Night Fall (5 page)

‘Except for the timing,' Paget pointed out. ‘I mean if Billy was walking home just after eleven, and if Trudy is telling the truth about the time she and her husband got home and went to bed, the opportunity would be gone.'

‘Any chance that his wife could have been in on it, and is lying about the time?'

‘I think her grief was genuine when Billy's father broke the news,' said Paget. ‘And what would be her motive? From what I saw, she didn't want the relationship to stop. No, I'm sure the news of Billy's death came as a complete surprise. If it was Gordon Mason, I'm sure he acted alone.'

Tregalles nodded. ‘It's a motive all right,' he agreed. ‘All that time on the road, thinking about another bloke banging his wife every time he goes away, especially one who's ten or fifteen years younger than her. I can see him getting pretty worked up about it. But why take him all the way out to the Lessington Cut and carve an A in his forehead, for God's sake? Unless it's A for adulterer, do you think?'

‘That might make more sense if it was his wife who was killed,' Paget said. ‘But you're right about the Lessington Cut. It would mean being out of the house for several hours, and I don't think he could count on his wife not waking up at some point during that time.'

Early as Paget and Tregalles were that morning, Len Ormside, fresh back from holidays, was there ahead of them. They found the grizzled sergeant hunched over his desk, with a steaming mug of coffee beside him, reading the statements gathered over the weekend.

‘Coffee . . .?' he offered when he saw Paget.

‘Thanks but no thanks, Len,' said Paget. You needed a strong stomach to take Ormside's coffee first thing in the morning. ‘How was the holiday?'

‘It was all right. The wife enjoyed it,' the sergeant said, ‘but I'm glad to be back at work. You've been busy while I was gone, haven't you?' He indicated the statements in front of him. ‘Not much to go on, though, is there? What about this bloke Mason? I've heard of some odd things in this job, but I've never heard of a bloke going along with the idea of his wife having a toy boy on call while he was away.'

‘That's what we're led to believe,' Paget told him. ‘Tregalles and I were just discussing him on our way in, and he is a suspect, but I have the feeling the motive for this killing is more complicated than a jealous husband. This wasn't some random or spur-of-the-moment killing; this was planned. Someone went to a great deal of trouble to snatch Billy Travis off the street and kill him in a particular way.'

‘Looks that way to me, too,' Ormside said. ‘I've looked at the copy of the CCTV tape Forsythe brought in and there's no sign of Travis on it, so it looks as if the killer got to him before he got that far. This chap Grayson and the others who were at the meeting, would know Billy Travis would be walking home alone, so they're all suspects as far as I'm concerned, and we'll be digging into their backgrounds as well. Grayson's got form, but that was at the beginning of the 'nineties. He was arrested during the Poll Tax riots for defacing a public building, and for being in possession of a controlled substance, but that was twenty years ago and we've had nothing on him since. As for the others, we'll have to see. But there's something . . . I don't know . . . something not exactly
local
about this killing, if you know what I mean? Specially with that A carved in his forehead. Find out what that means, and we'll have our killer.'

Paget raised a quizzical eyebrow as he looked at Ormside. ‘Just what time
did
you come in this morning, Len?' he asked.

Ormside shrugged. ‘Not all that early,' he said, ‘but when Tregalles rang me last evening to put me in the picture, I popped in for a couple of hours. Well . . .' he continued defensively as Paget continued to look at him, ‘I didn't want to come in cold this morning. I knew there'd be more than enough to do without me having to waste time catching up, and Forsythe was here, so she helped fill me in.'

‘I appreciate that,' Paget told him, ‘but really, Len . . . I mean, just back from your holidays? What did your wife have to say about that?'

‘After two weeks in a caravan together, she was glad to see the back of me,' Ormside said. ‘Not that it wasn't good to get away for a change, but a week would have been enough. The rain that second week wasn't much help, either, so I think we were both happy to come home.'

