Brothers' Tears (20 page)

‘Man said you need the swear word to give it the right ring. The proper effasy – no, the proper effany . . .'

‘The proper emphasis, sir?'

‘Thassit! Whatyersaid. Thassit.'

‘Good. Now in the matter of the Dominic O'Connor case, sir. We—'

Tucker leaned across the vast acreage of his desk and made a frantic effort to grasp the lapels of his DCI. He failed by several inches. His wildly gyrating hand grasped empty air as he fell heavily back into his chair. ‘Bugger Dominic O'Connor, Percy! Bugger work! Bugger the Chief Constable, if it comes to it!'

‘I think I'd prefer the second prize, sir, if you don't mind. Meanwhile—'

‘Meanwhile?' Tucker was as outraged as if he had been accorded the vilest epithet know to man. ‘Meanwhile? There's no bloody meanwhile, Percy Peach! You need to learn to live a little. Thassanorder, Perce.'

Percy decided this was way beyond black coffee. ‘I think you should go home, sir. I'm going to go downstairs and get someone to drive you. You won't go away, will you?'

‘Not going away.' Tucker shook his head and lifted his right hand in what looked like some sort of blessing.

DC Brendan Murphy was unfortunate enough to be checking facts at his computer. Percy seized upon him, outlined the problem, and directed him to drive home the stricken head of Brunton CID. He then returned to the penthouse office and managed to lead Tucker to the lift.

The chief superintendent threw his arm round his DCI's shoulder and used the privacy of the lift as the opportunity for a confidence. ‘We don't always hit it off, do we, Percy? But underneath it all, I reshpect you.' When Peach failed to react to this, he clutched his resisting torso to the chief superintendal breast and insisted, ‘I love you, Pershy Peace. You know that, don't you?'

A small group of CID officers witnessed the departure of their chief, belted securely into the back of the police Mondeo behind DC Murphy. Tucker waved at them like departing royalty as he disappeared between the high brick pillars of the exit.

Percy decided that Mrs T.B. Tucker might need to know what to expect. It wouldn't do for this apparition to disrupt one of her bridge afternoons. He rang Brunnhilde Barbara and apprised her of her spouse's impending arrival.

‘And why do you disturb my day to tell me this?' came the formidable enquiry.

She scarcely needed a phone, thought Percy, holding the receiver six inches away from his ear. ‘He's been saying goodbye to an old friend. You may find that he's – well, a little the worse for wear.'

‘You mean he's DRUNK?' Both the volume and the outrage were Wagnerian.

‘I suppose he is, yes. But DC Murphy will see him safely into the house.'

‘There will be no need for that. I shall see to him MYSELF.' The tone indicated that the Valkyries were saddling up.

Percy went back into the squad room and the hushed group awaiting him there. He announced, ‘He's going to get a seeing to from Brunnhilde Barbara.'

A hush fell over the little conclave. A passing uniformed officer removed his hat and stood reverently erect.

Peach wasn't sure how he had expected John Alderson to look, but this wasn't it.

The house was a modest 1930s' terraced with a small garden at the front, where the buds of roses were swelling and spring-flowering pansies were giving of their best at the edges of the single big bed. The owner met them at the door. He was slight, balding, fiftyish, and he walked with a limp as he led them indoors.

He sat them facing the light in the small, tidy living room and said, ‘We won't be disturbed. I live alone here.' He watched Clyde Northcott as he produced notebook and ballpen, noting how small they looked in the DS's huge hands, but offering them neither refreshment nor further comment.

‘I gather that you didn't intend that we should have this meeting at all,' said Peach aggressively. Best to get the latest episode in a trying day off on a combative note, he thought.

If Alderson was shaken, his narrow features didn't show it. ‘I didn't see any point in wasting your time. I knew I couldn't help you, so I thought it was better if I was kept out of it.'

‘So you won't be at all pleased to find that Mrs Ros O'Connor immediately volunteered your name to us.'

He hoped his verb would annoy Alderson, but the man didn't show any irritation. ‘Ros is an impulsive creature. She doesn't always think before she speaks. But I wouldn't have it otherwise.'

