Detective Sophie Allen Box Set 2

by MICHAEL HAMBLING

  ‘Tell me about your life in Bristol, Pauline. Or should I call you Mrs Camberwell?’

  Pauline’s smile faded. ‘Please don’t. It has too many memories. I prefer to use Stopley.’

  ‘Why’s that? So you can keep acting? So you can keep spinning me along in your little play? You in the central role, with all of these other people orbiting around you, being charmed and entertained by you? What is it I read recently? "I live a spectral life, empty of meaning. I inhabit a ghostly world, vacant of substance." Or something like that. What do you think those lines mean?’

  ‘Sorry. I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  Sophie nodded. ‘Again, tell me about your life in Bristol.’

  Pauline suddenly spat back, ‘why should I? What’s it got to do with you, any of it? Prying into my private life and my memories. What gives you the right? It’s got absolutely nothing to do with my relationship with John, nothing. He was a lovely man who came to a tragic end, and I’m sad for him. I’m sad for me as well, because I thought at last I was on to something good, something worthwhile that might last. But now? It’s all a mess, as usual.’ Her eyes became moist.

  Marsh wondered if the boss would soften, but he saw that her look was still icy.

  ‘Cut the crap, Pauline. It doesn’t impress me in the slightest. Tell me about Bristol.’

  Pauline looked haggard. ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘About your marriage to Richard, for a start. I want to know when and how.’

  Pauline stared at Sophie bleakly. She finally spoke, quietly, with little emotion. ‘Richard was the love of my life. We were sweethearts at school and I adored him. I always did. We had a stupid tiff and went our separate ways after we left school, but I never managed to get him out of my head and I always hoped we’d get back together. No one else ever came close, not really. We kept in touch, even when he went to Hong Kong for a couple of years. At least, I thought we’d kept in touch. How wrong I was. When he came back to Bristol, married, I was distraught, heartbroken. I didn’t know what to do at first, but then I threw myself into my work and got through the next few years somehow. Then his wife gave birth to twins and I knew everything was lost. She was really pretty, a successful doctor and the mother of his children. What chance did I have? That’s when I started going on tour for long spells, great for my career, but soul destroying for me.’ She paused for breath, then sighed. ‘Then I heard that Li Hua, his wife, had been killed in a road accident. It was awful for him, so I started visiting. I wanted to help him. I still loved him, for God’s sake.’ She looked across at Sophie, defiant. Her voice softened. ‘It was wonderful. It all clicked back into place. We got married. I was worried about the twins and how we’d get on, but they were lovely children and they seemed to take to me. I was so happy, maybe for the first time in my adult life. It was like paradise. Even work was going well. I landed a couple of good roles in plays. My life couldn’t have been better. Then I came home from a Saturday afternoon shopping trip with the children and found him dead at the bottom of the stairs. He’d tripped over some of the children’s toys, fallen down the whole flight, and smashed his skull on a protruding corner at the bottom.’ She was crying now. She looked at Sophie who answered her coldly.

  ‘Go on. I want to know about the children.’

  ‘I couldn’t stay there, not in that house, not where he’d died. So I took the children and moved to Dorchester, where I was already part owner of a property with my sister.’

  ‘Finch Cottage.’

  ‘Yes. But things were difficult. I was offered a role in a play in New York that looked like it would last a year or more. My agent told me I would be mad to turn it down because it was really high profile. I thought about it for a long time, then took the decision to accept it. I took the children to Hong Kong to stay with Li Hua’s sister, who was childless. She made arrangements to adopt them.’ Pauline fell silent.

  ‘So what happened to them?’

  ‘I got a couple of cards from them, then everything went quiet, and I didn’t get a response to my phone calls. I had a short break so I flew to Hong Kong to see them, but the house was empty. I checked with the neighbours and they told me that the husband’s business had failed. He’d been declared bankrupt and they’d had to move out of their apartment. I couldn’t find them anywhere. I was distraught.’

  ‘So what did you do?’

