A Market for Murder (24 page)

‘Mrs Beech,’ he said, acknowledging her. She looked up at him, and he became acutely aware
of the strangeness of the situation. He had no right to be there. He wasn’t a police officer, he barely knew anyone present, apart from Maggs, who had probably intruded as shamelessly as he had himself. Geraldine Beech seemed to read his thoughts.

‘We all seem to have barged in on something,’ she said. ‘Poor Sally, it’s all been too much for her, I’m afraid.’

‘Don’t go feeling sorry for
Sally,
’ said Julie Grafton. ‘What about
me?’

Geraldine sighed noisily. ‘It’s terrible for all of us, I suppose,’ she said. ‘The whole thing is dreadful.’

Den kept his gaze on Maggs. ‘Are you going to explain?’ he demanded, with a sinking sense of having arrived either too soon or too late.

‘It’s not really …’ she looked around the room, and shrugged elaborately. ‘Geraldine was saying she went to see Karen. Julie was upset because she’d lost her temper with Sally. And Sally was already in a state because Archie’s been talking to Bill Gray, about Peter. And he hit her.’

‘Slow down,’ Den ordered her. ‘You’re not making any sense at all.’

Geraldine shifted on her footstool. Maggs stopped talking and seemed to droop.

‘But why is everybody
here?’
Den wondered, turning to look at Della.

The question seemed to cause the room’s temperature to drop dramatically. Everyone froze. Maggs was apparently about to embark on an explanation when the sound of another car engine, racing impossibly fast along the village street, distracted her.

‘Drew!’ she said, a moment later.

Maggs went out to meet him, with the others straggling behind her. He came through the gate, his face red, the car engine still running.

‘It’s Karen!’ he announced. ‘She’s woken up again and is desperate to talk to me. I’ve got to get there as fast as I can. I’ve sent Mrs Westlake to sit with the children, but she says she can’t stay long. Maggs … Della … someone – will you go and take over from her?’

Without even waiting for a reply, he reversed the car into a narrow gateway across the road from the house, and somehow turned it around.

‘He’ll have an accident if he drives like that,’ said Den severely.

‘Karen must want to tell him who shot her,’ said Maggs, in a clear voice. ‘And there’s a policeman there, as well. He’ll be sitting there, listening. We’ll soon have an answer to the whole business.’

Geraldine, Julie and Della all heard her, as she had intended.

Without warning, Della began running
towards the garden gate. Unbidden, the image of another escaping sheep came into Den’s mind. He threw an all-embracing glance over the remaining flock, wondering who was going to make a dash for it next. ‘I’ll go and sit with Drew’s kids,’ Della said. ‘Poor little things.’

Stupid with relief, Den stood aside to let her go. Maggs, on the other side of the gate, made a similar move. ‘Where’s your car?’ she asked.

Della hesitated. ‘Bill’s got it,’ she remembered. ‘But I’ll walk. It’s only five minutes. Mrs Westlake’ll wait. She hasn’t got anything urgent to do; she just likes to get to bed early.’

Something about her tone made Den blink. She was too calm. It was as if she’d thought this through in advance and knew just what her moves were going to be. But he didn’t know her at all. Maybe she was always like this, seeing right through to the central task in hand and dealing with it. Some people were.

‘We’d better drive you, all the same,’ he offered.

‘No, no. I don’t want you to. You’ll need to talk to Julie and Geraldine. They’ve both got plenty to say to you.’ She gave a bitter smirk, before setting off at a trot towards the other end of the village. Den watched her, feeling he’d just lost some sort of match. She was carrying a shoulderbag, and wearing sturdy shoes. The
impression returned that she’d been intending to make an escape in any case.

‘How could she have known … ?’ he murmured aloud. Only Maggs heard him.

‘What? Known what?’

‘That Drew would turn up when he did. That the kids would need minding. She seemed
ready
for it, don’t you think?’

‘She’s just quick, that’s all.’ Maggs was dismissive. ‘Let’s get back to the others.’

The living room seemed just as full without Della, although considerably less tense. Julie had gone back to her sofa, but Geraldine was now comfortably deep in an armchair.

Den had no idea what to do. He was not, he reminded himself sternly, an investigating officer. He was a local chap, interested in the local people, and concerned at what had been happening. He simply wanted to
help,
he told himself.

‘I think we have to talk about who killed your husband,’ he told Julie, almost regretfully. ‘Isn’t that why we’re all here, anyway?’

‘I know who it was,’ said Julie, her pale blue eyes turning towards him where he stood so tall over her.

‘No, Julie, you don’t,’ Geraldine corrected. ‘You’ve got it wrong. I
know
it wasn’t Bill.’

Bill? Den rummaged through the collection of names in his head.

‘What? Della’s husband?’ said Maggs. ‘Why did you think it was him?’

‘Because he and Peter worked together on a project connected with genetically modified fruit.’

