02 Blue Murder (14 page)

“
No problem. Now. As to
where we were,” Bhar said, pretending to consult his notes. It
would never do to let a Neanderthal like Quinton know he was having
an effect. “Ms. Wardle, do you think Clive deliberately crashed
your party?”

“
Oh, wow. Perfect,” Emmeline
sighed. “I’m not a grass, I’ve never been a grass, but the little
tosser is dead. Did you know he was in trouble at school? Being
investigated for selling research papers and test
answers?”

Bhar nodded.

“
Well, Clive had started
harassing Trevor for money. Blackmailing him, really. Saying he’d
confess to the dean and name Trevor as one of his customers. That
would have bounced Trevor off the rugby team, at least
temporarily.”

“
About the team,” Bhar said,
trying to sound completely offhand, “who stands to be captain
now?”

“
It’s not official yet. But
me,” Quinton said.

Bhar let that hang revelation hang in the
air, flicking his eyes once to Emmeline.

“
That’s right. The team
traded up. Em traded up, too,” Quinton said, giving her a
squeeze.

“
Get off,” she snapped,
pulling out of his grasp. When he reached for her again, Emmeline
transferred to an overstuffed armchair. “You’re lucky I let you get
within a meter.”

“
Spirited. Sort of sweaty
after the workout, too. I like it,” Quinton leered before turning
back to Bhar. “As far as Clive goes, write this down in your little
book. The dirty yob probably thought crashing the party was a safe
bet with so many witnesses around,” Quinton volunteered. “That
instead of beating him bloody, Trevor would pay up.”

“
Yob?” Bhar
asked.

“
Yeah. Not our sort,”
Quinton said, which sounded all the more ridiculous when spoken in
Mockney. “On scholarships and whatnot for being an egghead. Lives
in a council flat, or close enough.”

“
I see,” Bhar said, careful
not to let his rising disgust show in his tone. “I’m still unclear
about why Clive would be willing to risk collecting on debts in the
middle of an investigation. What if Trevor had turned the tables
and just come clean? He might have lost his position on the team,
but Clive wouldn’t been expelled.”

“
What? Grass on another
student and himself, too?” Emmeline looked shocked. “Trevor always
settled things privately, like a man.”

“
Do you know how much money
Trevor owed Clive?”

She shook her head. “Once he said it over a
thousand pounds. Then he said he was joking. Surely it wasn’t that
much.”

Parsons may have owed
French over 1000 pounds. 900 found on French’s
body
, Bhar wrote in his
notebook.

“
As far as you know, Ms.
Wardle, is this all that ties Clive French and Trevor Parsons
together? The school work Clive sold Trevor?”

“
Of course.” Emmeline
stubbed out her cigarette fiercely, as if grinding it into Clive
French’s corpse.

“
No mutual enemies at
school? No old girlfriends in common?”

Emmeline let out a bark of laughter. “Do you
really think Trevor and Clive were in the same weight class when it
came to girlfriends? Trevor and I were together for six months.
Before that, he was with Kelsey Hoskins. As for Clive …” She waved
a hand. “I always reckoned he was a poof. Or asexual, like one of
those mollusks.”

“
Hermaphrodites.”

“
Beg pardon?” Emmeline gazed
at him, eyes wide.

“
Mollusks aren’t asexual.
They’re hermaphrodites—both male and female.” Bhar smiled,
wondering how he ever managed to date at all, given how often his
mouth functioned independently of his brain. “Sorry about that. At
uni I was a good deal closer to a Clive French than a Trevor
Parsons, I fear.”

“
No need to state the
obvious, mate,” Quinton said.

“
Shut it.”
Emmeline scowled at Quinton. “He’s being modest, something you
wouldn’t understand. As for Clive,” she added, turning back to
Bhar, “I hope he was a hermaphrodite, because it’s the only way he
ever got laid. He had the
personality
of a mollusk, detective
sergeant, and I’ll stand by that no matter what additional nuggets
of genius you manage to vomit up.”

They were grinning at each other. Quinton
made a displeased noise, but they both ignored him.

