Through a Narrow Door (16 page)

Hillary read the following:

Hillary’s lips twitched as she read this last comment and quickly turned it into a grimace. Wordlessly she folded the piece of paper in half, then in quarters, and slipped it into her briefcase. She didn’t so much as glance at Janine, but when she looked up at the Warings, they looked like rabbits
that had been caught in car headlights. Both were clearly desperate to know what Janine had written.

Hillary smiled gently. ‘Mr Waring, is there anyone missing from these photographs?’ she asked simply. ‘Anyone who belongs to your … little club … who should be amongst these photographs, but isn’t?’

On her chair, Janine drew in a sharp breath. Of course! If she was right about this, and the Cleavers were members of these gay swingers, then where were their photos? Why hadn’t they found them along with all the others, stashed away in Billy’s hiding place?

Damn, the boss was good. She’d seen at once what that meant. Billy had gone to the shed to meet someone – a
blackmail
victim, presumably. In his cocky arrogance and youthful stupidity, he’d probably brought the photos with him. Oh, he might have had the sense to keep hard copies stored on Lester’s computer, but he’d have taken his set of printed copies with him to show the ‘customer’. And his killer would have taken them away with him after killing the boy.

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Clive Waring said weakly.

Hillary sighed. ‘Mr Waring, please believe me, I have no interest in your sexual proclivities, or those of your wife, or the people you chose to mix with.’ She ignored Dawn Waring’s gasp, and continued to stare levelly at Clive Waring, who was flushing a slow, ugly red. ‘Who’s missing from this set of photographs?’ she snapped sharply. ‘Now stop messing me about, or I will snap on the handcuffs and charge you with obstruction of justice.’

‘Jenny and Darren,’ Dawn Waring blurted out, then burst into tears. ‘Oh, why can’t you people leave us alone?’

‘Homosexuality is no longer a crime, Mrs Waring,’ Hillary said gently, making Tommy, who hadn’t seen Janine’s message, blink in surprise. ‘I doubt that anybody nowadays really cares how you choose to live your lives. Surely, there’s no need to live in such fear?’

‘Huh! Tell that to my brother. Or Clive’s mother. It would
kill his mother if she knew, and Donald would … well, he would disown me!’ Dawn Waring said bitterly.

Hillary said nothing. Perhaps she had a point. The Warings were middle-aged and middle-classed, and perhaps they felt that the stigma was still too sharp for either of them to shoulder, even in these so-called enlightened times. Neither Dawn nor Clive were the sort to stick their heads over the parapets and say to the world, ‘We don’t care what you think of us!’

And who was she to blame them?

‘I take it your club consists of married couples?’ she asked, just to get things clear. ‘Gay men and gay women who enter into marriages of convenience to hide or disguise their real natures?’

Clive Waring nodded. He was still flushed a beetroot red, but at least he was managing to hold her gaze. ‘We just meet to socialize. Chat, sometimes. Not everyone, you know, goes off together. Sometimes we pair off. It depends. Mostly, we just like to relax, be ourselves. Cottaging isn’t something that suits everyone is it? And for the women, well, lesbian bars and such aren’t exactly thick on the ground around here. And if you’re in the closet still anyway …’

‘It just started with Frank and Jane and Pete and Gloria at first,’ Dawn Waring explained tearfully. ‘Jane and Gloria met and fell for each other, and realized that they were both married to gay men, and then another gay couple began to drop by for drinks and word got around, very discreetly like,’ she added, ‘and well, we just fell into the habit of holding parties every fortnight or so. On a roster system. You don’t really have to talk to them, do you? You don’t have to upset everyone! Some of these people would be mortified and maybe even suicidal if they thought people would find out about this.’

Hillary shook her head firmly. ‘No,’ she said flatly. ‘We may have to speak to these people, but we’ll be as discreet as possible. Now, can you tell me what you were doing on Tuesday afternoon of this week?’

‘Well, we were both at work,’ Clive said, and proceeded to give their alibis. They appeared to be sound, but she’d get Frank on to checking them out.

‘Thank you, Mr Waring, for your time. Mrs Waring.’ She stood up and very carefully shook hands with both of them. They looked unutterably relieved to see them go. They also looked as if they couldn’t quite believe that they weren’t being arrested.

