Cold Coffin (4 page)

“What was he doing walking his dog in the woods at past nine in the morning?” Kate demanded. “Shouldn’t he have been at work?”

“Says he makes his own hours. As long as the various jobs get done, nobody seems to mind.”

“Right. I’ll talk to him now. I’m going to use the room next door as my office, so bring him along there, will you?”

George Jessop was a formerly handsome man gone to seed. He looked forty-five but was probably a bit younger than that. What had once been black hair was now an unattractive tone of yellowish grey, and untidily long. He wore a lumberjack-type check flannel shirt above bleached blue jeans. His expression was sullen.

“Sit down, Mr. Jessop. I gather that you found the body of Dr. Trent?”

“That’s right.” His voice was more cultivated than she had expected.

“At what time was this?”

“How should I know?” Then, unwillingly, “About quarter past nine, I imagine.”

Kate pretended surprise. “As long ago as that? Why hadn’t you notified us?”

“I had to get back to work. The laundry service was due with the overalls delivery and I had to be there.”

“For heaven’s sake! You know perfectly well you should have informed the police immediately.”

“Well, I didn’t.” He shrugged in resentful justification. “I suppose I ... well, panicked.”

“Why should you have panicked?”

“Finding a dead body. Well, he looked dead but I couldn’t be sure. That’s why I dragged him out of the water. Then I thought ... Christ, I’ll be done for this if I’m not careful. The best thing, I decided, was to clear off and keep my mouth shut.”

Kate regarded him sceptically. No honest and upright citizen this guy. He
expected
to come under suspicion. So ... did that mean he had a record? She wanted the answer to that question before she talked to him any further. She gave instructions for him to be taken to an interview room to make a statement, more as a delaying tactic than anything.

Meanwhile, Kate made a quick trip with Boulter to the dead man’s cottage, taking the bunch of keys found on the body. It certainly was remote, a small two-up, two-downer hiding shyly among the trees, lying at the end of a rutted track leading from a quiet lane with no other dwelling in sight. The surrounding patch of garden was well kept but lacked charm. Vegetables grew in dead straight rows with not a single weed to be seen. Even the flowerbeds looked regimented, and the shrubs had all been trimmed to precise neatness. On a gravelled area beside the cottage stood a black Austin Metro, clean and polished. Locked.

Inside the cottage everything was just as neat. The front door opened directly into a decent-sized living room. It was a masculine room. The furniture, Swedish-style, dated from the fashion of a few years back. The carpet, wall-to-wall, was a good quality plain beige Wilton. The stereo equipment was of superb quality, with a collection of classical tapes and compact discs methodically filed in a cabinet beside it. Set between the speakers for optimum effect was a comfortable leather armchair. It looked as if music was high on the agenda of a lonely life. The other armchair had a little-used look about it. Everything was clean and tidy. Did he have a woman come in to clean for him? Kate told Boulter to check that point. A cleaning lady might be a useful source of information.

She pointed to a whisky bottle on a small table, a quarter full, with a used glass beside it.

“Was he a solitary drinker, Tim?”

He shrugged. “Looks like it.”

The adjoining kitchen was also neat and tidy—a designer job with expensive fitments. And why not? Dr. Trent must have been earning a good salary, with only himself to spend it on. The back door was beside the sink unit. There was a keyhole but no key, and the bolt was drawn back. Touching only the shank of the handle, Kate found that the door was unsecured. It opened onto a small area of concrete slabs where the refuse bin stood.

“Carelessness?” she said to Boulter. “Or what?”

They climbed the narrow, boxed-in staircase. A smart bathroom ... towels on the heated rail neatly folded, the soap placed squarely on the basin. The first of the two bedrooms was clearly little used except as a place for storage—an empty suitcase, a portable electric heater and several grocer’s cartons full of books. Trent’s own bedroom was a good deal larger and adequately if unimaginatively furnished. A blue-striped duvet was spread tidily across the bed and there was nothing an inch out of place. Even the piled-up scientific journals, presumably his favoured bedtime reading, were squared off with fussy precision.

