Friday cont.
Cleo did not want to have any more contact with Robert. One
reason was his continuing resentment of Gary and the children, though he had
not wanted any.
Edith had no idea that she had upset his equilibrium with
her sex games, which in turn had led to his conviction that she must be insane.
He had submitted to Edith’s advances because he was unable to defend himself
without physical force against her, so he endured her violence and had ultimately
reported her to the police, despite his embarrassment at being raped.
Robert’s relief that there was no way Edith could become
pregnant through her antics with him was the only comforting reward for the
reluctant lover. He had even confided in Gary once he had accepted that the cop
was a more suitable partner for Cleo.
She would get her children (she had already borne one before
she even married Robert, who was too cowardly to admit that he could not be the
father). Cleo was sure that Robert was happy to go back to the single life once
he had prised himself from Edith’s attentions.
What made meetings with Robert in the shop even more
stressful was the renewed presence of her mother in her old job. Cleo had not
seen much of Gloria since the affair with Gabriel, Romano’s younger brother,
and her mother’s subsequent move into Gary’s old flat in Middlethumpton,
although that had made up for Cleo’s divorce from Robert, whom Gloria had
thought was the ideal partner for her daughter.
Gloria had returned to selling meat in the wake of her affair
with Romano, having ditched Romano’s younger brother Gabriel to become single
again. She had a guilty conscience with regard to her daughter.
Cleo was happy despite Gloria prophesizing the opposite.
Would it be going too far to say that Gloria had fancied Gary at the time when
she thought Robert was the right man for her daughter?
“Isn’t it time you visited your grandchildren?” Cleo said
when she saw that Gloria was alone in the shop.
“Do you want me there?” said Gloria. “I thought you were
angry with me.”
“I am, but your grandchildren aren’t and you have no reason
to be mad at any of us.”
“I’ve been very busy with the dancing school,” said Gloria.
“Have you come to see me now?”
“No, as a matter of fact I need to talk to Robert.”
“He’s in the back,” said Gloria, as Robert came into the
shop having heard Cleo’s voice.
“Want a special order?” he said.
***
Robert could still not bring himself to talk normally to
Cleo, though he had walked out on her. He liked to think she had played a trick
on him, which was of course absurd. Cleo had put much more effort into saving
her marriage than Robert had ever done. For him marriage was a contract, like
the one with the meat wholesaler – a necessary evil but contracts were binding.
***
“Not at the moment. I need to talk to you about something
else.”
“Go on then.”
“Can we go to your flat to talk? It’s business and I need to
record the answers.”
Robert looked alarmed, but he instructed Gloria to keep
shop.
“I’m not going to seduce you, Robert, so you needn’t be
scared,” said Cleo.
Gloria was not amused. She did not like to be kept in the
dark about anything.
***
Robert’s flat was not particularly homely.
“Coffee?”
“If you’re making some.” said Cleo.
“I am. What this all about, Cleo? You usually avoid me.”
“Correction. You avoid me.”
“I suppose it’s a bit of both,” said Robert.
Robert thumped around in his little kitchen making coffee.
Cleo switched on the small recording device she carried around.
The coffee was good. It had taken tongues of angels to get
Robert drinking coffee the way Cleo much preferred it to weak tea that was
invariably lukewarm thanks to quantities of fresh milk that had preceded it
into the cup. She had to remark that he had fortunately not shaken off the good
habit of serving great coffee and gone back to what Brits fondly thought of as
a good cuppa.
Robert said nothing.
“I need to know exactly what you saw the night you found the
chorus woman dead behind the church hall, Robert,” she said as she helped
herself to a rich tea biscuit and dunked it.
“Just like old times,” Robert said.
“It sure is.”
“I told Gary everything,” said Robert ambiguously.
Cleo knew that Robert had told Gary about Edith’s abuse. She
definitely wanted to avoid that topic.
“Can we just run through what happened again?”
“Is that really necessary?”
“Yes, Robert. Let’s start where you walk behind the church
hall with Edith on the way to the vicarage.”
