Kith and Kill (22 page)

‘Really? You're a privileged elite, then, sir. She doesn't seem to have invited any other members of the family.’

Eric smiled. ‘Perhaps it's because I persuaded grandmother to have their flat redecorated. It really was getting awfully shabby. It was a deteriorating asset, as I told my grandmother. Dahlia must have felt grateful.’

‘Who was the firm of decorators who did up the flat? Did they have a key?’

‘It was a firm called Dylan and Son, a small, two-man business. And yes, I believe they did have a key. They needed it to get in and out as both Dahlia and Freddie were here all day. They couldn't keep chasing them all over the house and grounds every time they needed to get back in after collecting materials. But surely you don't think them likely to have killed Dahlia? They were perfectly decent people. Very careful in their work. Dahlia remarked on it.’

‘I thought you wanted us to investigate outsiders, sir?’

‘Well, yes. But I really don't see either Jack Dylan or his son killing Dahlia. The idea is ridiculous.’

‘All the more reason then, to check it out and eliminate them. But if we can get back to you. You heard nothing last night, you said?’

‘No. Not a thing.’

Rafferty sighed and sat back. Two murders and no one saw anything. No one heard anything. And no one said anything. Well, not much, anyway. He didn't know how they were to get evidence to arrest anyone at this rate. He nodded to Llewellyn. Perhaps his personal oracle would be able to produce the goods because he was clearly failing.

Once seated before the desk, Llewellyn said, ‘do you get on with your brother, sir?’

‘Adam? What's that to do with anything?’

When Llewellyn said nothing, but just sat quietly, waiting, Eric shrugged his shoulders in their eternal grey covering. ‘We get on all right, I suppose. We're not particularly close, though. We've always been so different.’

‘What did you think about him being bequeathed your grandmother's controlling shares in the business?’

‘I can't say I approve. He can be unpredictable. He'll either raise the business's profile brilliantly or cause it to tumble to the earth with more debts than it can carry. Either way, I plan to get out. As a trained accountant, I can't afford to be associated with failure. Doesn't look good on one's CV. I've already made enquiries about other positions.’

‘Does your brother know?’

‘No. I saw no reason to tell him. I imagine he'll be glad that I won't always be there, trying to hold him back from folly. Or holding him back from success's more dizzying heights as I suppose Adam would call it. I'll tell him when I'm ready.’

‘What about the rest of your family, sir?’

‘What do you mean? As murder suspects?’

Llewellyn nodded.

Eric looked thoughtful. ‘That's a difficult one. Have you ever tried to imagine one – or any – of your family in the role of murderer, sergeant?’

Llewellyn admitted he hadn't.

‘You'll see my difficulty, then. Okay. I'll give it a shot. Mother, now. No. Really not possible.’

‘Why's that, sir?’

‘Mother is a very indecisive woman. She'd never get around to doing the deed. Besides, she's too kind-hearted.’

‘But if she had a pressing need of money?’

Eric frowned. ‘Did she? She never said. Even then, I doubt it. No. Definitely not.’

‘Anyone else you think you can discount?’

With a sigh, Eric went through them on his fingers. ‘Great Aunt Alice – too old. My sister, Caroline, too unambitious. Freddie Sullivan, too distraught over Dahlia's death to ever kill her. Unless, as I said, it was an outsider who committed the crime.’

‘You've left your brother out, sir.

‘Have I?’ There was a pause of a few moments. ‘I didn't mean to. Adam as a murderer? Mmm.’ He paused again, then shook his head. ‘No. I can't see it.’

‘And why's that, sir?’

‘Apart from the business, Adam's never been much of a planner, sergeant. Do you really think he could plan these killings?’

‘But how much planning would they have needed? Very little, I would have thought. The first murder, that of your grandmother anyway, strikes me as the act of an impulsive mind. And it can't be said that the second one required much thought, either. Or only sufficient thought as would be needed to acquire a key to the Sullivans’ flat. And if the killer knew where it was kept, that, too, could be the work of moments only.’

