Something in the Blood (A Honey Driver Murder Mystery) (14 page)

Chapter Twenty-two

First she dropped Casper off. He’d thrown his head back and laughed like a drain when she’d told him about the plastic head and the war games in the greenhouse.

‘My dear, never have I seen you so pale.’

She swore him to secrecy.

Placing his right hand on his heart, he adopted a suitably serious expression and promised from the depths of his soul. ‘And in the interests of our continuing harmony,’ he added.

After dropping Casper off she headed home and was surprised to see that Doherty was waiting for her.

Plastering a smile on her face, she trotted into the small lounge just off the main residents lounge, which she kept for business appointments.

A tray of coffee, brown sugar and cream sat on a tray in front of him.

She could tell by the look on his face that this was not entirely a social visit.

‘I would have preferred a whisky,’ he said, jerking his chin in the direction of the untouched tea.

‘You could have asked for one.’

‘I did. Your mother turned me down.’

‘Oh! I’ll get you one.’ She vowed to have a word with her mother about making visitors welcome – even if you didn’t approve of that type of man.

‘Never mind.’ He rose to go. ‘I haven’t time to hang around.’

‘Really,’ she said flippantly. ‘Who’s been murdered?’

His expression told her that she’d hit the nail on the head.

‘Who?’ she asked, ashamed she’d sounded so offhand.

‘I told the chief constable I didn’t have time for all this, but he insisted I inform you.’

His bluntness stung. And just when she was getting into this job.

She was just as blunt back. ‘So inform me.’

‘Mervyn Herbert.’

‘In the river?’

Doherty shook his head. ‘No. In his own garden under the rockery. There’d been a gas leak and the gas company dug up the garden. And before you ask, his head was bashed in and he had a sack over his head. A spice sack, same as before.’

‘Do you think Mrs Herbert did it?’

‘An obvious conclusion, but the lab boys tell us otherwise. We don’t think he was murdered there, but Mrs Herbert is in a bit of a state. And there is that first husband to think about.’

‘Oh yes. Loretta’s father.’ Her stomach rumbled. She’d been thinking of smoked salmon salad all the way back from Limpley Stoke.

‘I suppose I’d better go along and see her.’

Doherty got to his feet. ‘I’m fine with that, but I should warn you that until we’ve done a thorough investigation, we have to treat her as a suspect.’

‘Even though the murder was done elsewhere?’

He shrugged. ‘In the house, in the garage, or even outside in the alley. Who knows?’

‘I take it you’ve already questioned her?’

‘The doctor wouldn’t let me. Said she was in deep shock.’

‘There,’ she said, swinging her bag over her shoulder. ‘All the more reason for taking me with you. It might help calm the poor woman. Even if she is your prime suspect.’

‘I didn’t say she was my
prime
suspect.’

‘An accessory with her first husband perhaps? Loretta’s father?’

Honey had followed him out on to the street. He frowned. ‘Are you by any chance a mind reader?’

‘Only as far as men are concerned.’

‘You needn’t come with me to see her. You don’t have to.’

‘And you don’t want me to.’

‘I don’t see the point. I never have.’

‘Thanks a bunch.’

‘OK.’

It was all he said. Honey decided it was about the best invitation she was likely to get from him.

Well just wait until I tell you what I know, she thought as she got in beside him. I’ll surprise you. I’ll make you
want
me to be with you on this.

On the drive to the Lower Bristol Road she told him about her visit to the vicar, but not about her snooping in the greenhouse. She’d never live it down.

‘Elmer’s wife’s cousin was Sir Andrew’s first wife. I think he went calling at the Grange, though everyone’s denying it. Pamela Charlborough admits to meeting Elmer when he was wandering around the churchyard.’

‘Is that right?’

‘So says Mrs Quentin. I asked Lady Charlborough, but she’s not the warmest heart I’ve ever met.’

‘Useful person, Mrs Quentin.’

Honey made a sound of agreement and looked out of the window. The early morning rain had disappeared. A rainbow twinkled above the viaduct taking the railway line to London via GreenPark. The air smelled fresh and new.

Doherty was thoughtful. ‘Do you think he was having an affair with Lady Pamela?’

