Dead Suited

by Jean G. Goodhind

  Honey jumped straight in. ‘Was Mr Tern into bondage? Do you happen to know?’

  Grace Pauling glowered. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about!’

  ‘I thought you and he were close.’

  ‘We’d known each other since we were children.’

  ‘But you’d never been lovers? Not even before your accident?’

  ‘Excuse me, Mrs Driver, but as a civilian, you have no right to be asking me these questions. If you persist I will have to take matters further. Now please. I have to leave. I have a busy schedule this afternoon.’

  Her departure was rushed and she didn’t seem to care much about whose feet she ran over on the way out.

  Honey repeated all this to Doherty later that night. ‘I don’t think she’s telling the truth.’

  ‘Hmm.’

  Doherty seemed relatively non committal.

  ‘Anything else to share with me,’ she asked.

  ‘Um. Yes. Rachel arrives tomorrow to stay with me, plus her boyfriend. Apparently he’s Prince Charming in a business suit according to my ex wife.’

  ‘Really? That’s worrying.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘It’s the sort of thing my mother would say, and you know how wrong she can be!’

  Mr Barrington eyed Doherty with resigned interest as once again he stood in the narrow doorway leading into the shop window.

  ‘Was it anything in particular you’re looking for, inspector?’

  Doherty shook his head. ‘Not really.’

  He was standing in the pit just before the set of stairs leading up into the main part of the window. Dark blue carpeting covered the whole area. The gallows had been erected to his left; the highwayman had been standing to his right. Due to the position of the gallows, the body had been hanging immediately over the stair well.

  Both items were gone now, the window almost empty except for a large notice saying that the business was yet again at the service of the discerning client.

  Doherty interpreted discerning as meaning rich; he couldn’t possibly afford having a jacket made by these people.

  ‘So how come you’re still here,’ Doherty asked over his shoulder.

  ‘I’m working out my notice, though I’m not quite sure whether I will be leaving. Mr Papendriou has given in his notice. Apparently he’s setting up an online business catering to a specialist market.’

  ‘Is he now.’

  Doherty continued to scrutinise the area of carpet between him and the street. He was missing something, but he wasn’t sure what.

  ‘It must have been quite a job removing the display from the window. A lot of lifting?’

  ‘Not really.’ Mr Barrington was standing right behind him and when he turned sharply around he almost tripped over him. ‘We used a trolley,’ he said, looking up into Doherty’s face. ‘It was quite easy really. Mr Papendriou wheeled it up the ramp and Mr Rossini loaded each item on and took it out. He had to do two trips of course...’

  ‘A ramp you say.’

  ‘Yes. The items were wheeled in and wheeled out again.’

  ‘Where is this ramp?’

  ‘I’ll show you.’

  Mr Barrington nudged his way past Doherty and into the area that was four feet beneath the main area of window display. The edge of the floor reached his waistline.

  He lifted the edge of the carpet and unclipped two chromium catches.

  Doherty watched with growing interest. The set of stairs were removable. Not only that but when Barrington turned them upside down they formed a ramp.

  ‘Very clever, Mr Barrington.’

  The senior assistant beamed at him. ‘We are not completely backward in the firm of Tern and Pauling.’

  There were messages awaiting Doherty’s arrival when he got back to the station. One was from Honey with a few more thoughts regarding her meeting with Grace Pauling. One was from Arnold Tern asking if he could call at the old man’s house at his convenience. The third one was from a young man saying he was his daughter, Rachel’s fiancé, and could they meet up this evening?

  Doherty grimaced. He’d been expecting a call from Rachel telling him the date and time of her arrival. Instead it was her fiancé who had phoned. True to his suspicious nature he had to ask himself why the fiancé? Why not Rachel? He’d warned Honey that a visit was imminent and that he would let her know as soon as he knew himself. So here it was. He had to phone her and tell her the time had come.

  It was pleasant walking through the city in the summer air. As usual at this time of year, the streets were choked with tourists. He would have phoned, but telling her about Rachel’s visit was best done face to face.

