Shades of Murder (32 page)

Newman leaned back and chuckled. ‘Don’t throw you off the scent, do I?’

‘Were you trying to?’ Pearce asked him.

Newman shook his head. ‘No, and as it happens, we
are
talking about him. I was trying to explain to you why I felt I needed to speak to Jan Oakley. I’ve had my eye on Fourways for some time. I knew that the time was nearing when the old ladies would either die or move out. Either way, that big piece of ground would be coming on the market, so I made my plans. I thought – we all thought, didn’t we? – that there was no other family. To say I was surprised when I heard some cousin or
other had turned up from abroad somewhere, is hardly adequate. I was bloody annoyed. He could throw a spanner in the works. I’ve been waiting a long time for this opportunity and I didn’t mean to let it slip. I still don’t. I didn’t want to phone the house or write to him. I didn’t want the old women knowing what I was about.’

Newman noticed the dry look on his visitor’s face. ‘Well,’ he said comfortably, ‘No need to worry them, was there?’

‘Go on,’ said Pearce.

‘Right. I found out that he ate every evening at The Feathers, but that didn’t suit me. It’s too near the house and Dolores Forbes might tell one of the Oakley sisters of my interest. In fact, knowing Dolores, she’d certainly pass it on if she saw me sitting there chatting to him. So I went up there one evening and waited in the car park until he showed up. I got out of the car and called him over, told him who I was and arranged to meet him the next day in The George. That was the Thursday evening. Friday lunchtime, he turned up as arranged and I bought him lunch.’ It was Newman’s turn to give a dry smile. ‘I had him sussed out straight away! He was the sort who never puts his hand in his pocket. I paid for the food and all the beer. He never even suggested he buy me a pint.’

‘Why should he?’ asked Pearce. ‘You’d invited him to be there.’

‘Fair enough. But he wasn’t a spender. He was a con man – I’d put my last penny on it. I told him my interest in Fourways, and asked him what his was. He had some plan or other up his sleeve, I was sure of that. He wasn’t visiting the old girls just to show family solidarity. His interest was money. He told me there was a will. It’d been made years ago by his great-grandfather, and it entitled him to a half share in Fourways. He was planning to put it before the English courts, he said. If he did, it would hold up the sale. However, if I were prepared to pay him a suitable amount, he’d withdraw that threat. Forget about the will. Let the sale go ahead.’

Pearce snorted derisively.

Newman nodded agreement. ‘Too true. I wasn’t born yesterday. If there really
was
a will and it really gave him a half share in Fourways, he wouldn’t be trying to cut a deal with me. Or if it did exist, I couldn’t trust him to hold to any agreement we made. But I decided pretty quickly that either there was no will, or it would be thrown out by a British court. I suggested as much to him. He didn’t argue. He saw I’d seen through that ploy so he didn’t waste any more time on it. Just changed his tune and came up with a new idea. That, more than anything, convinced me he was a crook.’

Dudley Newman eyed Pearce and smiled. ‘Perhaps you think I’m a bit of a sharp operator. Perhaps I am. But there’s a big difference between that and being a twister. Oakley was a twister. I’m an honest man. I don’t lie. I don’t cheat. I look out for my own interest, first and foremost, but that’s not illegal.’

Pearce, listening to this with growing distaste though he knew the man was right, responded, ‘All right. What did you agree with him in the end?’

‘Nothing. He said, if that was the way I felt about it, we’d nothing further to discuss. He would withdraw his objections to the sale and let it go ahead, anyway. He was sure his cousins would act fairly by him. What he meant was, he could bamboozle them into parting with a share of the resulting windfall.’

‘And you were prepared to let him do that? Badger those two old women into parting with money they could ill afford? Even though this claim of his was probably entirely imaginary? Even though you’d judged him a con man?’ Pearce’s voice was sharp. He didn’t need to pretend he approved of Newman’s attitude. Newman knew he didn’t. Knew and didn’t care. As he’d said, it wasn’t illegal.

‘Not my responsibility, Inspector,’ said Newman, almost gently. ‘None of my business.’ He eased himself back into his chair which creaked protestingly. ‘As it happens, any misgivings I might have had were taken care of when I found out that Juliet Painter was advising the Oakley sisters. Juliet has a shrewd business brain. She’d look after their interests, I was sure of that.’

‘Convenient for you, that,’ said Pearce. ‘Salve your conscience.’

Newman might have taken this as an insult. Instead he took it seriously. ‘If I’d listened to what you’d call my conscience, I wouldn’t be sitting here today, head of my own successful business, having done as well as I have. If a man’s got a tender conscience, he should enter the church, become a social worker.’ Newman’s look became malicious. ‘Join the police?’

