Death in July (3 page)

He stopped a few yards short of the commotion, where the unpleasant scene was deteriorating quickly. The man was being pushed backwards up Geoffrey's path, his eyes apprehensive as the youths taunted him. A fist suddenly shot out and missed his head by inches.

Sam jumped out of the car.

'Police!' he shouted.

The youngsters turned in unison and glared at him. One or two had frenzied looks in their eyes. Some had lips curled up in snarls. All the faces dropped when they saw the badge Sam was holding up. Their fun was over.

'Get out of here,' instructed Sam with quiet authority, slipping the badge back into his pocket, 'unless you want to end up in a cell tonight.'

They shrugged their shoulders and trudged past him reluctantly. A couple of older lads stared at him as they passed. Sam stared back and held their gaze. The group ambled down the road, shouting half-hearted abuse. Sam ignored it, waited until they were out of sight, then turned his attention to the man. He was short and slim, about the same age as himself, early forties, with jet black hair and an easy-going face. Sam could see he was struggling to regain his composure.

'Thanks, Officer,' he said weakly. 'Those kids are out of control.'

'I'm not a policeman,' said Sam, 'but they don't know the difference between a PI's badge and a copper's. Not at a glance, anyway.'

The two men smiled at each other. The stranger thrust out his hand.

'My name's John Carr. I live next door.'

Sam shook his hand. It was warm and clammy.

'Pleased to meet you, John. I'm Sam Carlisle. Have that lot been causing you much bother?'

John Carr nodded.

'They've been hanging around here for six months or so, ever since the police barred them from the nearby park. They fight, drink, make a racket. They were throwing things at our window tonight. That's why I came out, to try and reason with them.'

'Have you informed the police?'

'Yeah,' sighed John. 'They come out, warn the kids and move them on. Then, a few days later, the kids are back and it starts all over-'

'John! Are you okay?'

A woman had appeared outside the house next door. She looked nervous and agitated.

'Yes, I'm fine, Patricia. Just give me-'

'Will you come back in now? Me and the kids were worried sick at you rushing out like that.'

John turned to Sam.

'I'd better go. Thanks again for stepping in.'

Sam watched him go next door to re-join his family. He looked back at Geoffrey's cottage.

A splattered egg was trickling down the window.

***

When Sam returned to his flat, he went straight to his office, sat down behind the desk and pulled open the bottom drawer. He took out a half-bottle of whisky and unscrewed the cap. Drinking a mouthful, he wondered if Benjamin knew about the kids hanging outside his father's home. Sam would ask him tomorrow. Benjamin had invited him to the cottage to look around for anything that might have a bearing on his father's death.

Sam took another drink and thought some more.

The next morning was fine and bright. It was going to be another hot day. Sam nipped into the florists on his way out, where he found Moira busy trimming the bottom off a bunch of flowers. Today, she was resplendent in orange head scarf, bright yellow leggings and purple suede boots. She looked up and gave Sam a wide smile.

'Morning, Sam. Are you off out?'

'Yep,' nodded Sam. 'About those deliveries you wanted me to do today...'

'Oh, don't worry about them. There's no rush. Anyway, you're a busy man right now.'

She gave him a mischievous wink. Sam hadn't gone into detail about Benjamin Compton's phone call. Moira hadn't given him the chance, telling him client confidentiality was important in his line of work. Sam had smiled at her seriousness. As friendly as Moira was, she was no idle gossip.

'I'll get round to them sometime today,' said Sam. 'I just don't know exactly when.'

Moira placed the flowers carefully into a vase.

'Go, will you,' she grinned, rubbing her hands on a towel. 'You're wasting time. Cases won't solve themselves, you know.'

Sam laughed and did as he was told.

***

Outside Geoffrey's cottage, Sam parked behind a gleaming Volvo Estate. The back seat of the car was crammed with cardboard boxes. Sam peered in. The nearest box was taped down and marked '
Ornaments'.

Sam walked up the path and found the front door of the cottage wide open. He knocked on it, stepped back and gazed up and down the road. All was quiet this morning. No rowdy kids or harassed neighbours.

Sam heard Benjamin call out from within the house, telling him to come through. He stepped into a long hallway, with old slate tiles on the floor and lime green wallpaper starting to peel on the wall. A strong, musty smell struck him. At the end of the hallway, he could see the kitchen. On his left were two doors. He popped his head around the first one.