The kind of sentiment lovers often voiced but rarely meant, in Peach's experience. He said, ‘Mrs O'Connor probably wasn't quite herself after her husband's death. She seemed a little erratic.'

He smiled appreciatively. ‘Erratic, yes.' He rolled the syllables round his mouth and apparently found them acceptable. ‘That's rather a good word for Ros. She's certainly impulsive. That's what brought us together.'

‘I think we should know a little more about what brought you together, Mr Alderson.'

‘Do you really? I'd say that it's a private matter and that the details should remain private.'

‘And then I'd remind you that a man has been brutally murdered and that you are the lover of his wife. In these circumstances, you are a man who warrants full CID investigation, which is what you are going to receive.'

Peach gave him a satisfied smile. If the man preferred the confrontational approach, that would suit him admirably at this stage of the day. Alderson's grey eyes narrowed, but he didn't flinch. ‘I suppose I should try to see this from your point of view. What is it you want to know?'

‘You could tell us a little more about your relationship with Ros O'Connor, for a start. Other people are going to do that, so it would be as well if we have your account now.'

‘We're lovers. We have been for the last few months. We don't flaunt it, but I expect quite a few people know about our situation. People whose own lives are empty love to gossip about others.'

The timing tallied with what Ros had told them earlier. ‘How much did Dominic O'Connor know about this?'

Alderson took a packet of cigarettes from his pocket, extracted one, then tapped it against the back of his hand thoughtfully, first at one end and then at the other. But he didn't light it. Having examined it carefully, he returned it to the packet. It was a curious performance and it wasn't clear how conscious he was of his actions. He said, ‘On the face of it, Dominic knew nothing. But he was an intelligent man who was alert to the world around him. Perhaps he didn't want to know. Some men don't like to face the fact that they've been cuckolded.' He glanced at their faces, searching for a reaction to the ugly old word, but receiving none. ‘It's more likely that Dominic was preoccupied with his own amours. If you've found out anything about your victim, you'll know that he conducted a string of affairs.'

‘We have been told that, yes. Do you think any of them was connected with his death?'

‘It's possible.
Cherchez la femme
, they say, don't they? But I can't help you. His love life didn't concern me and I wasn't interested in the details of it.'

‘Except that it left the way clear for you with his wife.'

‘You make me sound like an opportunist.'

‘Perhaps that's how it looks from the outside. If you think things are different, this is your chance to enlighten us.'

Alderson stared hard, first at Peach and then at Northcott, searching for a reaction he did not get; both men remained impassive. ‘Perhaps you're not so far wide of the mark. I found a lonely woman, who didn't quite know what she'd done wrong to be so neglected. I'm used to being on my own, though I'm no monk. I was divorced ten years ago and I've played the field as it suits me since then. I'm not proud of that: I'm telling you because you could find out easily enough, if you chose to.'

‘What we're interested in is the investigation of a murder and how you fit into it. It's your present affair with the victim's widow which we need to know about.'

Alderson weighed this and apparently found it acceptable. ‘I suppose I thought of Ros as just another opportunity, at first. She's a pretty woman. She was also a lonely woman in search of sex and companionship. You'd be surprised how many of them are available. Or perhaps you wouldn't.'

‘So it isn't a deep relationship.'

Peach made it a statement: he was still keen to provoke this acute man into some impulsive reaction. He didn't succeed. Alderson eyed him coolly, assessing what the implications of his answer might be for himself. ‘We're close now. It's probably true to say that neither of us thought of it as more than a fling when it began. But you can never forecast how these things will develop.'

‘That sounds like a cautionary note for the promiscuous.'

‘Maybe it is. I think sex was a big part of it for both of us when it began. It goes deeper than that now.'

‘Mrs O'Connor thinks that the two of you will now marry.'

‘It's early to make long-term plans. I haven't seen Ros since I heard about Dominic. I expect she's still reeling from the shock.' He looked at his two visitors for a long moment, teasing them with the thought that he might be about to cast aside his lover. Then he said, ‘But I expect we shall marry, after a suitable interval. There isn't any need to formalise things quickly, in modern society. And even Ros's Holy Mother Church can't object, now that Dominic's dead and she's a free woman.' He let a little flare of contempt into his tone as he mentioned religion.

