Death Dues (22 page)

She didn’t try to deny the liaison or act coy when they questioned her about her relationship with Jones.

‘We were both lonely, Inspector. We met in the local supermarket – Harry always does the shopping – and we just clicked over the cabbages. Rather prosaic, I know. His wife doesn’t know about us and I’d rather, for Harry’s sake, that she didn’t find out.’

Rafferty nodded and assured her she wouldn’t find out from them. ‘How long have you and Mr Jones been seeing each other?’

‘Six months. It was just after their daughter moved out. I don’t think he’d have attempted an affair while his daughter was still at home. Females have a way of sniffing these things out.’

‘His wife hasn’t.’

‘No. But then she’s apparently not a very inquisitive woman. She’s one of those types who are happy just keeping the house clean and who have no interest in anything else.’

Rafferty thought the judgement a little harsh as Margaret Jones had seemed deeply enough affected by her lodger’s sudden death. ‘His wife mightn’t have found out about your affair,’ Rafferty told her, ‘but someone did. Did Mr Jones mention to you that he was being blackmailed over it?’

‘Blackmailed? No. It’s the first I’ve heard of it. Do you know who?’

Rafferty nodded. ‘I wondered how long the blackmail had been going on.’

‘I’ve no idea. As I said, it’s the first I’ve heard of it. Harry never said anything.’ Understandably, she seemed upset about that.

Rafferty had at first believed he should tackle Jones immediately, thinking the shock of his discovery might loosen the man’s tongue. But he’d decided against that, merely because if he called him into the station in order to avoid dropping him in it with his wife he would have been on his guard anyway and watchful of what he said. ‘I’d like you to speak to him,’ Rafferty said now. ‘See if you can get him to tell you anything. Will you do that?’

‘I’ll try.’ A fleeting flash of insight crossed her face and she said, ‘It was the dead man who was blackmailing him, wasn’t it? The one who was murdered down his street?’

Rafferty neither confirmed nor denied it. He and Llewellyn left shortly after, leaving Mrs Singleton looking very thoughtful indeed.

‘Do you think she knew Harry Jones was being blackmailed in spite of her denial?’

Rafferty shook his head. ‘Doubt it. Though I reckon now she knows it won’t take her long to get the truth out of him. Who else can he turn to? And with Harrison dead he might be glad to get it off his chest.’

‘Not if he realises how much more it points the finger of suspicion at him.’

Rafferty nodded sadly. ‘There’s always that,’ he agreed.

Rafferty was called away when they returned to the station and was secluded in a meeting for much of the rest of the afternoon. Llewellyn was waiting for him when he returned to his office with the news that Harry Jones’s lady love, Mrs Singleton had rung up while he’d been otherwise engaged.

‘And did she get Harry to spill the blackmailing beans?’

‘Unfortunately not. She said he clammed up as soon as she mentioned our visit and refused to be drawn. She said he tried to laugh off the possibility that he was being blackmailed over their affair, though, according to Mrs Singleton, he didn’t manage it very successfully.’

‘Maybe it’s time we had a word with him ourselves. Did you contact him as I asked?’

‘Yes. He’s coming in later this afternoon.’

 ‘Has the team dug up anyone else on Forbes’s long list of debtors who has relatives on Primrose Avenue?’

‘Not yet. But of course the names of any debtor relatives aren’t always the same as those of the residents, which doesn’t make the job any easier especially if the debtors fail to inform us of any family connection.’

‘Keep them at it as we seem to be going nowhere very fast on this one.’ If he didn’t find the culprit soon he’d be forced to take up Llewellyn’s suggestion of looking at the psychological angle more deeply. But he couldn’t see that taking them further forward. After all, Llewellyn’s favourite suspects had been Leslie Sterling, Harry Jones and Peter Allbright. And they already knew that Sterling appeared a selfish scrounger who’d slit his granny’s throat for a betting stake. And as for Harry Jones – the man had shown himself capable of deception in carrying on with the widow Singleton for six months. Who was to say of what else he might be capable? And Allbright was a defeated suicide with no energy for life, never mind murder. Such conclusions hadn’t required any great psychological insight. But unless Jones cracked when they interviewed him they would be no further forward apart from having a second motive for the man to go alongside the original one.

