Murder at the Murder Mystery Weekend

by David W Robinson

  The busy dining room. They assumed that Mrs Wilson really was Mrs Wilson. The quiet corridor by the lifts. Cracking barney on the first floor. A convivial restaurant on New Year’s Day. He’s trying to get his feet under the table. The muted aura of the cathedral. I created that situation, Mr Murray. The silent padding across soft carpets to Melanie’s room. You’d do well to mind your own business, old lad. A look in the mirror. Don’t see why I should change the habits of a lifetime... habits of a lifetime... habits of a lifetime...

  Joe stared frantically round the room. “Oh my god. How could I have been so stupid?”

  “I’d say you’ve had plenty of practice, Joe,” Brenda ribbed him.

  He ignored her, yanked out his mobile and quickly dialled Grant’s number. “Get yourself out here, Phil, and bring a team with you. I know who did it, but they’ll have to search for the evidence. And you need to hurry up before anyone drives off with the evidence.”

  “Joe, if you’re wrong, this could cost me a fortune. Not to mention my next promotion and my pension.”

  “Just get yourself up here. We’ll need to speak to Melanie Markham, Gerry Carlin and Wendy Grimshaw in particular.”

  “On my way.”

  Joe cut off the phone and stared across at Wendy. She was watching him. Joe’s face split into a broad grin. Gotcha!

  ***

  Sergeant Idleman was already sat with the trio when Joe and Grant entered Cliff Denshaw’s office, and took their seats. Melanie appeared quite relaxed, Carlin less so, and Wendy clearly irritated. Outside, uniformed officers, having been briefed by Joe and Grant, were already searching the Markham Murder Mysteries props, despite protests from Melanie and her team.

  Carlin went straight on the attack. “Can someone tell us what’s going on here, Chief Inspector? Melanie and I should be helping the others load the van. We’re supposed to be on our way to Mansfield.”

  “And I have to be on my way home, too,” Wendy protested. “I have urgent matters to deal with, not least my poor husband’s funeral.”

  The chief inspector was not persuaded. “I think we all need to hear what Mr Murray has to say. Joe?”

  Joe noticed Carlin relax and he mirrored the movement, letting his shoulders drop a little, allowing his hands to idle with a paperclip on the desk top. But he fixed the actor with his eyes.

  “I have to hand it to you. You were good. Your performance was worthy of an Oscar, but…” Joe paused for effect. “Unlike your partner, you weren’t perfect. You made two mistakes. You didn’t listen to the way Reggie spoke and you moved the tray.”

  Carlin laughed. Nervously? Cynically? Scathingly? Joe could not make up his mind.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Joe, but it’s not funny.”

  Then why are you laughing? The thought flashed across Joe’s mind, but he did not voice it.

  Instead, he said, “Your impression of Tommy Cooper isn’t funny, either, but at least it’s accurate, which is more than can be said for your impersonation of Reggie Grimshaw.”

  “Now look, old lad –”

  Joe cut Carlin off. “Did you hear that, Phil?” he asked. “‘Old lad’. It’s a common expression up our way.” His eyes pinned Carlin back. “But Reggie wasn’t a Yorkshireman. He was from Nottingham. He always said, ‘me ducks’ not ‘old lad’.”

  The two police officers were puzzled, Melanie looked alarmed, Wendy displayed no emotion, but for a brief moment, Carlin’s eyes let it slip. It was so fleeting most people would have missed it, but Joe had been expecting it.

  “Y’see, the bugger factor in this case has always been the time of death. We knew Reggie was alive at midnight because I heard him tearing into someone when I was on my way to Melanie’s room. As witnesses go, they don’t come any better than me, and I distinctly heard him say, ‘You’d do well to mind your own business, old lad’. But I didn’t hear Reggie. I heard you, Carlin, impersonating him. And that means Reggie was already dead at that time, and in turn it means that all bets – and alibis – are off.”

  “What a lot of bull,” Carlin chuckled. “I was in the Grimshaw’s room earlier in the day, true. Wendy and I met there. But I never went anywhere near the room that night.”

  “Oh yes, you did, and in a minute I’ll prove it.” Joe went on to the police. “As long as we believed that Reggie was still alive at midnight, we would never consider Carlin and Wendy, because we knew where they were. Hard at it in Carlin’s room. Billy Norman could vouch for that. He listened at the door, not long after I joined Melanie, and he heard them. He had to sleep in the prop room. But it’s Carlin’s second mistake that lets them down. He removed the tea tray.”

