Indian Summer (21 page)

‘Checking, sir. Just checking.'

‘Bloody well check yourself into the Keane house to which I'm informed you collected the key.
On the double
, Piercey. I'll be there in five and the door had better be unlocked.'

Snapping the phone shut, he avoided George's gleaming eye and opened the door of Nora's car for Walpole. The man still exuded belligerence. Make that two of us, chum, Tom thought as he slid behind the wheel cursing Piercey for complicating this distasteful duty. What the hell was he up to?

When they arrived, Piercey's car was parked outside and the man himself stood at the open door as if he was a host welcoming guests, which darkened Tom's mood further. The bastard was even smiling. The smile faded as Walpole charged up the drive and pushed past him. Piercey frowned a question at Tom, who was close on his heels. Who he? it asked.

‘One of the brothers after Starr's personal items,' he announced as he closed with his sergeant. ‘Give a hand. I want him off the base asap.'

The two detectives joined Walpole upstairs, where he was banging cupboard doors and muttering. He rounded on them. ‘So who's been in here helping himself, eh?'

‘Nothing's been taken away,' Tom said firmly. ‘As you've been made aware, this is a possible crime scene. Please disturb it as little as possible.' He began taking Starr's clothes from hangers in the broken wardrobe, folding them and putting them on the bed. He turned to Piercey. ‘Collect some bin liners from the kitchen for Mr Walpole to pack Mrs Keane's and the children's clothes in.'

Walpole stood over Tom. ‘Someone
has
been in here and taken stuff. Where is it?'

‘Are you so familiar with your sister's every possession that you're so certain something is missing,' countered Tom. ‘Have you ever visited her here?'

‘Them creams and lotions of hers, where are they?'

As he had not searched the house Tom had no idea what he was talking about, although he did recall Max had made some comment about the dead woman he had seen being too attractive to need so many homeopathic remedies so maybe Keane had used them.

‘If they're not here, she must have taken them with her when she left on Saturday. The German police report states that any personal identification and belongings would have been destroyed by the fire. You
were
given full details of the crash, weren't you?'

‘She didn't take them. She told me they were still in the house, but she was going back in a day or two to collect everything else before heading home to Mum.' There was the first indication of grief on his face as he said, ‘I was over here with a load. We was going to meet up like we did whenever one of us was near here. She was on her way to me when it happened, poor little bitch!'

Tom studied him silently for a moment or two. ‘Were you aware she was using coke?'

‘
No
. Would I have let her? What d'you take me for?' he demanded with renewed aggression. ‘It was that bugger she married. He did for her every way he could, and I reckon he got what was due to him. Ruined her life. Dragged her away from her family to live in this dump. He promised to leave the Army when he got back from playing soldiers for real, then told her he never said so. Broke her up, that did. That so-called friend she went to must've given it to her to cheer her up. Instead, she
killed
Starr!'

Piercey arrived with the bin liners in time to hear that last statement. ‘Your sister died in a road accident, Mr Walpole. Can we help you pack the things, or would you prefer to do it alone? Perhaps I could put together the kids' things, although most of them seem to have gone already. They'll be at the care home, along with everything else left at the friend's house.'

Walpole switched his verbal attack to Piercey. ‘You were already in here when we arrived. Where've you put all those pots of stuff Starr had?'

Tom was surprised by the flare of interest on Piercey's face, but his tone was normal when he asked Walpole to describe them.

‘Ah, when we first checked the house we found pieces of a pot like that. It appeared to have been thrown at the wall.' He indicated a yellow stain. ‘Stuff with rather a strong smell, here and on the carpet. The broken pieces were removed as a hazard. There were no other con-tainers in here,' he added, waving an arm at the complete bedroom. ‘If they held beauty preparations surely your sister would have taken them with her.'

Highly incensed, Walpole said, ‘I've just told this bozo
she left them here
! Said so when she called to arrange our meeting. One of you guys has had them. That's theft, that is. I want them handed over before I leave this house.' He turned on Tom. ‘I can make things difficult.
Very
difficult. Me and Beefy's got friends in the right places.'

