The Nine Bright Shiners (6 page)

Inspector Bates came back into the room. ‘The theft of the wallets was reported on the first of November, Skip. Four were taken in all, but the odd thing is, the other three were returned soon afterwards, all with their contents intact. At Court Lane they'd written it off as a practical joke, and were expecting Mr Langley's to turn up as well.'

‘And so it has,' Webb said grimly. ‘Thanks, Inspector. Now, perhaps you and WDC Pierce will run Mrs Coverdale home.'

As the door closed behind them, Webb sighed, rubbing a hand across his face. ‘So there we are, Ken. Far from clearing things up, it's more incomprehensible than ever. And we don't even know who we've got down there. We'll have to check Missing Persons, but first let's jot down some random thoughts. Apart from the basics of establishing identity, we want to know (1) if the deceased was wearing his own clothes, and if he sewed on those sequins himself. Not to mention why. (2) If they
were
his clothes, he must have been down-and-out, so why the hell, having stolen the wallets, did he return three intact and not spend the fifty quid in Langley's? He must have hung on to it for seven weeks or more.'

‘If it was him that stole the wallets,' Jackson interrupted.

‘I was thinking, Guv, he couldn't have got into the squash club undetected, dressed like that.'

‘True, Ken, he couldn't. So if
he
didn't take them, we have to assume the killer did. Any thoughts on that?'

‘Seems a funny idea, pinching wallets when you don't need the money. I mean, what's the point?'

Webb ran his eye down the list of contents. ‘There was nothing else in this one except credit cards, and he left those, too. As you say, it doesn't make sense.'

‘And it's odd, what Mrs Coverdale said about the mummy. You reckon we were really supposed to work all that out from the bandage?'

Webb shrugged. ‘Seems pretty far-fetched. I'd never connected mummies with South America, so it meant damn-all to me.'

‘But if it
was
intentional, I suppose he knew someone connected with the Langleys would get the message.'

‘And that's another big question-mark. Why was he so anxious to make us think we'd got Edward Langley?'

Jackson said slowly, ‘He didn't try that hard, did he? OK, so there was the wallet and the bandage, but why the old clothes? Langley wouldn't have been seen dead in them.' He paused, realized what he'd said, and grinned sheepishly.

Webb said heavily, ‘Well, that's what we
don't
know. Let's cheer ourselves up by listing what we do. Not that there's much. According to Doc Stapleton, the water in the lungs was tap water, but not soapy – there were no bubbles. Which means our man wasn't taking a bath voluntarily. The bang on the back of his head would have knocked him out, then he must have been lugged to a bathroom somewhere, tipped into the bath and cold-bloodedly drowned.

‘Which, on reflection, makes it unlikely those were his own clothes. If he was dumped fully dressed in the bath, the killer wouldn't fancy carrying a dripping corpse out to the car and leaving a trail of water behind him. But why not dump him starkers? Why go to all the trouble of dressing him again? And where did the clothes come from? The killer would hardly be daft enough to use his own.' He made an impatient movement. ‘Let's leave the question-marks for the moment. Get the Control room to send a “Misper” message to all Forces. You've got his general description. We might get a lead from that.'

And they did. One Guy Marriott of Bayswater, London, age thirty-six, six-foot two, red-blond hair, blue eyes, was known to have intended visiting Broadshire on December 18th and had not been seen since. His girlfriend reported him missing at once, but the police had allowed two weeks before initiating inquiries, in case it had simply been a lovers' tiff. Webb pulled his phone towards him, dialled and spoke briefly into it.

‘OK, Ken, they'll bring his girlfriend over in the morning. Thank God it's been cold and dry the last fortnight. That and the shelter of the tree slowed down putrefaction, for which we can all be grateful.' He looked at his watch. ‘Nearly nine o'clock. We need our wits about us on this one, and today's gone on long enough. Of all the Mondays I've ever known, this one takes the biscuit! First thing in the morning we'll go out and look at the scene. We'll have time before they arrive from London, and it might give us something. In the meantime, let's call it a day.'

Jan could hear the phone ringing as she fought with rubbery fingers to fit the key in the lock.

