A Killing Resurrected (33 page)

‘Oh, yes, she's sticking to that, no matter what anyone says, but I don't think it was Al at all. Oh, he was there all right; the neighbours saw him, and he probably slapped Sharon around, but I think she was expecting someone else that night. The woman next door said that Sharon had acted as if she were scared but excited at the same time when she brought the children round.'

Ormside sighed. ‘So it's back to square one,' he said. ‘Which means we'll have to canvas the street again to find out if anyone saw any activity around the Jessop house later on that night or early Sunday morning. When do you think Sharon can be questioned again?'

‘Depends on how long she's able to convince her doctor that she's having memory problems. I doubt if she'll be able to keep it up for long, but it could be a few days.'

‘Any thoughts on who this second person might be? Assuming there was a second person.'

‘I was thinking about that on my way in,' said Molly. ‘Remember I said I had the feeling that Sharon was holding out on me? Well, I can't help wondering if she remembered who the man was who held her during the robbery of the Rose and Crown, and tried to contact him.'

‘Go on,' said Ormside neutrally.

‘Well, Sharon is desperate for money. She's just lost her job, and if she
had
remembered who it was, and that person is still living here in Broadminster, she may have attempted to blackmail him.'

Ormside looked sceptical. ‘And invited him to her house?' he said. ‘The woman may not be very bright, but I can't see her doing that, can you?'

‘I don't know,' said Molly slowly. ‘There has to be a reason she sent her children out of the house, so it seems reasonable to me that she was expecting someone, or she was going out to meet someone, and I don't think it was Al Jessop. Jessop did seem to be genuinely surprised when he saw the pictures of her injuries. I thought it was an act at the time, but now I'm not so sure.'

‘Assuming for a moment that you're right, why didn't he finish the job and simply kill her?'

‘Perhaps he thought he had.'

‘Maybe,' Ormside conceded sceptically. ‘Still, I suppose it's a theory, and God knows we've got nothing else to work with, so write up your report and put it up on the boards as a line of enquiry. And take a look at her phone records,' he called after her as Molly moved away.

‘Oh, God, not you again?' David Taylor groaned as the bell clattered and Tregalles stepped into the shop and closed the door behind him. ‘So what do you want this time, Sergeant?'

‘I thought you might like to know that Barry Grant didn't commit suicide after all,' Tregalles said. ‘He was murdered, and the killer set it up to look like suicide. But perhaps you knew that already, Mr Taylor?'

David's face darkened. ‘If you're suggesting that I had something to do with it, you are very much mistaken,' he said heatedly. ‘If Barry was murdered, this is the first I've heard of it, so why accuse me?'

‘I don't believe I did,' Tregalles said, ‘but as you told me yourself, you were the person he called only a few hours before he was killed, and yours is the only name Barry mentions in the notes he left behind. And you knew the code Sam Bergman used when he wanted his wife to open the back door.'

David bristled. ‘Everyone knew that code,' he shot back. ‘Dad knew it, Kevin knew it, we all did, and I'm sure every one of Sam's cronies knew it, so don't try to make it look as if I was the only one.'

‘Tell me again about that call you received from Barry that Sunday evening following the death of your father. What
exactly
did he say?'

‘Oh, for God's sake, Sergeant!' said David irritably. ‘You can't expect me to remember something like that after all these years. I told you—'

‘You told me the other day,' Tregalles cut in sharply, ‘that every word of that conversation was burnt into your brain, so don't give me that. Tell me.'

David sucked in his breath. ‘You're right,' he conceded, ‘I must have gone over that conversation a thousand times since that night, and when Claire came by to tell me that you'd reopened the investigation, suddenly that was all I could think about.'

He pushed a couple of cardboard boxes aside and wiped his hand on a cloth. ‘Care for a coffee, Sergeant?' he asked. ‘It is made. I've probably had more than I should today, but I could still use another one.'

A few minutes later, with a large mug of coffee beside him, Taylor sat on the counter, legs dangling. Tregalles, seated on an upturned wooden crate and holding an equally large mug of coffee, waited for Taylor to begin.