As soon as Harry Jones was shown into Interview Room One, before he had even taken a seat, Rafferty threw down Jaws Harrison’s notebook, open on the page that referred to Jones’s affair with Mrs Singleton then threw Llewellyn’s decoding of its contents down after it and said, ‘You didn’t mention the dead man was blackmailing you.’

Harry Jones was remarkably calm. But then he’d had time to get used to the idea that they knew of his predicament, as, presumably, Mrs Singleton had told him from where she’d obtained the information. He sat down and looked Rafferty in the eye before he replied. ‘I was being blackmailed, yes. But how was I to know it was Jaws Harrison doing the blackmailing? I didn’t. I never even got to speak to him. He mailed me the evidence he had of dates and times I spent with Madeleine. He even sent incriminating photos of us kissing on her doorstep. And I sent him the money he demanded via a post office box. It could have been anyone I knew. I had no more reason to kill him than any of the others had.’

‘And why should I believe you? You’ve done nothing but lie to me throughout this investigation.’

‘I’m not the only one who’s lied to you.’

‘No, but you’re the only one who had an additional reason beyond your debt to Malcolm Forbes, to want Harrison dead.’

‘I told you I didn’t know it was him who was the blackmailer.’

‘So you say. So how long had he been putting the screws on you?’

‘A couple of weeks.’

And within less than a fortnight Harrison had been murdered. It was pretty damning whatever Jones might say about not knowing or guessing the identity of the blackmailer. ‘How much did you pay him?’

‘Five hundred pounds.’ He pulled a face. ‘I got another loan out.’

‘So you’re deeper in the mire than ever, then?’

‘What choice did I have?’ Jones burst out. ‘I can’t get a job. I’m already up to my ears in debt that I’m having difficulty in repaying. What difference does a bit more make? I’m in Queer Street anyway and at the end of my tether. Seeing Madeleine Singleton is the only aspect of my life that gives me some joy to compensate for the rest.’ He hesitated and then said, ‘You’re—you’re not going to tell my wife about our affair?’

Rafferty thought it would serve him right after his lies if he did so. But as Jones had said, he was clearly unable to take much more strain. He didn’t want another Peter Allbright on his conscience. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I won’t tell your wife. But if there’s anything else you’ve been concealing from me, I want to know now. Is there anything?’

Harry Jones shook his head. ‘There’s nothing else. I’ve told you everything. Can I go now?’

‘Yes.’ Rafferty nodded to Llewellyn who was sitting at his own desk in the corner taking notes. ‘Perhaps you’ll escort Mr Jones from the premises.’

When Llewellyn and Harry Jones had gone, Rafferty stared down at Harrison’s incriminating notebook and the sheets containing Llewellyn’s cracking of his code, but he didn’t see the words written on it. All he could see was a case that was still going nowhere. Even if Jones had killed Harrison they had no evidence to prove it.

Rafferty's phone rang then and he snatched it up, ever hopeful of some new piece of evidence come to life. But it was only his Ma.

'What do you want, Ma? I'm busy.'

'Sure and you're always busy, according to you. But not too busy to speak to your Mammy. Besides, I've a piece of news I thought might interest you.'

'News? What news?'

'Sure and it can wait a minute while you ask how I am and how the rest of the family are. What's happened to your manners, son? I didn't teach you to speak to people like that.'

'Sorry Ma. How are you?'

'My veins are playing up a bit. My legs are throbbing.'

'Put your feet up then and take it easy.'

'That's what I'm doing. Though it's annoying me. You know how I hate to be idle. I was going to take down the living room curtains and give them and the windows a good wash.'

'Don't you go climbing on chairs, Ma. I'll take them down next time I come round. Surely there's no rush?'

'I like to keep a clean house. Not like some.'

Him
, he supposed. He judged it safe now to return to the news she had spoken of. 'You said you had something for me, Ma. What was it?'

'A little bit of gossip from the neighbourhood I thought would interest you. Mrs Parker of Primrose Avenue told me.'

Told you what? he felt like demanding. But he kept his cool. Ma liked to string her stories out fox maximum impact.

'You'll never guess.'

'You’re right there, Ma, so why don't you just tell me?'

There was a sigh from the other end of the line. 'Oh, go on then. Mrs Parker told me that Malcolm Forbes had sent his men around her street questioning the residents and—'

'Questioning them?'

'That's what she said.'

