Screaming Yellow (31 page)

“Well, when we finished eating I gave him the money I’d drawn out for him. He said it wasn’t enough so I made a phone call to my solicitor and she lent me the money.”

“At that time of night?” White frowned. “That doesn’t sound likely.”

Susan took a card from her wallet. “It’s Isaacs and Du Pointe’s on Market Street. Ms. du Point only works at night, though she has staff during the day.”

“Why would a solicitor lend you money? I’ve never heard of solicitors lending money to their clients before.”

Meinwen coughed. “I think I know the answer to that one. She lent it to you against your inheritance, didn’t she?” She looked at the business card. It did indeed specify night hours.

Susan didn’t even look surprised this time. “That’s right. Mum didn’t have much in the way of money, less than twelve thousand in fact, but she did own two houses outright.” She smiled weakly at Meinwen. “I’m your new landlady, I’m afraid.”

White gestured with his pen. “Wait a minute. Are you telling me you’re Grace Peters’s daughter?”

“That’s exactly what she’s saying.” Meinwen picked up the solicitor’s card and used it to emphasize her points. “She bought a house in Birmingham with her husband John in nineteen eighty-one and they had Jack in nineteen eighty-five.” She looked at Susan for confirmation, who nodded. “Susan left in nineteen eighty-seven.”

Susan nodded. “Rover made John redundant. It had been touch and go with the Longbridge plant for years, what with their ownership changing regularly, but they’d always kept him on until then. We used part of his redundancy to pay off the mortgage but he squandered the rest and turned to drinking. He got violent afterward and when he broke my arm I knew I had to leave.”

“Why did you leave your son behind?”

“He said he’d let me go if I left Jack.” Susan looked into the middle distance. “I wanted to take him, but he threatened to hunt us down if I did.” She shrugged. “He was always a good father and I wasn’t afraid on Jack’s behalf so I let him keep him.” Her eyes caught Meinwen’s. “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I was right to do it.”

Meinwen chewed her lip. “So you moved in with your mam, changed your name back to Susan Pargeter and started a new life.”

“That’s right. Mum had remarried as well. Dad died during the Falklands War. Henry was a charmer. I wasn’t surprised she fell in love with him. I stayed there for ten years until I met Robert and took on the role of nanny for Richard. Not that he needed it. Richard was an independent ten year old when I met him, almost resentful of the fact I had some of Robert’s attention.”

White tapped his notebook with his pencil. “Let’s get back to last Tuesday for a minute. You left your son, Jack Rogers, and went to this solicitor–”

“Gillian du Pointe.”

“Yes. Why was Jack looking for The Larches? Why didn’t he just go with you or meet you back at the train station.”

“I had to get back to work. Robert was in the habit of working at night and needed me to type up his files for him. Jack was in no hurry, so he said he’d meet me back there for the money before going home. I gave him the directions but he must have got lost. I met him back at the house at twenty past nine, we said our goodbyes and he left.”

“Did you run after him?”

Susan nodded. “I did, actually. I wanted to ask him for his email address.”

Meinwen nodded. “Then it was you Peter saw when he came back from the pub.”

White smiled. “Thank you, Ms. Pargeter. Assuming the restaurant and Ms. du Pointe confirm your visits that will be both your alibis confirmed.”

Susan nodded. “Thank you. You will keep this secret, won’t you? I wouldn’t like my past generally known.”

“Of course.” It was Meinwen’s turn to smile. “You can be assured of my discretion.”

“I appreciate that.” Susan stood.

“Just one more thing.”

Susan turned again. “Yes?”

“Why did you give your mother the heroin?”

* * * *

Jean Markhew whacked Nicole’s croquet ball into the bushes and used the free shot to nudge hers into the finishing post. She grinned at the three other players. “My game, I think. I’ll have to devise your forfeits.”

She motioned to the maid. “Amanda? Collect up the set. You can leave the hoops out but the balls and mallets need to be put away.”

“What about the yellow, ma’am?”

“The yellow? Oh, Nicole’s.” She stared at the secretary. “She can fetch that one herself.”

* * * *

Even the inspector looked surprised. “What heroin?”

Susan slumped back into her chair. “How did you know?”

“Your mother had heroin in her system. She was being blackmailed and wouldn’t have dared to ask Father Brande for it. Her only other regular visitor was her daughter. You were the only one she could ask.”

Susan nodded. “Yes, I gave it to her and showed her how to use it. She wouldn’t tell me who the blackmailer was, though, in case they came after me. She was at her wits’ end and terrified of the truth coming out. She felt killing herself was the only way out. What could I do but help her?” Susan began to cry and Meinwen handed her a silk cloth. “I didn’t help her do it or anything, just got her the packet of drugs.”

Meinwen held out a hand to stifle White’s questions. “Why did she kill her husband?”

Susan looked up, the tears stopping as anger flashed to the surface. “Henry abused her. When I left he began to resent the way she didn’t keep the house as clean as I did, or the washing wasn’t done on time, or she didn’t cook as well as I had. He began by just being cruel to her. Turning off the television when she was watching something or refusing to take her out in the car. By the time she killed him she was black and blue almost constantly. He broke her leg and her arm. It was always an accident but I recognized the signs. She just couldn’t take it anymore.”