Pearce got to his feet. ‘Thanks for your time,’ he said abruptly.

‘My pleasure, Inspector. I’m always ready to support the police.’

When Pearce got back to HQ he made his way, with some reluctance, to the temporary office assigned to Minchin. He found the Superintendent there, alone, shuffling papers and wrestling with a drawer in the elderly desk with which he’d been provided. Pearce wondered uneasily where Hayes was.

The drawer shot out and cracked Minchin’s knee. He swore and, rubbing the afflicted area, abandoned what he was doing to turn his attention to Pearce. ‘Hello, Dave. Come to report?’ Despite the pain he was in and his obvious dissatisfaction with his accommodation, his tone was relaxed and cheery.

Pearce wasn’t impressed by fake camaraderie. In fact, he resented it. He wasn’t one of Minchin’s men. He was someone who’d been assigned to Minchin, much against his will, and Minchin knew it. The use of a first name cut no ice. Stiffly, he said, ‘Yes, sir.’

Minchin’s broad face showed no reaction to the implied rebuke. ‘Let’s have it then.’ He nodded at the empty chair.

Pearce sat down. ‘I’ve been talking to a couple of people. One of them was Kenny Joss, who runs a taxi service and drove the Oakley women to and from town on a shopping expedition on the Saturday afternoon. He’ll be in the file. The other was a local builder called Newman.’

‘What?’ Minchin asked sharply, his bonhomie vanishing. ‘Dudley Newman?’

‘Yes.’ Pearce had no idea how Minchin knew about the builder. ‘Joss saw him talking to Jan Oakley in a pub in town, The George.’

‘Bloody hell!’ Minchin said vehemently. ‘Why didn’t you check with me before you went haring off to see this Newman?’

‘You weren’t here,’ said Pearce, reddening. ‘And I wasn’t aware you wanted the investigation held up.’

Minchin glowered at him. ‘No one’s holding up investigations. As it happens, Mickey Hayes has just gone off to see this Newman cove. So that’s two visits from us Newman will have in one day and a right fool Mickey will look when he turns up only to be told you’ve just left.’

Pearce did his best to disguise his pleasure at the thought of Hayes being made to look foolish. ‘How did you get on to Newman, Mr Minchin?’ he asked curiously.

‘Woman at the pub near the house, Mrs Forbes, saw Newman talking to Oakley one evening in the car park,’ Minchin told him briefly, still simmering with resentment.

‘Oh, right, that ties in with what Newman told me, then,’ Pearce said complacently. ‘I’ll get it all written up for you. Basically, Newman wants the land the house stands on and he was worried Oakley would throw a spanner in the works. He wanted to suss him out. He reckoned Oakley was a bit of a con man but on the whole, he didn’t have to worry about him, after all. He put him down as a small-time chiseler.’

‘Oh, did he?’ growled Minchin. ‘So, what about the other bloke you saw – Joss?’

‘Oh, Kenny. We’d interviewed him before, it’s on file. He told me the same yarn only . . .’ Pearce paused and scratched the top of his head.

‘Well?’ Minchin asked impatiently. ‘Were you satisfied with Joss’s replies or not?’

‘Not,’ Pearce said without hesitation. ‘But I couldn’t put a finger on what was wrong. Perhaps nothing was. It could have been he just didn’t like talking to the police. Several members of his family have got form.’

Minchin showed interest. ‘Like?’

‘Oh, like drunk and disorderly, assault, handling stolen goods, poaching, street-trading without a licence. All small-time stuff. Kenny hasn’t any record though. Kenny’s clean.’

‘Possibly. Then he’s got nothing to worry about. But he
was
worried, you reckon. What made you so sure?’

‘The dog,’ said Pearce. He explained.

Minchin listened, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, his sharp gaze fixed on Pearce’s face as he spoke. When Pearce came to the end, he fancied Minchin’s expression had changed slightly and his manner mellowed.

Minchin said quietly, ‘That’s good.’ The praise was unexpected and Pearce felt absurdly pleased.

‘I think,’ Minchin said, ‘Mickey Hayes will pay a visit to Kenny Joss. He knows you. He knows how to deal with you – no criticism implied. But he knows what to expect from you, right?’

‘Yes, I suppose he does,’ admitted Pearce.

‘But he doesn’t,’ Minchin smiled slowly and unpleasantly, ‘know what to expect from Mickey.’ After a moment’s silence, he added, ‘But then, none of you knows what to expect from either of us, do you?’

‘No, sir,’ Pearce said.