“
What about the girl who
discovered Clive—Kyla Sloane. She was the only one of your guests
outside when the bodies were discovered,” Bhar said. “Did something
go wrong for her during the party? Did she become upset or have a
row with someone?”

Emmeline’s grin didn’t precisely disappear
so much as lose all warmth. “Not as far as I knew. We hung out with
different people that night. I suppose you’d have to ask her.”

“
I will, of course,” Bhar
said mildly, wondering what in that question had triggered the
shutdown. “But now I’m asking you. Is there any particular reason
Ms. Sloane was in your back garden alone? Or why she might have
moved Clive’s body or delayed reporting its discovery?”

“
Oi! Em already told you,
you’ll have to ask—”

“
Shut it!” Emmeline cried.
“Just bugger off, Quinton, please! Go upstairs and flirt with Mum.
Have a drink with my dad. Anything!”

When it came to Emmeline, at least, Quinton
was clearly all bark. Muttering, he rose, glared at Bhar and then
launched himself up the stairs two at a time.

“
Amazing specimen,” Bhar
said.

“
Amazing he had the brains
to make it here alone, you mean.” Emmeline laughed. “Anyhow, about
Kyla—I’m sorry. You’ll just have to ask her.”

“
Very well. One more thing.
On the night of the murders, DS Wakefield noticed what looked like
the remnants of a broken sculpture or vase. On questioning, Ms.
Sloane became quite agitated and said …” Bhar flipped to the
relevant page in his notebook. “I quote: ‘It was an accident. But
it’s gone now and Em and I might as well be dead. Because her
parents are going to kill us.’ End quote.” He met Emmeline’s eyes.
“What do you think she meant by that?”

“
It’s obvious. My parents
weren’t home when the Met burst in. Kyla’s been a friend of the
family for years. She thought we’d be blamed because a policeman
broke the vase.”

“
Yet the quote almost sounds
like she felt personally responsible. Is that possible?” Bhar tried
to look and sound neutral, like someone in whom Emmeline could
confide. “Did she break it, then go outside to gather her
wits?”

“
The vase was in perfect
condition before the police entered my house,” Emmeline
insisted.

“
You noticed the vase’s
condition? Even with Trevor dead? I was given to understand you
spent quite some time … screaming.”

Emmeline drew in a breath. “Have you ever
seen someone die right in front of you?”

“
Not anyone I was personally
acquainted with,” Bhar said truthfully.

“
Look. I wasn’t in love with
Trevor. I wasn’t going to marry him and change his babies’ nappies.
Half the time he was no better than Quinton.” Emmeline’s gaze slid
away. “But watching him die was awful. His eyes rolled up. His
heels drummed the floor. You would’ve screamed, too, if you’d seen
one of your girlfriends die that way.”

Bhar thought of Tessa Chilcott. Watching her
return to Sir Duncan, unraveling mentally until she became a
murderer in her own right, had been close enough. “I didn’t mean to
be insensitive about the screaming,” he said gently. “It’s just …
I’m a detective. It’s my job to notice when details don’t add up.
The idea you could be sure the vase was intact after the shock of
watching Trevor die is … problematic.”

Emmeline studied Bhar for a moment. Then her
blue eyes flicked once, pointedly, toward the stairs by which
Quinton and her parents had exited.

He nodded to show he understood. “Thank you,
Ms. Wardle. I’m quite likely to have more questions, so please stay
in touch. Don’t leave the country. And if you change residences
again, let us know in advance.” He passed her his card. “If you
remember any additional details—someone who might have wished Clive
or Trevor ill, for example, please call me directly.”

“
Of course. Let me see you
to the door.” Hooking her arm in his, Emmeline steered him toward
the foyer. “It’s true, someone I know was obsessed with my
neighbor—Sir Duncan—for a time.”

“
Oh, yeah?” Bhar strove to
remain composed, but the hairs on the back of his neck
rose.

Emmeline nodded. “My friend Kyla. Why do you
think she dressed like a monster—Frankenstein’s monster—at my
party? She felt guilty about it. Don’t tell her I said anything.”
Just as Bhar stepped over the threshold, Emmeline leaned close to
his ear and added, “Here’s what matters. Everyone hated Clive. But
only Phoebe Paquette hated Trevor. Want to know why? Go and see
her.”