‘Of course not! If he visited Charlborough Grange at all, or if he talked over the church wall to Lady Pamela, it had to be something to do with his family. He was keen on what he was doing. Perhaps found an old family skeleton and got bumped off for it. You know how touchy some relatives can be.’

‘Too melodramatic. OK, so he’d planned an activity holiday – if you can call it that. Believe me the root of the problem is at Ferny Down Guest House. Mervyn Herbert was a sleazebag – too fond of his stepdaughter from what I can gather. I want to know where her real father is. He’s got something to do with this. I can smell it.’

Honey chewed at her lip rather than say outright that she thought he was talking out of the top of his head.

Doherty noticed. ‘Are you worried or hungry?’

‘I didn’t have breakfast. Or lunch.’ Pathetic excuse.

Doherty tutted. ‘The most important meal of the day!’

Honey’s head turned sharply. ‘Did my mother ask you whether you were married?’

‘No. She asked me whether I prefer carpet or hard wooden floors.’

Honey groaned. ‘It amounts to the same thing.’

He was intrigued enough to take his eyes from the road. ‘What?’

A blue double-glazing van veered away into the nearside lane. The driver gave a two-fingered salutation and shouted something about getting a driving license. Doherty’s driving frequently attracted rude comments.

They reached their destination too quickly. Feeling as though her heart was somewhere behind her belly button, Honey held back, waiting for Doherty to get out of his car and ring the doorbell.

Two uniformed policemen were standing guard outside. They nodded in Doherty’s direction as he got out of the car.

Honey took a deep breath.

‘Nervous?’ asked Doherty.

‘No. Of course not.’

That was rubbish. The truth was that she’d never visited a scene of crime. She hoped the body had already been taken to the morgue. One fright per day was more than enough. She had to say something trivial to steady her nerves.

‘That doorbell’s been well polished,’ she said.

Doherty looked at her as though her comment was just another cross to bear.

Loretta answered the door. Her clothes were basically as before; no sign of a black armband even and she had colour in her cheeks. The numerous rings she wore glinted as she shut the front door.

‘Ma’s out back,’ she said brusquely. ‘Straight down there.’

A single solitaire diamond flashed on her index finger as she pointed. Nice, thought Honey, and wondered why she hadn’t noticed it before.

‘Nice ring. Is it new?’

Loretta blushed. ‘A present. From a mate.’

A male mate, Honey decided, and intimate. Only intimacy brought that bright a red to a girl’s cheeks.

Cora Herbert was sitting in her favourite spot in the conservatory. A mug of tea and an ashtray sat on the table in front of her. Beyond the door men in jump suits methodically moved earth from one part of the garden to another.

The thick black lashes left traces of mascara on her damp cheeks. A pall of cigarette smoke rose and circled in the air. The cigarette trembled as she flicked the length of ash into the tray. She looked grim, tired, her eyes outlined in a red that almost matched her lipstick. Black roots ran like a basalt valley through her hair parting. The rest was dry, blonde and in need of a wash.

Honey’s throat was like sandpaper. ‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Herbert.’

Both she and Doherty took a seat. Tea wasn’t offered. The room was stuffy and filled with smoke. The door was shut, the smoke seeking escape through a fanlight set in the plastic roof.

Cora nodded an acknowledgement.

Doherty went over the details again. ‘When did you last see your husband, Mrs Herbert?’

‘I’ve already told you that,’ Cora snapped.

‘Tell me again,’ Doherty said slowly.

Listening to his line of questioning decided her. She nudged his arm. ‘Can I have a word in private?’

Doherty pursed his lips. Yet again this was a different Steve to the one who let loose in a local bar. This was his profession. He’d trained for it, started at the bottom and worked his way up. Whereas she …

His hostility was mild, but definitely existed. He looked as though he were about to refuse. What made him change his mind might have been the thought that two heads are better than one. Or did he really think he was in with a good chance of going to bed with her? Either way, they made their excuses and went out into the garden shutting the door behind them.

Not that Cora seemed to care. Smoking, staring at the floor, flicking ash and barking orders at Loretta. She didn’t seem actually upset, just anxious, as though she wanted this to be over, and the quicker the better.

Skirting the heap of dug up earth, they made their way to the far end of the garden where a plastic garden gnome peered through a canopy of rhubarb leaves.

Honey folded her arms. ‘What’s this all about?’

