by Alex Pine
James introduced DC Abbott and explained that she was part of the team investigating the murders.
‘It’s such a terrible business,’ King said. ‘Lorna Manning came in here most mornings on her way to the school. I can’t believe I won’t see her and Charlie again.’
‘Did you know them well?’
‘Reasonably so. I’d chat with Lorna when she popped in and I’ve always been a regular at The White Hart.’
‘Can you think of a reason why anyone would want to kill them?’
‘Definitely not. That’s what’s so weird about it. And why everyone in the village is so nervous. Most are afraid to go out, especially after dark.’
James nodded. ‘That strikes me as sensible. It’s actually the reason we’ve come here to speak to you, Mr King.’
‘Really? Why?’
‘Well, we’ve discovered that you were one of several people who were walking around in the village late last night. And as part of our investigation we need you to account for your movements.’
The blood retreated from King’s face and he ran a tongue over his lips before responding.
‘What makes you believe that I was out last night?’ he said.
‘Are you going to tell us that you weren’t?’ James asked him.
King swallowed a lump. ‘Not at all. I, er, went for a walk, because I felt I needed some exercise before going to bed.’
‘And where did you go?’
‘Nowhere. Just strolled for a while but not far from my house.’
‘But you were spotted on Peabody Street around midnight. That’s on the other side of the village from your house.’
He looked nervously from James to Abbott and then back to James. ‘I don’t understand why you’re making a big deal of this. I’m allowed to walk around my own village whenever I want to.’
‘And just walking wouldn’t normally arouse suspicion,’ Abbott said. ‘But you were seen ducking into a doorway so that a police patrol wouldn’t spot you. And before you deny it, you should know that a witness has come forward to say she saw you from her window and she recognised you straight away.’
King started to speak, but James interrupted him.
‘I wouldn’t advise you to drag this out, Mr King. You need to convince us that you haven’t been up to no good. The killer we’re looking for claimed both his victims around midnight on Saturday and Sunday. We don’t yet know for certain if he struck again last night, but we do know he delivered something through the letterbox of a house in Grange Road, which is not far from Peabody Street. So please wise up and be honest with us. You went out last night and took steps to make sure the police wouldn’t see you. Why was that? Are you our killer, Mr King? Or can you offer up an innocent explanation?’
King just stood there in stunned silence for several seconds, his mouth agape, panic flashing across his features.
James could see that he’d been right to go in hard, rather than take a soft approach. It was obvious to him that the man was trying to conceal something.
Eventually King spoke, his voice low and quivering.
‘I really don’t want to tell you where I went last night but I can see I don’t have a choice,’ he said. ‘I beg you not to tell my wife, though. It would just add to her suffering.’
‘I can’t promise you that, Mr King,’ James said. ‘Not until I’m in possession of the facts. So I suggest you get it off your chest. If you’ve done nothing wrong we won’t have to waste any more of your time or ours.’
Before King told them what they wanted to know he locked the door to the store and put a closed sign in the window.
‘I haven’t killed anyone,’ he said, after taking them through to the office-cum-kitchen where he stood shame-faced with his back against the desk. ‘But the truth is I didn’t just go for a walk last night. I went to see a woman named Felicity Bower. She lives on the other side of the village and I was coming back from there when I saw the police car.’
‘So why did you rush into a doorway?’
‘I feared that if the officers spotted me they would ask me to explain where I’d been and where I was going.’
‘And why would that have been a problem?’
‘Because I visit Felicity in order to have sex with her,’ he said bluntly. ‘It’s an arrangement we’ve had for the past year and we didn’t want anyone to know about it. And before you judge either of us you should take into account that Felicity is a widow and doesn’t have a partner. And although I love my wife dearly she can no longer satisfy my needs because of her condition. What Felicity and I do makes life more bearable for the both of us.’
‘How have you managed to get away with it for so long?’ Abbott asked. ‘Doesn’t your wife suspect anything when you disappear in the evening?’
‘Maeve can’t sleep without pills and after she takes them a nuclear explosion wouldn’t wake her up. And I take the view that what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.’
CHAPTER FIFTY
What began as a promising lead had quickly fizzled out.
James left DC Abbott with Peter King in the store and went to see if Felicity Bower would corroborate his story. She did, and she also confirmed that he was with her from 9 p.m. until just before midnight.
‘That’s usually how long he stays when he comes over,’ she said. ‘We have a chat, a few drinks and then spend some time in bed. But it’s not an affair, as such. It’s an arrangement. And it’s helped us both get through a difficult time in our lives.’
She was in her fifties with short brown hair, a slim figure and an attractive face.
When she’d opened the door to James and the officer, she had been understandably alarmed. And when he’d asked her to verify King’s alibi her face had turned white. But she’d relaxed as soon as he explained that they needed to know because King was seen walking through the village late at night.
‘I can assure you that Peter is not the maniac who killed Charlie and Lorna,’ she said now. ‘He’s a good man. A gentle man. And everyone who knows him will tell you that.’