‘Answer it for me, Ben,' she said breathlessly, as they all stepped inside. ‘But for heaven's sake don't open any doors till I've turned off the alarm.'

The police car, having waited till they were safely in the house, moved away.

‘It's Miles Cody,' Ben repeated, as she emerged from the meter cupboard where the alarm was located. ‘Is it all right to go in the library now?'

‘Just for five minutes, then bed.' She took the phone. ‘Hello, Miles.'

‘Janis! I got your message on the answer-phone and I've been trying to get you ever since. Wherever have you been?'

She leaned wearily against the wall. ‘I'm sorry, I shouldn't have bothered you, but I thought if –'

‘What's happened?'

‘I had to go to Shillingham to identify a body they thought was Edward's.' She heard her voice crack.

‘You
what
?' Then, without giving her time to repeat it, he said quickly, ‘It
wasn't
Edward, was it?'

‘No.' The single word sounded inadequate, but she couldn't think what to add.

‘Are you all right? You sound very shaky.'

‘It wasn't a very pleasant experience.'

‘Look – would you like me to come round for an hour or so? We could discuss it, and perhaps you'd feel better.'

‘Oh Miles, would you?' She felt weak with relief.

‘No problem. In half an hour's time?'

‘That would be fine. I've just got to settle the children.'

It was an effort to put the phone down and go through to the library. She was shaking both with cold and reaction, and her legs felt unsteady. They'd switched on the television, but only from habit. The news was of no interest to them, and they turned as she came in.

‘Upstairs, both of you. Mr Cody's coming round, and I don't want a squeak out of either of you. I'll bring up some cocoa and a biscuit in five minutes, so don't brush your teeth yet.'

Without a murmur, they trooped past her and started up the stairs. The passage leading to the kitchen was dim, the light from the front hall not extending far round the corner. Jan shuddered, feeling along the wall for a switch but unable to find one, and reached the kitchen door with a sense of relief. The children's supper plates were still on the table, their chairs pushed back as they'd hurried to get ready for the car journey. She opened the oven, glanced at her own dried-up supper, and tipped it in the bin.

What an interminable day! she reflected, taking milk from the fridge. She thought back to that afternoon at the pantomime, the long-legged Principal Boy and the Dame in her striped petticoats. She'd had no inkling, then, that she was about to be touched by murder.

Her hand jerked, tipping the pan and sending the frothing milk up the side of it. Murder? her brain repeated incredulously, the word registering itself for the first time. Though she'd known the man's death wasn't natural, subconsciously she'd refused to follow it through. Yet he'd been
murdered,
that man who looked like Edward, and even more frighteningly, he'd had Edward's wallet in his pocket. Did that mean Edward himself was known to the killer?

The milk rose in a curling white foam and she snatched up the pan and emptied it into the mugs on the table. Thank God Miles was coming. She badly needed to talk through her fears. It was good of him to have phoned back. As she carried the mugs upstairs, she tried to recall the message she'd left him. Whatever it was, she must have sounded distraught enough for him to make repeated attempts to contact her. Considering that he'd barely acknowledged her existence on Boxing Night, she was duly grateful.

The children, unaware of the implications of their unexpected night-ride, drank their cocoa while she told them the story of Atahualpa's Ransom. Bloodthirsty it might be, but familiarity had reduced it to the safe, acceptable horror of a fairy-tale.

‘A roomful of gold,' Julie repeated dreamily, with echoes of Rumpelstiltskin. They finished their cocoa, brushed their teeth, and were saying their prayers when the doorbell announced Miles's arrival. Jan was about to bundle them into bed, when Julie sank back to her knees, eyes squeezed tight. ‘PS,' she added, somewhat irreverently, ‘Please keep Uncle and Auntie safe, and don't let the Spaniards catch them!'

Jan, steering her daughter into bed, realized that a modern history lesson was well overdue.

The sight of Miles, tall and dark on the front step, brought a wave of relief. She was not, after all, totally alone.

‘It is good of you to come,' she greeted him.

He glanced briefly at her as he stepped inside. ‘You sounded in need of company, and I presume there's no one else.'