‘Don't issue threats to me,' warned Tom. ‘We're making a concession in allowing you on these premises. The usual practice is for us to bag up personal effects and send them to next of kin. You seem to have forgotten that your sister's husband was murdered just a few days ago. His family will want the things
he
left in this house. Collect those items you came for, then Sar'nt Piercey will drive you to where you're lodging. If the cosmetics turn up they'll be forwarded to your mother.'

Tom felt some satisfaction in giving Piercey the task of chauffeuring this obnoxious character who, after searching every cupboard and drawer on both floors, grabbed the bin liners Piercey had filled with clothes and toys and left without showing any interest in claiming such items as
DVD
s, ornaments or framed photographs of the children at various stages of growth. Several showed Starr with them; happy, smiling groups.

Tom drove home pondering Walpole's interest in a few pots of cosmetics against photographs his mother would surely prize. It had been quite a day, one way or another. Giving Brenda such shocking facts about a man she had sincerely loved and supported, then the selfish reactions to death from the Walpole family. Not the mother, perhaps, but those brothers were dyed-in-the-wool thugs.

Dealing with the grief of two very different women in very different circumstances highlighted his own concern over Nora's uncharacteristic behaviour. How would he cope with losing her to some dread illness? How could he ever be father
and
mother to three vulnerable girls? It was too terrible to contemplate.

He drove fast in his sudden anxiety to reach Nora and hold her close. Leaving the vehicle on the driveway, he let himself in the house and headed through to the garden, led there by the sound of excited voices. His daughters were playing with a puppy on the lawn, while Nora looked on with a fond smile. Oh, dear God, he thought, is this dog her parting gift to them?

TEN

H
eather Johnson decided against questioning Staff Sergeant Fuller about Mel Dunstan. Those two were too close for the frank appraisal of the female knight's private life she sought, yet only someone who knew Mel reasonably well could provide the more intimate details that would justify her own suspicions of the I Corps subaltern. So, after gently encouraging a dozy bee from her windscreen, Heather drove across the base to the gymnasium.

Second Lieutenant Joanna Carstairs, known by the obligatory pseudo-masculine Jo, was one of the
PT
Instructors who had dressed as a clown to give comedy displays on the trampoline during the Open Day. Heather had opted to interview her because she lived in the same Mess as Mel, and because she would have spent a lot of time with her during planning meetings prior to the day of their public performances. Jo would surely be able to shed light on Mel's behaviour during the run-up to Keane's murder.

At the back of Heather's mind was the truth that she was acting on the slender facts that Mel had been taking a break from the jousting during the time that Keane actually died, and that she could have been the knight seen at midnight. For what reason? asked an inner voice. Witnesses had not seen a body slung over the saddle. Even Piercey's wild theory of a dead man sitting upright with a pole supporting his back would have needed another rider to lead the horse. She sighed. Was she being rational over this hunch?

The first sight of Jo Carstairs caused Heather to sigh again. Tall and ash blonde, she had a wonderfully toned, beautifully proportioned body. All that daily exercise, of course. Yet Heather knew she would never acquire that gorgeous image. She took plenty of exercise, but her bone structure and ‘hippy' shape prevented her from being anything other than short and dumpy.

She watched the class performing energetically on the mass of equipment, until Jo called them together and set them doing one hundred press-ups before crossing to the smartly dressed intruder.

‘Can I help? Are you lost?'

Heather showed her identification. ‘My colleague, Sar'nt Piercey, interviewed you concerning the murder of Corporal Keane
RCR
on the Open Day. A witness had seen a clown roaming the base after dark.'

Jo smiled broadly. ‘That was Ronnie Phelps. His wife still hasn't seen the joke. I thought it was a real hoot.'

‘Perhaps his wife's sense of humour doesn't run in that direction.'

‘She doesn't have a sense of humour.'

‘Then he's either a brave or a stupid man to have done it,' concluded Heather. ‘We also have a witness who saw a mounted knight crossing the Sports Ground.'

‘Oh, that was me.'

‘
You!
I thought you were one of the clowns.'

After a swift glance at the puffing, panting troops nowhere near the end of their press-ups, Jo smiled again. She was a very smiley person, which was particularly annoying after blighting Heather's hopes of evidence to support her case against Mel Dunstan.

