The Marlow Murder Club

by Robert Thorogood

  What Suzie was saying was true. She and Judith had checked over the photo she’d taken of Andy’s diary the moment they’d got clear of his office and had both been disappointed by what they’d discovered. His diary covered the most recent two weeks and merely listed his work appointments, none of which had any kind of connection to anyone involved in any of the murders as far as they could tell.

  ‘But it was clever of you to try,’ Judith said to Suzie, before turning back to Becks. ‘So you were out on the street with Andy. What on earth did you say to him?’

  ‘Well, I’d managed to get him out of his office by saying I wanted to see him about my husband, so all I could say was how my husband didn’t appreciate me. How I’d become invisible in my own life. Just a mother. A wife. And how I was being driven mad by not having any kind of independent identity.’

  ‘You told him the truth?’ Judith said.

  ‘I didn’t tell him the truth!’ Becks said, confused. ‘It was all a fib. Just to get him talking.’

  ‘Oh right,’ Judith said, exchanging a glance with Suzie. ‘It was a lie.’

  ‘I’m so lucky to lead the life I do.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘But I had to make up something for Andy, so I said I wasn’t happy and that I was looking to leave Colin, and I wanted to know what I could expect in a divorce settlement. Whether I’d get the full fifty per cent, and whether I’d have access to an income as the main caregiver to our children, and what responsibility he’d have to cover the costs of my move out of the vicarage.’

  Judith and Suzie caught each other’s eyes again. For someone who was happy in her life, Becks certainly seemed to have the facts of divorce at her fingertips.

  ‘And what did Andy say?’

  ‘He said that someone as pretty as me could take her husband to the cleaners.’

  ‘He said that, did he?’

  ‘In his experience, judges didn’t take too kindly to husbands ignoring pretty wives.’

  ‘That can’t be true.’

  ‘I’m sure it isn’t. I think it was Andy’s way of coming on to me. And then he suggested we take a walk along the Thames Path. Not towards the church, thank heavens, but towards Hurley Lock. And once we were out of earshot of anyone else, he told me that if I could suggest there’d been physical violence from my husband, I’d get an even better settlement. I was outraged. I mean, Colin may be boring, but he’s never been violent.’

  Judith and Suzie didn’t even need to catch each other’s eyes this time.

  ‘But he said it could be quite subtle. After all, if I was able to suggest mental cruelty, and then refuse to answer questions about physical violence, the judge would draw his own conclusion. It was, according to Andy, all about throwing as much mud as possible at Colin. I was outraged.’

  ‘I’m sure none of this is actually legal.’

  ‘That’s what I said to him, and you know what he did? He laughed. Said I was a naive little girl, and I had a lot to learn before I could screw my husband for the last time.’

  ‘The repulsive little man,’ Judith said.

  ‘But it gets worse. Because I realised we were walking along the path towards Stefan’s house.’

  ‘You made it up this way?’

  ‘But on the Marlow side of the river. Stefan’s side. I had no idea why. But I figured I’d better keep the conversation going until we reached Stefan’s house, if only to find out why we were heading that way. So I asked Andy if he always took his clients for walks along the Thames Path, and you know what he said? He said that whenever he needed to have a conversation with a client that was deniable, he’d always suggest a little walk here. Up to “that stupid man’s house” and back again. That’s how he referred to Stefan, “that stupid man”. Naturally, I pretended to be all innocent and asked who he could be talking about, and he explained how Stefan’s house blocked the Thames Path, you had to take a detour to get around it, but luckily enough he’d recently been shot dead.’

  ‘He called him Stefan by name?’ Judith asked.

  ‘He did.’

  ‘So he knew him!’ Suzie chipped in.

  ‘But it’s more than that,’ Judith said, her eyes ablaze. ‘Are you sure he said Stefan had been shot?’

  ‘He did. Not that he’d died, or even that he’d been murdered, but that he’d been shot.’

  ‘Why’s that of interest?’ Suzie asked.

  ‘Because,’ Judith said, ‘the police have never said for definite how Stefan was killed. Although the papers have been speculating, it’s never been confirmed.’

  ‘So I said to him, “How do you know he was shot dead?”’ Becks said.

  The other two women were stunned.