Eric said nothing as if he was afraid of further incriminating his brother.

‘Given that, now what do you think of your brother in the role of murderer?’

Eric suddenly turned stubborn. ‘I really couldn't say, sergeant.’

‘Very well. Unless the inspector has any other questions for you?’ Rafferty shook his head. ‘You can go, sir.’

Eric went towards the door. When he reached it, he gave one fleeting backward glance before he slipped through and closed it behind him.

‘Not exactly a rousing endorsement of Adam Chambers,’ Rafferty observed. ‘Do you think he suspects Adam, but doesn't want to admit it to himself?’

‘Possibly. He certainly fought shy of admitting it to us.’ Llewellyn tutted to himself. ‘I forgot to ask him to tell his sister we wanted to speak to her next.’ He rose from his chair. ‘I'll go and get her.’

‘No. I'll do it. It's always good to have a chance to snoop.’ Rafferty opened the door quietly and shut it just as quietly behind him. He paused in the hall and tip-toed across to the drawing room door. A careless Eric Chambers had left it slightly ajar. All the family seemed to be in there, he could hear their voices quite clearly. Alice Pickford was holding forth in her usual querulous manner.

‘I don't care what anyone says. I think it's outrageous that they think I could have killed anyone. I'm a Christian woman. The Lord knows I even saw Father Kelly after my sister's death it had such an effect on me.’ She must have held up her arthritic hands for them all to see, because Rafferty heard her say, ‘Look at these. As if they're capable of killing anyone. It's time for whoever killed Sophia and Dahlia Sullivan to confess. You Adam. What do you have to say for yourself?

A startled Adam exclaimed, ‘Me? What do you mean?’

‘Well, you're the one with the criminal record.’

‘For a bit of a drug habit, Auntie, that's all. I'm hardly Al Capone.’

‘Ha. And don't we all know what druggies are like! They'd kill their grannie to get the money for their next fix.’

There was a deathly silence after that, then Eric intervened. ‘Come now, Aunt Alice. That's unfair. Adam's not some wild-eyed junkie.’

‘Then tell me
you
don't think he did it.’ There was another silence. ‘See. You can't, can you?’

‘Of course I can. I don't think Adam did it. There. Satisfied now?’

‘No. You paused too long. The Telling Pause, I believe it's called.’

Rafferty also thought the pause had lasted too long and decided it was time to make his presence felt. He crept quickly across the hall, opened the study door and banged it to, loudly. Then he crossed the hall again and knocked on the drawing room door. He noticed it was Alice Pickford rather than the house's new chatelaine, who called, ‘Come in’.

He entered the room with a bright smile on his face. He asked Adam, ‘Is your sister about?’

‘No. she went out. Something about more teabags.’

Rafferty nodded and decided Caroline Templeton would wait till the next day. ‘Just to let you know we're leaving now. Let you have some peace and quiet.’

‘Ha,’ said Alice Pickford ‘Not much chance of peace with a murderer in the house.’ She looked daggers at Adam who paled noticeably, but didn't defend himself. It took his twin to do that..

‘Aunt Alice has got it into her head that Adam's the murderer, inspector.’ Eric gave a short laugh. ‘On the basis of no evidence whatsoever. Please put her straight or she'll have Adam believing he did it.’

‘As you say, sir, there's no evidence against anyone yet.’

‘There you are, Auntie,’ said Eric.

‘I don't care what anyone says. I won't be happy until he's out of the house. Why can't you go back to your own home?’ she flung at Adam. ‘I don't know what you're still doing here.’ She turned to Eric. ‘Or you. Surely they can go home now?’ she demanded of Rafferty. ‘It's time to get back to normal.’

‘I did explain to your great-nephews and niece that they were free to go home if they so wished. I just wanted them here for my own convenience. But if, as you say, you would be happier if they left, then I have no objection.’

‘Good.’ She turned to Adam. ‘So what are you waiting for? Why don't you get packed and get going?’