The moment Clive Waring shut the door behind them, Dawn Waring dived for the telephone.

Outside Janine and Tommy walked to Hillary’s car. ‘I knew I was right!’ Janine hissed triumphantly. ‘As soon as they started talking about a private club, I twigged. I wonder how Billy-boy got on to it?’

Hillary shrugged. ‘Doesn’t matter now.’ She rang the Cleavers’ house, but no one answered. Then she tried the Dairy, and got through to a production manager who confirmed that the manager was in. He offered to put her through to Darren Cleaver’s office, but she told him that that wouldn’t be necessary.

When she hung up, she turned to Tommy. ‘Tommy, go and pick him up. Janine, I want you to go to Jenny Cleaver’s Oxford office and bring her back too. I’ll get Frank to get a warrant for their bank accounts. If their withdrawals match the pattern in Billy’s bank book, we’ll have something concrete to go at them with. I somehow can’t see either of the Cleavers coming clean with a confession. We’ve got plenty of hard slog ahead of us yet. Including breaking down their alibis.’ And all the gay couples would have to be interviewed and their alibis checked. Some of them had to have been approached by Billy as well. Which of them had coughed up?

‘Think the Cleavers did it together, guv?’ Janine asked. ‘You know, a Bonnie-and-Clyde job?’

‘Don’t know,’ Hillary said shortly. And at that point, she didn’t much care.

Janine dropped her off at HQ and roared away again. Hillary winced and hoped she didn’t get a speeding ticket. Sometimes, traffic loved to nab their own.

Halfway into the big open-plan office, she detoured to Danvers’s cubicle, hoping he was the sort of boss who liked to go golfing or sailing, or what-the-hell-ever on a weekend, thus leaving the nuts-and-bolts to their second in command; but he was sat at his desk, and looked up as she tapped on the door and walked in. Of course, he was still the new boy, so he probably felt he had to show willing.

‘Hillary. Something up?’

‘I think the Davies case just broke, sir,’ she said flatly, and quickly outlined her day’s work. When she’d finished, Danvers leaned back in his chair and smiled.

‘I can see why Chief Superintendent Donleavy and Mel both think you’re one of the best detectives on the squad. Well done. Do you need anything from me?’

‘No sir. I think we’ll get the arrest warrants easily enough, as well as the warrant for the Cleavers’ financial records. Unless you want to sit in on the interview, or take charge?’ she added flatly.

‘Hell no. This is your show. You’re going to try for a confession, I take it?’

Hillary sighed. ‘We’ll see. Both the Cleavers are
intelligent
, motivated, capable people, sir. I can’t see either of them breaking down just because we ask them some searching questions. They’ll probably admit to being gay, once they know their secret little club has been busted, but so what? So far we have no forensic evidence that puts them in that shed, although now we have suspects, SOCO might be able to match up trace evidence with their DNA, fibres from their clothes or what have you. But the trace evidence is a
nightmare
– that shed was filthy.’

Danvers frowned. ‘I see your problem. And we have no witnesses who saw either Jenny or Darren Cleaver that
afternoon
in Aston Lea? I take it you think one of them lured Billy into the shed to buy and get the photos back?’

Hillary nodded. ‘Yes – and killed him and took the photos away.’ Hillary sighed. ‘But knowing who killed Billy and proving it are going to be two separate things, I’m thinking,’ she said gloomily.

Paul nodded. ‘Anything I can do, just let me know.’

‘Sir,’ Hillary said, and hauled herself out of the chair. It was going to be a long evening.

‘What is this? Why on earth did you have to bring me here from my office like this? Don’t you realize how embarrassing it was?’ Darren Cleaver asked angrily the moment Hillary joined him in the interview room twenty-five minutes later.

Ignoring him and his outburst, Hillary turned on the tape and went through the usual spiel, stating time and those present. Beside her, Tommy sat silent and unblinking.

‘Mr Cleaver, this is a formal interview concerning the murder of William Davies on the second of this month. Are you sure you don’t want the presence of a solicitor?’

‘No, I already told you, I don’t need a solicitor,’ Darren said. It had been one of the first things he’d said when Hillary had cautioned him. And it was the first thing that struck her as being off. She’d have expected a man as savvy as this one to have demanded a legal representative right away. The fact that he hadn’t worried her slightly.

