Unlucky For Some (34 page)

“And when Keith Scopes came to the door?”

“I thought it was Ben—I just turned from the window, that’s all.”

Judy shook her head. “No,” she said. “That wasn’t all, Stephen. I accept what you say about pretending to shoot Baker, and that you forgot you were holding the rifle when you turned to the door. But if it had been Ben, you would have lowered the rifle as soon as you realized what you were doing. And you didn’t lower the rifle, did you?”

Stephen shook his head.

“What you said was intended to make Scopes leave, wasn’t it? You did threaten him, in effect, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” Stephen’s face burned a painful red, and he looked down at the table.

“Why?”

“Because I was scared.”

“Why? What were you scared of?”

He looked up. “Keith Scopes isn’t just a security man. Mr. Waterman uses him to beat people up.”

“How would you know that?” asked Tom.

“He was in the pub one night about eighteen months ago, getting drunk and buying drinks for all his mates. He doesn’t very often drink, and when I asked him what he was celebrating, he said he’d had a win on the horses. But when everyone else had gone he told me Mr. Waterman paid him to sort people out for him. He’s got a cosh—a real one. It’s old. He showed me it. It’s a leather thing with a plaited handle, and a heavy lead ball inside it.”

Judy glanced at Tom, frowning slightly.

Tom knew what she was thinking, because that sounded remarkably like whatever had caused Mrs. Fenton’s injury, but Keith Scopes couldn’t have killed her—he was miles away when it happened.

“It’s the truth!” Stephen said, misconstruing the look. “I didn’t want to be on the wrong end of that. So yes, once I realized I could, I got rid of him.”

“What made you think he was going to beat
you
up?” asked Judy.

He looked down again, and spoke in a low voice. “Because Mr. Waterman had one of Ben’s boyfriends beaten up really badly, and told Ben he’d do that to all of them until he stopped having boyfriends. That’s why I couldn’t tell you where I was the night Wilma died. Because I was with Ben, but if I told you, his dad would find out from Ben’s uncle.”

It took Tom a minute, but then he realized that Ben’s uncle was DCS Yardley. He decided to leave the details of the belated alibi for the moment. For now, he was more interested in what Stephen was saying about Waterman senior.

“Did Ben tell you that his dad had had his boyfriend beaten up?”

“Yes. I thought it must just have been a coincidence that his friend got beaten up after his dad had threatened to do that, but then when Keith told me what he did on the side . . .” He shrugged. “I realized Ben was probably right. His dad must have got Keith to do it.”

Were Ben and Stephen out to get revenge on Keith? Had Stephen simply got mixed up in something Ben had arranged? Had Grace Halliday been shot at by accident? Was Keith the intended target? Tom didn’t know which question to ask first, so he asked the obvious one.

“Did you tell Ben that it was Keith who beat up his boyfriend?”

“No. Because Ben and Keith used to be best friends when they were kids—I couldn’t see how it would help to tell him. It would just upset him. I knew who to avoid, and that was all that mattered. And I did avoid him until recently.”

Tom leaned forward. “How do you mean?”

“He wouldn’t dare do anything to me in the village, and he was only in Malworth on Sundays, so it was easy to keep an eye out for him. But now . . . well—we’re
always
working in the same towns. I’m getting moved about all the time, and it’s always to where he’s working. So I began to wonder if Mr. Waterman knew about me and Ben after all. And when he came to the summerhouse, I thought he’d—” He sighed. “But I was probably imagining it. Because I think he was surprised to see me there.”

No, thought Tom, I don’t think you were imagining it. I think he was there to beat you up, and he was surprised to see the rifle.

“Is Scopes often in the pub?” he asked.

“Quite often. Lunchtimes, and on his evenings off. There’s nowhere else to go in Stoke Weston.”

Tom’s next question clearly surprised Stephen a little, but Tom really wanted to know the answer.

“Does he smoke?”

“Stephen was with me in the flat until half past nine. That was when I left to get my train. I called a cab, and Stephen took it with me as far as the bingo club, then went home on his bike.”

Which was why Jerry Wheelan hadn’t seen Stephen coming back, thought Lloyd, sitting back. In as much as it could be checked, the story checked out.