‘What do you do for a living, Mr Alderson?'

‘I expect you already know that, through your efficient police research machine. I'm a consultant. I advise on engineering problems.'

‘At present unemployed?'

‘Yes. The work comes and goes. It's generally quite lucrative, when it's around. You may have noticed that the country is at present enduring a prolonged recession.'

‘Indeed we have. It's even affecting the police service. No doubt Mrs O'Connor will be a rich woman now.'

‘Which will be very convenient for me as well as for her. I can't help that, DCI Peach.'

‘It makes this a very opportune death for both of you.'

Alderson shrugged his slim shoulders and raised his hands palm-upwards for a moment. He allowed himself a small smile, but he didn't speak. Peach regarded him steadily, then gave a tiny nod to Northcott, who said, ‘You worked in Middlesbrough before you settled in Brunton, I believe.'

‘You believe correctly.'

‘Where you were involved in some unpleasantness.'

Alderson forced a smile. ‘I like that word, “unpleasantness”. It's very English. The facts are that we were involved in a very nasty industrial exchange. One small firm took business away from another, by means we didn't like. They undercut us far beyond what you could call fair competition. They were non-union, so we couldn't even ask the union to help us. We'd no choice but to take matters into our own hands.'

‘With serious injuries resulting.'

‘Broken arms and a couple of broken jaws. Nothing life-threatening. You may have noticed that I walk with a limp. It dates from that time.'

‘But you dealt out more than you received.'

‘How well-informed you seem to be.' His voice was mocking as he looked from Northcott's earnest black face to Peach's round white one. Then his tone hardened. ‘I grew up on a sink estate in Newcastle. I learned to take care of myself early in life.'

Clyde Northcott nodded. ‘So you could have taken care of Dominic O'Connor, when you found that he stood in your way.'

John Alderson looked hard at Northcott. ‘I reckon you could handle yourself, if you needed to. Well, good for you! And yes, I might have harmed Dominic, if it had come to a direct contest between the two of us. But sneaking up on someone the way the papers say this happened isn't my way. Make a clear note in your little book that I deny all connection with this murder, will you, please?'

Peach said quietly, ‘Where were you on Friday evening, Mr Alderson?'

‘I was here all day on Friday, apart from a visit to my local shop for bread, milk and a paper. And before you ask, I was alone. That's the way of things, when you're unemployed and single. Perhaps I would have tried to see Ros, but I knew she was going up to Settle to see her sister.'

‘What car do you drive?'

‘A metallic grey Ford Fiesta. It's in the garage, if you wish to inspect it. And it was there all day on Friday. I don't know who killed Dominic O'Connor, but if I have any useful thoughts on the matter I'll be in touch with you immediately.'

‘The vice squad's moving in tomorrow on those Asian men who are procuring minors from care homes. We've passed on our evidence to them,' said Lucy Peach to her husband as she dried the dishes.

‘And about time too.'

‘We needed the evidence. We've got it now. No one's going to walk on this one.'

‘Including Linda Coleman, I trust?' Percy couldn't get the image of that affluent woman threatening violence to Lucy out of his mind.

‘Including her for certain. She and her cronies have been financing the whole business, setting up the big-money clients and creaming off the best of the profits.'

They watched indifferent television for an hour or so. Eventually his arm stole around her shoulders and she leant contentedly against him, her head on his chest. He loved the clean, outdoor smell of her hair, as well as its softness and its rich red-brown colour. He nuzzled it softly, wishing that he could remove her for ever from all physical danger. ‘How's your mum?'

‘She's fine. What brought that up?'

‘Aren't I allowed to ask after Agnes? She's my favourite seventy-year-old.'

‘I shouldn't think there's a lot of competition for that honour. At least I don't feel jealous of Mum.' She ran her fingers along the back of Percy's hand and up his forearm. ‘Wonder what's happening to poor old Tommy Bloody Tucker?'