  ‘You said that?’

  ‘I couldn’t help myself. I mean, here are we trying to discover who killed Stefan, and there I was talking to someone who knew everything about it.’

  Judith and Suzie didn’t know what to say. Without having ever conferred on the subject, they’d always dismissed Becks as being cowardly. How wrong they were.

  ‘What did he say?’ Judith asked.

  ‘He laughed. Said he knew “someone on the inside”, and the word was that Stefan had been shot dead with an antique pistol. I’ll never forget the moment. It was the look in his face. He was smirking. So sure of himself.’

  ‘He said it was an antique?’ Judith asked.

  ‘He did,’ Becks said.

  The three women looked at each other.

  ‘Well, that’s very interesting,’ Judith said. ‘Because we’re about as close to these cases as you can be, and we’ve not heard anything about an antique pistol.’

  ‘I know,’ Becks agreed. ‘So when he told me, I said “how horrible”, or something like that. I don’t remember. I was reeling a bit, if I’m honest. And then Andy turned to me and said, all matter-of-fact, “I don’t suppose you want your husband out of the way like that?” I was horrified, and he laughed, saying he was joking. So I pretended that I was an idiot for believing him. People always believe it when I pretend to be an idiot. It’s how I look.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ Judith said.

  ‘No, they do. And for once, I was glad I’m just a silly housewife. Because he relaxed, thinking we’d bonded over the whole “joke”. Rather than him making me feel sick to my stomach. And as we turned and walked back to Marlow, I asked him about his life, purely to change the subject. I can tell you, he’s got a pumped-up view of himself. Despite having joked about getting my husband killed, he started coming on to me again. It was horrendous. With him saying how he’d been a significant athlete in his youth, how he might have thickened a bit since then, but he was still strong. Still “capable”. That’s the word he used. It was disgusting. And you know what, maybe I’ll have a whisky after all?’

  ‘Bloody hell, you deserve it,’ Judith said, going to her sideboard, splashing a whisky into a glass and bringing it over to Becks.

  Becks, the perfect vicar’s wife, the perfect mother, daughter and housewife, took a sip.

  ‘Sheesh!’ she said, wiping the stinging liquid from her lips with the back of her hand. ‘Does it always have to be whisky?’

  ‘I’ll be honest,’ Judith said, ‘Suzie and I had tea earlier, and it felt wrong. But well done, Becks, you’ve been a real hero. Setting the fire alarm off with your toast, that was brave enough. Taking Andy out of his office was incredibly quick thinking. And getting that information about the gun was even more amazing. Let alone making him break cover and offer to get your husband killed for you, even if he claimed it was a joke at the time. I’m telling you, you’ve achieved more than any of us.’

  The flush of red in Becks’ cheeks wasn’t entirely caused by the sudden rush of whisky in her blood.

  ‘So,’ Judith said, returning to the whisky bottle on the sideboard, ‘now that Andy has admitted that he knows Stefan was shot, and with an antique pistol to boot, what do we think that means?’

  ‘He’s the killer,’ Becks said.


  ‘Although,’ Judith said, thinking it through, ‘if he were the killer, would he really tell you he knew someone had shot him?’

  ‘Sounds like he couldn’t keep himself from bragging,’ Suzie said.

  ‘But surely he’d have stayed quiet. And I can well imagine a local solicitor having contacts in the police. Or he would know someone who does. I bet there’s actually quite a lot of people in Marlow who’ve heard that Stefan was shot dead. He was showing off, as you say.’

  ‘But with an antique pistol?’ Suzie asked. ‘How did he hear about that?’

  ‘And I spent over an hour with him,’ Becks said. ‘He may pretend to be all smooth and sophisticated, but he’s the killer. I’m sure of it. We already know he’s connected to Iqbal’s murder, or he wouldn’t have been shredding that paper straight after you saw him in his office.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Suzie agreed.

  ‘It’s like we said. The most obvious reason he’d know that Stefan had been shot with an antique pistol was because he was the one who shot him. So all we need to do is link him to Liz’s murder and then we can say we’ve finally found someone with clear links to all three murders.’

  Judith sipped on her whisky thoughtfully.