“We walked that way because it’s quicker,” said Robert.
“How long were you with Edith before that, Robert? Did she
visit you at the flat?”
“Unexpectedly,” said Robert. “I made sure she did not stay
long by taking her back to the vicarage immediately. I had to promise to go in.
To be honest, I was glad that corpse rescued me.”
“Did you see anyone?”
“No.”
“Did you hear anything?”
“I heard a car revving up,” said Robert. “Funny. I’ve just
remembered that.”
“Did you see the car?”
“No. But I remember remarking to Edith that someone was in a
hurry.”
“That’s something we can follow up,” said Cleo.
“We?”
“Gary thought you would prefer to talk to me than attend an
interview at HQ, so if there’s anything else you can add about that night,
please tell me.”
Robert was satisfied with that explanation, especially as it
removed the need to go to Police Headquarters and make a statement.
“No. I was really glad to have an excuse to leave Edith at
the vicarage door.”
“I don’t care about that angle,” said Cleo. “That part of my
life is over.”
“I left Edith at the vicarage kitchen door and hurried back
without seeing anyone. The woman lay there just as she had when we saw her
first. I had phoned Brass immediately after finding the body and he arrived at
the same time as me. That’s all.”
“OK, Robert. I believe you, and so will Gary.“
“And he’s right to. I’m a busy man. I have customers to
supply. I don’t tell fairy tales.”
***
Robert hesitated before he told Cleo that Molly Moss had a
new chef.
Cleo remembered that she had thought Robert and Molly would
get together, but Molly had probably thought better of having such a sexless
person in her bed.
“Have you stopped helping her out?”
“Yes. I had no time anyway.”
Robert blushed. He could have kicked himself for mentioning
Molly.
“But you are still seeing her, I take it.”
“Yes. Now and again. Platonic, of course.”
“I think that’s a great idea, Robert. You need not be
embarrassed about it, but I doubt if Molly wants a platonic partner in the long
run.”
“I don’t want you to get any silly ideas about Edith or
her,” said Robert. “We are just acquainted. That’s all.”
“I’d like to see you happy again.”
“Would you?”
From Robert’s tone Cleo realized that he did not intend to
discuss his life any further. She would tell him something he would no doubt
hear as gossip if she didn’t.
“Brass is engaged,” she said.
“Brass? Engaged? Isn’t he past it?”
“Are you past it, Robert?”
“We are not talking about me.”
“Brass is your age and he made a sudden decision.”
So the news had not spread yet.
“I can see you want to tell me, so get it over with,” said
Robert.
“Brass is going to marry Edith.”
To Cleo’s surprise Robert burst out laughing.
“I’m not joking,” said Cleo.
“It is a joke,” said Robert. “How can he be so foolish?”
“He loves her,” said Cleo.
“And she loves anything in trousers or preferably without,”
said Robert. “She’s a vampire.”
“Brass does not share your opinion, Robert.”
“Send him here and I’ll tell him what she’s capable of. On
the other hand, get your lover onto it. He knows how I suffered.”
“I am married to Gary, and i If you are going to talk to me
like that, it’s time I left,” she said.
“Then leave, Cleo. That suits me fine.”
Robert complimented Cleo out of his flat and followed her
down the stairs to the shop. Cleo collected some steaks and other goodies
served by Gloria and left, pushing the twins who had been looked after
(gastronomically) by their grandmother to keep them occupied, and were
clutching slices of spam ‘to keep them going’. Cleo assured her mother that she
was welcome any time, but should phone first.
Cleo wondered if Robert was shocked rather than amused by
the idea that Brass and Edith had found one another more or less overnight.
Surely he was not jealous?
She had learnt a bit more about that incident behind the
church hall. She would tell Gary and he could instigate an investigation into
the identity of the driver of the car that Robert had heard leaving. It was now
Friday. It was unlikely that anything involving the chorus members could be
achieved before Tuesday, when they could be questioned about their cars and who
had parked in front of the church hall on the previous rehearsal night. The
hospital would have now reported the deaths of those chorus women. It was not a
topic she wanted to discuss with Gary.
