Heffernan began to walk towards the offices. ‘I’d rather you didn’t. I want to give him a nice surprise. Come on, Wes.’
They marched off, leaving the security man fidgeting
with his walkie-talkie, wondering what to do. Then he decided that it was best to do nothing and returned to the glass booth
at the carpark entrance to do a convincing imitation of the three wise monkeys.
Sebastian Wilde’s secretary was harder to deal with. Like a dragon at the entrance to a treasure cave – or the more obstructive
kind of doctor’s receptionist – she did her best to convince Gerry Heffernan that her boss was busy and couldn’t possibly
be disturbed. But Heffernan had decided on bulldozer tactics. He flung Wilde’s office door open and walked straight in. Wesley
shot the secretary an apologetic smile and followed.
Wilde, sitting behind his desk with a telephone receiver pressed against his ear, looked up at the newcomers and mumbled something
to the caller about ringing back later. He stood up, his expression caught between anger and worry.
It was Gerry Heffernan who spoke first. ‘I’ve just witnessed a miracle.’
‘What do you mean?’ Wilde’s voice was wary.
‘I’ve just had my faith in human nature restored. And believe me, after a few years in this job it’s taken some battering.’
He smiled benevolently. ‘Can I sit down and tell you about it?’
Wilde said nothing. Heffernan made himself comfortable in a chair on the other side of the large desk. Wesley stood, watching
Wilde’s face.
‘I’ve just seen a load of vicious thieves so overcome with remorse that they’ve returned the goods they stole to their rightful
owner. Isn’t that nice?’
Wilde fidgeted with a pencil, turning it over and over in his fingers. ‘What do you mean? What’s this got to do with me?’
‘The thieves who nicked your computers, they’ve returned them. They’ve left them in your stables for you to find. Now isn’t
that a stroke of luck? Unless . . .’
Wesley could tell that Wilde was really starting to panic.
The pencil was gripped tighter and turned faster. Until it snapped.
‘Unless it was you who staged the robbery in the first place. Hard time for computer businesses, isn’t it? I bet you put in
an insurance claim pretty smartish, eh? How much was it for?’
Wilde’s voice was quiet as he told them. He stared down at his desk, avoiding their eyes.
‘And the driver?’
Wilde took a deep breath. He knew when he was beaten. ‘I met up with him on the road out of Neston. It was all arranged. I
had to knock him about a bit to make it look convincing. He knew what to expect. It was all agreed.’
‘So then you drove the van to the rendezvous and took out all the computers?’
Wilde shook his head. ‘The computers had never been in the van. Another van had taken them to the stables. The van that I
well, I suppose you could call it ‘stole’ . . . was empty. It saved time.’
‘So your warehouse manager was in on it?’ Wesley asked.
Wilde nodded. ‘Trevor didn’t want to do it but I persuaded him. I said it’d save the firm. If I got the insurance money and
then changed the serial numbers and sold the computers, there’d be a chance there wouldn’t have to be redundancies.’
‘But Trevor was reluctant to go along with it?’
‘As I said, he took some persuading. I knew he was the weak link so I had to keep on at him to keep his mouth shut.’
‘And kidnap his wife to keep him quiet?’ Heffernan leaned forward. ‘You were on Monks Island at the time of Sally Gilbert’s
death. How do we know you didn’t threaten her? How do we know that you didn’t take her to the edge of the cliff to scare her
and it all went wrong?’
Wilde looked from one man to the other. For a potential murder suspect, he didn’t seem too worried. ‘I never saw
her that day. I was with the hotel’s IT manager all the time I was there. He even walked me back to the carpark on the mainland.’
He hesitated. ‘I suppose it was Trevor who told you about the computers?’
‘No. As a matter of act it was a friend of your son’s. I don’t suppose you were aware of their little scam?’
Wilde didn’t answer.
‘It seems that your son found the computers you hid and hit upon a scheme to convert them into cash. He was offering them
for sale to computer shops. He’d even taken a few and was storing them at another location for easy access.’
Wilde picked up another pencil and snapped it.
Wesley wandered over to the wide office widow that overlooked the entrance. A police car had just drawn up outside – the vehicle
that would transport Sebastian Wilde to Tradmouth police station while Wesley and Heffernan made further enquiries.
Wilde was surprisingly quiet as he left. His secretary watched, astonished, as he was led away by two uniformed constables.