“Which cab company did you use?”

“I don’t know. I just hailed one on Waring Road.”

Damn. They could have proved it one way or the other if he’d known the company. Was that just bad luck, or careful lying? Ben Waterman impressed him; he had made his statement about the night of Mrs. Fenton’s murder clearly, calmly, and without a hint of evasion. But if Ben was quite happy to discuss it now, why not before? That smacked of a newly wrought alibi. Lloyd sat back, and regarded him, his head slightly to one side. “Why has it taken you two and a half months to come forward with this information?” he asked.

“Because I knew nothing about it!”

“It’s been all over the national press,” Lloyd said, shaking his head. “Even if the Scottish papers didn’t cover it, the TV news did. And presumably you do occasionally contact someone here.”

“I knew about the murders, of course I did. But I had no idea Stephen was a suspect. The first I heard of it was when my father told me he’d been arrested. It’s ridiculous.”

“Why wouldn’t Stephen have told you?”

“He wouldn’t want to worry me in the run-up to the exams. That’s what he’s like.”

“But if he had an alibi for the first murder, why didn’t he tell us?”

“I imagine it’s because he knows that it would get straight back to my father through my Uncle Ray.”

Lloyd raised his eyebrows. “Your uncle being Detective Chief Superintendent Raymond Yardley?”

“Yes—and before you tell me how the police don’t pass on information to unauthorized persons, forget it. Ray tells my father all sorts of things. I wasn’t surprised to hear that he’d been taken off this inquiry if you thought someone at Waterman Entertainment was involved. I just never imagined it was because you suspected Stephen.”

“That’s quite a serious complaint you’re making.”

“I’m not making a complaint. I’m simply stating facts.”

Lloyd thought about that. And played over in his head Ben Waterman’s answer to why he hadn’t come forward before. That the first he’d heard of it was when his father told him that Stephen had been arrested. And Ben
did
know that Stephen had been arrested when the duty inspector called there to give them the all-clear. But how did Michael Waterman know? The only people who knew at that point were those present and Yardley, once Judy had phoned him. Even the duty inspector hadn’t known. It wasn’t conclusive, but it did suggest that Stephen might have been right to worry about Waterman finding out, and presumably he disapproved of the relationship.

“All right,” he said. “I won’t argue with you. But even if your father did find out—why would that matter to Stephen, compared to being suspected of murder?”

“Because he
hadn’t
murdered her. He hasn’t murdered anyone. Why should he put himself in danger by giving you an alibi that will almost certainly get him beaten senseless, when he knows that he has nothing to do with these murders?”

Lloyd frowned. “How would it get him beaten senseless?”

“That’s what my father would do to scare him off, and Stephen knew that, because I told him. It happened to a previous boyfriend of mine, four years ago. Someone put him in hospital for ten days on my father’s orders, and he said then that anyone I took up with would get the same treatment. Stephen’s the only other person I have taken up with, so fortunately it’s only happened once.”

“That’s another serious complaint.”

“It’s another fact. I knew he meant it—even though the last time was years ago. I knew he would have Stephen beaten up if he found out about us. And today I discovered that it would have made no difference if Stephen had told you where he was that night, because my father already knew.”

“But Stephen’s still all in one piece.”

“It just hasn’t happened yet. He told me that he’s got someone waiting for the opportunity to present itself. So when Stephen ends up in hospital, you’ll know where to look.”

Lloyd didn’t speak for some time as he tried to evaluate what he was being told. Michael Waterman’s background wasn’t criminal, but it was the nearest thing to it, and he did operate in a world where violence wasn’t unknown. That criminal connection was doubtless what Tony Baker’s documentary would be about. Gambling debts were sometimes discouraged in this way, so ordering violence to be done to someone might well be something Waterman practiced from time to time. But Waterman senior’s violent objection to Stephen didn’t seem to make sense, given the situation.

“If your father is so unhappy with Stephen, why does he continue to employ him?”