***
Gary was pessimistic when he heard about Robert’s
observation.
“It could have been any car,” he commented. “How can we
possibly reconstruct a crime from such a vague observation?”
And that was true, of course. There was only one possibility
and that was that the car was seen by someone at the time, and there was only a
vague time frame.
Gary checked with Brass that he had arrived at the church
hall at about midnight, he thought. That narrowed down the time when Robert
could have heard a car leaving, but it made it less likely that the observation
was relevant. Brass assured Gary that he had walked past the church hall
parking space and not seen any car there. But of course, the car in question
had long since gone, so that information was irrelevant.
Cleo proposed to Gary that she could call on residents on
the other side of the road who had a view of the church hall since the car
might have been parked on the road. Better still, Dorothy would ask around.
That was the best way of not attracting too much notice. Gary thought that
would not do any harm.
***
Later, Dorothy took a walk in the church hall neighbourhood
after visiting Brass at the sub police station. What if someone had complained officially
about the noise of a car speeding off noisily shortly before midnight?
Brass was attentive, but with an air of confidence he had
not had before. Dorothy found herself asking if he had had good news.
“In a way,” he said. “How can I help you?”
“Did anyone complain last Tuesday night about a car driving
off noisily?” she asked.
“I was on duty, but I don’t remember. I’ll look in the
book,” he said, and did, the book being the office notebook, electronic media
not yet having ousted the hand-written notes for general purposes.
“On Tuesday someone reported that a car had made a terrible
noise and woken her and her dog,” he read. “May I ask why you want to know?”
“Where did it happen?”
“Near the church. Somebody always notices if a car exceeds
the speed limit or revs up loudly,” he said. “If I had to chase up all those complaints,
I’d spend my whole life doing nothing else, what with noisy cars, neighbours’
branches hanging over into the next door gardens, funny business going on in
respectable houses, and all those missing pets.”
“So I assume you just record the grievance and leave it at
that, do you?” said Dorothy.
“More or less.”
Dorothy thought that was why writing things down in longhand
was more convenient than recording them on the computer for HQ to see.
“I wonder if the complainant had mentioned the number
plate,” said Dorothy as she leafed through a recruiting brochure. She did not
want to appear too eager.
“I have a number entered here,” he said pointing at it. “The
thing is that I was not at the office that evening, but I had to turn out to a
tragic incident behind the church hall because Mr Jones phoned me on my private
home number. The noise complaint came in on the answering phone and was written
up next morning.”
“So you did not connect it with the death of that poor
woman,” said Dorothy.
“Erm, no.”
I expect you had your mind elsewhere,” said Dorothy, and
Brass thought she was referring to his tryst with Edith.
“Not then,” he said, enigmatically. “So you know about
Edith, do you?”
Dorothy was rather astonished that the conversation had
taking this turning.
“No. Should I? Is she ill?”
“I … I’m going to marry her,” he said.
Dorothy was now very astonished.
“What a nice surprise,” she said. “I didn’t know you were
that friendly with her.”
“It all happened rather suddenly.”
Since Dorothy knew what had happened to Robert rather
suddenly, she was quite astonished that Brass could be so laid back.
“Didn’t she … how can I put it? Didn’t she get a bit
over-eager,” she said.
“Over-eager?”
“You know about Robert Jones, don’t you?”
Brass fell silent and Dorothy felt embarrassed.
“Oh, forget it,” Dorothy said. “I don’t know what I’m
talking about.”
“That’s all right. I wasn’t born yesterday, Miss Price,” he
said, winking broadly.
It was time to get off the subject of Edith.
***
“Can you find out who the car belongs to, Sergeant?”
“I don’t see why not. Give me a minute or two to contact the
authorities.”
Dorothy gave the recruiting brochure more of her attention
while Brass made inquiries about the car. Presently he got back to her. He wasn’t
supposed to pass on such information, but he did so after cautioning her not to
reveal who had told her.
“Is our secret,” she whispered. “I never reveal the source
of my information.”