  Sergeant Idleman frowned. “I’m sorry, Mr Murray, I don’t understand. What tea tray?”

  “I saw Wendy and Reggie leave the bar about half past ten and Reggie was carrying a tray of tea things, like the one the barmaid delivered to me and my friends half an hour ago. Now remember, I was first into Reggie’s room the following morning. I saw only the one cup, the milk, sugar, the teapot, but there was no tray. Cliff Denshaw commented on it. He was gonna look for it until I stopped him.” He pointed at the suspects. “The cup was in Carlin’s room and they got rid of the tray.”

  Now Grant was puzzled. “Why?”

  Joe pointed at the healing bruise just under Carlin’s hairline. “Because Reggie hit him with it and caused that bruise, which meant there would be traces of his blood on the tray. Now think about it, Phil. If you found traces of Carlin on the carpet, the furniture, even the bed, it would mean nothing. He could claim to have been in the room earlier in the day, as he just did. Everyone knew he was shagging Wendy, anyway, so you wouldn’t have suspected him of anything else. But to find traces of him on the tea tray would mean he was in the room after Reggie went back on Friday night. And they both knew that no matter how much they cleaned the tray, they couldn’t guarantee getting all the traces out and your forensic people would find them, so they thought it was better to lose the tray altogether. And do you know what’s really daft, Phil? We saw it. You and me. When Carlin was digging in the Markham Murder Mysteries prop trunk for the fake cheese wire.”

  Some of Carlin’s confidence was waning. Boosted by it, Joe launched his next attack.

  “Let me tell you what really happened. A friend of mine, George Robson, met Sheila, Brenda and me in the lobby at about half eleven on Friday night, and he told us he’d just heard a barney in room 104. Someone got battered with a tin tray. That is when Reggie was killed, and I can see it all now. I saw Wendy and Reggie leave the bar. I waved to them and I thought she was waving back at me, but she wasn’t. She was signalling Carlin that the job was on. I was sat with Melanie, and a little while later, he came over to say goodnight. But he didn’t go his own room. He went to the Grimshaws’ where he pulled the gun and threatened Reggie, who lashed out with the first thing he laid hands on; the tray. It caught Carlin on the forehead. Carlin lost his rag, pressed Reggie to the mattress, put a pillow over his head and blew him away. Then they set about creating their alibi. Get rid of the tray, leave the room door ajar so that anyone coming from the lift would hear Reggie mouthing off, then back to Carlin’s room for a bit of how’s your father…that was for Billy Norman’s benefit. And the following morning, he covered the bruise with Inspector O’Keefe’s trilby. He even kept the bloody hat on when he dumped the overcoat on Saturday, just to keep the bruise hidden. And they were quite safe. They knew that it’s impossible to fix a time of death accurately. Reggie could have died anywhere between eleven p.m. and, say, three or four in the morning. It was my evidence fixed the time of death after midnight, and that left them clean and green.”

  As Joe fell silent, Wendy maintained her poise, but Carlin applauded. “Author, author.”

  “So you still deny it?”

  “It’s a complete lot of nonsense… old lad,” Carlin sneered.

  This time Joe maintained his silence.

  “You’re asking the plod to take
a lot on trust here, Murray,” Carlin argued. “Like Wendy turning up at the Twin Spires just as I happen to be appearing here. Explain that.”

  “It’s no coincidence,” Joe replied. “I spoke to Kendrew, remember, and so did Chief Inspector Grant and Sergeant Idleman. It was his turn to organise the Grimshaw Kitchens outing, and he told all three of us that Wendy suggested this venue. Be honest about it, Carlin, you haven’t just renewed your old friendship with Wendy. You’ve been in touch for years. I meanersay, if you’d really only just met up again, would she jump into bed with you?”

  “Melanie did with you.”

  “Because Melanie wanted something from me, and it wasn’t just a good rogering,” Joe retorted. “No, Carlin, you admit you and Wendy go back a long way, and the truth is you’ve kept in touch over the years. Haven’t you? You’ve probably talked about her leaving Reggie for years, too, and the final straw for her was the collapse of the Midland Kitchens deal.”

