Fethering 08 (2007) - Death under the Dryer (28 page)

“That sounds like one of his lines. And do you think he thought you were guilty?”

“What?” Nathan Locke’s surprise was so unfeigned that clearly the idea had never occurred to him.

“Well, if your uncle did think you’d strangled Kyra, then there’d be an even stronger reason for him to lock you away at Treboddick. To stop you from being arrested…until the family had worked out a more permanent way of keeping you from justice.”

“What kind of way?”

“I don’t know.” Carole shrugged. “Sending you abroad? Changing your identity? Maybe even plastic surgery…?”

“Oh, come on, they wouldn’t do that.”

After what they’d witnessed at Treboddick, Carole and Jude’s estimation of what the Lockes might do had expanded considerably.

“I think Uncle Rowley really was doing the best for me.” But Nathan’s insistence was wavering. “At least what he thought was the best for me.”

“Hmm.”

“Presumably…” Jude posed the question very gently “…you didn’t kill Kyra?”

“No, of course I didn’t! I loved her! You don’t kill someone you love.”

Many authorities, including Oscar Wilde, would have questioned that assertion, but Jude didn’t take issue as Nathan continued, “I can’t imagine what happened. I mean—who would do that to her? She was a sweet girl…wouldn’t hurt anyone. I can’t even think of anyone she didn’t get on with…well, except her father…”

And possibly Martin Rutherford, thought Carole as Jude asked, “Yes, we’ve heard about some difficulties between Kyra and her father. What was the problem there?”

“I think basically he’s just old-fashioned.”

“Did you meet him?”

“Just the once. K—Kyra…” He did actually manage to get the word out that time, “…she took me home to meet him, thought it’d be all right.” He sighed wearily. “It wasn’t. He virtually showed me the door.”

“What was it about you that he disapproved of?”

“In a way, I don’t think it was anything about me. Kyra said I shouldn’t take it personally and I tried not to. It was just that I was interested in his daughter. He would have been equally down on any other person of the male gender who was interested in his daughter. He thought she was too young to have a boyfriend.”

“But, she was…what?”

“Seventeen.” He gulped down the emotion that the thought prompted. “Yes, well old enough to…do anything she wanted. But that wasn’t the way old man Bartos saw things. He got furious when she had her ears pierced and…It was…I don’t know…something to do with the way he was brought up…in Czechoslovakia.”

I really would like to talk to ‘old man Bartos’, thought Jude. I’ve somehow got a feeling that he holds the key to this whole case. I wonder if Wally Grenston could set up a meeting…?

“Nathan,” said Carole, her voice only just the right side of sternness, “you did go to Connie’s Clip Joint that evening with Kyra, didn’t you?”

There was no attempt at evasion. “Yes, I did. Perhaps it was a silly thing to do, but…well, it was very difficult for us to be alone together. Her father’s attitude ruled out the possibility of meeting at her place and then my parents…”

“They wouldn’t have objected to you taking a girl back to the house. They told me as much.”

“Yes, but it would have been hideously unrelaxing—particularly for Kyra. My parents can sometimes be so ‘right-on’ that it hurts.”

“Constantly saying how broad-minded they are…how delighted that you feel sufficiently relaxed to bring your girlfriends into the house…?”

He grinned without amusement. “You’ve clearly met them, Carole.”

“Yes. Yes, I have.”

“So what happened that evening?” Jude prompted gently.

“Well, as I say, Kyra and I found it very difficult to be alone together…you know, unless we were in one of the shelters on the sea front at Fethering…or on the golf course…neither of which were particularly romantic…or relaxing…And then that day she rang me on the mobile and said that Connie had given her the keys to the salon because she wanted her to open up the next morning and…it would be our opportunity to…you know, to do what we hadn’t had a chance to do before…”

“You mean make love to each other?”

He nodded agreement to Jude’s question. His speech slowed as he clawed back the painful recollection. “Yes, it was going to be our big night. I felt bad about sort of being in Connie’s salon without her knowing, but I did want to…you know…And Kyra said if I joined her there at about ten, there’d be nobody about, and it’d all be fine. So I bought some beer and vodka and…you know, some cigarettes…because I wanted us to be relaxed about it all and…I was dead nervous. I think Kyra was too.”