She then told James something else that would, if confirmed, rule King out as a suspect.
‘On Saturday night, when Charlie was murdered, Peter and Maeve were at a party at Craig and Barbara Wilson’s house,’ she said. ‘I was there too, along with ten other people, and none of us left until about two in the morning. Peter then had to push Maeve home in her wheelchair.’
‘So you and Peter’s wife are acquainted,’ James said, surprised.
She nodded. ‘I’ve known her since before she had her stroke. And Peter too. That’s why it’s so important that we keep our arrangement secret.’
Back at the store, where DC Abbott had been joined by two more officers, James told King what Felicity Bower had said.
‘She also told me that you were at a Christmas party on Saturday night,’ he said. ‘Is that true?’
‘Yes it is,’ King replied. ‘You can check with Craig Wilson. He invited Maeve and I.’
Abbott then told James that the officers had carried out a quick search of the house and nothing suspicious had turned up.
She pointed to a small pile of cards on the counter, all with the Twelve Days of Christmas design.
‘Those were on display,’ she said. ‘And there are a few more out back.’
King was clearly puzzled. ‘I remember you asked about those when you came here on Saturday,’ he said to James. ‘What’s so special about them?’
‘Those same cards have been delivered anonymously to several homes in the village,’ James said. ‘And they contained malicious messages.’
‘That’s not my doing. I just sell them, and as I told you before, I don’t keep details of exactly who bought them.’
James said that they might need to talk to him again, but added, ‘I’m satisfied that what you’ve told us is the truth, Mr King. We will be asking Mr and Mrs Wilson to confirm that you were at their party on Saturday, but that’s just a formality. And rest assur
ed that I see no reason to mention any of this to your wife. Your secret is safe for now.’
After leaving the store, James asked one of the uniforms to go and speak to the Wilsons.
‘Ask about the party and get a list of who else was there,’ he said. ‘Tell them it’s just a routine enquiry and don’t mention Peter King by name.’
James and DC Abbott then climbed into the patrol car and he told the driver to take them to Lorna Manning’s house in Willow Road.
‘I want to see if the SOCOs have found anything more of interest,’ he said.
On the way there Abbott lamented the fact that over two hours had been wasted.
‘Not entirely,’ James said. ‘I’ve learned that this village has more than its share of sordid little secrets. It exudes charm on the outside, but scratch the surface and smelly pus seeps out.’
Abbott laughed. ‘Are you wishing that you had never moved here, guv?’
He looked at her and managed a flat smile. ‘I think the jury is still out on that one, Detective.’
‘Well, for what it’s worth, me and the rest of the team are hoping you’ll stick with it. And that includes DS Stevens, even though he doesn’t make it obvious. We value your experience and like your approach. And we’re glad that you’re here to help us with this.’
James was touched as well as surprised.
‘All I can say is that I hope I don’t let you down,’ he said.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Lorna Manning’s house was still taped off and a police officer in a high-vis jacket manned the front gate. He approached James as soon as he climbed out of the patrol car.
‘You might like to know, sir, that the victim’s son arrived here just a few minutes ago,’ he said. ‘I explained that he couldn’t enter the house until the forensics team had finished up.’
The officer was holding a business card which he handed over to James.
‘He gave this to me and asked if someone could call him when he’s allowed access to his mother’s house. I suggested he drop by the village hall to leave his details and have a word with someone. He said he would, but first he intended to visit the church to talk to the priest about funeral arrangements.’
James looked at the card: CHRIS DRAKE, FINANCIAL ADVISER.
James remembered reading somewhere in Lorna’s documents that her married name had been Drake.
He thanked the officer, pocketed the card and told DC Abbott that they would have a word with the son next.
Inside, the SOCOs had almost completed their work. Every inch of the house had been checked over, especially the kitchen where the smell of various chemicals assaulted the nostrils.
Items had been taken away for analysis and most surfaces had been dusted for fingerprints and swabbed for DNA traces. But it was clear to James that the killer had been scrupulously careful, just as he’d been in the field where Charlie Jenkins was stabbed to death.
The senior forensic officer told James that he would produce a report by the end of the day and make testing of all the samples a priority.
As the two detectives left the house, James took out Chris Drake’s business card and called the mobile number printed on it. The man answered on the second ring and James identified himself and asked if they could meet up. Drake said he was in Father Silver’s office at the church so James told him to wait there.
After hanging up, he turned to DC Abbott and said, ‘We can kill two birds with one stone. I was planning to update the priest on where we are. And I need to tell him that Gordon Carver now knows about the cards and the photo left in the church graveyard.’
Chris Drake was a slightly overweight man in his thirties with a round face and a full head of short black hair. He was sitting on the leather sofa in Father Silver’s office at the church when the two detectives walked in.
James could see that he was consumed by grief, his eyes bright with pain.