  His ex wife had phone him to say that the young man was especially nice and good for their daughter. She’d also warned him not to shout at Rachel with regard to her decision to quit university. Alright for her. She wasn’t the one paying for it!

  He’d promised not to blow a gasket. He’d promised to be all sweetness and light.

  ‘And Carl is such a lovely young man,’ Cheryl had added. ‘He’s got her a job and everything.’

  He didn’t want to think what she meant by everything. You’ll find out all in good time, he told himself.

  Hopefully Honey would have some free time when he arrived and wouldn’t be up to her elbows in dirty dishes or unplugging a drain. Also hopefully she would forgive him for leaving this to the last minute. It wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t been given much notice. Rachel was already here in Bath and so was her boyfriend.

  He wondered if he would like him. He shook the thought from his head. What the hell! It wouldn’t matter if he didn’t. Rachel was as gullible and headstrong as her mother. She would go her own way.

  Lindsey looked up at him from over the top of the reception counter.

  ‘My, my, Mr Doherty. You are wearing a very serious expression indeed.’

  ‘Serious business,’ he said with a rueful smile.

  He didn’t see her smile to herself and nod at something he hadn’t even said. She didn’t need to hear him say anything. She knew Doherty well enough to realise that he was playing his cards close to his chest. This time it’s personal, she decided. He’s got that sheepish, boyish look about him. Lindsey instinctively knew that whatever he was here for it had little to with work.

  Honey was soaking her feet in a vibrating foot bath, arms outstretched on the chair arms, head back, eyes closed. Wonderful was not the word for it.

  The footbath was like a gift from the god or goddess of aching feet. She’d had the thing for a while, her staff having bought it for Christmas one year. Up until now it had sat forgotten at the bottom of the airing cupboard. Why she’d put it there and how come she’d forgotten about it until now, she hadn’t a clue.

  She really should have paid more attention to what she was doing. Staff understood the value of a footbath. Feet were the key to being a successful hotelier, thought Honey, sighing as the warm water curled over her instep and around her toes.

  Doherty used his key to get in. Honey remained with her head back and her eyes closed. She smiled.

  ‘You smell good.’

  He kissed her on the forehead. ‘It’s the aftershave you bought me for my birthday.’

  ‘It’s a dead giveaway.’

  ‘Remind me not to try and sneak up on anybody.’

  ‘You do like it, don’t you?’

  ‘Did I say I didn’t?’

  Perturbed by his tone, and by the fact that he’d only pecked her on the forehead and not landed a smacker on her mouth, Honey opened her eyes and shifted her pose.

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘Ah. Well...’

  She saw his slight frown.

  ‘Not going to dump me are you?’

  He laughed. ‘Of course not.’

  ‘In that case I’m ready for whatever you throw at me.’

  Doherty took three paces to the window. The back yard joined the hotel and the coach house together. Rectangular
flagstones formed an alternate pattern with red and yellow bricks. Flowers and foliage tumbled from tall urns made to look like the broken pieces of Roman columns.

  The living room, kitchen and main bathroom of the coach house were upstairs. The bedrooms and en suite bathrooms were downstairs. Honey had designed her home this way. Downstairs was dark. Upstairs was lit by a half moon shaped window at one end. The roof was open to the apex and lined with dark wood, the whole thing supported by huge ‘A’ frames and ‘queen posts’. The affect was imposing.

  ‘I’m afraid Rachel is being true to form and has given me little notice that she’s about to arrive on my doorstep.’

  Honey bent forward and turned off the footbath. The low level hum wasn’t that intrusive, but she sensed that he would like her to pay full attention.

  The light from the window shone around him – like a very large halo – though he wasn’t exactly up front in the heavenly stakes to ever win one.

  ‘So! Rachel is coming to visit. It was bound to happen at some point. You are her father after all. And you did know she was coming.’