‘Auntie.’ It was Penelope who objected this time. ‘Might I remind you that this is now
my
house. And these are my children. They'll always be welcome here and for as long as they want, too.’

Alice Pickford subsided, muttering. Rafferty left them to it. It was up to them what they did or did not do. But he hoped they stayed, if only to accuse one another of murder. It could be revelatory.

The
day had somehow turned into early evening. Another day with little achieved, thought Rafferty. Desultorily, he read the reports that were still coming in while Llewellyn typed up the statements. But there was nothing there. Swearing briefly, he told Llewellyn he was going down to see the superintendent.

All was quiet on the first floor where Superintendent Bradley had his lair. His secretary had long since gone home. Rafferty strode across the room with its filing cabinets neatly lined up and everything tidied away, to the superintendent's door and knocked.

‘Come.’

‘Chance ‘ud be a fine thing,’ Rafferty muttered to himself as he pushed the door open.

Bradley looked up from the single sheet of paper that marred it's otherwise pristine surface. ‘Ah. Rafferty. There you are. What's been happening?’

Rafferty outlined the run of the day's interviews.

‘This Adam seems a shifty character. You said even his own great aunt thinks he did it.’

Rafferty nodded. ‘But there's no evidence against him, barring a cocaine habit and the propensity to forge his grannie's cheques.’

‘And what about the gambling debts you mentioned?’ He didn't wait for Rafferty to say anything, but went on. ‘Things seem to be stacking up against that young man. Then you said he's homosexual?’

Rafferty nodded again.

‘And grannie didn't know?

‘I'm not sure, sir. She might have done’. Though why that would cause him to murder the housekeeper…

‘Might have. Might not have as well. I can't see a woman of ninety having the same view of homosexuality as you or me, Rafferty. Against the law, you know, when she was a girl. Against the law when she was middle-aged, too. No, not too likely to get involved in Gay Pride marches. Could certainly have risked Adam Chamber's inheritance if she found out about it and this Alice Pickford you mentioned seemed spiteful enough to tell her. Embittered spinster. No kids or grandchildren of her own. Reckon there was enough spleen there for her to tell the old woman about Adam's sexuality?’

After listening at the door and hearing Alice Pickford's denunciation of her own great nephew, Rafferty nodded ‘But, having said that, the old lady was far from a fool. I think it's just as likely that she had figured it out herself and kept her own counsel. Adam was her favourite grandchild. I think she'd have forgiven him a lot.’

‘Even denying her great-grandchildren? That takes a lot of forgiving. Old people are very into continuing the line. That's all a lot of them think about, particularly if they've led an undistinguished life. It's a sort of consolation.’

‘But Sophia Egerton had a very successful life. She took her husband's lacklustre fashion firm and made it into a world-class operation.’

Bradley scoffed. ‘Since when did you become a fashion guru? No. Mark my words. The continuation of the family line was important to her. She'll have wanted to see the next link in the chain before she died. What was that you said about Oscar Wilde?’

‘That it was a possibility that Adam Chambers would take a wife and continue with his men friends on the side so that he could produce his gran's longed-for great-grandchild.’

‘And is there any sign that this is on the cards?’

‘No.’ Rafferty felt he had to defend Adam, God knew why. ‘But he had no more opportunity to kill than any of the other suspects.’

‘But they didn't have whopping great gambling debts. Or a secret homosexuality. Or a criminal record. Or a drug habit. No, I think we–’

‘They might have had the latter, sir. Any of them.’

Superintendent Bradley didn't appreciate being interrupted. He waved his hand to dismiss Rafferty's words. ‘If you've got a suspect who continues to come into the frame, there's a reason. I want you to concentrate your resources on Chambers. I want his life turned upside-down. School record. College record. Work record. Personal life. Whatever you can get. And I want it soon. Sophia Egerton was something of an icon in this town, coming from nothing as she did. She was greatly admired and a lot of important people want her killer caught. I need something to get the press off my back. You'd better find it, Rafferty. Do I make myself clear? That's all.’