A Killing Karma (13 page)

To Casey's
surprise, his mother answered her mobile on only the sixth ring: a veritable
model of efficiency for her.

‘Willow Tree,
hon. I almost forgot you were ringing. What time is it?’

‘It's seven
o'clock, Mum. The time I arranged I'd ring you.’ Although Casey did his best to
keep disapproval from his voice, from his mother's reply it was clear he hadn't
entirely succeeded.

‘Don't hassle
me, son. There's been enough hassle here to last me and Star through any number
of karmic incarnations.’

‘And will be
until DCI Boxham finds out who killed your friends,’ Casey reminded her, in the
hope that it would incline her to face up to the reality that she and Star were
witnesses — suspects Casey reluctantly corrected himself — in a double murder
inquiry. And that the sooner they provided him with some evidence that pointed
to one of the other commune members being the murderer, the sooner the hassle
would stop. ‘So tell me, what's been happening?’

‘Like I said,
hassle, man. Accusations. More arguments. Jethro's started most of them.’

Jethro
Redfern, Casey recalled, was the brother of the pregnant Madonna and the
teenage son of Lilith and Foxy Redfern — unless, that was, the evidence of his
own eyes that he bore a marked resemblance to Star Casey meant he was his own
half-sibling.

‘That boy's
got so much anger in him,’ Moon complained. 'I said to him, “Stay cool. Chill
out. Smoke some weed,” but he wouldn't listen.’

Good for
Jethro, Casey thought. ‘So what were these arguments about?’

‘Apart from
these two deaths, it was the usual stuff. He was hassling his father for not
taking better care of his daughter; hassling Kali Callender because it was her
old man who got his sister pregnant.’

‘Why did the
boy blame Mrs Callender for the fact her husband made Madonna pregnant?’

‘He seemed to
think Kali should have been able to control her husband.’ Moon laughed. ‘Kid's
got a lot to learn.’

‘Anything
else?’

There was a
silence on the other end of the line. It lasted all of ten seconds, then Moon
said, ‘The commune has a real bad aura now, Willow Tree. It's not the same
place at all.’

As far as
Casey was concerned the commune had always had a bad aura. It didn't smell too
sweet, either, but he let the comment pass.

‘Some of the
others are talking of moving on.’

‘That would be
very foolish,’ Casey warned. There was no one else to try to stop them doing
something stupid that would, to suspicious police minds, be as indicative of
guilt as running away. ‘Tell me you and Star aren't thinking of joining this
would-be band of travelling hippies.’

‘Hey, Willow
Tree, I'm not stupid, you know. Besides, Star's got no appetite any more for a
life on the road, moving from place to place. He likes the creature comforts of
the commune. Don't worry, hon, we're staying put.’

Casey was glad
to hear it, not relishing a manhunt for the pair, though he smiled as he
thought of the ‘creature comforts' of their dilapidated and much neglected
smallholding. It was as well that Star was easily pleased. ‘Good. Make sure you
do. Doing a flit would concentrate DCI Boxham's eye quicker than an eagle on a running
rabbit. Let the others run away if they must.’ He paused. ‘So who was it,
exactly, who was so keen to leave?’

‘Oh, I don't
know. They were all talking at once, so it wasn't clear, though I think Foxy
Redfern would have gone like a shot, only Madonna's near her time and not
feeling well and when he suggested they leave, she started to cry. That caused
another row between Foxy and Lilith, Madonna's mum.’

‘Any others
who said they wanted to leave?’

‘Young Randy
wanted to go. He's a sensitive soul. But Scott talked him out of it. He said
that, with them both being gay, neither of them had any argument with DaisyMay.
And it's true, they didn't have any. We all know one another's business in the
commune. And another thing, you wouldn't believe how much they were looking
forward to the two babies being born. Madonna's and DaisyMay's. Randy even
taught himself to knit and made the most fab sets of booties. So cute.’