The door opened and Molly Forsythe came in carrying a bottle of orange juice and a sandwich wrapped in a paper napkin. Knowing the sort of day it was likely to be, and that Ormside would most likely be at his desk, she had left the flat without stopping for breakfast. She was followed by several others, who filled their coffee mugs from the urn in the far corner of the room before moving on. Normally they would have lingered to talk about their weekend, but with Paget there, they cut the Monday morning ritual short and settled in behind their desks.

The door opened once again, and a woman entered. It seemed that everyone knew instinctively who the newcomer was, and conversation died. She stood there for a moment, pausing to look round. Tall and slim, she wore a plain white blouse, straight skirt of navy blue, and matching jacket, loosely open. Her hair, short and closely styled, was brown, and the eyes that met and held those of Paget were grey.

Amanda Pierce . . .
Detective Superintendent
Amanda Pierce, Paget reminded himself, and his new boss. He had been expecting her, yet her appearance still managed to surprise him. Thirty-nine years old, and she was still a very attractive woman. A little fuller in the face, perhaps, but still as trim and fit as he remembered. The sight of her brought back memories. Twelve years . . . He drew a deep breath, trying not to be too obvious about it as he stepped forward and said, ‘Superintendent Pierce. Welcome to Charter Lane.'

Amanda Pierce acknowledged the invitation with a nod and a somewhat guarded smile, and said, ‘Thank you, Chief Inspector. Am I too late for the briefing on the Travis case? If not, I would like to sit in, if I may?'

‘Of course. But first, perhaps I could take a couple of minutes to introduce you to everyone here?' He was trying to strike the right note, but he knew the words sounded stiff and formal.

‘Of course. I would appreciate that very much, Chief Inspector,' she said.

Beginning with Ormside, Paget led her around the room, and in each case the superintendent was the first to extend her hand and repeat the name. Each response was stiff, bordering on the awkward, but Amanda Pierce pretended not to notice. She paused in front of the whiteboards and looked at the information and the pictures posted there, then turned to Ormside. ‘I understand you've just returned from holidays, Sergeant. Too bad you had to come back to this.'

Clearly taken by surprise, Ormside flashed a questioning glance at Paget, who shrugged and shook his head. ‘I might say the same about you, Ma'am,' Ormside blurted. ‘Coming in at a time like this, I mean.'

Amanda Pierce smiled tightly. ‘Not quite the way I would have preferred to start,' she agreed, ‘but neither of us have much choice, do we?' She turned to Paget. ‘Now, if you would like to start the briefing, I'll sit at the back and listen. And when you're free, please come to see me in the office, and we can get started on the handover.'

The briefing didn't take long, so it was less than half an hour later when Paget followed Superintendent Pierce upstairs to her new office. Fiona was on the phone, but she threw Paget a questioning, almost pleading glance as he went by. He nodded reassuringly. Fiona was worried about her job. Senior officers who had become accustomed to working with a particular secretary sometimes brought the person they favoured with them when they moved to another job or were promoted, and Fiona was afraid that her job could be in jeopardy.

Once inside the office, Amanda Pierce waved Paget to a seat, then closed the door and sat down behind the desk to face him. She sat there for a moment, not quite sure how to begin. She'd prepared herself for this moment – at least she thought she had, but now, sitting here facing him, what seemed like a lifetime of memories tumbled through her head. He looked older, but then he was: twelve years older, and the lines around his mouth were deeper. His eyes were sharper than she remembered, but perhaps that was because he was facing her across a desk where he thought he should be sitting.

‘First,' she said quietly, ‘I would like you to know that I had no idea I would be in competition with you when I put my name in for this job, and in that sense I'm sorry it turned out this way. I know how it must look to you. Here we are competing on the same level; you should have had the inside track because you're familiar with the system and you're qualified for the job. However, I know as well as you do that I was chosen because pressure was coming from the local police authority to move a woman into a senior position. Your chief constable . . . I suppose I should say
our
chief constable, as good as told me so in that rather patronizing way of his.

‘But the point I'm trying to make, Neil, is that I am qualified. I've worked damned hard to get where I am, but everything here is new to me, so I'm hoping we can work together and put the past behind us. I know what you must think of me, and I don't expect you to change your views, but if working together is going to be a problem, then I would like to know that now.'