Doherty adopted a blank look. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Liar!’

He shrugged and spread his hands. ‘What?’ The innocent look just didn’t wash.

Honey eyed him accusingly. ‘OK. Don’t explain. Let me guess. Your last case was a shambles and so when the Hotels Association asked for a police officer within the force to work with them on their idea, you were ordered to volunteer. And then …’

He opened his mouth to protest.

‘And then,’ Honey went on, determined to have her say, ‘when Elmer Maxted’s body was found, you determined to hold on to the case. You saw it as a means to repair your reputation. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? You don’t like it, but I’m tolerated.’

He began to laugh, bending from the waist, lower arm across his belly.

Honey was unmoved. ‘And now we have the laughing policeman!’

The look in his eyes contradicted what the rest of his body was doing. The eyes certainly had it, and that was what she would judge him by.

She headed back to the conservatory, satisfied that the air between them was at last clear.

All the same, she was feeling uneasy. The whole scenario had changed. This wasn’t just about a misplaced tourist. It wasn’t even about the likelihood that Elmer had been mugged and murdered purely by chance. Such things rarely happened in Bath. For the most part the city was peopled by the cultured, the civilised and the upwardly mobile.

On the face of it this second murder had nothing to do with tourism and made her nervous.

‘I’ve had second thoughts,’ said Doherty from behind her as they headed back. ‘Mrs Herbert has to be the prime suspect. Who else would plant their husband in their own garden?’

Although tempted to slam the door on him, Honey left it open. Irritating as he was, Cora’s cigarette smoke was worse.

Cora was sitting in exactly the same position as when they’d left her. Goodness knows how many cigarettes she’d consumed in their absence. She was on a chain-smoking marathon and her eyes were watery. Despite the make-up, her complexion was greasy and white.

‘I didn’t do it,’ she said before anyone had asked her. I didn’t kill ’im and I didn’t bury ’im in the garden. I loved that rockery.

‘So how did he get there?’ asked Doherty.

Cora’s eyes popped like marbles. ‘How the hell should I know?’

Honey was aware of Loretta leaning against the wall behind them, arms folded, her expression as dark as her mother’s flaking mascara.

Doherty was sounding serious. ‘I’m afraid you’re going to have to come into the station for further questioning.’

Honey could find no words of sympathy and nothing helpful to say like, ‘It’s surely a mistake,’ or ‘I shouldn’t worry if I were you.’ The evidence was damning. Like Doherty had said, who else would plant their husband in the garden?

‘I’ll walk back,’ Honey said once they were outside and Mrs Cora Herbert had been helped into the back seat of a police car.

Doherty shrugged. ‘Please yourself.’ He turned to Loretta. The girl’s face was expressionless, as though she were still digesting what was going on.

‘What about you?’

Loretta’s bright eyes narrowed and her red lips twisted into a contemptuous snarl. ‘I don’t travel with pigs. I’ll be down to visit her, give her a bit of moral support and all that.’ She stood on tiptoe and shouted at her mother. ‘I’ll be down to see you, Ma! You can count on it!’

Honey caught the sob in her voice. ‘Will you be all right?’

‘I’ll bloody well have to be. Mum would want me to take care of things.’ She jerked her head back at the ‘
No Vacancy
’ sign. ‘We’re expecting paying guests. Have to look after them, don’t I?’

‘You’re a good daughter. It must be upsetting. I think you’re very brave.’

Loretta shrugged again causing the straps of her top to slide down over her thin shoulders. ‘Not really. I know she didn’t do it. There’s no evidence.’

The statement was made confidently. She was standing with her arms still folded protectively across her chest, her head held high. Was that a smile Honey could see wavering around her lips?

Her smile vanished when she saw the enquiring look on Honey’s face.

‘Don’t look at me like that!’

‘I’m sorry.’

It wouldn’t do to leave on a negative note. She forced a smile while her eyes dropped back to the flashing diamond.

‘That’s a pretty ring,’ she said, trusting her instant change of subject didn’t sound too contrived.

The comment lifted Loretta’s heavily made-up face. ‘Nice, ain’t it?’

She flashed the ring. ‘My dad gave me it,’ she said in a strange and dreamy kind of way.

Honey’s first thought was that Robert Davies had come into a nice sum of money to have afforded such a flashy ring.