***
Dorothy hurried home to phone Cleo.
The knowledge that Miss Barbarella Knowles was the owner of
the car that was heard racing away from the church hall occupied Dorothy’s
thoughts all the way home. She would not go around asking questions until she
had discussed the situation with Cleo, she decided. A number plate belongs to
the car, she argued. The driver could have been someone else – perhaps the car
was hijacked.
***
Barbarella Knowles, who answered to several names, none of
which suited her muscular, masculine appearance and aggressive temperament, was
one of the chorus women who had mobbed Laura Finch out of her director job.
Although charges were not brought against any of the women because Laura was apparently
murdered by someone who actually confessed and made further investigation into
her death seem unnecessary, Dorothy had always had her doubts. Even the
evidence damning the person who was held for guilty but insane had not
convinced her.
These days, Babsi, as Miss Knowles now preferred to be known
had lost some of her hot-bloodedness. She had been an enthusiastic, loud bellowing
if tuneless member of the Laura’s chorus. It was Mrs Finch’s vanity and
arrogance that had incited Knowles to join the rebellion that led to Laura
being rejected as MD.
Dorothy had not thought that Laura’s murder and the chorus
were necessarily connected, and Laura was dead before she could be ejected as
chorus mistress, but doubts had niggled her
because Betjeman Crighton was an exhibitionist and clearly not of sound
mind.
Knowles had given up being a door-keeper at the women’s gay
club in Middlethumpton and gone back to her original job of butcher. Dorothy
thought she must use up a lot of her belligerence wielding an axe to meat
carcases. Babsi Knowles was not popular, but she was respected and buttered up
to because she was the sort of person it is better to have as a friend than an
enemy.
***
Realizing that Dorothy was desperate for someone to talk to
about what she had newly experienced, Cleo invited her to the cottage to enjoy
an espresso that day and report on anything she thought relevant. Dorothy loved
drama and she thought Cleo would enjoy her news better if they were sitting
face to face, so being invited to coffee was exactly the right thing for Cleo
to do.
***
Gary would have to be told, but Dorothy stressed that it was
important to know who else of the original chorus had been at the rehearsal.
Margie, the dead woman, wore the Finch Nightingale chorus badge to say so. It
would be better to have more facts to fall back on before Gary was put in the
picture. Margie had called herself Meg in the old days. Why had she changed the
name? Was that important? Dorothy did not know any of the women well, but she
remembered thinking of the book 'Little Women' when she saw the name Meg and
wondering how such a sullen woman got such a pretty name. Dorothy also
remembered from her investigation into Laura’s murder that Margie had been one
of those who follow the herd rather than lead it, so latching on to Babsi
Knowles might have appealed to her and might even have inspired her to change
her name.
Cleo had to point out that they would have to find out why Knowles
had had a hold on Margie and possibly on other chorus women.
“What if Margie Busby was killed elsewhere and simply parked
on the marigolds?” Dorothy mused.
“I doubt it, Dorothy. There was blood on the stones. Robert
and Edith heard the squabble and both women were at the auditions.-“
”
Cleo wondered if she should tell Dorothy about the noisy car
Robert had heard, but Dorothy was obviously eager to pursue her own train of
thought and Cleo was determined to argue the point.
“Anyway, wouldn’t that be too much of a risk, Dorothy? After
all, there was a lot of coming and going at the church hall that evening. It
would have required perfect time to coordinate that kind of action. And anyway,
why dump a corpse where it was bound to be discovered very soon? There are
plenty of lonely spots round here,” she speculated.
“You could be right, Cleo.”
“Then we should concentrate on someone who might have a
grudge against her. Was there something going on between her and Knowles, for
instance? Knowles was at odds with pretty well everyone and it didn’t take much
to annoy her. Could she have become violent? Was she trying to start something
with Margie?”
“Do you mean a relationship?” said Dorothy.
“Could be. We definitely need to know if Knowles been
talking or arguing with Margie and if they had gone outside to continue their
argument without witnesses,” said Cleo.