  “I don’t understand the relevance, Joe,” Grant said.

  “As a company, Grimshaw Kitchens was in poor health,” Joe explained. “Another friend of mine, Alec Staines, told me he’d seen examples of their work and it was crap. Wendy admitted to me that the product was rubbish. The company was struggling. Then along came Midland Kitchens with an offer. It wasn’t big. Three or four million and not the ten Alec told me about, but it would give Reggie and Wendy a nice little personal nest egg. Something she could take half of when she demanded a divorce. But that idiot, Reggie refused to sell, and as far as Wendy was concerned, that was the end. She didn’t want to wait any longer, so she took the dirty route out of it. If Reggie wouldn’t shift, shine him on.”

  “This man is talking utter nonsense,” Wendy insisted.

  “Am I?” Joe challenged.

  “Of course you are. I don’t deny Gerry and I have been in contact, but it’s been over the last few years, not twenty, and on Friday night, Mr Murray, although I left the bar with Reggie, I stayed only a short while in our room before joining Gerry in his. He had to go out for a few minutes at about a quarter past eleven. He had only one cup in his room, so he had to go to the bar for a second. But he wasn’t gone long, and as we all know, Reggie was still alive at the time, so I knew Gerry couldn’t have killed him.”

  “Except that I just proved that Reggie wasn’t alive at midnight,” Joe objected.

  “No. You have demonstrated that he may have been killed earlier, that is all,” Wendy objected. “Regardless of that, I was nowhere near our room all Friday night.”

  “And Gerry didn’t leave you again, Wendy?”

  “I don’t think so,” she said. “I fell asleep about a quarter to midnight and I didn’t wake until gone eight the following morning.”

  “Because Gerry made sure you wouldn’t. Y’see, as I said, the tray wasn’t the only thing missing from Reggie’s room. There was a cup missing, too. I know for a fact that Reggie had two cups on the tray when he went upstairs, but when Denshaw and I entered the room the following morning, there was only one. He didn’t go to the bar for it. He took it from the Grimshaw’s room.” Joe smiled. “He probably gave you a sleeping pill, Wendy, and that proves you’re innocent.”

  ***

  The admission brought howls of protest from everyone. Grant called for order, and then turned on Joe.

  “What the hell is going on here? You told me you had it all cracked.”

  “And I do,” Joe told him. “I’ve had days agonising about this, knowing that something was wrong, but unable to put my finger on it. Then, when I realised what had happened with the tray, I saw through Gerry and Wendy’s plan right away. But I realised if it was Wendy, she’d done far too much. By killing Naomi, who was suspected of having an affair with Reggie, she actually drew attention to herself. Particularly when Kendrew was cleared. And then I finally twigged what I’d been missing all along.” Joe grinned broadly. “We’re dealing with a bunch of actors.” He turned his head slowly to the left. “Aren’t we, Melanie?”

  She was convincingly surprised by the question. “What? I’m sorry, Joe?”

  Joe grinned at Idleman. “Tell me something, Sergeant, would you consider me a babe magnet?”

  She snorted, and quickly suppressed the response. “Well, er, Mr Murray, you’re not exactly my cup of tea.”

  “Thank you for your honesty.” He waved a hand at Melanie. “Ms Markham, here, fell for me on Friday night, and it took me until half an hour ago to work out why.”

  “Joe,” she complained. “We had something special.”

  “Yes, we did, didn’t we?” His mock-sweet smile faded. “They’re actors, Phil, and what kind of skills do you need as an actor? Not just the ability to play a part. You have to understand timing, too. At eleven fifteen on Friday night, Gerry Carlin left Wendy in his room, went to Reggie’s drum and killed him as I’ve described, but he and Melanie needed to make it look as if it happened later. But I didn’t just happen to be passing the Grimshaw’s room at midnight. I was meant to pass it because that’s the time I was supposed to meet Melanie in her room further along the corridor. And as I passed, he delivered his impersonation. The timing was perfect. Billy was due back in Gerry’s room within fifteen minutes, but all he needed was to let me hear Reggie’s voice, and as I disappeared into Melanie’s room, he went back to his own. It established a time at which Reggie was still alive and it gave Melanie a cast iron alibi. She could not possibly be involved because she was with me all night. Wendy, too, was innocent because she was with Gerry all night. They needed her to be cleared of any involvement, because once a decent enough interval had passed after Reggie’s death, Gerry would become a permanent fixture in her life, and after another decent enough interval, Wendy would die. An accident, poisoning, maybe even Fliss Kendrew taking revenge after the false imprisonment of her husband. Gerry would naturally inherit Wendy’s estate, which, after the sale of Grimshaw Kitchens, would run into a couple of million, and after yet another decent enough interval, his real love would move in to share his fortune… Melanie Markham.”