  ‘I phoned Cheryl the moment I got the phone call from somebody called Carl, my daughter’s intended apparently.’

  ‘What did Cheryl say?’

  She’d never met Cheryl and Doherty rarely referred to her in conversation. When something was no longer in his life, it was never mentioned. He was like that with colleagues; once they’d left or retired, they were no longer part of his life. He rarely spoke of his parents saying it was a private matter but that he missed them. People he really cared for stayed in his memory. She hoped she would; whatever happened.

  ‘She was her usual harpy self at first, tuning back into the past as though we’d never left it behind. Eventually she said again that Carl was a very nice young man and might be worth having dropped out of university,’ said Doherty not without a hint of bitterness.

  ‘You suspected she would.’

  ‘I suspected she might. I didn’t know for sure. I thought the wild parties and hanging about with unsuitable friends might come to an end. Other dads told me that they settle down to work eventually once they can see graduation and having to find a job in sight.’

  Rachel had got close to graduation but hadn’t seen things that way. She could tell that Doherty was disappointed.

  ‘So when is she arriving?’

  ‘Tonight. Her boyfriend is with her – some long haired layabout no doubt. That’s the only kind she finds attractive, although Cheryl told me otherwise...’

  ‘So you said.’

  ‘And you told me...;

  ‘We women tend to go for the bad boys. It’s something in our makeup.’

  Honey took her feet out of the warm water and stood up. Leaving wet indents in the carpet, she went over to him and began kneading the hard knots of tension in his shoulders. Gradually he relaxed.

  Honey turned him round to face her. She smiled up at him.

  ‘I think it’s time I got to know Rachel. And perhaps Cheryl might be right. Have you thought about that? How about you give Cheryl another ring and get it straight in your head? A second call might help clarify some of the stuff she told you in the first phone call.’

  In Honey’s opinion her suggestion was a good one. It wasn’t beyond reason that his conversation with his former wife had been fraught. They rarely stayed on the phone to each other longer than five minutes because the conversation always fell back on the subject of his job and how he’d spent more time with his colleagues than he had with her and their daughter. Honey guessed it was the truth, but the worse his marriage got the more time he’d spent on the job. The marriage and job had become part of a vicious circle. He needed to have a longer conversation with Cheryl and she told him so.

  ‘Right. I’ll give her a ring.’

  Honey wasn’t sure whether to sigh with relief or belt out a loud ‘yippee!’. Whichever way she’d succeeded in making her point.

  ‘If you want me to go downstairs whilst you’re making it...’

  ‘No need.’

  ‘Do it whilst I put this lot away...’

  Honey began clearing away the footbath, towel, foot gel and moisturiser. With the exception of the footbath, everything lived on a shelf in the bathroom.

  The sound of his voice carried from the living room.

  ‘OK, you say he’s not a long haired layabout – which is something of a surprise.’

  There was a pause whilst Cheryl said something.

  ‘A nice guy and he’s gainfully employed in a bank; you said that before. And now he’s got Rachel working in the financial sector. I hope it’s the truth....OK, OK. I don’t always believe what I’m told...’

  Doherty was always quick and to the point when he spoke to his ex wife and she was easy to rouse to argument.

  Although she couldn’t hear what Cheryl was saying, Honey got the gist of what was being said by Doherty’s responses. Cheryl was telling him the way things were, and Doherty was responding that he would reserve judgement until he met the bloke and heard Rachel’s excuses as to why she’d quit.

  The phone call progressed without Doherty slamming it down – something of a turn up. Every so often she peeked round the bathroom door to glimpse his expression. He looked surprised, but also relieved. Obviously Cheryl was beginning to convince him.

  ‘You’re certain?’ A pause followed. ‘OK. OK. I’ll be nice. I promise....I said I promise....OK...Goodbye. Goodbye.’

  Finished! Honey felt the tension drop from her shoulders. She came out from the bathroom. Doherty had gone back to his position in front of the window. This time he faced into the room.

  ‘She’s convinced the guy is going to be good for her.’