'What were they asking?'

'What they'd seen and heard. If they had any suspicions of anyone in particular.'

'They didn't issue any threats?'

'She didn't say so. Though I suppose they might have done as they were a couple of big bruisers from what she said. Though I don't suppose they suspected Emily Parker of attacking Jaws Harrison, so they would hardly need to threaten her.'

'Thanks, Ma. That's interesting. Could be useful.'

'That's what I was thinking. Anyway, son, I'll let you get on. I just thought I'd tell you the latest.'

'I appreciate it, Ma. Thanks again. Bye for now.'

He replaced the receiver as Llewellyn returned and asked, ‘What did you think of what Harry Jones had to say?’

Rafferty gave a wry grin. ‘For what it’s worth, I don’t think he’s our killer. Do you?’

Llewellyn, never one to breezily brush aside a piece of evidence, said, ‘I don’t know. I think I’d prefer to reserve judgement on that one.’

Rafferty sighed again. ‘I suppose you’re right. His wife is certainly one of the few suspects who could have disposed of the murder weapon.’

‘Maybe we should have
her
in?’

‘Maybe we should.’

He was at a loss as to what else they could do. They’d interviewed all the suspects several times, caught a number of them out in lies, but were still no closer to making an arrest. The checking out of Forbes’s and Nigel Blythe’s debtor lists were on-going and would be for some time, though, truth to tell, he’d no great hopes from that avenue and considered it more a straw-clutching exercise than anything else.

To take his mind off the frustration the investigation was causing, he changed the subject and said to Llewellyn, ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you how your studies are going for your inspector’s exams.’

‘I’m taking my studies slowly and getting one element thoroughly learned before I embark on the next. I’m in no hurry. Better to pass first time than fail and have it all to do again.’

Rafferty nodded. It was so like Llewellyn’s approach to everything: slow, thorough and painstaking. So different from his own erratic and occasionally inspired efforts. Llewellyn had begun studying around the time he’d met and married Mo, his intellectual, bluestocking wife, who was also a cousin of Rafferty. He was often amazed at the different results brought about by the same family gene pool. He had no doubt that Llewellyn would pass his inspector’s exams at the first attempt. He was methodical in his application, his cool logical approach sometimes drove Rafferty to distraction. Strangely, in view of their markedly different personalities, they worked well together, each supplying what the other lacked, with Rafferty’s impulsiveness curbed by Llewellyn’s stern logic and Llewellyn encouraged to approach things from one of Rafferty’s often off-beat angles. So far in their investigations the combination had stood them in good stead. Rafferty was hopeful it would do so again on this one.

‘By  the way, I forgot to tell you in all the excitement about the blackmail. I heard from Ma that Forbes has sent around a couple of his minions to question the residents of Primrose Avenue. Must have decided to conduct his own investigation – unless he’s the guilty party and is putting the frighteners on any potential witnesses.’

‘Maybe we should warn him off? If he’s intimidating witnesses—’

‘On what evidence? Ma’s say so? Anyone who knows anything will clam up from fear of what he might do if they let anything slip. If they know anything. God knows they haven’t exactly been founts of knowledge over this murder so far. Though I suppose we could put tails on Forbes’s men for a few days, if the budget will stand it and see if they pay a return visit to the Avenue. Put the frighteners on
them
for a change.’

‘Is there any point in that?’ Llewellyn questioned. ‘I would have thought any possible damage has already been done. If anyone did remember something they’d be certain to have forgotten it after a visit from Malcolm Forbes’s thugs.’

‘I suppose you’re right. OK. Let’s put the frighteners on Forbes himself. Threaten to do our best to get his licence revoked.’

‘Again – on what evidence? That of Bazza Lomond, that reputed teller of tall tales?’

‘Let’s try anyway. What harm can it do?’

‘Plenty, I would think. His solicitor might start a harassment suit. I can imagine what Superintendent Bradley would say to that.’

So could Rafferty. He scowled as he was reminded of Forbes’s legal bogeyman. Stymied from action on the Forbes’ front by Llewellyn’s irrefutable logic, Rafferty admitted a temporary defeat. If his witnesses had been got at, as Llewellyn said, it was too late to do anything about it now. But that was no reason not to go and see Forbes and let him know that they were aware of his interference in the case. Rafferty felt he was entitled to some jollies for a change.