“Both were heavy smokers,” said Dorothy. “That would be a
reason to go outside.”
“But not enough of a reason to kill,” said Cleo.
“Remember Laura singing karaoke, Dorothy. That was
excruciating. She did not have a pretty voice although she did not smoke.”
“The Finch Nightingales nearly all sang as if they were
chain smokers. And Laura sounded like a smoker but had never touched a cigarette,
Cleo.”
Dorothy was not usually prone to nostalgia, but now she
remembered that Laura had complained bitterly that her singers were all smoking
as though it were going out of fashion. Not that it would have made much
difference to the sound, even Laura had been heard to say. The women were there
mostly for other reasons, including getting out the house for a bit,
cultivating friendships, or just nattering. That had not changed down the years
and was still a feature of women’s choruses. Where men’s choruses stuck to
football and beer, women tended to go for gossip and handicrafts.
***
“Or was something else going on, such as blackmail?” said
Dorothy.
“Gary can find out about the bank accounts, Dorothy. It’s
worth a try and he never ignores your hunches these days.”
“Laura drank like a fish,” said Dorothy. “She claimed
alcohol oiled the throat, but in time it cripples the vocal cords.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. Do you remember that night at
Delilah’s bistro when they were getting the karaoke machine going?”
“Yes, that was awful,” Dorothy said. “In her younger days
she did not make quite such a dreadful noise. I didn’t know then that Laura was
an alcoholic.”
“If course, remembering the past will not solve the current
case,” said Cleo. “We should ring Lisa Keys and ask about the attendance list.
Someone must have seen or heard something and we have to find out who it was.
Very often people see or hear things and don’t measure any importance by them.”
“On the other hand, Margie might have known something about
Knowles and threatened her with exposure,” said Dorothy. “That would be the
blackmail I mentioned. It would be a perfect motive wouldn’t it? Many murders
have been done to preserve secrets. Blackmail is something a person like Miss
Knowles would react to if she saw a danger to herself, though no doubt she
would have no scruples about using it to extort money from others. There were
plenty of stories about her criminal activities.”
“I’d like to know if Knowles was the last to leave the
church hall,” said Cleo.
“I assume that they all left by the main door, so it’s
unlikely that anyone saw Margie lying behind the building.”
“We are still assuming that she met her death where Robert
and Edith found her. I wonder if Chris is of the same opinion,” said Cleo. “I’ll
phone Gary now.”
***
"Do you think there could have been a time gap, Gary?
Perhaps Robert and Edith got there a bit later than they said. Extra minutes
before she was found might be vital to the case. Chris could only have
identified the approximate time of death."
"I think Robert would have said something if the corpse
had been cold, Cleo."
"Would he know that by just feeling for her
pulse?"
"I don't know," said Gary. “It’s a relevant
question. I expect Chris measured her body temperature. It will be in the
report. But I’ll put you through to Chris. He can answer more forensic queries
than I can.”
***
“What was the woman’s surname?” Chris wanted to know.
“Busby,” said Dorothy, chipping in over the loudspeaker..
“Hello Dorothy. Ah yes. I remember now. Someone identified
her as her sister. The woman fell on the rockery and that’s what killed her, if
I remember rightly,” said Chris. “There’s no reason to think she was taken
there later.”
“And no reason to assume that she wanted to fall, Chris,”
said Dorothy. “Why would she have been in the flowerbed?”
“I have to admit that it is strange. She must have tripped.”
“Or been pushed,” said Dorothy.
“Of course, she might have been drugged. There were traces
of marijuana in her blood.”
“Meaning that she could have behaved abnormally,” said Cleo.
“She might have smoked a joint immediately before her death.”
“That’s probable, in fact,” said Chris. “There are a host of
reactions to psychoactive drugs and you can’t really predict when they will set
in.”
“There might even be a cigarette stump among those
marigolds,” Dorothy said. “Have you looked?”
“Not yet,” said Chris, mollified.
Gary had told him of dealings with Dorothy when she got an
idea in her head. Like a dog with a bone, he had said.
“I’ll send someone, Dorothy.”