Benjamin was kneeling on the floor, taping the lid of a box down. He was wearing a white shirt, black trousers and plain black shoes. The top button of his shirt was undone, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up. Clearly, this was Benjamin dressing down. Sam watched him pick up a marker pen and write on the side of the box. More ornaments, apparently. With a satisfactory sigh, Benjamin nudged the box to one side, struggled to his feet and gave Sam a thin smile.

'I'll put the kettle on,' he said.

Sam followed him into the kitchen. It was an old-fashioned affair, in keeping with the rest of the property. For whatever reason, Geoffrey had been reluctant to modernise his home. Sam sat down on a stool and watched Benjamin fill the kettle up.

'How's the packing going?' he asked.

'Harder work than I imagined,' replied Benjamin, reaching for a couple of mugs. 'My father wasn't the most organised person, and he hoarded too much rubbish. Nor was he keen on exposing the cottage to fresh air. I've had to open all the windows.'

'I noticed the boxes in your car,' said Sam. 'What have you packed up so far?'

Benjamin switched on the kettle. He looked tired and drawn. Dark circles ringed his eyes. Sam wondered how much Benjamin had slept last night.

'Just ornaments. The place is full of them. They'll be going to a charity shop along with most of my father's things. Feel free to look through anything you want, anything you think might be of relevance.'

'What are you doing about the house?'

'It's going up for sale later this week.'

'What about the proceeds?'

Benjamin narrowed his eyes at Sam. It appeared he didn't like the question. Sam didn't divert his gaze. He was keen to see Benjamin's reaction.

'It's going to be split between the great-grandchildren,' sighed Benjamin. 'That was what we all agreed.'

Benjamin turned around to make the drinks.

'And just in case you're wondering,' he continued, 'that wasn't a problem. I am more than comfortable financially, and so are my brother and sister-in-law.'

'What about their children?'

'The same.'

Sam couldn't see Benjamin's face with his back turned. However, he felt pretty certain money wasn't a dividing issue with this family.

'Look, Sam,' said Benjamin, swinging back round to hand Sam his tea. 'All the family have done well for themselves. None of us need the money. It makes sense to give the younger ones a helping start in life.'

Sam detected an edginess in Benjamin's voice, as though he had been offended by the line of enquiry. Sam remained unperturbed. His job was to investigate. Sometimes that upset people.

'I drove by here last night. There were a lot of youngsters hanging about.'

Concern clouded Benjamin's face.

'I know,' he nodded. 'I've had a few run-ins with them myself.'

'Was your father intimidated by them at all?'

Benjamin shook his head with conviction.

'He used to laugh at them saying he had seen far scarier things in his time. I presumed he was referring to the war.'

'What about when he went out the house? Was there ever any trouble then?'

A frown appeared on Benjamin's face.

'The only time he went out was to go down the club. He never mentioned any altercations. I used to wonder, though. My father did have a short fuse.'

Sam's ears pricked up at this.

'Tell me about your father's temper.'

Benjamin gave Sam a curious look.

'I've been asking around,' explained Sam. 'Somebody else mentioned it.'

Benjamin's shoulders dropped.

'My father was unpredictable,' he sighed. 'Most of the time he was fine, but he could snap for no reason. He would go into a rage, shouting and screaming over the most trivial of things.'

'Did he drink much?'

Benjamin looked at Sam blankly.

'I don't under-'

'Alcohol, Benjamin. Was he a big drinker?'

Benjamin shook his head vehemently.

'No. He didn't drink a great deal.'

Sam chewed on his lip.

'Was he violent?'

Benjamin's voice dropped.

'No, not with us, although I do remember him coming home with bruised eyes and cut lips after nights out. His temper did affect my mother's nerves. She was always on edge. My brother left home when he was sixteen because he couldn't stand it anymore.'

'And how did you deal with it?'

'I used to keep out of his way.'

Sam considered everything he had heard today about Geoffrey Compton.

A strong, proud man, prone to temper.

A man unlikely to have taken his own life.

An intriguing combination.

***

Sam looked around the bedroom and sighed. He had found nothing suspicious in the cottage. No secret diaries declaring Geoffrey's unhappiness with life. No hidden letters from enemies swearing revenge. Nothing at all to indicate a troubled man considering suicide. Sam trotted back down the stairs no nearer to providing Benjamin with a satisfactory answer.

Sam found him sat in the front living-room holding a small chest on his lap.

