Grave Stones (20 page)

‘I have – had – a brother in Somerset. He apparently died three years ago. I didn’t even know. And his widow is – with someone else now.’

She hesitated. ‘I contacted a few more friends.’ She crossed her legs. ‘Life has changed,’ she said, ‘in the years since I’ve been away. I expected to be the wanderer returned. The lost sheep. The prodigal son. In fact I am a stranger to everyone – even, probably, to my daughter.’

Joanna was tempted to blurt out, ‘What do you expect?’ but uncharacteristically she held the words back because Mrs Grimshaw looked truly and sincerely upset.

‘And the farm?’

She was holding something back. Joanna knew it and when she looked at Korpanski she could see he did
too. The gaze from his dark eyes was unblinkingly on Avis Grimshaw, as though if he blinked he might miss some swift but vital sign.

‘The farm,’ Joanna repeated. ‘Did you go there?’

Mrs Grimshaw looked from one to the other, her eyes almost frightened. ‘I did call in,’ she said finally, ‘on the Monday.’

Korpanski interrupted. ‘Do you mean the 10
^th
or the 17
^th
?’

‘The 10
^th
. I had rung him early in September just to warn him. He was furious. Absolutely furious.’ She was pale. ‘Angry with me for leaving him, the farm, our daughter.’ She gulped in some air. ‘I told him I wanted a divorce and that would mean I would be entitled to half the farm. It would finally have to be sold.’ Another of the twisted smiles. ‘So when I called in I didn’t exactly expect much of a welcome.’

Joanna gave a sharp glance at Korpanski. ‘How was he?’

Avis didn’t realise how significant the question was. She shook her head.

‘I can’t tell you,’ she said simply. ‘I didn’t see him. He wasn’t there.’

Joanna couldn’t resist giving Korpanski another swift glance.

He asked the next question. ‘And the dog,’ he asked, ‘Ratchet?’

‘Fast asleep,’ Avis said. ‘Not much of a bloody watchdog, if you ask me.’

‘Did you walk round the farm?’ Joanna asked.

Avis shook her head. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I didn’t. I knocked on the door, stuck my head round it, shouted for a bit, stood in the yard and yelled for a bit longer but the place…’ she turned innocent eyes on Joanna, ‘was completely deserted.’

‘Any animal noise?’

‘Not that I remember,’ she said. ‘Possibly from the barns. I can’t be sure. I stayed less than ten minutes and then went to an old friend’s house.’ She managed a watery smile. ‘One of the few I’d managed to track down who could stomach being with me.’ Her smile widened. ‘There’s something about being regurgitated from a pig that makes you less than an ideal dinner companion.’

For the first time since the beginning of the interview, Joanna was tempted to smile too. ‘Carry on,’ she said.

‘I stayed with her for a couple of days, went to London on the Thursday. She rang me and told me what had happened, including the fact that his body had lain undiscovered for around a week. I was frightened then. I knew it was unlikely that you would know
exactly
when Jakob had died, which would make it probable that I would become a suspect. I thought the best thing would be for me to come here and make a statement rather than have my story unravelled bit by bit during your investigations.’

Joanna could not help but feel some respect for the woman’s intelligence. Grimshaw’s widow had got it all worked out. And now she had got it all off her chest she seemed to relax. ‘That,’ she said quietly, ‘is the truth. I swear it.’

‘You may have to in court.’ Joanna let the words sink in. ‘Where will you be staying?’

‘You mean “don’t leave town”.’ The ghost of a smile accompanied her answer. ‘I won’t. I’ll be staying in Derby Street. I have a friend there.’

‘One more thing.’

It provoked an instantly wary look.

‘It was mentioned that you had been friendly with

Mr Dudson, the neighbouring farmer.’ Mrs Grimshaw composed her features into a neutral stare. ‘I was friendly with his wife. There was nothing else between us. His wife was dying. In fact, it was one of the reasons why I stayed for so long at Prospect Farm.’ A swift spasm of emotion crossed her face. ‘I was really fond of her. She was a lovely woman and appreciated the food I prepared and a few little things only a woman would do around the house. In an odd sort of way, her death paved the path for me to go.’

‘Oh?’

Mrs Grimshaw smiled. ‘I’m sure this is an indictable offence. I applied for a passport in her name,’ she said simply. ‘In one of our many conversations, she mentioned that she’d never been abroad so I knew she’d never had one before. It meant I really could disappear. But it wasn’t just that. I didn’t want to live my life like hers. She – and I – had done so little, married young, never travelled, had children, been a mother and a farmer’s wife. She died in that role. I wanted more from my life. As I watched her getting weaker, I strengthened my own resolve. It is not a decision I regret,’ she said with dignity.

