Night Fall (3 page)

B
ucknell Street was in one of the oldest parts of town. It was a narrow street of terraced houses, beginning at King George Way and ending at Church Lane, where half a dozen houses had been converted into shops.
G. Travis & Son, Photographers – Weddings – Portraits – Passports
, was the third shop from the corner, and DS Molly Forsythe was waiting for him by her car when Paget arrived. This was not what she'd been planning for the weekend, and to make matters worse, she had just begun to wash her hair when Tregalles rang. Her hair was short, but even so a bare five minutes with the hairdryer was not enough, and it still felt damp and stringy against her scalp.

‘Tregalles fill you in, did he?' Paget enquired as she joined him.

‘He did, sir. Sounded pretty gruesome. Is it true that the victim had the letter A carved in his forehead?'

‘I'm afraid it is,' Paget told her as he led the way across the pavement to the door of the shop, ‘but keep that bit of information to yourself. I've given instructions that it's not to be released.'

The shop window was small, the glass needed a good cleaning, the paint on the sill and surrounding woodwork was peeling, and the pictures on display looked as if they had been there for a long time. The sign on the door said
Open
.

The shop was empty, but a buzzer sounded somewhere in the back, so Paget went to the counter and waited. There were pictures on the walls: weddings, portraits of children, dramatic head-and-shoulders close-ups, but while they were very well done, Paget had the feeling that they were from a distant age, and he couldn't help wondering how a business such as this had managed to survive in the electronic age where almost every gadget could take pictures, and software made everyone an artist.

A curtain behind the counter was swept aside and a grey-haired man appeared. His face was lined and he walked stiffly with the aid of two canes, but he greeted Paget and Molly with a smile and a cheerful ‘Good morning, and what can I do for you today?' He perched himself on a stool and hung the two canes on the edge of the counter.

Paget introduced himself and Molly, then held up his warrant card for inspection. ‘And you are Mr Travis, are you?' he asked.

The man frowned. ‘That's right,' he said cautiously. ‘I'm George Travis. Why do you want to know?'

‘And your son is William Travis?' Paget wanted to be absolutely sure he was talking to the right man before telling him his son was dead.

The look on Travis's face turned to one of concern. ‘Billy? Yes. Why, what's happened? Is he hurt? Has he been in an accident?'

‘I'm afraid it's more serious than that, Mr Travis,' Paget said quietly. ‘I'm sorry to have to tell you that your son Billy was killed earlier this morning.'

Travis sucked in his breath. ‘Killed . . .?' he whispered. ‘How? . . . Where? . . . What happened? You
sure
it's Billy?'

Paget took out Billy Travis's driving licence and handed it to his father. George Travis took it, hands shaking as he stared at it. ‘Car, was it?' he asked numbly. ‘Where is he?'

Choosing his words carefully, Paget began to explain what had happened, but when he mentioned the Lessington Cut, George Travis shook his head violently and said, ‘No! That's not right. That can't be Billy. What would he be doing out there at the Cut? You've got it wrong.' He thrust the driving licence back into Paget's hand. ‘Someone else got hold of his licence. They must have. It's not Billy. He went to the society meeting last night, so how could he get out there?'

‘I don't know the answer to that,' Paget told him, ‘but one of our constables has known Billy since he was a boy, and he identified him as well. I'm truly sorry, Mr Travis, but it is your son who was killed, and while I know this is the worst possible time, I need to ask you some questions.'

George Travis started to shake. The tremors became so violent that Paget came around the counter to steady him. No sound escaped the man's lips, but he clung to Paget for support, and his fingers dug so deeply into Paget's shoulder that the marks were visible for days afterwards.

They stood like that for several minutes before the shaking stopped and Travis drew a deep if shaky breath. ‘I'm all right,' he said in a firmer voice. ‘Really, Chief Inspector, I'm all right. You said you wanted to ask me some questions, so you'd better come through to the back.'