  ‘I went to the local police and reported them missing. They knew about the business going under, but didn’t know what had happened to the family. I had to fly back to New York after a couple of days to resume my work, but I stayed in touch with the investigation. There was nothing. The family had vanished into thin air, taking Jasmine and Kenneth with them.’

  Sophie stared across the table at the actress. She was looking bereft, tears streaming down her face.

  ‘So how come their bodies ended up buried under a butterfly bush in the back garden at Finch Cottage?’

  Pauline stared at Sophie with a look of horror. Marsh sensed a change in the atmosphere in the room. It seemed to become almost frigid. Either she really hadn’t known or she was a consummate actress.

  ‘What? That’s impossible. It can’t be them. It’s got to be some other children. You must have made a mistake.’

  ‘There’s no mistake, Mrs Camberwell. DNA tests have proved the identity of those tiny corpses beyond any doubt. We know they are the children of Richard and Li Hua Camberwell. Who did you think those two bodies were?’

  Pauline held her head in her hands, shuddering. Her words were barely audible. ‘I don’t know, but I knew it couldn’t be them. The first press report I saw implied the bodies were teenagers. Anyway, my two were in Hong Kong, I know they were. I took them there myself. It’s the truth.’ She looked up. ‘The Hong Kong police will know. They’ll still be on record as missing, surely? Please check. Everything I’ve told you is the truth.’

  ‘Oh, we intend to check it all, Mrs Camberwell. Everything you’ve said and plenty of things you haven’t. Because, of course, John Wethergill was the gardener at Finch Cottage at one time, and he’s now conveniently dead, so we can’t question him. You knew he would be on that walk, you knew he’d had an affair with your sister, you knew he was the gardener at Finch Cottage and you picked him out deliberately and seduced him. Why? What were your motives? And why did you sell Finch Cottage soon after he left? All these questions point towards a picture that doesn’t quite equate with the innocent self-portrait you’ve been painting. My job is to uncover the real picture and I intend to do so.’ Sophie stood up. ‘I want you to come to the police station with us to make a formal statement. Maybe you need to reflect on things before we get there, and consider whether there’s anything else you need to tell us. The fact is, you could have volunteered all of this last week when we first met. It would have left me in a much better frame of mind than I’m in at the moment. I really don’t like having my time wasted, Mrs Camberwell. I intend to see that those poor young children get the justice they deserve and your delaying tactics have not made it any easier. I also want your passport to ensure you don’t leave the country. I can go through official channels to get it impounded, but you could choose to hand it over voluntarily. It might make me feel better disposed towards you. What’s it to be?’

  Pauline sat silently, then she said, ‘I’ll get it for you. It’s at home.’

  Sophie nodded. ‘We’ll pick it up on our way. There is one further thing, Pauline. You seem to have started a relationship with Jill Freeman recently. Why? Why her?’

  The actress seemed to sink deeper into her chair. ‘I can see how it might look,’ she answered. ‘But it isn’t like that, really. I just need the softness of a woman sometimes. Is that so wrong of me?’

  ‘Don’t try to slide out of my question. I asked you, why her? I’m still waiting for an explanation.’

  ‘It’s entirely innocent. A few weeks ago I dropped Dorothy round there. She cleans for the Freemans. I stopped for a ch
at with Jill and I knew at once. The clues were there.’ She looked at Sophie. ‘I only hit on women if the signals are right. I don’t go around throwing myself at every good-looking person I happen to meet.’

  ‘Don’t you? You can say that to me after trying it on with my husband a few days ago? And my daughter last week?’

  Pauline gave a sly smile. ‘That’s bugged you, hasn’t it?’ She stood up. ‘I think I’m ready to make that statement now. Shall we go and collect my passport?’

  One small, final triumph, thought Marsh, in an otherwise overwhelming defeat. He looked at his boss. Her face was inscrutable. She glanced at her watch, then removed a document from her bag.

  ‘Fine, Pauline. We’ll arrive at about the same time as the forensic team. Here’s your copy of the search warrant for your house.’

  Steamroller was an apt description, after all.