‘Put the past behind us?' Paget repeated softly, and shook his head. ‘If only it were that easy,' he said quietly. ‘But it isn't, is it, Amanda? You weren't there to see what your leaving did to Matthew, and what his death did to Jill, but I was.' He shook his head again. ‘No, I'm sorry, Amanda, but I can't erase that memory from my mind.'

The muscles around Amanda's mouth tightened. ‘I don't expect you to believe me,' she said quietly, ‘but I had no choice. It was the only way.'

‘If that was the case, then an explanation would have been nice. If you'd even come to the funeral . . .'

‘I was at Jill's funeral,' she said quickly. ‘I just didn't stay. I was told you were in hospital. The shock . . .?'

‘That wasn't the funeral I was referring to,' Paget said coldly. He was about to say more, but held back. What was the point? Whether he liked it or not, they were going to be working together, so they would have to make the best of it. He was prepared to do that on a professional level, and so, probably, was Amanda. But on a personal level . . .?
That
was something else again.

‘As far as the job's concerned,' he said carefully, ‘you will have my full cooperation and I won't let you down, so let's leave it at that, shall we?'

‘I can live with that,' Amanda said stiffly, ‘and I'll do my best to work with you and your team. However . . .' Her voice hardened and the lines around her mouth deepened. ‘I want to make one thing very clear. I'm well aware that I'm coming into what might be called a hostile environment, and I'm very much aware that there will be resentment. I could feel it downstairs as I went around this morning. I know you have quite a following, and I understand that. But this job will be hard enough without having to worry about people undermining me, so I want you to understand that if I do find anything like that going on, I won't hesitate to deal with it. Is that understood?'

Paget's eyes were icy as they met those of Amanda Pierce. ‘Understood,' he said. ‘So where would you like to start?'

Molly Forsythe put on her seat belt and checked the address once more. One of the men at Ted Grayson's house on Friday had been out when she called round yesterday, but his wife had suggested that Molly catch him at work today.

She repeated the address to herself as she set off, but her mind was already drifting to other things that had been bothering her for days.

Molly had been a sergeant now for exactly two weeks. She'd been over the moon when she'd first heard the news of her promotion, and the next few days had gone by in a sort of blurred euphoria. But more and more, these past few days, her thoughts had turned to David Chen and what the future might have in store for each of them.

David was the nephew of Dr Starkie's wife, Ellen, and he'd just returned from a three-year stint with Doctors Without Borders when she met him. They'd hit it off immediately, and when David said he was considering taking a job in Broadminster hospital, Molly was thrilled at the prospect.

But suddenly everything changed. David's ex-wife, Meilan, living in Hong Kong with their daughter, Lijuan, had been seriously injured in a traffic accident on her way to work, and David had flown to Hong Kong to join his daughter at her mother's bedside, arriving only hours before Meilan died.

Once the funeral was over, and conscious of the fact that the offer of a job in Broadminster would not remain open indefinitely, his immediate reaction was return to England to make arrangements for his daughter to come back to live with him. But once there he began to have second thoughts. Lijuan, he told Molly, had been born in England, but after spending the last six years in Hong Kong with her mother and maternal grandmother, he wondered how fair it would be to take her away from everything she knew to start afresh in England.

‘I know she's happy there,' he said. ‘Her friends are there; she enjoys school and she's doing well. And she and her grandmother are very close. I'd like to have her come and live with me, but it would mean that she would have to leave everything and everyone she's known for the past six years, and I really don't know how well she would adjust to a totally different lifestyle. England's changed since she was here before. I've only been away for three years, but I notice it, and I'm not sure it's for the better. And fourteen is such a critical age. What do you think, Molly?'

She hadn't known what to say, but David was looking at her so hopefully that she felt she had to say something. ‘I'm afraid that's one decision that only you and Lijuan can make,' she'd said. ‘From what you've told me, your daughter sounds like a very level-headed girl, and I'm wondering if it wouldn't be better to give her some time to get used to the fact that her mother is gone before making a decision of any kind. Then sit down with her and talk it through. I know how much you would like your daughter with you; that's only natural, but it's
her
life and her future that will be affected most of all.'