Death of a Stranger (17 page)

“It is, she and Simon's mother are old friends as well, and she has to tell her. But it's my shock too. That's why I'm so keen to lead the investigation.''

“So perhaps that's why when you see the Chief you should play down your personal involvement.''

“I couldn't play down my personal involvement when my cousin Charles was murdered last year, Ted. And the Chief gave me the investigation. But you're right, of course, no need to say anything now beyond that the victim was a friend of the family.'' Tim paused, to make his next announcement as dramatically distracting as possible. “And that he came to Guernsey on a hush-hush assignment.''

“
What
!''

As he had hoped, he had pushed himself out of Ted's picture of the murdered man. “You heard me, Ted.''

“You knew this, sir?''

“Yes. It's to do with the fire at the Golden Rose. Simon … Shaw runs – ran – a detective agency in London.'' He had to pause and cough, to disguise the fact that he was suddenly out of breath again. “And he was here on behalf of the insurance company the Charters are insured with. The local branch got in touch with their head office in London because of not being entirely satisfied that the fire was as accidental as the owners claimed it to be, given the presence in the burned greenhouse of those valuable pictures. Doubt had been expressed recently about their value – and then they went up in smoke. Shaw was undercover, but he told me because of – of our old friendship, and because he thought that as a policeman I might be able to offer some local input.'' He had to pause, to put aside the sudden vivid picture of Simon's eyes as they pleaded with him to visit the Golden Rose unofficially. He hadn't done it, and now that Simon was dead he never could. “He hadn't uncovered anything criminal so there was no action for me to take. Perhaps last night he did.'' And perhaps last night he himself had broken the law … Tim got to his feet to hide another shudder. “I should be telling this to the Chief, Ted. And whether or not I head the investigation, I should be authorising the closing and cordoning off of the Golden Rose, and a uniform in the house. Will you see to it?''

The Chief, too, was riveted by Tim's revelation of why the murdered man had come to Guernsey.

“That must be the reason he was carrying nothing to identify him,'' he said, as he strolled to his window and looked out on his slightly different view of the tree. Tim wondered idly if he, too, took strength from it. “ I'm grateful for the short cut, Tim, and of course I want you to head the investigation on the ground.'' The Chief turned from the window and surveyed him with mild concentration. “If you're certain your judgment won't be clouded by your family's friendship with the victim. You handled your cousin's murder very well, but friendship can generate as much feeling as family and if you think—''

“I can handle it, sir.'' Tim thought his Chief had been obliquely and delicately stating his knowledge that Tim had not had strong personal feelings for his murdered cousin. “ Simon and I only met on family holidays so it isn't as if I've lost someone I was close to.'' A truth and a lie in one. At least the lie was the worst he would have to tell about his brother.

“Um. All right.'' The Chief came back to his desk and sat down. “There's a lot to be looked into, legwork to be apportioned, you'd better get to it.''

“Thank you, sir.'' Tim hesitated. “I've just issued instructions for the Golden Rose to be closed and cordoned off, and a uniform in the house. With my knowledge of Shaw's mission I knew that whoever was to head the investigation would want—''

“Of course, Tim. With your knowledge you could have done it sooner.''
Should have done it sooner
. The Chief was telling him what he knew: that he should have charged Ted with the task immediately he had identified Simon's body. And he hadn't even had the excuse, then, of knowing who Simon was. “Anything else at this stage?''

“I don't think so, sir.'' He could mention the outside possibility of the murder having something to do with the first hit-and-run. But if he did he would turn the spotlight he had just deflected from himself onto Simon
vis-à-vis
their mother and that would be dangerous and difficult. Unless, of course, the first attack had been aimed at Simon too, and their mother had simply been in the way. Which would mean that Constance Lorimer was innocent …

“Two car nasties for you, Tim, within a week, both involving people close to you. I'm sorry. D'you see any possibility of a connection?''