“Because he has no choice. Stephen is a very good employee—he’s popular, and capable. He’s punctual. Reliable. Honest. What reason could he have for sacking him? If he did, Stephen might take him to a tribunal and tell everyone he was sacked because he was having a relationship with me. My father would sooner die than have that happen. Anyway—he isn’t unhappy with Stephen as a person—just the opposite, until he found out about us. He just wants to discourage his relationship with me, any way he can.” He looked a little embarrassed. “He even suggested that he could have him killed if he wanted to. He wouldn’t—I’m sure he wouldn’t. But that’s how crazy it makes him.”

“How long have you known Stephen?”

“He moved to Stoke Weston seven years ago. I met him once or twice when I was home from school. I liked him, but it didn’t go any further than that, not then. My father took him on when he left school, and after I’d started at university I was home during the summer and I happened to be with my father when he called in to one of the bingo clubs to see about something. I met Stephen again, and we talked. We found out our birthdays were close together, and that we had a lot in common, and . . . well, I think we both knew then that . . . that we were right for each other.”

The last statement had been delivered with a hint of defiance, but Lloyd had no problem with other people’s life choices. And he was quite happy to believe that Ben and Stephen were ideal for each other. All that he was trying to work out was whether it was a match made in heaven or hell. Had they cooked up this alibi between them? Was Waterman really out to get Stephen, or were Stephen and Ben some sort of deadly duo out to get him by committing murders in close proximity to his establishments? He was inclined to believe the young man, but he needed evidence one way or the other.

“Stephen was still seventeen, and I was eighteen. To be honest, we weren’t altogether sure where we stood with the law, so we were being careful anyway. But I told him what my father had done, and what he’d threatened to do to anyone else I took up with. At first, he didn’t believe me—he thought I was overdramatizing. He only knew my father as the man he is most of the time—generous, kind, easy to please—a good man to work for.”

“In general, then, you get on well with your father?”

“If it wasn’t for this. That’s why Stephen couldn’t understand—he’s really fond of him. But eventually, I made him understand that my father was totally irrational about my sexuality, and that he was running a real risk.” He smiled a little sadly. “I expected him to go and find a less complicated relationship, but he just said that in that case, he’d be very careful. And we’ve kept it hidden until now.”

Lloyd was puzzled. “But you couldn’t live like that forever,” he said. “You’re both adults now. How is it going to resolve itself?”

“I thought perhaps Stephen could get a job in St. Andrews, come and live there. But he didn’t want to leave his mother alone in the pub. She depends on him quite a bit for moral support—Stephen’s father running out on her was difficult for her to cope with. He was hoping she would eventually marry again, and he wouldn’t feel so responsible for her.”

That was even more puzzling. “But now that she has found someone else, he isn’t very happy about it, according to his mother.”

“No. He really doesn’t like Tony Baker. It’s unusual for Stephen—he usually just takes people as he finds them. And to be fair, it might not be Baker’s fault—I think Stephen always hoped his mother and Jack Shaw would get it together. But now that he knows she’s open to the idea of a new man in her life, he feels he can leave her, so the situation
is
resolved, more or less. That’s why I’m here today, really.”

“Oh?”

The young man took a breath. “This is going to sound odd, but next week, I come into a lot of money left to me by my mother, and Stephen doesn’t know about it yet. There were reasons I didn’t tell him, which had nothing to do with Stephen himself.”

Lloyd pushed his chair back onto its back legs, and swayed gently as Ben spoke. Today was what he wanted to know about. Today was what mattered. So he looked as if he wasn’t remotely interested, and said nothing.

“I wanted to give him a surprise, cheer him up a bit, because I knew he’d been a bit down lately—I thought it was his mother taking up with Baker that was getting to him, but no wonder he was down, being suspected of all this.”

The two things might not be unconnected, thought Lloyd, as he listened impassively.

“Anyway, I went house-hunting over the weekend, and I was going to make a flying visit here, tell him about the money, show him the houses I’d found, see if any of them appealed to him. We were going to go off somewhere together for the afternoon. But, as things turned out, we were only going to have about an hour and a half free, so we arranged to meet in the summerhouse to make the most of it.”

That was interesting. Lloyd let his chair fall forward with a bang, making the young man jump. “What happened to change your plans?”