Cleo thought it was time she asked the question that was the
original reason for talking to Chris.
“Did you take her body temperature, Chris?”
“She was still very warm when we found her, Cleo. She had
not been dead more than an hour or two.”
“So not long enough to have been dumped there from somewhere
else, Chris.”
“It’s possible.”
“According to what I just heard you discussing with Dorothy,
Margie was not fully in control of things, was she?” said Cleo. “Supposing she
had smoked pot more than once that day? That might make her aggressive or at
least likely to do something she would not otherwise have done, and that could
apply to anyone at that rehearsal, resulting in a fight that ended with Margie
Busby dead.“
“Are you thinking of someone else, Cleo?”
“I might be. If there was a murder, there was a victim and a
killer.”
“Exactly, but there’s no way of finding out unless someone
saw something,” said Chris.
“Drugs would explain why Miss Busby was not given to joining
in,” said Cleo. “Dorothy remembers that Laura Finch had problems with some of
the women. They may have been high.”
“I never thought of that at the time, Chris, but we’ll have
to take it into account, won’t we,” said Dorothy, chipping in again.
“As far as I can judge, when men get together they tend to
drink and joke a lot; when women get together some gang up against the others,
and nothing surprises me about what women take to get through their lives with
machos.”
“You are biased, Chris,” said Dorothy, remembering Chris’s
preference for the male sex.
“I don’t go in for machos either, Dorothy,” said Chris.
“Men aren’t all machos, Chris,” said Cleo. “And in my
experience it’s individual women who conduct hate campaigns unless you have
them ganging up for a mutual cause such as happened against poor Laura.”
Dorothy wondered if Chris was the right person to talk to
about the case. He was a scientist, but he was not a psychologist.
“So Dorothy’s theory that Laura Finch was killed by one of
the chorus might not be far from the truth,” said Cleo.
“I’ve been looking at that case again,” said Chris. “I could
not find anything conclusive. That guy Betjeman confessed and there was enough
evidence against him, Cleo. The rest is history. In fact it’s all history,
isn’t it?”
“History could be repeating itself,” snapped Dorothy.
“I’ll think about that,” said Chris. "Thanks for
phoning."
"Thanks for helping," said Cleo.
***
“You were not very nice to Chris, Dorothy.”
“Sorry.”
“You’ll have to apologize.”
“I know, but I have other things on my mind. For instance, I
wonder if Margie’s sister knew something about the relationship between Margie
and Knowles.”
“Assuming there was one,” said Cleo. “You could ask her.”
“Mary Busby is as fat and gossipy as her sister was grumpy
and sullen. She worked at a bakery, but later moved to a chip shop if I’m not
mistaken. Mary was a better singer than her sister, but Margie supported
whatever mischief was going on. Knowles was the ringleader, Cleo. If Meg alias
Margie was part of the gang, there must have been some sort of friendship
between them. I’m sure of that. I expect Knowles knew how to manipulate weak
people.”
“Was Laura capable of throwing people out?”
“I’m sure she was, at least in the early days, but she
needed the numbers, however much they squabbled and however excruciating their
singing was,” said Dorothy. “Of the two sisters, Mary probably got on Laura’s
nerves most but Laura needed both of them. Margie, or Meg as she was called in
those days, was the sly kind who played her cards close to her hand. Very
Victorian. Women had a lower status in those days despite Britain having a
female monarch.
I keep thinking of that novel about what went on in America
at that time. In ‘Little Women’, Amy pinched Jo’s boyfriend, if I remember. Meg
was the ideal housewife while Beth was the sickly one who died. It was all
happy families on the surface. I always thought the whole of those novels was
ingratiating to the men who were pictured as gone to war to fight for their
women and America. These days the same thing goes on in those trash novels you
can buy at the supermarket, where the men, often doctors, can do what they like
and women are the weaker sex, but with wiles to top their rivals and win the
prize – someone’s husband, usually.”
“You have an astoundingly good memory, Dorothy.”
“Musicians need one.”
“But discussing trash novels will not solve our crimes, will
it?”
