by Anita Waller
‘Thank you,’ Doris said quietly, wondering where this was leading. ‘Another coffee?’
Grace pushed her cup across with a thank you and Wendy filled their cups from the coffee pot. ‘So,’ Grace continued, ‘I decided to find something out about this paragon of virtue called Doris Lester, and her fellow directors. I recognised the name Katerina Rowe, of course. Being married to Leon Rowe did her no favours. And Bethan Walters, granddaughter to Doris Lester, and part of the Leon Rowe investigation. I even discovered an affiliate, Luke Taylor, a member of the elite Connection team.’
She hesitated for a moment. ‘I had no difficulty finding out the basic facts about Katerina, Bethan and Luke. Then my search ground to a halt. I had to really dig deep, and everything I saw about you, Doris, was mainly redacted.’
Doris smiled. ‘I’m sorry, Grace, I’m not at liberty to comment.’
‘That’s a relief.’ Grace laughed. ‘At least I don’t have to arrest you for breaking the Official Secrets Act. There’ll be no more questions from me about what you have done or indeed do now, but I would still like to call you Doris.’
‘Of course you can, but be assured you will be given your rank if we’re with your colleagues. As I said, it’s our rules. I don’t want you to think we’re reverting back to your official name and title, it will be because it’s what we do.’
‘That’s brilliant. Now, tell me what you know.’
Doris felt at a loss. She knew as much as the DCI, but wondered how much this spirit of bonhomie would count for, if she told her what she knew. Officially they didn’t know of Mark’s death, let alone Patrick’s future or non-future. ‘I’m not sure what you mean.’
‘If I told you we had another death, possibly two, what would you say?’
‘What?’ Wendy said for the second time that morning. This was, presumably, the information she had been about to receive from Doris when the little mouse rattled.
Doris said nothing, deciding silence might be the best way forward at the moment.
‘I’m sorry to bring you this news but Mark Ledger was murdered yesterday.’
Once again Wendy said, ‘What?’
Grace noticed Doris didn’t even flinch, never mind speak. ‘Nobody has rung to tell you? You’ve not heard from either Rosie or Shirley?’
As if on cue, Doris’s phone pealed out. She looked at the screen. ‘Rosie.’
Grace and Wendy remained silent for the duration of the call, aware that Doris was getting details not yet divulged by DCI Stamford. Neither of them knew she’d been fully cognisant of the details since the previous night.
She promised Rosie they’d be there as soon as they could, said goodbye and disconnected. ‘So you believe Patrick killed him?’ Doris asked Grace.
‘I do. Patrick’s own words were that Mark had visited him Sunday. We think Mark told him that he had been having an affair with Melanie, trying to get his version of the relationship in before Shirley told him. It’s obvious that Patrick isn’t in a good place mentally, and we believe he stewed on it, went over to Mark’s early Monday morning and slit his throat. We do have evidence gathered from Patrick’s place, stuff that’s currently with forensics for analysis. When we went to Patrick’s after finding Mark’s body, he was unconscious. He’d taken a load of tablets washed down with a bottle of whiskey and it’s by no means certain he’s going to wake up.’
‘As you probably gathered, we’re going over to Hucknall this morning, there may be some way we can help. They almost feel like family now, even though they’re not,’ Doris said.
‘I understand from Rosie that your husband had an affair with the girls’ mother, that you knew nothing about?’
‘That’s correct. I see a lot of Harry – that’s my late husband – in Megan, Rosie’s daughter. She makes little comments and I immediately think that’s like Harry. Bit disconcerting really. I only intended making contact with them once, so they understood Harry died fifteen years ago, but we seem to be in Hucknall more than we’re in Bradwell.’
‘I’m loving it,’ Wendy said. ‘I haven’t had this much fun since we won ten thousand on the bingo.’
‘Did you?’ Grace raised her eyebrows, as if not sure whether to believe Wendy or not.
‘We shared it, but yes we won it.’
‘Wow.’
Doris laughed. ‘Don’t think we’re inveterate gamblers. That was about eight years ago, I rarely go now, and the most we’ve won since then is about a tenner. That ten thousand was a national game.’