'I haven't seen these for years,' Benjamin explained to him, taking a bundle of photos out of the chest. 'My father must have kept them hidden away. I had forgotten they even existed.'

Benjamin flicked through the photos. Sam watched him smile wistfully. The photos were faded and wearing at the edges, black and white pictures of a couple and two young children. Sam guessed they were from the nineteen fifties or sixties. He raised his eyebrows at Benjamin, who nodded.

'My mother and father, with myself and my brother.'

The boys were the spitting image of Geoffrey. While their mother was a petite woman with a kind face, their father was tall and broad-shouldered, with sharp eyes and a prominent jaw. Sam couldn't miss the one constant in each picture. While his wife and children smiled happily for every shot, Geoffrey Compton wore a permanent scowl. Sam didn't mention it to Benjamin. The final picture was completely different. An even older photo, featuring five men in army uniforms. They were sitting on a British tank, dazzled by bright sunshine.

'What about that one?' asked Sam.

Benjamin stared at it, frowning.

'I've never seen it before,' he replied, shaking his head. 'Look, that's my father there, the one in the middle.'

Sam recognised Geoffrey from the other photos. In this picture, he was grinning along with the other men.

Benjamin continued to gaze at his new-found piece of family history.

'This is the first picture I've ever seen of him from his army days.'

'Do you know anything at all about that time of his life?' asked Sam.

Benjamin shook his head.

'Only that he was de-mobbed at the end of the war, came back to Newgate and went straight down the mine. I don't even know which unit he served with or where he was posted.'

Sam decided to leave Benjamin to his new discovery, telling him he would ring later. He wanted to give him time to reflect after this morning. Sam felt he would need it.

Sam ran the deliveries for Moira that afternoon. The small van was like a portable furnace, soaking up the rays of fierce sunshine. Sam hopped in and out of the vehicle, dropping flowers off all over Newgate. The town centre was swarming with tourists, the beach was packed with holiday-makers basking in the glorious weather, and on the outskirts of town, the roads into Newgate were heavy with traffic. It was the middle of the holiday season. The busiest time of the year for many in Newgate.

After finishing the deliveries, Sam left the van outside the flower shop and headed upstairs to the sanctuary of his shaded flat. He removed his sticky clothes and showered under a barrage of cool water. Feeling refreshed, he put on a clean shirt and pair of jeans, made himself a meal, then rang Benjamin.

No answer.

Sam tried again on his way out, but once more the call was diverted to answer machine. Sam shrugged and set off for the Barton. He would try again later.

Outside the front of the pub, customers had spilled onto the footpath with their drinks. Archie had wisely wedged all the entrance doors wide open to allow in any breeze. Walking through the entrance, Sam could see the beer garden at the rear was already full. It was going to be another busy shift.

Sam found Archie vigorously cleaning the floor around the fruit machine. Spotting Sam approach, the landlord leaned on his mop and smiled ruefully.

'They're already drinking like it's going out of fashion,' he sighed. 'The heat's sending them loopy. I'm spending half my time cleaning up spilled drinks and broken glasses.'

'I'd better get to it then,' laughed Sam.

'Hold on, Sam! What was all that about yesterday? The questions?'

Sam had deemed Archie a useful man to keep in the loop about this case. He had contacts, kept his ear to the ground and knew when to keep his mouth shut. Taking him to one side, Sam told him about Geoffrey Compton's death, Benjamin's misgivings about the verdict, and Sam's futile attempts so far to disprove the evidence.

Archie nodded thoughtfully.

'I can understand him not wanting to accept it-'

Suddenly, the sound of glass shattering filled the air. The two men rolled their eyes in identical fashion. They would have to talk later.

***

The shift was as frenetic as Sam had anticipated. An endless night of lengthy queues, impatient customers and spilled drinks. Sam took it all in his stride. He tried Benjamin again during his break, but there was still no answer. Onwards the night rolled. As the alcohol took its inevitable affect on the patrons, tempers began to flare in the pub, forcing the doormen to step in more frequently to diffuse trouble.

As closing time approached, Sam found himself struggling to concentrate on what he was doing. He was making mistakes, giving out wrong change, getting orders mixed up. He knew what was up. His mind was elsewhere, replaying his meetings with Benjamin, running through possible reasons for Geoffrey's suicide. Sam realised he needed to make a decision. He was going to talk to Archie.