He rose to his feet and grasped the two canes to steady himself, then lifted one of them to point it at the shop door. ‘Better put up the closed sign and lock the door,' he told Molly. ‘Last thing we need right now is a customer coming in.' He twitched the curtain aside and led the way into the back room. ‘Coffee's been on for a while now, so it might be a bit strong, but you're welcome to some if you like. I know I need it, and the stronger the better.' In control of himself now, there was a grim determination about the man as he led the way past the framing tables to a small room beyond.

‘I went to bed about ten,' he said as he busied himself with the coffee, ‘so I didn't know Billy hadn't come home until I got up this morning. I thought there must have been a change of plan, and he'd stayed over at Trudy's after all. Trudy Mason is his girlfriend,' he explained. ‘She lives around the corner. Gordon, her husband, is on the road a lot, and Billy stops there overnight when he's away.'

Paget and Molly Forsythe exchanged glances, both wondering if they had heard correctly. ‘A change of plan, Mr Travis . . .?' said Paget.

Travis nodded. ‘Billy told me Gordon was going to be home this weekend, so he wouldn't be going round, but when I saw he hadn't slept in his bed, I thought things must have changed.'

‘I see,' said Paget, although he wasn't sure he did see. ‘How long has this arrangement been going on?'

Travis thought. ‘Two, maybe three years now.'

‘Does Trudy's husband know about this?'

‘Christ, no! And I've warned Billy there could be trouble if he finds out, but he doesn't listen. He won't be told—' The words caught in his throat as he realized what he was saying. He sat down heavily and set his coffee aside. ‘Do you reckon it was him? Gordon? Came home and found them together?'

It was a possibility. A jealous husband coming home unexpectedly to find his wife in bed with another man. It had certainly happened before. But Paget still held the image of Billy Travis's broken body in his mind's eye, and he couldn't see a jealous husband going to those lengths no matter how enraged he might be. ‘We don't know, Mr Travis,' said Paget, ‘but we'll be doing everything in our power to find out who did this. You said Billy went to a society meeting last night? What society was that?'

‘Photographic society,' Travis said. ‘Well, they call it that, but it's really just a bunch of people who like to get together at Ted Grayson's house on Thurston Street. Grayson used to be one of the top photographers around here. He's retired now, but he still keeps his hand in.'

‘I'll need his address. And that of Trudy Mason as well.'

‘I can tell you where Grayson lives,' said Travis, ‘but I don't think it would be a good idea to go round to Trudy's, not if Gordon's home. But I can get her to come round here if you like. Let me give her a bell.' Before Paget could object, Travis took a phone from his pocket and punched in a number.

‘Don't say anything about Billy's death,' Paget warned.

Travis stared at him blankly for a moment, then swallowed hard and nodded. ‘Trude . . .?' he said into the phone. ‘George. Are you alone?' He listened for a few moments, then said, ‘Good, because I've got a bit of a problem and I need your help. Could you pop round here now? It's important. Right. Good girl. See you in a few minutes then.'

He put down the phone and looked at Molly. ‘Better go to the door to let her in,' he instructed. ‘She only lives round the corner, so she'll be here in a couple of minutes.'

Trudy Mason turned out to be something of a surprise. Paget had expected her to be about the same age as Billy, but this woman had to be in her middle forties if not older. Small, a bit on the plump side, she wasn't beautiful or even what one might call good looking, but there was a vitality about her that Paget found compelling. It was her eyes, he decided. Dark, almost mischievous eyes, and the way her mouth crinkled at the corners when she smiled. But Trudy Mason wasn't smiling now; her eyes were red with weeping. ‘I can't believe it,' she said for perhaps the fifth time. ‘I mean, how could that happen to Billy?'

‘That is what we're trying to find out,' Paget told her, ‘so tell me, when was the last time you saw Billy?'

‘Thursday dinner time,' she said promptly. ‘Saw him in the street and told him Gordon would be home for the weekend, so he'd know not to come.'

‘And your husband did come home?'

‘That's right.'

‘When did he arrive?'

Trudy thought. ‘Must have been about six or maybe a bit after,' she said. ‘He's a long-distance lorry driver and he was just back from Antwerp yesterday afternoon. He'll be off again come Monday.'

‘He was with you all last evening?'