‘You’ve known each other a long time?’
‘Over forty years,’ Wendy said. ‘I thought I would lose that friendship when Doris moved out to Eyam, but she turned to me for help with the Leon Rowe thing, because I worked at a taxi firm and she knew I had contacts. That’s when I knew the friendship wouldn’t fade away.’
‘You lived in Eyam?’
‘Yes. When Beth was first injured we went to Kat’s house to recuperate. Oh my, that husband of hers might have been an evil man, a killer, but he was mighty nice to look at. Beth sold her house in Sheffield and she eventually bought our Connection shop and the large flat above it, right in the centre of Eyam. I knew about this cottage coming onto the market, so I bought it, hence why I’m living in Bradwell. No more moves for me. I’ve felt a bit like a gypsy for the past three years.’
Grace smiled. ‘I don’t think there was a police station for miles around that didn’t give a loud cheer when we heard Leon Rowe was dead. I know that’s awful, but he controlled the drugs, he was responsible for many deaths – a bad lot all round. I feel as if I know you two a bit better now, despite the redactions. It seemed strange that I had only known of you, and even my team were in awe of the great Connection Agency. You have any thoughts on who killed Melanie Brookes?’
The question was abrupt, and took Doris a little by surprise. ‘Yes, but for now some thoughts stay with me. I don’t want to send you off in completely the wrong direction, so I’ll think for a bit longer. I’m certain as I can be it wasn’t Patrick. Everything was so normal with him. He knew her routine with the unavailability when she was working, he loved her and believed they were going engagement ring shopping at the weekend, and at that stage he knew nothing about Mark Ledger’s dalliances with Mel. And those dalliances steer me away from Mark being involved in her death. He was too up himself to sink as low as murder. Probably too idle, also. He’d expect somebody to do it for him, but again, he’d no reason to kill her. No, whoever killed Melanie Brookes found out about her somewhat chequered sexual past, and it broke their heart. Who did she sleep with, which of her male acquaintances had a wife who objected to Melanie muscling in on their territory? Or could it be a man or woman she said no to? So that’s my thoughts on it. It’s a crime where sex has played a massive part, but I suspect a lot of jealousy comes into it somewhere down the line.’
As she finished speaking, Grace’s phone rang, and she apologised and said she had to take it. She slipped outside into the back garden, and listened carefully. Doris and Wendy heard her say okay a couple of times, then she disconnected and returned to the kitchen.
‘Patrick Ledger never regained consciousness. He died ten minutes ago.’
32
Rosie and Shirley were sitting at the kitchen table when Doris and Wendy arrived. The mood was sombre. Shirley had clearly been crying, and looked lost.
All four of them sat clutching coffee mugs. ‘Your boys?’ Doris asked. ‘Are Adam and Seth here?’
Shirley nodded. ‘They are. Megan’s taken them out for a walk. They’re totally bewildered. Death is a new experience for them. It was hard telling them about Mark, but I had to compound it with Patrick’s death.’
‘I’m sure the police will come up with answers soon,’ Doris said slowly. ‘We saw DCI Stamford this morning, and she told us she was going back to the station to give Harriet a hand with checking alibis. They’ll find a discrepancy because there has to be one. Somebody hasn’t told the truth, and apparently Harr
iet is on a mission to unmask the liar.’
‘Oh brilliant,’ Rosie said. ‘I don’t really have one, I was simply here, Megan in bed, and I went up before the news started at ten. Shirley has a better one than me, she was with Trudy.’
‘I thought you said you went to your room before eight, Shirley?’
‘I did. Couldn’t keep my eyes open, it had been a stressful previous night when I left Mark, and a day of decision-making, don’t forget. So my alibi is good, check with the sandman.’