  Grant’s eyes shifted constantly from Carlin to Melanie and back to Joe. “Then why murder Naomi Barton?”

  “Because they’re actors,” Joe insisted. “There were three big threats to their plans. Me, Kendrew and Naomi. Melanie’s free-fall knickers took care of me and, as well trained thespians, they’d already seen through the ham act Robbie Kendrew and Naomi were putting on. Kendrew was the sacrificial lamb. He would be blamed and jailed for Reggie’s killing. Naomi could get him off. All she had to do was tell the truth, and at some stage, she would have done, so they murdered her, too. While Kendrew was giving out his, ‘I hate Naomi’ act, he would naturally be suspected of the crime. After killing Naomi, all Melanie had to do was keep me occupied for another forty-eight hours, and they were home free.” He laughed. “But they didn’t bank on my two girls. Sheila and Brenda may not be able to spot an act, but they’ve lived long lives and if there’s one thing they can see, it’s love. When Fliss told them the tale of Robbie’s obsession for beating Naomi, my friends realised what was going on and it got Robbie off the hook. And that screwed up the grand plan.”

  “But it was too late to change things,” Idleman said, the light dawning in her words.

  “Far too late. The best they could do was keep their eye on me, and Melanie did that really well, right down to asking me if I’d take Gerry’s place by explaining the solution to Haliwell’s Heroes this morning.” Joe chewed spit. “And like a bloody fool, I fell for it.”

  Silence fell again, interrupted by a knock at the door. On Grant’s prompt a uniformed constable stepped in, bent low and whispered to the chief inspector.

  Grant thanked the officer and watched him leave, before addressing the two suspects. “Mr Carlin, can you explain how my uniformed crew have just found the missing tray amongst the props belonging to Markham Murder Mysteries?”

  Carlin’s face fell, but to her credit, Melanie held her features steady.


  “The hotel should be able to identify it as their property,” Grant went on, “and it’s with my scientific support team right now. If they find one trace of you on that tray, Mr Carlin, you are in serious trouble, so my recommendation to you is, tell us it all, right now.”

  Carlin maintained his silence, and when Grant concentrated upon her, Melanie, too, refused to speak.

  “Motive?” The chief inspector demanded.

  “The rights to kitchen designs which Melanie had sold to Grimshaw Kitchens,” Joe declared. “She’d been back and asked for more money, but the Grimshaws turned her down.”

  “Of course we did,” Wendy declared. “The original sale of two thousand pounds was what we all agreed and she had no right to any more. I was always surprised when she came back anyway.”

  “You robbed me, you old cow,” Melanie snapped, coming suddenly to life. “You and your overbearing, philandering, thieving husband took advantage of me.”

  “You didn’t have to sell,” Wendy told her. “You could have carried on taking royalties every time we used one of your designs. You asked us to buy them from you.”

  “Because I needed the money and you knew it.” She rounded angrily on Joe. “And you… You think sleeping with you was a pleasure? It was a necessary sacrifice. You’re too smart for your own bloody good. We should have killed you, too, like I suggested to Gerry when we learned you were due here…”

  “You bloody fool.” Carlin’s voice was a hiss and aimed at Melanie. “You stupid, bloody fool.”

  “Gerry, I…”

  “They had nothing.” He waved a frantic arm at Joe and the two police officers. “So they found the tray. So they may have found traces of me on it. What of it? The worst they could do me for was stealing the bloody tray. I could have cut my bloody finger on it for all they knew. It didn’t prove I killed Reggie. Why didn’t you just keep your mouth shut?”

  “That’s not strictly accurate, Mr Carlin,” Idleman told him. “Thanks to Mr Murray, we would have looked more closely at the cheese wire used to murder Ms Barton, and no matter how well you cleaned it, we would have found traces to link it to you.”