Chapter Twelve

B
y
the end of the next day, DS Kate Wakefield had little additional
progress to show for her efforts. Clive French had no siblings or
significant other that anyone knew of; his father had been dead for
years. Kate rang Mrs. French’s number to request an interview, only
to have the landlord explain Mrs. French was “in temporary
residential care.” In other words, news that her son had been found
dead with an axe buried in his skull had resulted in his mother’s
short-term committal. Kate wasn’t surprised—in fact, she was only
surprised such reactions didn’t occur more frequently.

Trevor Parsons’ family was readily
available, but had nothing of substance to offer. Kate interviewed
them all by phone—father, mother and three younger brothers—without
hearing a single detail that warranted a personal interview.
According to the Parsons family, their eldest son was more than an
athletic star. He was a golden child.

“
Apparently, to know Trevor
was to love him,” Kate told DS Bhar, who had called to pass on the
salient details of his meeting with Emmeline Wardle. “The only
possible motive for murder the family could offer was
jealousy.”

“
Which is valid. But maybe
he was into something top secret—he and Clive French. Something his
family knew nothing about,” Bhar said. “Tomorrow I’ll look up
Phoebe Paquette. A standard background check turned up nothing
except she’s a student at University College, just like all the
rest. Ms. Paquette has no unpaid debts, no arrest record, no
traffic warrants.”

“
I’ll bet it’s just a prank
on one of little Miss Emmy’s school enemies,” Kate said. “That girl
strikes me as a right spiteful cow.”

Bhar laughed. “Now, now. You’re just upset
because she insulted the guv. Emmeline’s not so bad. Her mum’s a
real grasper, though. And her new boyfriend, Quinton Baylor, stands
to make rugby team captain now that Parsons is out of the way.”

“‘
Emmeline,’ eh? Don’t you
sound chummy.”

“
Oh,
excuse me,
Ms. Wardle
. And speaking of Ms. Wardle, she fed me an interesting nibble
about Kyla Sloane. Apparently Kyla was the only party guest who
knew Sir Duncan lived at 16 Burnaby. And she was very interested in
him. Obsessed is the word Emmeline used.”

“
Obsessed?”

“
Right. Claims Kyla felt bad
about it. Came to the party dressed like a monster.”

“
A sexy monster,” Kate said,
unable to keep the knee-jerk skepticism from her voice. “I had the
impression Ms. Sloane and Ms. Wardle were lifelong friends. Why
toss her under the lorry?”

“
Why do women do anything?”
Bhar sighed. “I read your report on Kyla and listened to the formal
interview taped at the Yard. Both times she claimed she went
outside due to cigarette smoke aggravating her asthma. I happen to
have her uni student health file here …” Movement transmitted over
the connection as Bhar shifted papers around. “Right. Kyla Sloane.
No drug allergies, no medical diagnoses. Acknowledges alcohol use.
Acknowledges tobacco use, a half pack a day.”

“
So she lied about why she
went outside.”

“
And not
that convincingly,” Bhar added. “Just keep it in mind. I have a
feeling we’ll be re-interviewing her soon … her and Quinton both.
So—how else have you occupied yourself all day? Full treatment at
the salon? A dress fitting with Lady Margaret, so you won’t
embarrass the guv to death? Remember that scene in
Bridget Jones’s Diary
?
When she turns up at the garden
party in a Playboy bunny costume because she thought the theme was
tarts and vicars?” Bhar hooted. “If I bring you the bunny costume,
will you wear it?”

“
If it fits you, it’ll be
three sizes too big for me,” Kate said sweetly. “But you’re such a
clever little git. When I imagine you and your mum eating supper
together every night, I can’t imagine why you don’t have a
partner.”

“
How do
you know I don’t? Maybe I just don’t kiss and tell.
Or
make sheep’s eyes at
the guv. Anyhow, lovely to chat with you, Kate, I know you’re hard
up for basic human contact, but now I must dash
…”

“
Hurry home or Mummy will
fret!”

“
Hilarious. Tears in my
eyes. Really.” Bhar rang off.