‘I see.’ Again Joanna was at a loss for words. But she must ask one more thing.

‘Did you kill your husband, Mrs Grimshaw?’

Again, the woman’s answer was puzzling. ‘There would have been no point, Inspector,’ she said. ‘At least not for money.’

But that wasn’t strictly true. Jakob had died intestate. He and his wife had never divorced so she would be the beneficiary.

When the woman had gone, leaving behind traces of lemony perfume and sadness, Joanna turned to Mike and spread her hands out in a gesture of utter puzzlement. ‘So where does this leave us, Korpanski?’

He folded his arms. ‘With another suspect to add to the list,’ he said with satisfaction. ‘And an interesting story.’

She almost cuffed him.

‘Maybe we should have another talk to Mr Dudson,’ she said, pushing her chair back. ‘Was he in on this or not?’

They found the farmer sitting in a tractor, about to take a large and smelly machine across one of his fields. He looked less than pleased to see them but he was, at least, polite.

‘Inspector,’ he said, climbing down from the cab. ‘What can I do for you?’

She waited until he was on the ground, facing her. ‘It seems,’ she said, ‘that Mrs Grimshaw is alive.’

Nothing passed across his face. No surprise, puzzlement. His blunt features remained a perfect
blank. ‘Well,’ he said finally. ‘So—’

‘You didn’t know?’

He shook his head. ‘No,’ he said finally. ‘I did not. I believed what she told me.’

‘Who, Mr Dudson?’

He looked faintly irritated with himself for having blurted that out. ‘Judy,’ he muttered.

‘And when did she tell you?’

Dudson looked furtive. ‘Can’t remember exactly.’

Korpanski climbed into the tractor and switched the ignition off. ‘I think it would be a good idea if you came down to the station. Maybe that’ll jog your memory.’

For a minute, Joanna thought the farmer would refuse. Then he bent his head. ‘Give me a minute,’ he mumbled. ‘I’ll change out of these work clothes.’

He reappeared less than five minutes later in a clean pair of green corduroys and a Barbour coat.

Joanna knew that the answers Dudson gave would be significant. And that he knew this. So she took her time, skirted round the issue.

‘Your wife was a local girl?’

Dudson blinked then narrowed his eyes. ‘What the devil’s that got to do with anything?’

‘Just answer the question.’

‘She was,’ he said, leaning forward. ‘Local born and bred.’

A twist of cynicism crossed his face. ‘You wouldn’t find anyone else to put up with the conditions round here.’

‘It’s a tough life,’ Joanna mused.

Dudson nodded in agreement.

‘And you haven’t married again?’

Dudson shook his head. ‘Didn’t really have the heart for it,’ he said gruffly.

‘You were friendly, though, with Mrs Grimshaw.’

Dudson smiled. ‘Friendly, yes. Anything more, no.’

‘Think back, Mr Dudson, to when you last saw Mrs Grimshaw.’

‘It were the day after the funeral,’ he said. ‘She came round with a shepherd’s pie. She looked sort of…’ he fumbled for the word, ‘distracted. Bothered about something. She put her arm round my shoulders and said we would both be mourning together.’ He smiled. ‘She looked smart. As though she were going somewhere. So when Jakob told me afterwards that she’d gone with another man it all made sense. I believed it.’

‘But then Judy told you otherwise.’ Joanna said softly.

Dudson nodded, glanced furtively around the room. ‘She’s a nasty girl, that one,’ he said. ‘Used to beat that poor little pony of hers something rotten. She had a cruel, unforgiving streak in her. Something like her dad. Jakob was like that,’ he mused. ‘He found things funny that weren’t. She took after him.’

‘So tell me about the day that Judy told you what her father said had been her mother’s fate.’

‘It were a Sunday,’ he said. ‘She appeared in the doorway holding a piece of paper. It were a letter. She
read it out to me.’ Dudson was quietly chewing his lip. ‘At first I couldn’t believe it. I thought it were Jakob pulling the wool over my eyes. I couldn’t understand why he’d written it down. He’d know that she would find the letter one day.’

Korpanski leant in. ‘How did she seem? Angry?’

