with me.’
James nodded. ‘I see. So would it be all right if I came in, sir? I won’t keep you long.’
The old man shrugged. ‘Don’t see why not, especially if what I’ve got to say will get that bastard Jenkins into trouble. Never did like him when I used to go drinking in his pub. Too cocky by half.’
A surprised look crossed James’s face as he entered the bungalow. It appeared that Ron Curtis did not know that Charlie Jenkins was dead.
The interior was cramped, gloomy and in need of a makeover, with damp stains on the walls and worn patches on the carpets. And there was a noticeable absence of Christmas decorations. Not a single bauble, card or flurry of tinsel.
Ron walked slowly with an awkward gait. By the time he got to the living room, where he dropped into an armchair, he was out of breath.
‘I’d offer to make you a cup of tea, but I’ve already had one,’ he said. ‘And I was just about to have my afternoon nap. So I suggest you ask your questions before I doze off, which I’m prone to do even in the middle of a conversation these days.’
James sat and launched into his questions. The first thing he wanted was confirmation of what Janet had told him
‘Let me start by asking you why Mr Jenkins came here yesterday,’ he said.
Ron shrugged his shoulders. ‘To bollock me. He was fucked off because I told my pal Tommy Shepherd about his fling with Janet Dyer. Tommy then told someone else and it eventually reached the ears of Charlie’s wife. But it served him right for playing the field and I told him so.’
‘And did he threaten you?’
‘He tried to, but I just laughed in his face and he didn’t like that. He called me an old gossip and a mischievous bastard, but when I picked up the phone to call the police he stormed out.’
‘Did you have any contact with him after that?’
‘No.’
‘And did you speak to anyone about what happened?’
‘Only my lad, Daniel, and of course Janet, bless her. She was upset too because he had already been around to her place. I told her that she needed to stay well clear of him.’
‘And what did your son say?’
‘He was spitting blood. He wants to go to The White Hart when he gets back later to give that knobhead a roasting. But I’m not sure it’s a good idea. I don’t want Daniel getting pinched.’
James made a mental note to check up on Daniel’s movements. He wanted to know if he had really gone to Keswick yesterday and spent the night there.
‘So what is this is all about?’ Ron said. ‘Are you going to nick Jenkins for harassing Janet and me? Is that it?’
James leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and said, ‘You’re obviously unaware of events that have taken place in the village overnight and this morning, Mr Curtis.’
‘That’s because I haven’t been outside or spoken to anyone. So what have I missed?’
‘Mr Jenkins is dead. His body was found in a field this morning, and it appears he was murdered during the night while out walking his dog.’
The old man’s eyes became thin slits as he stared at James. Then after a couple of beats his mouth curved into a smile.
‘All I can say is that it couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy, Inspector,’ he said. ‘Rats like him don’t deserve to live.’
It wasn’t the reaction that James had expected and it must have shown on his face.
‘You don’t have to look so surprised,’ Ron said. ‘I’m at an age where I can tell it how it is without having to worry what people think. No way am I prepared to express fake sympathy for that prick. But I will say that whoever did it deserves a fucking medal. He wasn’t a nice man.’
‘I appreciate your honesty,’ James said. ‘But I gather most people in the village liked him.’