“You heard what Chris said, though he was cagey, I thought,”
said Dorothy.
“He used to just do what Gary asked him to and did not
indulge in reasoning himself. So his forensic tests could be said to be routine
and possibly inadequate,” said Cleo. “His assistant then, that terrible woman –
Grace I think her name was - probably kept Chris’s nose to the grindstone. But
I doubt whether they discussed anything that went beyond forensic facts.”
“Chris really annoyed me just now. Miscarriages of justice
often happen when the first available person is blamed for a crime,” said Dorothy.
“What if it wasn’t Betjeman Crighton who delivered the fatal blow to Laura? He
confessed and his evident madness seemed to add to his authenticity.”
“Laura was stabbed three times by two people, and the other
guy took his own life because he thought he was guilty,” said Cleo.
“But neither knew of the other, Cleo.”
“That’s speculation.”
“Didn’t Laura also have a blow to the head?” said Dorothy.
“It could have been inflicted before the stabbing and yet caused death through
brain damage,” said Dorothy. “She may just have fallen and bumped her head.”
“I’ll phone Chris again. Surely that’s in the autopsy
report.”
***
“Sorry if I dragged up that old Laura Finch case, Chris.”
“You made me nervous so I read the autopsy report again,” said Chris. “There really was a bad,
but fairly fresh bruise on Mrs Finch’s forehead, but it was not possible to
tell when or how it had been inflicted and it was assumed that she hurt her
head when she fell.”
“But it could have been inflicted when she was standing and
facing someone, couldn’t it?”
“That was never given consideration, Cleo.”
“But it is possible, isn’t it?”
“I suppose it is.”
“And that could mean that the person who hit Laura Finch
might also be guilty of causing Margie Busby to fall onto that rockery.”
“I have to say yes to that, but we have no evidence.“
“It’s a start though.”
“In Mrs Finch’s case, and judging from the autopsy report I
now have on screen in front of me, the order of injuries was never clear. The
head injury was not blamed for her death since it was deduced that the stabbings
killed the woman.”
“But a fall could have been the true cause of death,
couldn’t it, if the blow caused deadly brain damage exacerbated by the fall?”
said Cleo. “That must definitely have happened before the stabbings.”
“Theoretically yes,” said Chris.
“She could have been lying there unconscious when she was
stabbed.”
“It’s possible.”
“So the actual killer might have got away with it,” Cleo
concluded.
“It is possible. Where is this all heading, Cleo? It’s too
late to reopen the case. Bontemps stabbed one and he’s dead. Betjeman stabbed
twice and confessed.”
“It is not too late, Chris. We have a guy behind bars for
life for a murder he may not have committed.”
“He’d be behind bars anyway, Cleo. He’s as mad as a hatter
and he definitely killed Mrs Finch’s son Jason.”
“Are you sure?”
“He confessed to both murders. Let’s leave sleeping dogs
lying shall we? That mad guy can’t be let loose on humanity whatever he has
done or not done.”
“But his parents were devastated, Chris.”
“That’s the misfortune of parents who rear a criminal,” said
Chris. “But didn’t they disown him?”
“Play-acting, Chris. Defending their honour,” said Cleo. “Supposing
someone knew about that incident of Laura Finch’s head injury, it might be a
reason to dispose of him or her,” said Cleo. “Supposing someone else killed
Jason and he covered up for that person for reasons best known to himself?”
“It’s getting too farfetched for me,” said Chris, who was
becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the idea that there could have been
negligence over the Finch murder investigation. “Are you now thinking of blackmail?”
“Maybe not in Mrs Finch’s case, but it might have been
Margie Busby’s downfall if she indulged in blackmail. After all, if Mrs Finch
was being blackmailed, her death would have pre-empted any further attempt at
extortion.”
“You are opening a can of worms, Cleo.”
“So what?”
“We’ll need to establish a connection between the two
killings if Miss Busby’s death was not an accident.”
“I don’t see why, Chris. Can you send me the autopsy
findings from the Finch case? I’d like to compare them with Busby’s.”