He was glad to have the decision made for him. “ Both Shaw and my mother were convinced the car in L'Hyvreuse was aiming at her, sir. And it was she who was hit. And although as you know there's no forensic evidence pointing to Constance Lorimer's car being involved, there
is
bad blood between her and my mother. As you know, too, I've been favouring Mrs Lorimer for that first hit-and-run, but I feel it's unlikely she could have been responsible for the second.'' He wouldn't tell the Chief, or any of his colleagues, that Constance Lorimer believed the dead man to have been his mother's lover. “But of course there has to be the possibility of a connection via Shaw, even though I see no way the Charters could have known about his assignment before last night, when he could have been spotted in or near their property. He visited the Golden Rose as a tourist, but that was after the attack on my mother so it isn't significant so far as the first hit-and-run is concerned. I'm inclined to think the two attacks are unconnected, sir. A scientist friend once told me that coincidence in real life, as opposed to fiction, is more likely than not.''

“So there's a lot of work to do, Tim. Get your troops together and tell them what you've just told me.”

I
t didn't seem necessary to deploy a large force. Tim sent a couple of uniforms to the Duke of Richmond to try to find out when Simon had left the hotel, if he had said anything on departure, if he had been alone, and if he had taken his hire car. Should the car be missing from the small car-park carved out of the corner of Cambridge Park opposite the hotel, another uniform was to get its particulars from the car hire company – DS Mahy would give details – and seek it in an outward sweep from the Golden Rose. He himself, with DS Mahy and back-up, would look for it in the nursery grounds, in the course of interviewing the Charters.

He did not tell his team that he himself would later in the day have another word with Constance Lorimer. Alone, because he did not want even Ted to suspect a special relationship – the wrong one or the right one – between his mother and Simon. If he brought Ted in, or any other member of the force, that would become an inevitable factor in the investigation. Calling on her alone would mean, of course, that his second questioning of her had to be unofficial, but for the moment that would suit him.

Since the discovery of Simon's body, forensic experts had been at work on the area of hedge and roadway where he had been found. Tim had them contacted and asked to remain
in situ
until he arrived, then be ready to follow him to the Charters' home quarters to examine the family cars and vans and look for evidence in and out of the house to indicate that Simon had been there. The fact that Bernard Charters had telephoned the station to ask for the detective inspector suggested to Tim that he had.

Rain, still thinly falling, had come sudden and heavy in the early morning, and despite his resolute professionalism Tim was unable to see it trickling down the windscreen without equating it with tears. The sky was low, grey and featureless, and his outer world was as different as his inner from its brilliant yesterday. Even the lane outside the Golden Rose, which had been so beguiling a lead into the popular small complex, looked tired and dreary, the hedgerow greens which in spring had been so bright and variegated now a uniform sage colour where they were not brown with the mud from passing motorists and the attentions of the forensic team.

The place where Simon had died was a small crushed embrasure in a stretch of hawthorn above a churning of grass and soil.

“Morning, Tim.'' It was the female senior pathologist who came over to the car when it stopped short of the wide gateway and Tim wound his window down. The rain had scarcely affected her wealth of teased blonde hair and her good looks were adorned as at all times with a great deal of make-up, but Tim, who had taken her to a couple of police dos before he met Anna, knew that her skill and intelligence were formidable. He could have let her body block his view of the death spot, but a force stronger than his will compelled him to look beyond her for traces of Simon's body and feel sick with relief that none was evident.

“Morning, Doreen. Anything turned up?''

“Nothing.''

“Not even tyre marks?''

“He was hit before the rain came, when the verge would have been rock hard. Now it's a swamp, and even without the rain the area would probably have been too grassy. Coarse, thick stuff. But if the vehicle involved belongs to the Golden Rose, it‘ ll have collected the local soil and flora on its tyres anyway. We'll follow you up to the house.''

“Go through the sales area and turn left.'' Tim hesitated. “You all right these days?''