‘That's right.'

‘Did you go out at all?'

‘We went round to Gordon's mum's for about an hour to pick up some chutney she'd made for him. I'm not all that fond of it myself, but he loves the stuff. Takes it with him on his trips.'

‘What time would that be?'

‘Eight, maybe a bit later. Can't say exactly.'

‘And you stayed about an hour. Did you come straight home?'

‘Stopped at the Three Crowns on the way back. Stayed till about eleven, then came home.'

‘Did you or your husband go out again?'

‘Not till this morning, no. He went off with his mates just before George rang. Why do you want to know all this?'

‘He's wondering if it was Gordon who killed Billy,' Travis said quietly.

Trudy's eyes opened wide. ‘Gordon? Kill Billy? Why would he. He likes Billy. Besides, he never went out. He was at home with me all night. That's ridiculous!'

‘He
likes
Billy?' Paget echoed. ‘Would he like him as much if he found out Billy was sleeping with you when he's out of town? It seems to me he would have good reason to go after him. And I must warn you, Mrs Mason, if you're protecting him, it could mean very serious consequences for you.'

But Trudy Mason was shaking her head. ‘You don't understand,' she said, ‘so I suppose I'd better explain. Just don't tell Billy, George, because—' The words died on her lips and her hands flew to her mouth. Tears welled in her eyes once again. ‘It was a game,' she said shakily. ‘Well, sort of a game.' Trudy paused to dab at her eyes and blow her nose. ‘Gordon knows about me and Billy; he has done from the very beginning.'

She turned to face Travis. ‘Remember that accident four years ago, George, when Gordon was laid up for the best part of six months? Smashed himself up when he went off the road trying to avoid a kid who ran out in front of him,' she explained for Paget's benefit. ‘Did a lot of damage, that did. Pinned inside the cab for four hours before they were able to get him out. They fixed him up all right, well mostly. Enough for him to go back to driving and that, but not so good on the home front, if you know what I mean. Like he's never been able to . . . well, you know . . . get it up since then.'

‘He's impotent?' said Paget.

‘That's it. But I'm not. Impotent, I mean in a manner of speaking, and Gordon always felt guilty about that. I mean, I still love Gordon and he loves me, but it did put a bit of a strain on things with him not being able to . . . like I said. So when I met Billy, and we got on so well together, I asked Gordon if he was all right with me and Billy getting together every once in a while. To relieve the tension, as you might say.'

Trudy Mason turned back to Travis. ‘You know how it was with Billy before that, don't you, George?' she said softly. ‘He'd never had a real girlfriend; I was his first. I know it's hard to believe, but he told me he'd never had sex before, and I believed him, so it was doing him good as well as me. But I didn't want to go behind Gordon's back, so I explained the way it was, and he agreed.'

Trudy made a face. ‘To be honest, Gordon did have a bit of trouble with it at first,' she admitted, ‘but he came round in the end. Actually, I think he was relieved in a way, because he didn't have to feel guilty any more. But he did insist on us having a couple of rules. He never wanted to see the two of us together when he came home, at least not in that way, and I wasn't to tell Billy that Gordon knew. Which was all right with me, because as long as Billy thought we were meeting in secret, it kept him excited. And, to be honest, with me being a good ten years older than him, I wanted it to stay that way.' She bit her lower lip hard as she fought back the tears. ‘God! But I'm going to miss him,' she whispered. ‘Who in his right mind would do something like that to Billy of all people?'

Billy's bedroom was at the back of the house. It was quite a large room with a ceiling that sloped towards a narrow window overlooking the back yards of the terraced houses in the next street. The linoleum on the floor was old, and it crackled beneath Paget's feet as he moved to the centre of the room, then paused to look around and mentally catalogue the furniture.

Billy's bed, neatly made, faced them from across the room. The wall above it was covered in pictures: everything from still life to street scenes and landscapes. Pictures of bicycles, cars, a woman hanging out washing on a line, two men loading or unloading a removals van. There were close-ups of small children, of a young couple holding hands, and the faces of old people with wrinkled necks and weathered hands.