Wendy watched as the conversation went around the table, her brain telling her that Doris was trying to get them to open up, and if it was necessary, to slip up. The deaths of Mark and Patrick Ledger had narrowed suspects down considerably. Wendy took out her notebook and wrote down one word, taxi. Doris had told her that no known cars belonging to any members of the family or friends had shown up that night in the locality of the bridge where Melanie had died – she hadn’t queried how Doris knew, she merely accepted it was accurate. But supposing a taxi had dropped someone off near to Melanie’s home, and that person had gone to Melanie for their evening run. It seemed that Melanie had worn the backpack she used for running, so there was no reason to suppose she was going out for any other reason. Wendy hid a grin at the next thought. She could do more than knit and crochet, she had a fleet of taxi owners and companies in her phone, all of whom she could contact easily.
Harriet popped her head around Grace’s door. ‘We need to talk to Juliet Vickers again.’
Grace lifted her head. ‘We do? You’d consider her a definite suspect?’
‘I do. Her husband was having an affair with Melanie Brookes. Juliet’s alibi is that she doesn’t have one. She said she went to bed when the kids did because she was tired, and her parents would agree with that. But that only means she went to bed. It doesn’t mean she stayed there, does it?’
With Megan’s return, the discussion stopped. The boys took a ball out into the garden, borrowed four cushions from the lounge for goalposts, decided who was Manchester United and who was Manchester City, then yelled their way through the rest of the morning.
‘I know it’s awful of me to say this,’ Shirley said pensively, ‘but they wouldn’t have done this at our house. Mark wouldn’t have let them, too noisy.’
‘You’re staying at Rothery?’ Doris asked.
‘For the moment. I haven’t made any decisions yet, obviously, it’s too soon, and we love our cottage.’
Doris and Wendy had lunch at Rosie’s home, then left shortly after to drive back to Bradwell.
‘What’s wrong?’ Doris could sense something was out of kilter with Wendy. ‘You poorly?’
Wendy laughed. ‘No, itching to try something. If I get a result I’ll let you know, but I might be clutching at straws.’
Belle miaowed as she heard them go through the front door, and she ran from wherever she had been to get into the kitchen before them.
Wendy reached down to stroke her ears, and knew she would miss the dainty little cat when it came time to leave. ‘Hungry, Belle?’ she asked and filled up her food bowl.
‘Okay, you want to tell me what’s on your mind?’ Doris leaned against the door jamb.
‘Yes, okay. It was Grace, something she said this morning about Harriet checking alibis because somebody was lying. Now, if your information is right…’
‘It is.’
‘Then there are four people who have iffy alibis. Rosie Steer, Shirley Ledger, Kevin Vickers and his wife Juliet.’
‘They were all alone at home?’
‘Virtually. Rosie Steer was home with Megan, but Megan is only twelve, and wouldn’t go to bed late because of school. She also doesn’t sleep in the same bed as her mother, and Dan was working away that night.’
‘Shirley was with Trudy at the bed and breakfast.’ Doris’s brain was racing. ‘But again she went to bed early, and she said before eight. However, Trudy said her car never moved until that day we turned up.’
‘Keep going. Extend that thinking.’ Wendy smiled. ‘Come on, I’m turning into Agatha Christie here.’
‘Damn! ANPR has been checked for their cars according to the information I have, and they haven’t been seen anywhere in the area, but a taxi…’
‘Exactly. So I need an hour to put together the addresses, the locations in general, and I need to contact the companies I’ve had dealings with over the last few years. There’s a lot of them, but with computerised systems that they use now, I should start to get answers pretty quickly. What do you think?’
‘Genius, Wendy Lucas. You need the laptop?’
Wendy laughed. ‘No, I’m good. I’ve got my phone and my iPad. We may get nothing from this but if we do, it will be good to tell Grace, won’t it? Think they’ll make me a civilian consultant?’
‘Doubt it, but worth asking.’ Doris smiled. ‘I’ll do a cuppa, shall I?’
It took Wendy over an hour to work out what she needed to put in the email, the parameters of the journeys, and the date they needed to look at. She sent it to forty-three businesses, mostly people she had dealt with in the past, and a couple of new ones who were in the right areas. She used her title from when she had been at work, Senior Traffic Controller, and signed off as Wendy Lucas. She crossed her fingers and hit send.
‘Done,’ she said, sitting down beside Doris on the garden bench. ‘I’ll keep checking, see if we get any responses.’ She rubbed her forehead.