There wasn't
much of anything to help solve the case amongst what Moon had told him, Casey
realized. So he probed deeper. ‘You said there were accusations bandied about,’
he reminded her.

‘Did I?’ Moon
asked, her voice so vague, that Casey suspected he would be lucky to have his
question answered.

‘Come on, Mum.
Try to think. You're my only source of information.’ This last wasn't strictly
true, of course. He had ThomCatt's channel into the Lincolnshire force. Not
that he was about to confide that to Moon. Thomas Catt was already risking a
lot to help him and his parents; he wasn't willing to have him put further at
risk by letting Moon know of his involvement.

‘Help me here,
Mum. Try to remember. If I'm to help you and Star, I need you to help me. And
for you to do that, I need you to keep your wits about you. It might be an idea
to lay off the weed,’ he suggested. And whatever other noxious substances she
took.

‘Lay off the
weed?’ For once, his usually laidback mother sounded put out. But then a
combination of being a murder suspect and being asked to give up a favourite
vice would be likely to do that to a person. ‘I've got no choice about that,
have I? The pigs not only took the growing plants, they took my private stash
too. And everyone else's. I won't have any money to buy more till my pension
comes. I don't suppose ...' she began, in a wheedling voice.

‘You don't
suppose right,’ Casey told her firmly. ‘Anyway, what about the money from your
lottery win? Surely you haven't gone through that already?’

When there was
no answer to this, he added firmly, 'I want you to have a clear head.’ Or as
clear as it ever got, anyway. ‘Now about those accusations you mentioned—'

'I told you,’
she said flatly, 'I forget what they were about. Something and nothing,
probably.’

Exasperated,
Casey for the moment admitted defeat. Before he bid his mother goodnight, he
reminded her again to conceal the mobile somewhere safe and away from the
house. ‘Until I ring you at the same time tomorrow evening. Seven o'clock,’ he
reminded her. ‘Don't forget.’

‘Yeah, yeah, I
know.’

The phone went
dead. She hadn't even said goodnight, which was unlike the generally
good-natured Moon. And if the situation at the commune was getting under her
skin, it showed how bad it must be.

Casey dropped
his mobile into his pocket and returned to the back entrance to the police
station and the car park where Catt was waiting for him. He was hopeful that
this evening would move them further forward. And even though their unofficial
inquiry was making small progress and receiving little assistance to help him
extract his parents from their self-induced difficulties, he couldn't afford to
let it make him neglect the Oliver investigation.

‘So, what did
your mother have to say when you spoke to her?’ Catt asked as Casey climbed into
the passenger seat.

‘Very little.
And none of it much help. Though she did say there have been plenty of rows
amongst the commune members.’

‘Brotherly
love: it was ever thus,’ Catt intoned. ‘Though that's hardly surprising in the
circumstances with a double murder hanging over their stoned heads.’

‘True.’ Casey
fastened his seat belt while Catt manoeuvred the car out of the yard and on to
the road, before he pointed the bonnet towards the park and Mrs Oliver's home.

Casey was wary
of letting ThomCatt know just how little cooperation he was getting from Moon.
He might just conclude that if she couldn't be bothered to make some effort on
her own behalf, why should he trouble to try to help them.

Casey wouldn't
blame him if he did come to such a conclusion. It was a conclusion that his own
mind had played with intermittently. But, as he couldn't afford to have his
limited posse of helpers diminish to nothing, he kept his mouth firmly closed
and concentrated on reading over his notes prior to re-interviewing Mrs Oliver.
It provided him with an excuse for his silence.

When they
arrived at Mrs Oliver's house, a lorry was backing into the drive. It was piled
with rolls of new turf.

After they had
edged their way past the press pack crowding the gates, Catt glanced at Casey
and raised his eyebrows as he parked up. ‘Strange thing for a supposedly
grieving widow to get the garden re-laid at such a time.’

‘Probably
forgot all about it until the men turned up. I had my turf re-laid last year
and I had to order it in advance. I imagine Mrs Oliver didn't feel up to the
likely row if she cancelled the job.’