  ‘It’s so frustrating,’ she said. ‘According to Tanika, Liz Curtis was last seen alive at nine this morning by a gaggle of scouts. Their scoutmaster then found her body shortly after ten o’clock. If we knew what Andy was doing between nine and ten, maybe we’d be able to work out if he’s the killer. Although,’ Judith added, brightening, ‘that’s exactly what we can do, isn’t it? Suzie, get up that photo you took of Andy Bishop’s diary.’

  ‘Sure,’ Suzie said and pulled out her mobile phone. A few swipes later, and she was able to show the other women the photo she’d taken of Andy’s diary. While there were plenty of office meetings across each day, not one of them started before 9.30 a.m.

  ‘Well, thanks to Suzie’s quick thinking earlier today,’ Judith said, ‘we now know that Andy Bishop is never in his office before 9.30 a.m.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Suzie said, thrilled. ‘I did that, didn’t I?’

  ‘You did,’ Judith agreed. ‘Well done. Although it would be tight, wouldn’t it? Andy would have to wait in the shadows at the rowing centre with the gun. Let the scouts go out on their canoes, and then shoot Liz dead pretty sharpish before turning up for work at nine thirty.’

  ‘But it would have been do-able,’ Becks said.

  ‘And he’d have had to have known that her husband Danny would be away,’ Judith added.

  ‘He was away?’ Becks asked.

  Judith explained how she’d overheard part of Tanika’s interview with Danny, and that he’d been in Nottingham since the day before.

  ‘Yes, well, that wouldn’t have been hard to find out, would it?’ Suzie said. ‘I mean, we found out about Danny’s Tuesday nights in Nottingham the very first time we talked to him. Didn’t we?’

  ‘You’re right,’ Judith said. ‘He couldn’t wait to tell us. He was that proud.’

  ‘So what have we got?’ Becks said, taking control of the conversation. ‘We know Iqbal believed Andy Bishop stole his inheritance. And Iqbal ended up dead. And although we don’t know what links Andy to Stefan, Stefan was a bit of a crook, wasn’t he? And Andy’s definitely a bit of a crook. So maybe that’s what links them? They’re crooks working together. Either way, Andy knows that Stefan was killed by an antique gun, and that could only be known by the killer, couldn’t it? If it’s true. And now his diary tells us that he had time to kill Liz before getting into his office this morning.’

  As Becks spoke, Judith pulled her phone out of her handbag and made a call.

  ‘Judith,’ Tanika answered.

  ‘Just a quickie,’ Judith said, as though she were ringing on a matter no more urgent than an upcoming whist drive. ‘Would I be right in saying that our killer’s been using an antique pistol for the murders?’

  There was a charged silence on the other end of the line.

  ‘How on earth do you know that?’ Tanika asked.

  ‘Well, that’s a very interesting development, thank you,’ Judith said, and hung up.

  ‘That confirms it,’ she said. ‘It’s like Andy told Becks. The killer used an antique pistol.’

  The three women looked at each other.

  Was Andy Bishop the killer?

  Judith’s phone started ringing, and Judith looked at it in surprise. How could it be ringing when no one was calling her?

  With a start, Suzie realised it was her phone and she pulled it out of her back pocket.

  ‘Sorry about this,’ she said as she looked at the screen. ‘It’s an old client of mine. Hello, Brenda,’ she said into the phone as she answered the call. ‘How are you?’

  Suzie listened for a few moments and then said, ‘No way!’

  She listened for a while longer, her eyes alight with excitement.

  ‘Okay, we’ll be over in five minutes. And thanks, Brenda, you’re a star.’

  Suzie hung up the phone and turned to her friends.

  ‘That was Brenda McFarlane.’

  ‘Who’s Brenda McFarlane?’ Judith asked.

  ‘She used to be one of my clients. Had a cocker spaniel called Monty. Anyway, the point is, Brenda lives next door to Elliot Howard, so I asked her to keep an eye on him.’

  ‘You did?’ Judith asked.

  ‘Remember? When you first told me about him, I said I’d find someone to keep him under surveillance.’

  ‘And she has?’

  ‘Brenda’s a good sort. You can rely on her.’

  ‘But why’s she rung you now?’

  ‘Because she says that half an hour ago, Elliot started a bonfire in his garden.’