Suddenly, a roar went up in front of the bar. Another altercation had erupted. People were pushing each other aggressively, gearing up for a fistfight. Innocent by-standers were getting knocked about in the melee. Sam watched the head doorman work his way towards the fracas, talking into his radio while on the move. Suddenly, several of his burly colleagues appeared, and the trouble-makers were swiftly ejected. As calm was restored, Sam noticed a woman leaning on the bar with her head in her hands.

'Are you okay?' he asked.

She looked up at him. A red lump was rising next to her eye. Her face looked ashen.

'I just got an elbow in my face,' she said, smiling weakly. 'It's nothing-'

Suddenly, her eyes began to roll.

Sam reached across and caught her before she fell.

***

'Feeling any better?'

The woman nodded slowly. She was sitting on the bottom step of the stairs holding a bag of ice to her eye. Her blonde hair was pushed back off her face, and her large, brown eyes were smudged with make-up. Sam could see some colour had returned to her cheeks.

'I still think we should call an ambulance and get you checked out.'

The woman smiled at him.

'Thanks, but it's only a bump.'

Sam could hear Archie bidding goodnight to the final customers, followed by the heavy sound of bolts sliding into place. Seconds later, Archie popped his head into the hall.

'How's the patient?' he smiled.

'She's a tough one,' said Sam. 'Won't go to hospital.'

Archie looked down at the woman.

'What's the damage?'

She removed the ice pack from her eye. Archie pulled a face.

'Ouch! You're going to have a lovely bruise in the morning. Where do you live, and we'll call a taxi for you.'

'I don't live around here. I only came in the pub to get directions to my aunt's house.'

'Where does she live?'

'Southland Road. It's nearby, apparently.'

Archie and Sam looked at each other.

'Well, that's handy,' said Archie, 'because that's where Sam here lives.'

***

'I need a few days off.'

'When?'

'This week.'

Archie didn't look surprised.

'Okay,' he replied.

'Bloody hell!' laughed Sam. 'That was easy.'

Archie shrugged.

'Sam, I know how badly you want to get the investigation business off the ground, and I've got enough people here begging for extra hours. Covering you won't be a problem. Anyway, if this case leads to another...'

Both men nodded sagely.

'So, where's the young lady gone?'

'She's outside,' said Sam. 'Ringing her aunt.'

'Okay. Make sure she gets back safely.'

***

Alice Brown asked if they could walk back to Southland Road as she wanted the fresh air. That was fine by Sam. He usually walked back home after a late shift. He enjoyed the ten-minute stroll along the deserted beachfront at this hour.

A soft breeze kicked up as they began walking. Alice pulled her jacket tight around her shoulders and crossed her arms.

'Let's walk on the sand,' she said suddenly, changing direction to cross the road. Sam followed suit, tracking her onto the beach, watching as she picked up pebbles and launched them into the breaking sea. Sam had always been fascinated by the sound of waves crashing onto the beach at night-time. It struck him as primal yet comforting against the backdrop of dark silence. He thrust his hands into his pockets and stared up at the black sky, taking in the glittering stars, remembering those he had loved.

Those he had lost.

A sharp pang of sorrow struck briefly at his chest.

Suddenly, his phone rang. He glanced at the caller display.

'Benjamin?'

'Sorry to ring you so late, Sam. I've been helping my brother settle in, and then there was some bother at my father's cottage.'

'What sort of bother?'

As Sam listened, he noticed Alice watching him, an inquisitive look on her face.

'A neighbour thought he heard someone lurking in the back garden,' said Benjamin urgently. 'I've been over there tonight with the police.'

'Did they find anything?'

'No, they didn't.'

'Okay, I'll meet up with you there in the morning.'

Benjamin sounded disappointed.

'In the morning?' he huffed. 'But this could be the breakthrough we're looking for.'

Sam sighed. He had to admire the man's tenacity.

'Benjamin, it's pitch black. We won't be able to see a thing. Now, go and get some rest. We'll take a look tomorrow.'

***

'Right. Here we are, Alice. Southland Road.'

Sam and Alice stood in front of the row of shops. There were a dozen altogether, each with a flat overhead.

'Which one's your aunt's?'

Alice looked around her, slightly anxious all of a sudden. Then she broke into a broad smile. A van was approaching. It slowed down and pulled over next to them. Sam recognised the vehicle immediately. He had been sat in it all afternoon. The driver's window rolled down and Moira Kennedy beamed through the open window.

'Hi, Sam. I see you've already met my niece.'