  Chapter 30: The Adventuress

  Tuesday to Thursday, week 3

  Dorothy Kitson entered the hotel lounge and ordered a glass of white wine from the barman. He was the same ebony-skinned person who’d checked her in when she arrived earlier in the day. He was an older man with a few grey streaks in his hair who spoke with a soft Caribbean accent. He’d told her then that his job was to fill in wherever it was required, although he drew the line at cleaning the toilets.

  Dorothy took her glass over to an armchair, then changed her mind and sat on a sofa. Maybe there was a nice single man staying in the hotel who might come and chat to her. She checked her reflection in the full-length mirror hanging on the far wall. Not bad. She primped her hair. It had been coloured and styled in Dorchester the day before she came away for her short break. She’d even had her nails done and had bought a new dress on her first day in Weymouth. She hardly recognised the person looking back at her. Not at a distance anyway. Close up, of course, her skin flaws would show but not all men wanted a sleek, glossy beauty. Some might welcome a woman who showed that she’d lived a little. Her dress was beautiful. She stood up briefly and stretched so that she could see her full-length reflection. What a bargain. She’d spotted it in the window of a charity shop. Even the shop assistant had remarked how well it fitted. There was no way that she could have afforded a new dress of this quality, not after splashing out so much money on the five day break here. People would think she was mad, coming on a holiday to Weymouth when she only lived in Dorchester, a mere ten miles away. But it was a change for her, an adventure, and who could tell where an adventure might lead?

  She heard footsteps behind her, and half turned as a man walked past her on his way to the bar. A businessman visiting the town? Someone approaching retirement, judging from the colour of his hair. She gave him a shy but friendly smile as he turned in her direction, glass of lager in hand.

  * * *

  Later in the evening she was strolling along the promenade, arm in arm with him, admiring the view as dusk fell. Lights twinkled in the calm waters of the bay. She was feeling excited but surprisingly relaxed. Colin seemed to be a real gentleman. He appeared to have accepted her stipulation that their first evening together should be just for getting to know each other. He’d nodded and smiled amiably at her. He was also planning to stay until Saturday. He’d come to Weymouth for a series of sales meetings at various local electrical shops. The absence of a wedding ring didn’t prove anything of course, particularly since she could see a pale mark on the skin. He claimed to be a divorcee. Dorothy knew it was easy enough to slip off a ring at the start of a business trip away from home.

  She stopped and pointed to a light twinkling on the horizon, far out to sea. ‘Isn’t it mysterious,’ she said. ‘Think of all the possibilities. It could be a tiny yacht sailing around the whole British coast with only two people on board. Or it could be a ferry on its way over to France, full of families off to exotic holiday locations. Or even a luxury boat on its way to the Spanish coast, with a dozen rich people on board, having a champagne party. We’ll never know, will we?’ She hugged Colin’s arm even tighter. ‘Maybe even a fishing boat coming in with the catch for tomorrow’s market. We could be eating the fish for dinner tomorrow evening.’

  ‘I won’t be,’ Colin replied. ‘I had fish tonight. It’ll be meat for me tomorrow night.’

  He smiled at her. His face crinkled into a series of very attractive laughter lines. He really was very handsome, and he seemed so relaxed. Dorothy couldn’t believe her luck.

  ‘You’ve spoiled my fantasy now,’ she protested, leaning in closer. ‘I’m still going to have the fish and pretend that it might have come off the boat that’s under that twinkling light.’

  ‘We could go for a walk tomorrow afternoon if you like,’ he replied. ‘If I get started early enough in the morning, I might finish tomorrow’s meetings by two. I could get back to the hotel, change, then meet up with you. What do you think?’

  ‘That would be perfect. I’d love to.’ Dorothy was wondering if she had enough money to buy another couple of dresses from the charity shop. Surely she could manage it? It wouldn’t do to wear the same dress two nights running, not now she had a man to impress. Tomorrow was her birthday, so she ought to be able to treat herself. Thank goodness she still had her figure. Maybe she should go for one that was a bit edgier, a bit more seductive. A dress that would say to a man, yes, you’re in with a chance. The type of dress that her sister would wear. She frowned, and tried to wipe the thought from her mind. This break was her treat to herself. Why spoil it with thoughts of Pauline and all the history that came with her?