They returned to the living room and gave it a more careful scrutiny. A wide teakwood unit was set against one wall. In addition to bookshelves it held the television and video recorder, with drawers and cupboards underneath. Kate glanced at the books for clues about Trent’s taste in literature. Mostly they were works of reference with a few scientific biographies and a handful of classic novels. The only video tapes as far as Kate could see were of TV programmes that had been recorded for keeping or retiming, each one meticulously labelled. In one of the drawers were various papers neatly banded together. Receipts, catalogues ... nothing out of the ordinary. A few letters from friends or acquaintances working in the same field as himself, it seemed, with very little in the way of personal chat in them. There were several letters and a few picture postcards from someone signing herself Fiona. They mentioned a husband and children, chatty accounts of domestic life. Trent’s sister, Kate guessed. She handed them to Boulter.

“She’s very possibly the next of kin. Or she could put us on to who is. Lives in Preston, I see. Have her informed. Better take his address book away with us, and that list of phone numbers too.”

“Will do, guv.”

In a cupboard under the drawer were a few bottles, cans of beer and glasses. The usual standard drinks ... gin, sherry, martini, mixers, some white and red table wines. And another bottle of whisky, a different brand from the one Trent had been drinking from. What immediately struck Kate was that the whisky had been opened and was about three quarters full. It bore the price sticker of a supermarket in Marlingford, as did all the other bottles in the cupboard.

She glanced across at the whisky bottle on the table. No price sticker on that.

“Why would Trent open a new bottle when he had an already opened one in the cupboard? A tidy-minded man like he obviously was.”

The sergeant bit his thumbnail. “A visitor brought it? Trent wouldn’t like to produce his own bottle, in that case.”

“But only one glass!”

“The other person didn’t drink, perhaps.”

“And Trent sank most of the bottle all on his own? He’d have been legless. No, Tim, there’s something a bit out of kilter about this. Get Scenes of Crime to check for fingerprints and so on. Now, it’s time we got back to the nick to see what’s turned up about George Jessop. Better slip the bolt on the back door to prevent anyone getting in.”

Quite a lot of information had turned up. Criminal Records reported that Keith George Jessop had been charged with manslaughter, nearly five years previously, in Leicestershire. He’d served two years in gaol before his release.

The name “Keith George Jessop” struck a chord with Kate where George Jessop hadn’t. Details of the case came back to her as she scanned the report.

“Do you remember it, Tim?”

“No, guv.”

“It was a nasty one. He was a schoolteacher and the dead boy was one of his students, a seventeen-year-old. Jessop denied that there had been anything sexual between them, but a couple of other boys in his class gave evidence that Jessop had rewarded them for sexual favours. Anyway, on the evening in question, Jessop and the dead boy had been seen together outside a pub, quarrelling fiercely. Later they were spotted on a railway footbridge, still arguing. A man living nearby reported hearing a scream, followed by running footsteps, and another witness saw Jessop, still running, in an adjoining street. Next morning the boy’s body was found beside the railway line by a platelayer. Under cross-examination Jessop admitted having been with the boy when he fell, but insisted that it had been accidental. They’d been struggling and the boy had fallen back against the wall and toppled over—it had already been established they’d both been drinking. Jessop then panicked and ran for it—without even checking whether the boy was dead or alive. That really stuck in the public’s gullet, plus, of course, the fact that he was regarded as a monster for corrupting the lads in his charge.”

“What was the quarrel supposed to be about?”

“Jessop claimed he’d been trying to help the boy with extra coaching for his A-levels, and they’d been arguing about the amount of work he needed to put in if he hoped to pass. The prosecution tried to make out that the boy had been trying a spot of blackmail, threatening to expose Jessop to the education authority if he didn’t cough up more money. But none of that could be proved. The public was furious that the jury brought in a verdict of manslaughter. They reckoned that Jessop had got away with murder—literally. There was an outcry when he was only given a three-year sentence.”

Kate had Jessop brought back to her for further questioning. He stuck grimly to the story he’d already given ... that he’d had nothing to do with Dr. Gavin Trent’s death except for coming across his body in the pond and dragging it out to check that he was dead. Confronted by Kate’s knowledge of his prison record, Jessop declared it was precisely because of what had happened before that he’d wanted to avoid getting involved with the police.

“They wouldn’t believe me then,” he said bitterly, “so what hope had I of anyone believing me now?”