“Never better.'' The pathologist hesitated in her turn. “Congratulations, Tim, but I'm sorry about the honeymoon.''

“Third time'll be lucky. See you in a minute.''

A uniform released the police barrier across the entrance to the Golden Rose and Tim drove on to the forecourt. A notice on a pole had been stuck into the earth at the front edge regretting closure until further notice. The area behind the building was deserted, but Bernard Charters was standing under the porch outside his back door and came forward as Tim got out of the car. Another uniform remained in the open doorway behind him.

Tim gave Charters good morning, noting the tension in the face visible even through the merging moustache and beard. But it was showing in the rest of him too as he stood lacing his hands and moving from foot to foot.

“I asked for you, Inspector Le Page,'' he said at once. “ When the police told me just now what had happened, I asked for you. Someone broke into my house last night.'' It was only as he heard the accusation that Tim realised how much he had been hoping not to hear it. “I suppose it must have been the man found dead in the lane, but I didn't kill him.'' Bernard Charters spoke as though he was repeating a statement he had memorised. “ I was in bed when I heard him downstairs. I thought of running after him, but I was in my pyjamas and anyway while I was wondering what to do I heard a car start up. But I'm told the dead man was on foot. I can't understand—''

“We'll get to that,'' Tim interrupted lightly. If Bernard Charters wasn't genuinely bewildered, he was a very good actor. “Now, I'm afraid I must ask you to allow a couple of pathologists into your house, to confirm that somebody did break in, and what he was about while he was inside. I have a warrant, Mr Charters.''

“Of course you have. And as you can see, your forces are already in occupation without one.'' Tim had the absurd feeling that the man's only alternative to his flow of talk would have been total silence. “When I told your PC Lainé that the intruder hadn't been upstairs he confined my wife, my son and myself to the first floor pending your arrival, but then heeded my plea to await you outside.''

“Sir …'' PC Lainé shuffled his feet uneasily.

“You were entirely in order, Constable,'' Tim reassured him. “And you can go now and help with the examination of the parked cars and the grounds.''

The constable retreated with a relieved smile, passing Dr Roberts and her junior colleague as they appeared round the corner of the building.

“Come in, all of you.'' Charters made an outsize gesture towards the kitchen window. “You can see how he got in and out. As you know, Mr Le Page, people in Guernsey don't lock their windows at night. My wife and I have been assimilated to that extent.'' His tone was sardonic. “Before that he probably vaulted the gate, which we do keep locked. Otherwise he'd have to have gone all the way round the building.''

The four further intruders murmured their thanks as they filed past him.

“Did you find any evidence of loss or disturbance inside the house?'' Tim asked, advancing into the hall as the pathologists began examing the kitchen window.

He was aware of Charters' deep-set eyes moving quickly from side to side as if reflecting their owner's sensation of being caged. “No loss, Inspector.'' But Charters' arm had swung out towards the open doorway of what was clearly an office as if attempting to protect its contents, and Tim thought of the empty camera round Simon's neck. It was a professional reflex, but it stayed with him as a personal pain, and for an anguishing moment he wondered if he would have the strength to lead the investigation to its conclusion. “As for disturbance … The man knocked over this small table and the vase on it shattered. Your clever pathologists may be able to find fresh scratches on the floor and the table, and the remains of the vase are in the bin. He must have fallen over the cat, it came howling upstairs. I'd already been wakened by the noise of the table and the vase, and I shouted out. Of course when I got downstairs he'd disappeared. I stood where we're standing now, thinking about giving chase. Thinking, as I told you, that I wasn't wearing so much as a dressing-gown. And then I heard a car engine start up, and decided it would be a waste of time.''

“And a waste of time to ring the police?'' Tim demanded sternly.

Bernard Charters shrugged. “Nothing appeared to have been taken, and I was convinced, as I still am, that the intruder was a detective hired by the insurance company I'm claiming on for my greenhouse. I didn't know insurance companies were above the law, Inspector.''