Carefully, bit by bit, she took him over the day Billy had been killed. And, once again, Darren Cleaver insisted that he’d been in his office all that afternoon. When Hillary
introduced
the photographs of the gay swapping club, he looked abruptly uncomfortable.

‘We’ve already interviewed Clive and Dawn Waring, Mr Cleaver,’ Hillary said, as he scanned through them. ‘And we know all about the private club that you, your wife, and these other people attend.’

Darren’s eyes narrowed a little, but he remained silent.

‘Nothing to say, Mr Cleaver?’

‘Why should I have? There’s nothing illegal about it.’

Hillary nodded. ‘These photographs were taken by Billy
Davies, Mr Cleaver. They were found in a hiding place, not far from where he was killed.’

Darren Cleaver looked stunned.

Hillary stared at him for a second, then abruptly got up. Tommy half-rose too, then returned to his seat, getting no indication from her what she wanted him to do. Hillary knew that Danvers was watching in the observation room, and sure enough, he quickly joined her outside in the corridor as she punched the buttons on her mobile phone.

‘What’s going on? Why did you stop?’ he demanded, and Hillary held up a hand to silence him as she heard a voice speak into her ear.

‘Janine? Where are you?’ Hillary asked sharply.

‘At the PR firm, boss. Jenny Cleaver’s not in. Her PA reckons she probably stepped out for a bit of late lunch. She expects her back any minute.’

‘Forget it. I think Dawn Waring telephoned her and warned her – maybe they’re an item, who knows. I want you to get over to the Cleaver house now. It’s her. Not him, just her.’ She slammed the phone closed, and began to walk quickly down the corridor. ‘Guv, can you take over in there?’ Hillary said over her shoulder, without waiting for an answer.

DCI Paul Danvers watched her go and smiled. She looked on fire! Tense and animate and more gorgeous than ever. He was glad he’d bitten the bullet and moved down here from York. And he was glad even more that he’d finagled the position of being Hillary Greene’s DCI. Now all he had to do was find some way to breech those walls she’d built up around herself, and things would start to get very interesting indeed.

He pushed open the door and smiled as Darren Cleaver looked up at him, puzzled and nervous. ‘Detective Chief Inspector Paul Danvers has just entered the room,’ he said, for the tape, and pulled up a chair.

‘Now, Mr Cleaver, about your bank accounts …’

Hillary drove more quickly than she was used to, and Puff the Tragic Wagon responded gallantly, but even so, as she indicated on the main road to turn off to Aston Lea, she saw Janine’s sporty new Mini disappear down the narrow lane ahead of her. When she pulled up outside the Cleaver
residence
, Janine was waiting for her.

‘Boss, what …?’ Janine broke off as Hillary, ignoring her, ran to the door and rang the bell. Inside there was only an ominous silence.

‘Boss, I don’t think there’s anyone in,’ Janine said. She was peering through the front window, hands cupped to the side of her face to block out excess light.

Hillary turned and walked quickly around the side of the house, opening the wooden gate and turning the corner, intending to see if the back door was open. But suddenly she yelled, ‘Shit!’ and started to run. Janine, the adrenaline abruptly pumping into her veins, took off after her and felt her breath catch as she too, saw what Hillary had just seen.

Jenny Cleaver, her face blue and congested, her tongue hanging grotesquely out from between her lips, was dangling from a hanging basket of flowers. She was turning slowly, almost elegantly in the slight breeze, as Hillary Greene reached her. She was wearing a pale linen suit and a pair of cream Italian shoes that Janine would have given her eye teeth for. It was funny, the things you noticed, Janine thought, as she watched her boss grab Jenny Cleaver’s calves and lift her up.

‘Quick! Look for some garden shears, something, to cut the twine,’ Hillary yelled, although she knew it was probably already too late. Although Jenny Cleaver didn’t weigh much, Hillary could feel her arm muscles already beginning to strain, as she took the woman’s weight off the cord cutting into her neck.

It was only when her senior officer spoke that Janine saw that Jenny Cleaver had hanged herself with some green garden twine. The white plastic garden chair that she’d used to climb up on was now overturned on the patio flagstones.
The flowers in the basket were scarlet geraniums and some pretty blue flowers. Lobelias maybe.