“We only want to get at the truth, Mr. Jessop,” said Kate. “If you’re innocent in this matter you have nothing to fear, and you won’t help yourself by concealing evidence. Now, you live alone, I gather?”

“That’s supposed to be a crime, is it?”

“You’re not married?”

Jessop gave her a dark look. “Separated.”

“Did you and Dr. Trent have a sexual relationship?” Kate asked.

“No, nothing like that.” He almost shouted it.

“Was Dr. Trent homosexual?”

“How am I supposed to know? I’m only the caretaker at Croptech.”

“Very well, Mr. Jessop. I’ll be wanting to talk to you again, so I must ask you not to leave the district.”

“Where the hell would I go?”

“Just so long as you understand that I mean what I say.”

* * * *

Kate and Boulter adjourned to the Half Moon across the street for lunch. Kate ordered a half of lager and a slice of pizza; Boulter a pint of bitter with a Cornish pasty, and as an afterthought, a ham roll and a pork pie. The way he demolished food, Kate reflected, he’d end up with a paunch before he was many years older.

“My money’s on Jessop,” he said as he broke open the pasty and smothered it with tomato ketchup. “He did it all right.”

Kate sipped her lager. “According to Doc Meddowes, Trent died last night. Yet the evidence at the scene supports Jessop’s story that he dragged the body out of the water at around nine-fifteen this morning. If he was the killer, why should he return to the pond next morning?”

“Making sure that Trent was dead.” Boulter took a massive bite and chewed.

“He’d hardly have needed to pull him out to confirm that, after so many hours.”

“He might’ve been scared that something we’d find on the body would incriminate him—if there really was something going on between the two of them. A letter he’d written to Trent, something like that.”

“It’s a possibility, Tim.”

“There’s a big ‘but’ in the way you said that, guv.”

Kate nodded her head. “I don’t go for it. What did Jessop tell you about his movements last night?”

“That he knocked off just after six and went across to his bungalow for his supper. About eight o’clock he made his usual round of the premises, checking that everything was locked up and nobody had left any lights on. Then he went back and watched telly for the rest of the evening ... he was able to tell me which programmes. Says he went to bed around eleven-thirty.”

“And there’s just his word for all that?”

“Yep. He’s a real loner, all right. Just like the Trent character.” Boulter took another large bite of pasty and spoke through it. “Come on, guv, it has to be him.”

Kate cast a speculative eye at her sergeant. “If the canteen at the nick missed a plateful of doughnuts, would it be fair to immediately point a finger at Tim Boulter as the obvious culprit?”

He grinned back at her sheepishly.

* * * *

“A straightforward enough case, wouldn’t you say, Chief Inspector?”

Kate had driven over to Marlingford to report to her superintendent. Whenever she had an audience with her chief, it had become something of a ceremony that tea and biscuits were served to them in dainty bone china. “Jolly” Joliffe seemed to imagine that this little gallantry would go down well with a female officer. In fact it did the exact opposite, singling Kate out as an oddity. She’d far rather her superintendent treated her as he did the male officers under his command and invited her to have a friendly drink at the local now and then. But tea with biscuits was her lot, and she’d grown wise enough never to offend by a refusal.

“Straightforward, sir? I don’t think so. We have no real leads at the moment. But considering that Dr. Trent and Sir Noah Kimberley are both top-ranking people at Croptech, that has to be our starting point.”

A frown appeared on the lugubrious face. “Now don’t let us get too concerned about Sir Noah Kimberley. His recent disappearance is probably sheer coincidence. It’s Dr. Trent’s death we have to concentrate on.”

“But we must take Kimberley’s disappearance into account. There may very well be a connection.”

“Possibly. But tread carefully, won’t you? We don’t want to go chasing after red herrings, my dear.”

For God’s sake, Kate, you’ve got to put a stop to this bloody my-dearing. But this wasn’t the moment. Next time, she promised herself.

“You’ve set up your Incident Room at Aston Pringle, I hear,” Jolly continued.

“Yes, sir. It’s the most convenient station, with the best facilities. But I shall also ask Croptech to put one of their offices at my disposal. It looks as if we’ll be doing a lot of interviewing there.”