“So what happened when you got there?”

“Well…I don’t know whether I should tell you this…”

“You’re going to have to tell the police,” said Carole, “so you might as well have a dry run.”

Nathan saw the logic of that. “All right. Well, it’s embarrassing, but…” He took a deep breath. “Basically, it didn’t work. Nothing worked.”

Jude’s voice was mesmerizingly soft as she asked, “You mean the sex?”

He nodded, now looking very young and confused. “Maybe I was too nervous. There’d been such a long build-up and…I don’t know…I wanted it to be a really romantic moment.”

Hence the dozen red roses, thought Carole.

“But when I actually got there…you know, in the back room of the salon…I just lost it. In a strange place, afraid we’d be interrupted at any moment…I mean, at one stage it seemed to be going all right, but then I thought I heard someone coming in…”

“You mean coming into the salon?”

“Well, I thought I heard the back gate bang, and then like footsteps…”

“Are you sure?”

“No, I’m not sure. As I say, I was terribly nervous…and also I’d got through most of the vodka…and I was worried about what Kyra would think of me. Anyway, it didn’t work…you know, the sex,” he concluded lamely.

There was a silence before Jude asked if he and Kyra had quarrelled.

“No, not exactly. It was…just awkward. I felt kind of humiliated…She said it didn’t matter, but…I just had to get away. I feel dreadful about it now…after what happened, but I left her on her own.”

“What time was that?”

“I don’t know exactly. Half-past twelve…one o’clock…?”

“You didn’t see anyone outside?”

“What?”

“You said you’d heard the gate bang.”

“That was a lot earlier. And I could have imagined it. I don’t know.” He let out a little gasp. “I suppose, if there really was someone there, it could have been the murderer.”

Jude agreed that this was quite possible, then Carole asked, “Why didn’t Kyra go home?”

“Because she’d set up this big alibi with her dad. You know, she was supposed to be with some school friend for the night, so she couldn’t suddenly say she wasn’t. Also she’d been drinking, and if her old man had smelt that on her breath…” He didn’t need to complete the sentence.

“And what about you?” asked Carole. “Did you go straight home?”

Nathan shook his head, still traumatized by the images he had brought back to life. “No. I don’t know what I did really. I was pretty wasted, for a start. I’d drunk most of the bottle of vodka. And I felt terrible about, you know, what’d happened.” He let out a bark of pained laughter. “Or rather what hadn’t happened.”

“So where did you go?”

“I wandered along the beach. I don’t know how long I did that. Just walking back and forth, back and forth, thinking terrible thoughts. You know, I loved Kyra…” there was a naked appeal in his voice, “…but I couldn’t, you know…When it mattered, I couldn’t…”

“So when did you go home?”

“Not till the morning. I don’t remember exactly what happened, but at some point I fell asleep in the dunes…you know, about as far along Fethering Beach as you can go. I felt dreadful, but I’d slept through till after half-past ten. So I started back home.”

“I’m surprised no one saw you at that time of day,” Carole observed.

“I kept off the roads. I didn’t want to be seen. So I was on the beach and then up by the side of the Fether. There’s a way into our back garden from the tow-path. Anyway, by the time I got back to Marine Villas, Uncle Rowley was already there. Mummy had somehow heard about Kyra’s body being found…” Another triumph for the Fethering bush telegraph, thought Carole. “And Mummy had called Uncle Rowley and—”

“What did your father do?”

“He did what he always did—waited for Uncle Rowley to come and make the decisions.” He said the words with resignation rather than contempt.

“Anyway, as soon as I saw him, Uncle Rowley said I was bound to be the police’s prime suspect because I’d been going out with Kyra and he soon got me to tell him that I had actually been to the salon to see her…”

“Did he ask you what had happened when you were there?”

“No, he’d already made his plans that I should lie low at Treboddick. As soon as I’d got my stuff together, we drove off.”

Carole and Jude exchanged looks. As alibis went, Nathan Locke’s was not of the greatest. Poor boy, he wasn’t going to have an easy time when they handed him over to the police. Neither of them believed that he had strangled Kyra Bartos, but the circumstantial evidence was against him. It had become even more imperative that they should find out who had really committed the murder.