Catt shrugged
and climbed from the car.

They watched
as the gardeners heaved the rolls of turf on to their shoulders and made for
the side gate. The last of the three-man band — presumably the foreman —
carried just a green tarpaulin.

Casey called
to him, 'A bit late for gardening work.’

‘Yeah. We're
running late. We're just dumping the turf for now and will set to and lay it in
the morning.’ He disappeared through the gate after the other men. They were
quickly back and all three piled into the lorry and headed off.

Shazia Khan,
the female officer whom Casey had left behind with Mrs Oliver to fend off
reporters, had since been relieved and, after he'd had a few words with her
replacement, Casey made for the drawing room, knocked on the door and entered
at the ‘Come in’ invitation.

Mrs Oliver
didn't look as well-groomed as she had on their previous visit. Understandable
if the effort required to make herself presentable was too much. As Casey knew,
many of the recently bereaved let themselves go for a time. Her eyes were
red-rimmed, too, he noticed. The reality of her husband's death was clearly
sinking in. She seemed brittle, with a distant air about her as if she wasn't
really taking much notice of anything any longer.

‘I'm sorry to
bother you again so soon, Mrs Oliver,’ Casey began once they were seated in the
over-heated drawing room.

She came out
of her reverie to say in a firm voice, ‘Don't be, Chief Inspector. You must
“bother” me, as you call it, as often as you need. As Gus's wife—' she grimaced
and corrected herself. ‘As Gus's
widow
, I understand you have a job to
do. I expect nothing less and neither would Gus.' She found a shadowy smile and
added, 'Gus would probably haunt me if I let you get away with a less than
rigorous investigation into his death. And rightly so.’

Casey inclined
his head in acknowledgement. ‘It's just a few more questions and then we'll
leave you in peace. If you're sure you feel ready to answer them?’

Tm ready. What
is it you want to know?’

‘You said you
last saw your husband around nine o'clock on Friday night?’

She nodded.
‘Give or take ten minutes or so.’

'I also
understand that it was his custom to stay away from home for one or two nights
on a regular basis?’

‘As you have
discovered, Chief Inspector, my husband was a law unto himself. He never liked
me to question him about his movements. I suppose, over the years, he's trained
me not to do so. I learned the lesson well.’

‘So I don't
suppose he gave any indication as to where he was going?’

‘No. You asked
me that before,’ she said sharply. So she wasn't in quite such a faraway place
as he had thought. ‘Apart from saying it was some business meeting.’ She forced
a smile. ‘But then he always said that. It didn't make it true, as I have
discovered.’

‘Strange time
for a business meeting,’ Catt remarked, ‘even if that was just an excuse for
meeting one of his lady friends.’

‘Quite. As I
imagine your inquiries will reveal, his appointment that evening was unlikely
to have been of a business nature. Gus had the ability to trot out excuses as
well as any confidence trickster.’

Casey let her
answer slide past him, but he continued his questions on the same theme. 'I get
the impression that Mr Oliver was in the habit of going out on his own in the evenings
quite frequently.’ Smoothly, Casey resumed. ‘You didn't mind?’

‘Over the
years we evolved our own interests. Once I would have minded that he liked
going out without me, but those days are long gone. Besides, I wouldn't have
wanted to play gooseberry while he romanced his latest woman. I suppose you can
say we slipped into a routine, one that suited both of us to a degree. Gus has
always been gregarious; he thought an evening wasted if he wasn't socializing.
I'm rather reserved and not keen on social gatherings so we compromised. As long
as I accompanied him to important functions he was happy for me to stay home
the rest of the time.’

‘Still, it
must have been lonely for you here on your own, night after night.’

‘Not really.
I'm quite a self-contained woman. And, as I said, I have my own interests.’

Casey paused
briefly before he returned to the painful subject of her husband's
infidelities. ‘You said that you knew about your husband's affairs and accepted
them.’