‘You okay?’
‘Bit of a headache. It’ll go soon enough now I’ve finished that. I’m not the smart cookie you are, you know. Takes me ages to do anything on a computer, but I get there in the end.’
‘There’s some paracetamol in the kitchen drawer. Take a couple.’
‘Thanks. I need to get you some, I must have used nearly a full pack since I’ve been here.’ Wendy stood and returned to the kitchen.
Doris’s eyes remained on Wendy’s back, a worried frown on her face. Why? Why was she taking painkillers? She stroked Belle’s fur, and the cat purred. ‘Come on, Belle,’ she said, ‘let’s go find out what’s wrong with Wendy.’
Wendy was standing by the table, a glass of water in her hand. She turned as Doris came through the door. ‘It’s nothing, honestly. I had a couple of TIAs, those mini stroke things, about six months ago, and their legacy is I get headaches. The doctor keeps a close eye on me, so there’s no need to worry.’
‘No need to worry? You’re having strokes and I shouldn’t worry?’
‘I knew I shouldn’t have told you. Honestly, I’m fine. I had scans and stuff, and I’m on medication. I’m not concerned about it, so you shouldn’t be.’
Doris put her arms around Wendy and hugged her. ‘You have to take care. What would I do without you? Is there anything else you haven’t told me?’
Wendy gave a huge sigh. ‘Only one thing. I’m marrying Idris Elba next Saturday.’
‘That’s nice.’ Doris grinned at her friend. ‘Is my invite in the post?’
‘Not bloody likely. If he sees you he’ll realise I’m not the catch he thought I was. No, Doris Lester, you’re not invited till I’ve got that ring on my finger. You can come to the christenings of our children.’
‘You’re greedy, Lucas, greedy. He should be shared. Now, shall we have a cup of tea to celebrate this marriage?’ Doris clicked on the kettle, and Wendy sat at the table.
‘Seriously, Doris, I’m fine. I’m going to check my iPad, see if we’ve had any replies to these emails. My headache will go in a few minutes, and we hopefully will have some news to get our heads around.’
It took a mere two hours to get the first response, a lovely chatty missive from an old friend who was coming to the end of his working life, but knew everybody there was to know. He sent her a long list of twenty names to contact, four of whom were new to her. He had also contacted them himself to say Wendy was looking for information. She would be getting in touch and needed answers pretty damn quick. He confirmed that no taxis in his fleet had been in
the areas she specified, and ended his email with a kiss.
‘He sounds nice.’
Wendy smiled. ‘He is. We used to flirt a lot in our younger days, but he’s happily married so it was only workplace flirting. It brightened our day and nightshifts considerably, I can tell you. And he was funny. I can always appreciate that in anybody. I’ll get some more emails off to the four I didn’t think of, and then maybe we can go for a walk or something?’
‘A walk?’ Doris checked her watch. ‘It’s nearly five. We go for walks early morning when we’re fit and pretending to be youthful and full of vigour, not in the evening when we’re too tired to do anything but stand up and shuffle about.’
Wendy grinned. ‘My headache’s clearing fast, and I thought a nice thirty second stroll round to the Bowling Green might be a good idea. Is it a bit more appealing, this walk?’
‘It might be a really good idea. You’re sure you’re okay now?’
‘I’m fine. Stop whittling, Lester.’ Wendy pulled her iPad towards her and spent some time rewording the original email, as she knew nothing of the four new names suggested. She noticed they were Derbyshire and Nottinghamshire based and realised some thought had been put into the list. She clicked send, and said back with a chuckle, ‘Well done, Miss Marple. You’re surpassing yourself with this.’
‘We’ll have to set you on as civilian consultant at Connection, I can see this coming.’
Wendy laughed. ‘Poor Luke, he’d never cope with two old ladies. Nope, it’s the police or nothing.’
‘Then I suspect it’s nothing. We’ll go and drown your sorrows now, shall we? You taking your iPad?’
‘I will. It’s much easier to read emails on that than on my phone.’ She slipped it into her bag and stood, correcting the slight wobble before Doris noticed.
But Doris had noticed. And Doris was concerned.