‘It's all been so unnerving.'

He removed his coat and dropped it over a chair. ‘Any alcohol in the house?'

‘I think so – in the dining-room sideboard.' ‘I'll get it. Go and sit down – you'll feel better with a drink inside you.'

Obediently she went to the library. It occurred to her that she hadn't eaten since lunch-time, but the thought of food made her nauseous. She knelt down and poked the fire into new life, throwing on some logs from the wicker basket on the hearth. Miles came in behind her and she heard the clink of glasses. He handed her one and sat down opposite her, his dark, brooding eyes on her face.

‘Now,' he said, ‘what the hell's this all about?'

Carefully, sipping the drink as she went along, she told him what had happened, and the more she recounted, the more unbelievable it seemed.

Miles listened intently, his disconcerting eyes on her face.

‘Good God!' he said softly, when she came to an end. ‘No wonder you're shaken. What an experience.'

‘I'd never seen anyone dead before.'

After a moment he said, ‘Since the police thought it was Edward till you disabused them, I presume they've no other ideas?'

‘I suppose not. Apparently he was dressed like a tramp.'

‘With Edward's wallet in his pocket. I knew it had been stolen – mine was taken at the same time, but I got it back later, all intact. Was anything taken from Edward's, did you gather?'

‘I don't think so. The police said there was fifty pounds in it, which was the sum Edward mentioned at Christmas. There were a couple of other things, too. He had a bandage tightly wrapped round his arm, which according to the pathologist had been put on after death.'

Miles frowned. ‘What the hell for?'

Jan shrugged helplessly. ‘And his jacket had sequins on it.'

‘Oh, come on!'

‘That's what they said. Really.'

‘You mean he was dressed as a clown, or something?'

‘No, just – a few sequins, that's all.'

‘Well, I suppose it takes all sorts. You said he'd been drowned. Were there any details?'

Jan shivered. ‘I didn't ask. Miles, what frightens me is that Edward seems to be implicated. Apart from the wallet, the man even had a look of him.'

‘Pure coincidence. And there'll be a logical explanation for everything else, too.'

‘According to the police, he'd been there some time – since before Christmas, they said.'

‘Then why hadn't he been found?'

‘Because a tree'd blown down and covered him. Some men went to move it this morning, and that's when he was discovered.'

‘If he'd been found straight away,' Miles said thoughtfully, ‘Edward would have been here and you wouldn't have had to go through this. The killer must have been chewing his fingernails, waiting for the story to break. He couldn't have known about the tree.'

‘Unless he went back to look.'

Miles's mouth twisted. ‘Revisiting the scene of crime? I doubt if he'd risk it. He's probably miles away by now.'

‘I hope so,' Jan said with a shiver.

He frowned. ‘You're not really worried, are you? This has nothing whatever to do with you.'

‘I wish he hadn't had Edward's wallet, that's all.'

‘It could have been anyone's.'

Jan was silent. She was reluctant to tell Miles the theory about the bandage, wanting him to convince her all was well, rather than giving him fresh reason for doubts.

‘Too bad you're alone in this barn of a house, specially in the circumstances. It was very cavalier of Edward to fly off and leave you when you'd only just arrived.'

‘Oh, the trip to Peru was planned long before our visit.

It was just –' She broke off, twisting her wedding ring round her finger. ‘My marriage has just ended, and Edward thought I'd like a change of scene.'

Miles raised an eyebrow. ‘I wouldn't have credited him with such concern. Or did they want you to housekeep in their absence?'

Discounting her own initial surprise, Jan said reprovingly, ‘It was a very kind thought.' She hesitated. ‘I gather you and he don't see eye to eye?'

‘You could say that.'

‘Any specific reason?' She recalled Rowena saying Miles had been ‘offensive'.

He shrugged. ‘A clash of personalities, aggravated by Rowena's resentment of my closeness to Mary.'

Jan could accept that; there hadn't seemed much bond between Rowena and her mother over Christmas. ‘But she was always closer to her father, wasn't she?' she said. ‘Going with him on his expeditions, and everything.'