  ‘Oh,’ Becks said, a touch underwhelmed. ‘Is that so suspicious?’

  ‘It’s what he’s burning that’s suspicious.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Elliot’s just set fire to an old oil painting.’

  Chapter 28

  ‘I don’t think this is a good idea,’ Becks said as Suzie drove her friends in her tatty van through Marlow at speed. ‘We should be letting the police deal with Elliot.’

  ‘We are,’ Suzie said. ‘But it’ll take Tanika ten minutes to get from Maidenhead to Marlow. We’ve got a head start. And anyway, what’s the problem? You said Andy Bishop’s the killer.’

  ‘Yes, but we shouldn’t be doing this. We’re just a … well, just some housewives.’

  ‘Speak for yourself,’ Judith said. ‘Can’t this thing go any faster?’

  ‘I’m going as fast as I can. Hold on,’ Suzie said as, with a screech of wheels, she turned at speed onto Gypsy Lane without indicating. ‘We’ve got to get there before he’s finished burning the evidence.’

  Gypsy Lane was an old route that had once linked Marlow to the neighbouring village of Marlow Bottom, but it had recently been developed with family homes on both sides, and it ended in a turning circle where the last house was much grander than the rest. There were remote-controlled security gates, thick laurel hedges, and the driveway was a rather startling green tarmac which clashed with the bright red bricks of the house.

  This was where Elliot Howard and his wife Daisy lived.

  Suzie’s van bombed into the turning circle, shuddered to a halt as she slammed on the brakes and then came to a rest in a puff of dust, the left-side wheels bumping up onto the kerb.

  ‘Remind me never to let you drive me anywhere again,’ Becks said.

  ‘So which house is Brenda’s?’ Judith asked.

  ‘That one,’ Suzie said, indicating a small house that was next-door-but-one to Elliot’s.

  A twinkly-eyed old dear in her late eighties came to the door as the three women bustled up to her house, and then she looked about herself conspiratorially before beckoning them inside.

  ‘This is Brenda,’ Suzie said, once they’d entered the little hallway.

  ‘This is all very Vichy France,’ Judith sa
id in delight, taking in her surroundings. There were net curtains, thimbles on display and horse brasses on the wall. ‘What a lovely home,’ she said.

  ‘Thank you,’ Brenda said. ‘And thank you for coming, Suzie. We’d better go upstairs. Come on.’

  Brenda ushered the women up a staircase into a darkened room off the main hallway that contained a green baize table, already laid out with playing cards, bridge notepads and pencils.

  ‘Oh, you play bridge?’ Judith asked.

  ‘I do, do you?’

  ‘I used to. But I always overbid. It infuriates my partners.’

  ‘What bidding system did you use?’

  ‘It makes no difference, we always seem to end up in seven spades.’

  ‘Hello?’ Suzie said, interrupting. ‘Elliot Howard?’

  ‘Of course, sorry,’ Brenda said, going over to the curtains and pulling them back an inch. ‘Because I must say, I’ve never quite liked him. Or his wife. They never say hello. And I can see into their house from up here. There’s something not right about the way they go about their lives. They’re rarely in the same room as each other. Never listen to music or the radio. There’s no joy in that house. Anyway, it was all normal up until today. I had nothing to report. Although I’ve been keeping an eye on them like you asked, Suzie. And then, I was up here getting ready for bridge and I saw … well, you can see for yourself. Go on, have a look.’

  Brenda stepped to one side, and the three other women all sidled up to the gap in the curtains and peered through. From their position on the first floor, they could see over the laurel hedge into the garden of the grand house at the end of the road.

  Elliot was standing alone, a small bonfire at his feet.

  It looked like he was burning a square of canvas on a frame.

  ‘You’re right!’ Suzie said. ‘He’s burning a painting.’

  ‘That’s what it looked like to me,’ Brenda said. ‘And Suzie had said I should keep my eye out for anything strange. And burning a painting is very definitely what I’d call strange.’

  As she said this, the four women watched Elliot head back towards his house. He then reappeared holding a few more canvases in his hands.

  ‘He’s not just burning one painting,’ Judith said as they watched Elliot throw the new paintings onto the bonfire.