‘I was honour bound to support my own Corps by performing on the trampoline, but I'm also a member of the Court and could have participated in the Jousting. It was the same with Pete Saunders, the Veterinary Officer. He was on duty on Saturday and moaned on and on about not having the chance to show what he can do with a lance.' Another broad smile. ‘He and I have a love-hate relationship. He's rather cocky, but I fancy him; he's flattered and plays up to me. Whenever we ride together he shows off. His horse is far superior to mine, which dupes him into believing he's a better rider.'

Her eyes brightened with amusement. ‘For fun I sent him an anonymous challenge to a midnight joust, which he accepted because he can never resist the chance to prove how marvellous he is at all things equestrian. I had switched on the floodlights at the Sports Ground; the lists were still in place and I admit it was very romantic when we rode in with visors down and lances held high. Two mystery knights ready to prove their worth.'

By this time Heather began to wonder if she had wandered into Barbara Cartland territory, yet she could not help asking the outcome.

‘Norval, that's Pete's horse, was unsettled by the bright lights and played up when he saw me charging towards him. In truth, I think the light reflecting off my shield dazzled him. On the third run I hit Pete's shield almost dead centre just as Norval shied. Pete was unseated and fell.' She gave a gurgling laugh. ‘I pinned him on the ground with my lance as a signal of his defeat, then I rode off. He has no idea who his opponent was because I didn't ride my mare. I keep trying to lead him into telling me about it, but he won't. He's not so full of himself, however. Terrific fun!'

Tom Black was right, thought the bemused Heather. The base holds an Open Day; military discipline goes to hell and the garrison runs amok. She forced her mind back to why she was there and halted Jo when she looked set to return to her class.

‘Give them a break,' she said crisply. ‘I need some answers from you now I know you were out and about at midnight on Saturday. Did you encounter anyone else wandering around? See anything unusual or curious?'

‘I didn't go near the water tank.'

‘Forget the tank. Did you see anything at all that seemed odd?' She almost added,
odder than two idiots jousting at midnight
, but decided to let that slide.

Jo pursed her mouth. ‘Only the stragglers heading for bed. Nobody acting suspiciously. Tell the truth, I didn't have great vision through the visor.'

‘Why didn't you take the helmet off?'

‘I didn't want someone to identify me and tell Pete.' Her amusement faded as she put two and two together. ‘You don't think it was because
I
was involved in that murder. Check with Pete Saunders. He'll confirm the jousting on the Sports Ground.'

‘I'm sure he will,' said Heather, smiling over what she was going to say next. ‘But he doesn't know who his opponent was, does he? You made certain of that.'

Ignoring the men and women who were now chatting to one another as they sat on the floor recovering from the press-ups, Jo began another sentence then stopped as she realized she could not provide an unbreakable alibi. Now visibly flustered, she said, ‘Look, Mel Dunstan saw me take Drew Meredith's gelding from his stall. She was with Staff Fuller at the other end of the stables. She
must
have seen me. We were the only people there at that hour.'

‘Still doesn't prove what you did on leaving the stables.' Heather seized on this lead to what she had really come for. ‘I've already interviewed Mel Dunstan. She told me she was not aware of any horse missing when she was discussing the forthcoming races with Sheila Fuller.'

‘But she must have heard . . . I mean, you can't
sneak
a horse from his stall. There's a lot of snorting and clattering. Why would she say that?'

‘You tell me,' returned Heather. ‘How well do you know her?'

By now looking rather worried, Jo said, ‘Let me dismiss this platoon, then we'll talk in the office. I can sort this.'

As Heather watched her give an encouraging word to soldiers delighted to be spared the final ten minutes of physical demands on their bodies, she wondered if she had got it all wrong with the Dunstan woman. This unexpected development provided food for a great deal of thought. Had she stumbled on a breakthrough from a surprising source? Jo Carstairs had unwittingly put herself in the hot seat by admitting that she had deliberately hidden her identity while riding through the base, even when returning to the stables. Was she as lighthearted as she made out, or very canny? It would be wise to seek every bit of information about this athlete on returning to Headquarters. If there was even the slightest link between her and Flip Keane, Heather would find it.