Dudson swivelled round to look at him, and then turned back to look Joanna straight in the eyes. ‘There’s two sorts of angry,’ he said. ‘There’s hot angry and there’s cold angry. She was cold angry. Every muscle in that woman’s body was full of hate.’

Joanna couldn’t ignore the look of triumph Mike gave her.

The noose was tightening around Judy’s neck.

They let Dudson go.

Joanna glanced at her watch. Six thirty. She’d promised Matthew she would sit down to dinner at seven thirty. More than anything, she wanted to haul Judy Grimshaw in and question her through half the night. But Matthew would not forgive her. Whatever the reason, he would think of it as an excuse. Korpanski was eyeing her expectantly. They’d worked together on enough cases for him to be able to anticipate her next move. With a sigh, she stood up. So this was what it meant to have conflicting loyalties: always to feel wrong-footed.

Avoiding Korpanski’s eyes, she spoke. ‘We’ll talk to Madam Wilkinson in the morning.’

Korpanski watched her, incredulous. ‘You’re kidding?’

He knew her methods. Knew she really wanted to grill the woman until she told them something. She felt the struggle inside her, and then picked up the phone, almost seeing Matthew’s lips curl in disbelief as he answered. ‘I’m really sorry, Matthew,’ she said. ‘Something’s come up. I’m sorry,’ she said again.

He spoke the words for her.

‘Don’t wait up,’ he supplied. ‘Funny,’ he said angrily, ‘that it should “come up” now, at this time, just when Eloise is here. Well, I’m sorry too, Jo. Sometimes, you know, you simply have to make an effort.’ And he put the phone down.

Joanna fingered the pearl on her finger. It hadn’t made things any easier, had it? More difficult, if anything. She was more than ever conscious of the grit that was at the centre of this lovely gem.

Judy was defiant, her pale eyes staring at them when she opened the door of her terraced house. ‘I don’t know why you keep bothering me,’ she said grumpily. ‘Typical of the police. Grab the next of kin and you’re halfway there.’ She gave a heavy sigh. ‘So what is it this time?’

‘We simply want some clarification,’ Joanna said steadily. Initially, she’d felt dislike for this woman. Now it was turning into something much stronger. Not a good idea to feel such prejudice against a suspect; she was well aware that it could cloud her judgement.

Judy’s eyes became wary. ‘Clarification,’ she demanded, ‘on what?’

‘You knew about the letter your father wrote,’ Joanna said. ‘When did you realise it wasn’t true?’

Judy’s face changed. Still wary but tense now. ‘Sorry?’

‘Your mother is not dead, is she?’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘I think you do.’

Judy took a long time to speak again. Her chest moved, her face moved but she said nothing. Finally, she did speak. Differently. She had lost some of her bounce, her aggression, and simply looked a skinny, sad woman. ‘Can I get this straight, Inspector?’ she said. ‘Are you telling me that my mother is still alive?’

Oddly enough there was anger underlying her voice. That and a terrible uncertainty. Joanna watched the emotions cross her face, wondering, what’s going on?

She nodded. ‘Yes. Your mother is alive.’

Judy sank back in her chair. ‘Bitch,’ she spat. ‘So where’s she been?’

‘She’s been working in Spain and other countries.’

‘And she never once got in touch with me. What a mother,’ she exploded. ‘What a fucking mother!’

Joanna had to agree with her.

Quite unexpectedly her own feelings towards Judy Grimshaw changed. She felt sorry for her. ‘I think,’ she said, ‘that your mother wanted to escape the stifling atmosphere of farm life rather than you. You were the price she paid.’

And just as unexpectedly Judy looked furious rather
than mollified by the words. ‘I don’t want your opinion on my mother and her dirty behaviour, Inspector,’ she said viciously. ‘Just find out who killed my father. And I suggest you do concentrate on his next of kin.’

Behind Joanna, Korpanski cleared his throat noisily.

They left soon afterwards and drove back to the station. ‘I’m toying with the idea that maybe we should consider getting a warrant to search Judy Grimshaw’s house,’ Joanna said. ‘And I would love to be a fly on the wall when mother and daughter are reunited.’

Korpanski nodded in agreement, his mouth pursed up.

It was nine o’clock when she crept in, feeling utterly guilty. Mike had given her a lift home, which seemed to rub in the conflict between work and home life. She had almost been tempted to stay the night in the police station but that would solve nothing. She could not stay there for ever taking evasive action.

They were talking as she entered the room. The two of them in earnest conversation, blonde heads close together, Eloise’s pale hair making a contrast with Matthew’s straw-coloured locks.