  ‘You can’t always be right,’ Honey said to him.

  Pursing his lips into kiss shape, he said. ‘I’m still reserving judgement. She’s a mother. You know what mothers can be like.’

  Honey pulled a face. ‘Yes. I know what mothers can be like!’

  ‘Cheryl tells me that Rachel actually wore smart casual when she visited and admitted to wearing business suits when she goes to work. I can’t believe it.’ He shook his head. ‘I never thought...’

  ‘That she would make something of herself?’

  He shrugged. ‘Well. You know. She was just a kid when...’

  Honey gave him a bear hug and smiled up into his face.

  ‘Judging by the look on your face, you cannot quite believe that your darling daughter has mended her ways.’

  ‘I don’t quite believe it. When my daughter and her boyfriend went to see my ex wife Cheryl was surprised. She was as annoyed as I am – was – when Rachel told her she’d left university. She was pleasantly surprised that Rachel has a job and was even wearing a business suit.’

  ‘The girl’s made good. I’m pleased for her.’

  ‘Her boyfriend is called Carl Tompkins and he’s a city trader. He earns a lot of money. Rachel only works part time. They live in his flat in London but in time are hoping to buy a house and start a family. Can you believe that?’

  ‘Yes. It comes to us all. Wild child turns into warm and wholesome wife. Might even end up married for life though don’t quote me on that!’

  Doherty tilted his head sideways. ‘Are we still on for having dinner together? All of us? I mean, you, me, Rachel and the respectable boyfriend. I thought Lindsey might like to come too. Has she got a boyfriend at present?’

  ‘Possibly.’

  ‘You don’t know?’

  ‘Don’t sound so surprised. I don’t pry into my daughter’s love life.’

  ‘You don’t know anything about your daughter’s new boyfriend?’

  ‘Did you know anything about yours?’

  ‘No, but then I’m her father so I’m bound to be the last to know. Mothers always get to know first.’

  Doherty smiled ruefully.

  Honey smiled back and hugged him.

  ‘Look, Rachel’s grown up. She doesn’t have to tell you anyth
ing and everything. Did she tell her mother right away?’

  ‘No. She didn’t.’

  He seemed to buck up at the thought of it.

  ‘So I can arrange a meal?’

  ‘Let me know the when and where and I’ll be there. I’ll check it out with Lindsey. OK?’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Right. Now let’s get back to business. What was the punch up about at Nigel Tern’s party and who were the guys fighting.’

  ‘They weren’t guys. They were girls. Two of Nigel’s girlfriends to be exact. One of them was a woman named Caroline Corbett. She’s middle aged, blonde and very presentable. She lives in one of the flats above the shop. A very spacious flat on the first floor. The other was Grace Pauling.’

  Honey was astounded. ‘She said she knew nothing about it. And besides, she’s in a wheelchair!’

  ‘Don’t let that fool you. That’s not just a way of getting from A to B. It’s a lethal weapon. Apparently she purposely ran over the competitions’ foot. Three or four times so it seems. Caroline Corbett retaliated with a punch on the shoulder and it all went downhill from there. Quite a scrap I understand. No idea who called the police but be in no doubt there was blood on the carpet and despite the fact that both ladies attended Cheltenham Ladies College, the language was definitely downmarket.’

  Normally when on a murder case Doherty wore a serious expression. On this occasion his expression had brightened.

  Concern for his daughter far outweighed solving a murder case. Honey was glad for him, although just a tiny bit apprehensive. It brought home to her just how little she currently knew about her daughter’s latest flame. Oh well, she thought to herself. You’re just about to find out.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  There were paper streamers, balloons and loud laughter in the function room at the Green River Hotel. There was also a jolly atmosphere, a lot of jokes being cracked, laughter, liqueur, dancing and singing, Happy Birthday being sung at least four times.

  Honey was helping Charlie York stay upright whilst he waited for a taxi. His wife had grabbed herself a chair and was already asleep, her chin resting on her fist.