Then she sat down at her desk, put on the glasses that hung around her neck and resumed her typing. Wesley suspected that
she never allowed anything to get in the way of the smooth running of the office. Perhaps Gerry Heffernan needed someone just
like her to help him conquer his paperwork.
They found Trevor Gilbert in the glass-fronted office perched high above the warehouse. He eyed them warily as they came in
but remained seated at his desk.
‘Is there any news?’ were his first words. ‘Have you charged him?’
‘Charged who?’ Wesley asked.
‘The boyfriend. You were questioning him. Have you charged him yet?’
Trevor had always appeared to treat Sally’s extramarital affair with patience and tolerance. But perhaps that had been an
act put on for her benefit . . . and the police’s. Wesley certainly detected a new vindictiveness in his voice.
‘We’re still making enquiries,’ he answered, giving nothing away. ‘In fact we’re here about another matter. The stolen computers
have turned up.’
Trevor’s mouth fell open.
‘Only they weren’t stolen, were they?’ Heffernan stepped forward, intimidating the man with his bulk. ‘You hid them for Sebastian
Wilde. You were in on it.’
Trevor nodded and hung his head like a naughty boy in front of a cane-happy headmaster. ‘He said it’d save our jobs. I told
him I wouldn’t do it but he said that if I didn’t . . .’
‘What?’
‘He said that if I didn’t help and keep my mouth shut, something would happen. He didn’t say what. I thought he meant I’d
lose my job and he’d put the word round that I was no good so I’d never get another. I couldn’t afford to lose this job, you
see. We’d lived beyond our means for ages. Sally’s spending got us in a right mess so I had to go along with Wilde’s scheme.
I had no choice.’ He looked at Wesley . He suspected that of the two he would be the more sympathetic.
‘You could have come to us. What is it they call it? . . . blown the whistle,’ said Heffernan. ‘Sebastian Wilde involved you
in a criminal act. He made you an accomplice.’
Gilbert didn’t answer. His body drooped as though life had just defeated him and he was waving the white flag of surrender.
He wasn’t one of nature’s whistle-blowers: he probably wouldn’t have the courage. It was easier for the Trevor Gilberts of
this world to go with the flow. Wesley felt sorry for the man as he searched in his pocket for the plastic bag containing
the necklace. He produced it as Gerry Heffernan watched in silence. ‘Have you seen this necklace before?’
Trevor looked at it for a while before nodding his head. ‘It looks like one of Sally’s. She got it from a posh antique shop
in Tradmouth. A hundred quid it cost, even though there’s a dent in the back.’
‘You’re sure it’s Sally’s?’
‘Oh yes. I told her it wasn’t worth half what she paid for it – I told her they’d seen her coming. But she said she didn’t
care. She liked it so she bought it. Same with everything – if Sally liked it, Sally bought it,’ he said with a hint of bitterness.
‘I suppose Sally’s death has solved your financial problems?’ said Wesley unexpectedly.
Trevor thought for a few moments, wondering how he could answer without incriminating herself. But when the answer came, Wesley
knew it was truthful. ‘You’re right, it has. The mortgage will be paid off now so at least I won’t lose the house.’
Wesley nodded. Things must have been bad for the Gilberts if the house was going to have to go. He returned to the subject
of the necklace. ‘Did Sally ever mention anyone called Brenda Dilkes? She works at the Tradfield Manor as a cleaner?’
Trevor shrugged. ‘Sally knew a lot of people from the hotel that I didn’t.’
‘When did you last see this necklace?’
‘I can’t remember. I think she took it with her when she left. I suppose she must have done if you’ve got it otherwise it’d
still be with her things at my place, wouldn’t it.’ Trevor smiled weakly.
Somehow Wesley couldn’t bring himself to ask Gilbert any more questions. He felt the man had had enough. It was time they
talked to Brenda Dilkes. And there was no time like the present.
Brenda Dilkes was still nowhere to be found. When Wesley and Heffernan called at the hotel they were told that she hadn’t
reported for work that day. Then they called at her address on the council estate on the outskirts of Tradmouth, but there
was no answer, although an inquisitive neighbour pointed out that her small battered Citroën 2CV was still parked outside.
Heffernan then suggested that they try
Carole’s house, in a coy tone that made Wesley smile. He just hoped Carole’s brother Sebastian’s arrest wouldn’t nip the
potential romance in the bud. It was about time Gerry Heffernan had the attentions of a good woman – or any woman, come to
that. And Sam seemed to approve, although Gerry had hinted that Rosie didn’t seem to share her brother’s enthusiasm.