“Have you got someone in mind, Cleo?”
“I could have.”
“The problem is that one punch-up is as good as the next if
you have no witnesses, Cleo.”
“But you’d be prepared to go along with my theory, wouldn’t
you?”
“Yes,” said Chris, “ to a point, even though it casts a
shadow over my work.”
“I don’t want that to happen,” said Cleo.
“No. I’m sure you don’t. I should also point out that
exhuming Mrs Finch might not be of any use.”
“If my theory is correct, that would not be necessary,
Chris. We are probably dealing with someone who now believes she is in the clear,
since the only witness to that fight between the real killer and Laura has been
exterminated.”
“Meaning Busby, I suppose.”
“No, but she knew who. All it took was to follow the person who
was following Mrs Finch that afternoon and chanced to witness the blow to the
head, then made a quick exit as a witness with an axe to grinds.”
Are you going to tell me who you suspect?”
“Not yet,” said Cleo
***
“Goodness, Cleo, you really laid into poor Chris.”
“I’m afraid I did, Dorothy, but that was the only way to
prepare him for what is to come.”
“And what is to come?”
“A thorough investigation into Knowles to start with. But
she must not be suspicious. We’ll have to be cautious. We need to know if she
and Margie Busby had contact aside of the chorus nights. Did Busby have more
spending money than usual? Did she have enemies apart from Knowles?”
“In other words, did Knowles kill Laura with Margie Busby as
a witness who decided on blackmail rather than reporting the incident to the
police?” said Dorothy.
“Her motive would be money,” said Cleo.
“I could call in at the chip shop,” said Dorothy. “Margie’s
sister Mary went to work there after she had been ejected from the bakery
because she took more than her share of buns home every day.”
“Who told you about the buns?”
“It was common knowledge. Some chorus women found it funny,”
said Dorothy.” They thought Mary was better off at a chip shop since you could
not count the chips.”
“How awful.”
“Margie, o rather Meg went to work at the chip shop as well,”
said Dorothy. “Those were the days when I often had to play for the rehearsals.
Margie was not liked or even likeable. It might be a reason for contact between
her and Knowles. They were both outsiders. The sister might know if Margie has
recently had more money to spend. I don’t suppose she earned much. My only
worry is that the sister will recognize me.”
“Then I’d better go myself, Dorothy.”
"She’s bound to recognize you, Cleo."
"Then I’ll ask questions in my official capacity. So
much for opening an antique shop.”
“You can do that any time, Cleo. We might be investigating a
serial killer and I can take on any mission where I would not be recognized.”
“So your retirement has been shelved, I take it.”
“For a start, I can’t wait to find out the truth about
Betjeman. I’ll pay his parents a visit, shall I? He might have said something
important when his head was clearer. I expect he has been having therapy.”
“I’m not sure if you can cure such mental aberrations,
Dorothy, but let’s drink to success. I’ll make us a fresh latté.”
“What are you going to tell Gary?”
“I don’t want him thinking he was negligent, Dorothy. At the
time we were all convinced that Betjeman was guilty. We are investigating the
Margie Busby case, if he asks. But he probably won’t. He’s so wrapped up in the
idea of another baby”
“You didn’t tell me that,” said Dorothy.
“I meant to. It wasn’t planned, but fate has overtaken us
again.”
“I can’t criticize you. Your children are all delightful.”
“Thanks,” said Cleo. “Will you get in touch with the
Crightons?”
“Yes, and you will drop in for some fish and chips, I take
it.”
“When in Rome….”
***
Neither Cleo nor Dorothy had mentioned the car speeding off
on the night of Margie’s death. Both were conscious of that. Were they rivals?
Perish the thought. Was Dorothy withholding evidence or simply waiting her
time? Brass knew, but he would not say anything because he had revealed
information to Dorothy, and that was forbidden. Dorothy could not say where she
had got the information. She would have to make sure she was present Knowles’
questioning and spring the information on them all. She didn’t need to prove
that she was a very proficient sleuth, but she wanted to.
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