  * * *

  The next day was sunny and mild. Dorothy left the hotel mid-morning, dressed in peach cotton trousers, a cream top and sandals. It was so warm that she carried her cardigan. She’d switched her mobile phone off, having seen a series of missed calls from Pauline. She’d come away to escape the problems of her Dorchester life.

  After a successful hunt around the charity shops she had a light lunch, then returned to the hotel in order to drop off her purchases well before two o’clock. She bumped into Colin in the reception area. He was looking harassed and anxious.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes. I’ve had head office on the phone. There’s some kind of problem and they want me back in Coventry. I tried to put them off until the end of the week, but they insist.’

  ‘Oh, no. Surely you can wait? Can’t you? Your booking’s for the week, you said?’ She laid her hand on his arm, tears in the corners of her eyes. Pauline wasn’t the only actress in the family.

  ‘Look, I’ll try to be back as soon as I can. I still have another lot of meetings lined up for the rest of the week.’

  ‘Please try. I was so looking forward to the rest of the week. It’s not often I get on with someone as well as I have with you.’

  Colin looked at her intently. ‘I feel the same. I’ll do what I can. I have your mobile number, so I’ll call you. They’ve still got a few empty rooms here and probably won’t need to re-let mine. With a bit of luck I’ll make it back, maybe even late tonight.’

  Dorothy leaned across and quickly kissed him on the lips, despite the man at the reception desk. He had served breakfast that morning, although he said that he was due the afternoon off.

  ‘I’ll make it worth your while,’ she whispered in Colin’s ear. ‘I’ve bought a new dress and it’s really special.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll do all I can.’ He still looked worried.

  * * *

  That evening Dorothy squeezed herself into one of the dresses that she’d bought in the same charity shop she’d used the previous day. It was a fitted dress in mottled brown and gold. It shaped itself tightly around her buttocks and thighs, and lifted her bosom to new heights. There had been no message from Colin, so once her solitary meal was over she took a chance and phoned his mobile number. It was switched off. After some thought she phoned his home number, which she’d slyly read that afternoon from the checkout sheet on the reception desk.

  ‘Hello?’ It was a woman
’s voice. She sounded irritated.

  ‘Can I speak to Colin, please?’ Dorothy said, trying to sound confident and business-like.

  ‘And why do you want to speak to him?’ came the challenging reply. ‘Who are you?’

  Dorothy paused, thinking hard. ‘I’m Dorothy, calling from Weymouth. We were due to have a meeting today.’

  There was a snort. ‘Ah. Is that where he’s been? I get home from a cancelled business trip and he’s nowhere to be found. I might have guessed he’d be somewhere along the coast, at the betting shops.’

  ‘He said he worked in electrical goods, organising wholesale bulk sales to retailers.’

  Another snort. ‘Colin’s a hospital porter from Poole, on a final warning from his bosses and from me. And the moment my back’s turned he’s at it again, spending my hard earned money on his gambling habit. No wonder he looked a bit nervous when he picked me up from the airport this afternoon. I knew he’d been up to something. I got to the answer machine before he could delete the messages. His supervisor had left one asking why he hadn’t turned up for the early shift this morning. So who are you exactly?’

  Dorothy terminated the call and switched the phone off. She started to tremble. Were all men such untrustworthy bastards? She walked to the bar and ordered a gin and tonic to calm her nerves. The same man was there again. She took a sip of her drink, and perched on a bar stool to chat to him. He seemed pleasant enough and didn’t have any suspicious marks on his bare ring finger. He told her his name was Larry, that he finished his shift at eleven and had no plans for the night. She began to feel excited again and bought them both a drink. She wasn’t imagining it, he kept looking at her cleavage, she was sure. She was determined to have a man in her bed tonight. Her sister wasn’t the only one who could have adventures, and it was her birthday after all. She smiled at the barman and told him the reason for her buoyant mood.