But Carole wasn’t at home. To their surprise it was Jason Wilde who answered the door. He stared at them arrogantly, in spite
of his bruised right eye, and told them that Kayleigh had stayed the night and Carole had taken her out shopping. He had no
idea where Brenda was and he didn’t think Carole knew either. His aunt had been annoyed when Brenda hadn’t picked Kayleigh
up when she was supposed to but had pretended an overnight stay had been arranged: she had kept things as normal as possible
for Kayleigh’s sake.
Jason was about to shut the door on them when Heffernan stepped forward into the hallway. ‘I’ve got some news for you,’ he
said with a smirk. He was going to enjoy this. He watched the colour drain from Jason’s face as he told him about his father’s
arrest and the fact that Oliver Kilburn had revealed everything about the Nestec computers. If you couldn’t trust your friends,
who could you trust?
Jason knew the game was up. To Wesley’s surprise, he even promised to present himself at the police station later on to make
a full statement. They decided to leave it at that. If he didn’t turn up they knew where to find him.
After a few words with Sam, who was busy watering turf in the garden, they climbed into the car. ‘What now?’ Wesley asked
as he drove away from Gallows House.
‘Food,’ the chief inspector answered. ‘I can’t think on an empty stomach. How about the Fisherman’s Arms? I could murder a
hotpot.’
Heffernan took Wesley’s silence as consent and slumped back in the passenger seat.
‘So it looks like we’ve cleared up the Nestec hijacking.’
‘One down, two to go.’
‘You what?’
‘One down, two to go. There’s still Sally Gilbert . . . and the Chadleigh Hall skeleton.’
‘I thought that skeleton wasn’t our problem. Peter Bracewell’s made a statement and Alexandra Stanes has turned up safe and
sound.’
‘And who’s to say that Alexandra was the only girl to go missing at Chadleigh Hall over the course of its history?’
Heffernan grunted. Wesley had a point, but why make work for yourself? ‘It’d have to be in the last seventy years for us to
be involved. Before that then it’s up to your mate Neil and his cronies. How is he, by the way? Not seen much of him.’
‘He says underwater archaeology’s too slow and he wishes he was back on dry land. I reckon he’ll jump at the chance to go
up to Chadleigh Hall.’
‘You want to go back there? Why?’
‘Well, we’ve got to give the builders the go-ahead to start work again, haven’t we?’ Wesley grinned. ‘And we’ve got to be
absolutely certain that skeleton isn’t less than seventy years old.’
‘Seventy years ago: that’d be back in the 1930s.’
‘The hall belonged to a family called Iddacombe: they’d been there since the eighteenth century. They moved out during the
war and American troops took over the hall as a base. Then after the war the Iddacombes sold it and it became Chadleigh Hall
School for Girls.’
‘You’ve been doing your homework.’
‘Not me. It was Neil. It’s a fair bet that the skeleton’s connected with the Iddacombes.’
‘Didn’t you say there were still some Iddacombes knocking about?’
‘Yes. They live near Bereton.’
‘And you think one of their family went around murdering young girls?’
‘If it was the Iddacombes, it probably won’t be our problem. Unless . . .’
‘Unless what?’
‘Unless the girl died in the 1930s or early 1940s when they were still in residence. It might be worth having a word with
them to see if they’ve got anything they’d like to share with us.’ He grinned. ‘And I think I’ll call in at the mortuary after
we’ve had our lunch.’
‘Why?’ The mortuary wasn’t a place Wesley normally chose to visit.
‘I just want to see if Colin can tell me anything more about the skeleton. There might be some clue to her identity.’
Heffernan shrugged. He didn’t share Wesley’s optimism – or his appetite for work. And if it wasn’t their job to investigate,
his philosophy was to leave well alone. They had enough on their plates with modern-day crime. ‘Any more thoughts on the Sally
Gilbert case? I reckon Trevor dug himself into a great big hole when you started asking him if he was better off financially
now she’s dead. Let’s face it, he’s got the biggest motive and no alibi.’
‘But what about those other deaths?’
‘What about them? The victims had got nothing in common except that they jumped, fell or were pushed off cliffs . . . and
people do fall off cliffs from time to time. You’re getting over-imaginative in your old age, Wes.’ He took his mobile phone
out of his pocket. ‘I’m going to try Carole’s number – see if she’s back. I want to see if Brenda’s put in an appearance yet
to pick up her daughter.’