“So she strangled him.”

“More like she let him strangle himself. She made the knot in his rope self tightening.”

White coughed. “Henry Peters died from auto-asphyxiation. He came and went, as it were.”

Meinwen grimaced.

Susan clenched her teeth. “She was right to do it. I’d support anyone in the same situation.”

Meinwen put her hand one the woman’s knee. “Thank you for being honest with us.”

White stood and helped her up. “Where did you get the heroin, Ms. Pargeter? From your son?”

Susan looked at him. “You’d never prove it. He doesn’t use it and he doesn’t deal in it. He just knew someone who knew someone.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Meinwen shot a warning glance at White. “He won’t be arrested, will he, Inspector?”

* * * *

Meinwen locked the shop. “This investigation has cost me a week’s work. Is there any chance I can claim for loss of earnings?”

“Nope.” White walked on in silence until Meinwen caught up. “I’ll buy you a meal when we close the case. How about that?”

“Sounds like I’m not going to get a better offer.” Meinwen laughed. “Fish and chips on the beach?”

“I can do fish and chips on the edge of the boating lake.” White grinned. “I should prosecute for the drugs, you know.”

“Does it really matter?” Meinwen asked. “Neither of them are users or dealers and Grace Peters is past caring. Concentrate on the blackmailer and the killer instead.”

“I suppose.” White walked on a little. “I wish I’d known.”

“About what?”

“About Henry Peters. I’d have had his hide.”

Meinwen shook her head. “The trouble with domestic abuse is that the abused don’t think there’s anyone to turn to for help.”

“But there is. It’s part of my job.”

Meinwen nodded. “It’s a funny thing but battered wives rarely want to get their husbands into trouble. They love them, see.”

* * * *

The crack of a whip sounded like gunfire as it echoed from the walls of the white-painted house. Jean Markhew tested it again, first an overhand then a circular over-the-head crack, pulling the leather body of the single tail back to wrap like a strand of DNA around her body as it came to rest.

Nicole flinched. The whip hadn’t touched her, not yet, but she knew this was going to hurt. The trunk of the beech tree felt rough against her naked arms and breasts, though Jean had allowed her to retain her black skirt and boots in an uncharacteristic gesture of public decency.

Not that there were any public present. The long garden was walled with hedges and trees, and no other houses overlooked the secluded lawn and specimen beech tree.

“Are you ready?” Jean’s voice sounded too close for the four-foot whip. Nicole shook her head. “Yellow.”

Jean tutted. “You can’t safe-word before I’ve done anything. How would I trust you to safe-word when it hurts unbearably if you cry yellow before I’ve even started?”

“Sorry, Mistress.” Nicole sniffed. “I hate whips. Always have.”

“For now.” Nicole could hear the smile in her voice. “Don’t safe-word until you mean it. Shout, cry, scream all you like, but don’t safe-word unless you have to.”

Nicole nodded and Jean began with dog-tailing, a movement of the whip from side to side. No crack and hardly any sting, the frayed end of the cracker danced lightly across Nicole’s back.

She closed her eyes. Perhaps whips weren’t as scary as she’d thought.

* * * *

The email from Hertfordshire Constabulary stood out at the top of the list flagged as important. Meinwen smiled as she read it. Sergeant Peters was a good man. She clicked “print” and logged in to chat.

Scribe: Jennifer? Are you online?

Cacoethes: Yes? I’m writing, so I can’t chat.

Scribe: Oh, okay. Just wanted to pass on the news.

Cacoethes: What news?

Scribe: LOL I thought you were busy.

Cacoethes: Not anymore! Spill!

Scribe: I just spoke to Inspector White…

Cacoethes: Yes?

Scribe: He says that they’ve found Richard Godwin.

Cacoethes: Really? Where?

Scribe: Trying to board the Eurostar. They’ve arrested him.

Cacoethes: Oh God! Did he do it then?

Scribe: They think so. I’ll let you know if I get more details.

Cacoethes: Do!

Scribe: Good night.

Scribe has logged off

Cacoethes: Shygirl23? Are you there?

Chapter 29

Inspector White jumped when his phone rang and glanced at the clock on the mantlepiece. The television was showing a program for teenagers who should, since it was almost midnight, have been in bed long ago. He blinked himself into consciousness and pressed “answer.”

“Ms. Jones? Do you know what time it is?”

“Half-eleven. Listen! I need you to announce you’ve caught Richard. It’ll provoke the murderer into doing something rash.”

“But we haven’t caught him yet.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m sure I can find him. Say you caught him boarding the Eurostar to Paris or something.”

He frowned. “I’m not sure that’s ethical… Well, all right. I’m willing to play along with it. I’ll tell the duty staff.”

He put the phone down and switched the television off. The cocoa Beryl had left him had gone cold long ago, leaving a thick skin on the top. White grimaced, spitting the mouthful back into the cup.

One phone call to the station then he was off to bed.

* * * *

Jennifer was waiting for him when Simon got up the next morning, pacing the length of the rectory hall. “They’ve caught Richard. You’ve got to do something about it, Simon. I know he’s innocent.”

Simon frowned. “How do you know he’s been caught? Who told you?”