Father Silver had positioned two chairs so they were facing the sofa, and he invited James and DC Abbott to sit on them. Before doing so, James performed the introductions and offered his condolences to Lorna’s son.
The priest then sat next to Drake on the sofa and said they had been discussing his mother’s funeral.
‘I’ve explained to Mr Drake that in view of the circumstances it might not take place for some weeks,’ he said.
James was struck by how tired and strung out the priest looked. He assumed it was due to a combination of stress and the cancer that was destined to shorten his life.
James started by asking Drake how much he knew about his mother’s death.
‘The officers who came to see me at my home in Southend told me only that she’d been murdered by an intruder,’ he said as he tried to control the emotion in his voice. ‘I’ve learned more from the news, and when I contacted your office in Kendal, they said they would provide me with more information when I came to formally identify my mother’s body.’
James told him what they knew, including the fact that they believed his mother was killed by the same person who murdered Charlie Jenkins.
Drake just stared at James, his eyes glistening, as his mind struggled to process what he was hearing.
Then he said, ‘So that means her death could have been avoided if you had made it known that you were hunting a serial killer. Mum would surely have been more careful.’
‘But we didn’t know, Mr Drake,’ James said. ‘We thought and hoped that the first murder was a one-off.’
‘So what makes you so sure that Mum was the victim of the same killer?’
‘There are various reasons, Mr Drake, including the fact that in both cases the murder weapon was a knife. I’ll disclose more information to you about the circumstances of your mother’s death when I am able. In the meantime, I’m afraid we can’t let you enter the house just yet. I can tell you that some of your mother’s personal possessions have been taken away to be analysed. Among them is a small suitcase containing various files and documents. I’ll get it to you as soon as we’ve finished with it.’
Drake nodded. ‘I know about the case, Inspector. Mum told my wife and I that when she died, we should look through it because it held all her personal stuff, including her will.’
‘And did she also mention a sealed envelope that contained a secret she’d kept for the past ten years?’ James asked delicately.
Drake knotted his brow. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
James drew in a chest full of air and told him about his mother’s confession.
Drake’s eyes went saucer-wide and his mouth sagged open in disbelief.
‘She never told me about any hit-and-run,’ he said after a beat. ‘Are you sure that she wrote it? Mum would never have done something like that. And she was always telling me not to drink and drive.’
‘We’re one hundred per cent sure that your mother wrote it,’ James said. ‘It was a clear confession and she signed it. On the envelope were instructions to open it in the event of her death.’
Unable to speak, Drake raked both hands through his hair and squeezed his eyes shut.
‘That has to be why Lorna had such a hard time enjoying life,’ Father Silver said. ‘She must have been struggling to cope with the guilt for all those years. It ate away at her.’
‘So you didn’t know about it either, Father,’ James said.
The priest shook his head. ‘I wish I had. I would have tried to help her. I told you before that I thought she was probably troubled by something that happened in the past. But she would never talk about it.’
Drake opened his eyes and said, ‘I remember now how Mum started to withdraw into herself. It was just before she moved here and that was ten years ago. She began having mood swings and we thought it was because she wasn’t happy about being single. I tried to get her to open up but she kept saying it was probably the menopause. After she moved I didn’t see as much of her. When we did get together, she seemed okay. But I could always tell she was making a big
effort for our benefit.’
‘When was the last time you saw her?’ DC Abbott asked.
‘That was back in the summer when she came to stay with us for a few days during the school holidays. But we talked on the phone at least once a week. In fact, the last time was on Sunday evening, only a few hours before—’
His eyes flared with emotion suddenly and he drew in a sharp breath and held it for several seconds. When he started to speak again, his voice shuddered.
‘She called to tell me about the man who was murdered in the field. She said she would have phoned earlier but she had a visitor and had to wait until he’d left.’
‘Do you know who the visitor was?’ James asked.
Drake nodded. ‘A bloke named Giles Keegan. She reckoned he was smitten with her.’
‘And was she very fond of him?’
‘I think so. They’d known each other for quite a while and she said it was good to go on a date again after so long.’
‘I’ve spoken to Mr Keegan and he told me that he saw your mum on Sunday,’ James said. ‘They were attending the carol singing together in the square when the man’s body was discovered. Keegan went to her house later in the afternoon to see if she was all right. He also told me that he really liked her and was hoping they might have a long-term relationship.’
‘I gather she liked him too, but I’m not convinced it would have come to anything serious. On Sunday she said she’d had to tell him to go because he was getting on her nerves. She pretended she had some school work to do.’
‘Did she say what he was saying or doing that was grating on her?’ James asked.
‘Well, as you probably know, he’s a retired detective. According to Mum all he ever talked about was how nobody is safe any more, even in places like this. He complained about the breakdown of law and order and said he was sick of seeing so many criminals escape justice. He even told her that there were some people in this village who should be behind bars. And he’s right, isn’t he? It was probably one of the bastards who murdered my mum.’