‘As I told you,' David began quietly, ‘it was the Sunday night after Dad was killed. We were all there in the living room, and Aunt Edith was trying to discuss funeral arrangement with us, but the trouble was neither Kevin nor I had a clue about what Dad would have wanted, and to be honest, I don't think either of us wanted to talk about it at all. Dad had never said anything about what sort of funeral he'd like – he always shied away from things like that – so we weren't much help, and tempers were getting a bit frayed on both sides.

‘Then Barry rang.' David sipped his coffee and stared off into the distance as if recreating the scene in his mind. ‘I think his first words were, “David, you've got to help me. You're the only one I can trust.” Then he said, “Please, David, I'm in trouble and I
really
need to talk to you. Please come.”'

David grimaced guiltily. ‘And I said something like, For Christ's sake, Barry, get lost. I haven't got time for you and your games. Don't you know my father was killed yesterday? I'm sitting here trying to sort out funeral arrangements, and the last thing I need right now is you and your problems, so call someone else, because I don't want to hear from you again!'

David Taylor set his half-empty mug on the counter beside him, and his voice was husky as he said, ‘Barry didn't say anything for a moment or two, and then he said, “You probably won't, David, because there is no one else who can help me. Goodbye.”'

He picked up his mug again, but sat holding it in his hands. ‘I told him not to be such an idiot, and slammed the phone down,' he said softly, ‘and twelve hours later I heard he had shot himself.' He paused to look quizzically at Tregalles. ‘But now you're saying he
didn't
shoot himself. That he was murdered? How do you know?'

‘Not at liberty to say,' Tregalles told him. ‘But since we're talking about that, I'd like you to take me back to the morning your father and Mrs Bergman were killed. You and your brother were on your morning rounds at the time, as I recall. Did each of you have a particular area you covered?'

‘That's right. I did the shops, pubs, and cafes on the south side of town, plus the villages, Ardlington, Clapton Cross, and some of the others out that way, and Kev covered the north end, Little Stoneford, Winset, and Shebbington, although I did his in-town ones that morning, which is why I was a bit later than usual getting back and found the lane blocked off and police everywhere.'

‘Why did you do your brother's rounds that day?'

David looked at him blankly. ‘Oh, that,' he said. ‘Sorry, I . . .' He waved his hands as if trying to erase something in the air. ‘That was because Kevin was in
l-o-o-v-e
,' he said, drawing the word out. ‘He had it so bad it was painful – more so for me, because I was living under the same roof with him and Dad, and I was always afraid I would say something that would set Dad off. Believe me, it was hard going that summer.'

‘You lost me,' Tregalles confessed. He had an inkling about where the conversation was heading, because Paget had mentioned something of the sort on his return from Cambridge, but now that David Taylor seemed to be in a talkative mood, he wanted to know more. ‘What was so bad about your brother being in love?'

‘It was
who
he was in love with,' David said, and went on to tell Tregalles what he had told Claire the week before. ‘And believe me, it was tricky with us all living under the same roof, because despite our differences, Dad was still prepared to hire us during the summer, because Kev and I would work for less than anyone else. But it included bed and board, and that was a plus as far as we were concerned.

‘But as I said, it was tricky, more so for Kevin than for me because not only was he still dating Steph, he was working for Ed Bradshaw as well. You see, our work at the bakery and the deliveries took place in the morning, so we were free in the afternoon. Ed Bradshaw was quite taken with Kevin as a potential son-in-law, and he wanted him to join the firm once he was through in Leeds. So he offered Kev a job in the afternoons at the Ludlow office, where there was little likelihood of Dad finding out. It was mostly researching material for other solicitors in the firm, but it was valuable experience for Kevin, and it gave him and Steph a chance to be together.'

‘Pretty dangerous, though, wasn't it?' Tregalles observed. ‘I mean Kevin could have been up the creek if your father had found out.'

‘Oh, yes,' David said seriously, ‘and I didn't want to be the one to blurt something out and wreck everything, so there were times when I was more than a little annoyed with Kev for taking so many chances.'