Carole and Jude knew it would be late when they got back to West Sussex, but no one suggested breaking the journey, except for a brief stop and a taste-free Little Chef meal. Though none of the Lockes had any power to identify or stop the Renault on its way, the two women still wanted to get home as soon as possible. In both of their minds suspicions of Rowley were developing apace, though they knew they should not share such ideas with his nephew.

They outlined what they proposed to do, and Nathan was docile in his agreement to their plan. They would take him to the police station in Littlehampton, from which the investigation into Kyra Bartos’s murder was being coordinated.

Jude said he could use her mobile if he wanted to call his parents to tell them he was all right, but he declined the offer. Arnold and Eithne Locke had presumably heard by now from Mopsa about their son’s escape from the Wheal Chamber at Treboddick, and if he didn’t want to talk to them, then that was his decision. The only person who’d seemed genuinely worried about the boy was Bridget Locke, and Jude decided she’d give the woman a call first thing in the morning. For the rest of his family, the longer they stewed in their own juice the better.

Before he got out of the car in Littlehampton, they wished Nathan luck. He looked very young as they deposited him outside the police station. They watched him go inside and then drove on the few miles to Fethering. No need for them to get involved at this point. There was plenty for the detectives to ask Nathan Locke about without Carole or Jude’s names being mentioned. They thought he might need the luck they had wished him.

W
hen she got back to High Tor, Carole found a message on her answering machine. It was, predictably enough, from Rowley Locke.

Although by now the small hours of the morning, she immediately phoned Jude and they ended up opening a bottle of wine in the sitting room of Woodside Cottage.

“So what did Rowley say?” asked Jude as she poured Chardonnay into two glasses. “Is he furious?”

“I’m pretty sure he is, but the message is a bit tentative. You see, he’s only got Mopsa’s description to go by, so he’s not absolutely certain that we were Jenny and…” The name wouldn’t come.

“Cindy.”

“Yes,” said Carole with distaste. “So he’s not accusing me of anything. All he’s saying is that he’s had some news on the whereabouts of Nathan, and he’d like to tell me about it.”

“Did he sound relieved?”

“Yes, he did quite a good impression of the concerned uncle. He said that Arnold and Eithne were ecstatic to have news of the boy.”

“So he wants you to ring him?”

“Yes, ‘ring and fix to meet up’ was how he put it.”

Jude pursed her full lips. “Could be risky. I mean, I’m sure Rowley Locke has worked out that we were the two women who went to Treboddick…and if he is actually the murderer…”

“But do you think he is?”

“I’m not sure. It would explain why he wanted Nathan kept out of the way. So that the boy remained the number one suspect.”

“A more charitable view would be that he was just trying to protect his nephew…if he wasn’t the murderer himself, but he thought that Nathan was.”

Jude had the nerve to say, “Unlike you to take the charitable view,” and Carole had the grace to smile. “I’ve got to see Rowley,” she said. “Got to find out what on earth he’s up to.”

“Mmm.” Jude took a thoughtful sip from her wine. “Incidentally, I did believe everything Nathan told us. Did you?”

“Oh yes. A boy of that age isn’t going to make up that business about the sex…” Carole looked embarrassed, “…you know, not working.”

“No. Poor kid. Poor kid on many counts.”

“So…I’ll ring Rowley in the morning.”

“I think if you do fix to meet him…”

“Yes?”

“…you should insist that I come too.”

“Safety in numbers?”

“That’s it.” Jude suddenly raised her glass. “To us. I think we’ve had a really good day today.”

“Found Nathan and freed him. Yes, not bad.”

“Now he’s back in circulation, it’s going to open the whole case up.”

“For the police certainly.”

“And for us too, Carole. We’ll soon have a solution. I can feel the tumblers in the lock slotting into position.”

“Oh yes?”

“Yes. Definitely.”

§

This optimistic feeling was reinforced for Jude the next morning when she had a call from Wally Grenston. After greetings and a few lavish compliments (Mim was clearly not in the room), he said, “Told you old Joe Bartos was thinking of going to the Czech Club on Wednesday…?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I saw him there.”

“Did you tell him I wanted to talk to him?”

“I did, yes.”

“Did he agree?”

“No, he didn’t.” Jude was suitably cast down, but Wally, playing his narration at his own pace, continued, “I’ve just had a call from him this morning, though…”

“And?”