Minchin stared at him for a moment. Then he said briskly, ‘Well, you’ll want to go along to Mr Markby’s office and fill him in on latest developments, I expect.’

To his dismay Pearce felt himself reddening again.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Minchin said bluntly. ‘If I were Markby, I’d be doing the same, making sure I got to hear what was going on. I’ve no objection to you telling him. Just so long as you don’t tell him things you haven’t told me, get it?’

‘Yes, sir.’ Pearce was on his way to the door when Minchin spoke again.

‘You know why we’re here?’

‘Yes,’ Pearce said unwillingly, turning. ‘Because Mr Markby has a personal involvement with Fourways.’

‘Not only Mr Markby. You’re all too close, all of you. Even your poison expert and his family are involved, Mr Markby’s ladyfriend . . . the whole thing’s bordering on the incestuous. Don’t look so ruddy shocked, Dave. You know what I mean. And you should know that’s dangerous because you all see what you expect to see. You look at two respectable women in their eighties, bit on the posh side for all they’re skint. Old local family. Ladies, eh? Not women. Ladies. You respect them. You feel sorry for them. You treat them with kid gloves. Before you say anything, neither Mickey Hayes nor I are going to upset them needlessly. But we’ve got no preconceptions, right? To us, they’re just two material witnesses. It would even be fair to say, they’re a couple of suspects.’

‘I don’t – ’ Pearce began and broke off. More carefully, he said, ‘I think it’s unlikely.’

‘Unlikely things happen all the time, Dave. How long have you been a bloody copper?’

Stung, Pearce said, ‘We’re not rustics. We’re not a bunch of village idiots.’

‘Perish the thought, Dave. I can see you’re a bright boy. If you’re ever interested in transferring to the Met, you let me know.’

‘You’re not thinking of it?’ Tessa, Pearce’s still fairly new wife, asked, appalled.

‘Transferring to the Met? Not likely. Still, you should have seen his face when he heard I’d beaten them to Newman!’ Pearce said with satisfaction.

‘You be careful, Dave. I mean, watch out for Newman. He’ll still be here when Minchin has gone. Dudley Newman’s got a lot of influence hereabouts.’ She began carefully slicing a purple object which Pearce was unable to identify but suspected he was later to eat.

‘I am investigating a murder!’ he told her. ‘They may have taken Mr Markby off this case but I’m still on it and I’m not going to be pushed around. What are we having to eat, anyway? What’s that?’ He pointed at the purple vegetable.

‘Honestly, Dave, you must be the only person left in the country who can’t tell an aubergine when he sees one.’

‘I’m not a cook, am I?’ Pearce defended himself. ‘And my dad never grew anything like that in his garden.’

‘Your dad didn’t – doesn’t – live in a nice hot climate. Anyway, the only things he grows are carrots. It’s a wonder your whole family hasn’t turned orange. You can, you know, if you eat too many carrots. I read it in a magazine. I’m making moussaka. We had it the last time we went to the Greek restaurant and you said you liked it.’

‘I did like it. I didn’t know that was in it.’

‘Well, now you do.’ Tessa tipped the aubergine slices into a colander and shook salt over them. She placed a plate on top of them and weighted that with a can of soup. Pearce watched all this, opened his mouth, thought better of it and closed it again.

‘What are they like?’ asked Tessa. ‘These two London men?’

‘Sharp. Minchin is a bully and Hayes is a weasel.’ He told her the nicknames the canteen had bestowed on the pair.

Tessa giggled. ‘You tell Mr Markby that?’

‘No. I might if things get really bad. I’m sort of saving it up.’

‘It’s still my show and I’m still in charge at Regional HQ, even if I have been relegated to the sidelines in this case,’ said Alan Markby grumpily.

‘Don’t let it get you down,’ advised Meredith. She suppressed a sigh. There were no words of comfort she could offer that she hadn’t already spoken. Alan had taken up his position. He wasn’t going to let it go. But hadn’t he said that to her recently in another context? He didn’t let things go. Though she knew it was useless, she repeated, ‘You mustn’t take it to heart so much. It’s no reflection on you. It’s entirely due to circumstances.’

A fine set of platitudes, she thought, as she heard herself roll them out. It wasn’t surprising they weren’t having the desired effect. She was beginning to suspect nothing would. He was entrenched now in the role of a man hard done by. She was genuinely sympathetic but on the other hand, she didn’t see why she should bear the brunt of what was developing into an out-and-out sulk. This, she told herself, is all part and parcel of sharing your life with someone, sharing a roof. Once I could have slipped away now, gone back to my own home and returned here when he was feeling more cheerful.