‘Let's get back to why your brother asked you to do part of his rounds for him that Saturday,' Tregalles said. ‘Are you saying that was something to do with Stephanie Bradshaw as well?'

David set his coffee to one side and sat frowning as if at some unpleasant memory. ‘Steph and her father were leaving that afternoon for Amsterdam,' he said slowly, ‘and Kevin just had to see Steph before they went. Ed's family came from there originally, and Steph had a grandmother and a couple of aunts in Amsterdam, and she and Ed used to pop over to see them on a weekend every now and again. I mean Steph was only going to be gone for a couple of days, but even that was too long for Kev. But it was no good arguing with him, so I agreed to do some of his rounds for him while he went skiving off to see Steph.'

Tregalles stood up and set his empty mug on the counter. ‘Thanks for the coffee,' he said, ‘and thanks for filling me in on what happened that day.' He walked to the door, then paused. ‘You said your father didn't have a lot of money, but he still had the business, so it must have brought in quite a bit when it was sold. You and your brother share it, did you?'

The muscles around David Taylor's mouth tightened as he said, ‘That's right, Sergeant. Kevin and I shared it with the building society. You see, the money we thought Dad had been saving for our education, actually came from a mortgage on the house and business, and all Dad had been paying off for years was little more than the interest, so by the time everything was settled and taxes paid, we ended up with less than eight thousand pounds apiece. Hardly what you would call a motive for killing our father, wouldn't you say?'

‘True,' Tregalles conceded, ‘but on the other hand, you said yourself you didn't know the place was mortgaged to the hilt until he died, did you? Have a nice day, Mr Taylor. I'm sure we'll be talking again soon.'

David Taylor remained where he was, eyes closed, mouth clamped shut as he silently chastised himself for the slip of the tongue that had forced him to lie about Kevin's absence that fateful Saturday morning. At least he'd had the good sense not to mention Kevin's unexplained disappearance on the Sunday, and the fact that Kevin had lied about that as well.

It was only by chance that David had discovered the lie his brother had told him about where he was on Saturday morning, and he suspected that Kevin had also lied about where he'd gone on the Sunday night after receiving a call on his newly acquired mobile phone.

He wrinkled his nose. Even now, it was impossible to forget the smell on Kevin's clothes. The smell had filled his nose, his mouth, and his lungs as he'd come out of a sound sleep to find Kevin standing between the two beds.

He remembered peering at the figures on the digital clock, and saying, ‘For God's sake, Kev, it's four o'clock in the morning. Where the hell have you been? Aunt Edith wanted to know where you'd gone, and I didn't know what to tell her. And what
is
that bloody awful stink?'

‘Steph and I were trying to get Ed's barbecue going and I spilt fluid on my trousers,' his brother whispered as he stripped off his clothes and sat down on his own bed. ‘Go back to sleep. I'll open the widow and the smell will be gone by morning.'

‘I thought Steph was in Amsterdam with her father?'

‘She was, but they had to come back early. Something to do with a case Ed's working on.'

David hadn't believed it then and he didn't believe it now.

He smiled grimly to himself. Kev had never been a very good liar, and David had often teased him about it being a serious handicap if he hoped to become a successful lawyer. But the fact remained that if Kevin didn't tell the police about where he'd been before they discovered it for themselves, they would wonder what else he had lied about, and who could blame them?

He glanced at the time. He'd have to talk to Kevin. It wasn't something he wanted to discuss over the phone, and if Steph didn't know about what Kevin had been up to back then, he didn't want her learning about it from him. Best thing to do, he decided, would be to ask Kevin to come to the shop to give him a hand and help him with the packing.

K
evin Taylor parked the car in the garage, picked up his briefcase and got out. His footsteps sounded hollow as he crossed the floor and entered the house.

‘I'm home,' he called as he walked down the hall. ‘Where are you, Steph?'

The greeting had started off as a joke the first few times he'd come home to the new house, because it was so much bigger than their old house on Oak Street, but it was fast becoming a standard greeting.