‘OK,’ said Maggs slowly. ‘When?’

‘Four years ago. It was very secret. Peter never liked it. He began to realise the implications, and talked to other people about it. People like Geraldine.’ She flipped a hand towards the older woman. ‘Until most people in the Food Chain group knew about it. Then SuperFare got wind of it, and decided to run a trial on the shelves.’

‘But they’re not allowed to do that!’ Maggs was horrified.

‘They were then. They were very careful. Everybody assured them it was perfectly safe. And I suppose it was. They hadn’t done anything too ghastly to the apples, as far as I could work out. I thought Peter was being a bit daft about it, to be honest.’

‘It’s
you
who was daft,’ said Geraldine crossly.

‘Anyway, it was vitally important that Bill thought Peter was still entirely on his side. He’d have lost his job if the secret came out before the trials were completed. It was all incredibly cloak and dagger; everybody acting as if they were in MI6. But it just felt like a game, until last year.’ She heaved a deep sigh, and dashed a finger beneath one eyelid.

‘Which one would have lost his job?’ queried Maggs. ‘I think I got confused at that bit.’

‘Bill, of course. He’d stuck his neck out with the supermarket people, as well as various growers and exporters. There was a huge amount of money to be made, but everyone knew how precarious it was. And then Peter just blew it, the idiot.’

‘How?’ Den and Maggs uttered the word simultaneously.

‘He sent a letter to SuperFare, threatening to tell the media what was going on. He wanted them to withdraw the contract for the GM fruit. Then he offered to supply them himself, with the same quantities of organic fruit, as a sort of sweetener.’

‘And they accepted! Amazing!’ Maggs was stunned.

‘Not quite. It took a year of negotiations, but eventually they said they’d buy juice from him. And they never really promised to stop their involvement with GM stuff. They just put it on hold.’

‘No great hardship, the way the public started acting up,’ said Geraldine sourly. ‘Peter had much less influence than he thought.’

‘But he meant well,’ Julie insisted. ‘And he put everything into the juice business. Left the laboratory job and concentrated everything we
had into the new venture. That was very brave.’

‘So his stuff was completely GM-free?’ Maggs checked.

‘Of
course
it was.’ Julie’s expression was outraged. ‘That’s the whole
point.’

‘And Bill lost his job?’

‘Sort of. It all fell apart, anyway, a year or so ago. He blamed Peter for that.’

‘And you think he waited a year and then killed him at the farmers’ market?’ Den was sceptical.

‘He had reason. And he’s got a crossbow.’ She presented this final shot with a flourish.

Den and Maggs exchanged a look. ‘Has he?’ said Den.

‘I saw it ages ago, when we were here for a meal. Della and Bill invited me and Peter. I went up to the loo, and had a bit of a snoop round, like you do. It was hanging on the wall in their spare room.’

‘Didn’t you tell the police when Peter was killed?’

Julie shook her head. ‘I was going to, but then Bill seemed to have an alibi, and it was quite a while ago. And I thought – well, what
good
would it do? I always quite liked Bill, you see.’

Maggs leant towards her. ‘Liked?’ she echoed.

‘Oh, nothing ever came of it. You could say it
was just a way of evening things up. Della always had a big thing for Peter, after all.’

Den and Maggs exchanged another look. She blinked and he frowned. Geraldine seemed to have been struck speechless.

‘So what about Sally?’ Maggs asked after a moment’s pause. The question seemed to rip through a carefully constructed barrier. Julie’s face registered shock.

‘Sally?’ she breathed.

‘She seems to have been terribly fond of your husband, too.’

‘That was a smoke screen,’ said Julie,
matter-of-factly
. ‘They’ve always been good friends, but nothing sexual in it. Peter was using Sally as a cover up.’

‘Whoa!’ Maggs pleaded. ‘Is this for real?’

‘No, it isn’t,’ put in Geraldine. ‘You have to trust me on this, Julie. Peter really was in love with Sally. I’m sorry to have to say it; I know it’s going to hurt you. But they were truly besotted with each other. I saw it growing and deepening. Whatever he told you, it wasn’t true.’

‘But he said it was all intended to get Bill and Della off his back. He said they were always after him, blaming him for the failure of the project, sniping and sabotaging.’

‘But how would an affair with Sally change any of that?’

‘He said Della had always had a thing for him, and she was giving out signals that he needed to deflect. He thought that if she could be discouraged, Bill would leave him alone as well.’

The room hummed with muddled thoughts and scrambled bits of mental jigsaw.

‘I remember Peter Grafton when he was seventeen,’ said Geraldine. ‘He was absolutely gorgeous. Not just girls of your generation were chasing him – most of their mothers had private fantasies involving him, as well.’

‘Which does sort of confirm what Julie’s just been saying,’ said Maggs. ‘I suppose.’

Den was approaching it quite methodically, sifting and eliminating. He held up a hand. ‘Bill didn’t do it,’ he said to Julie. ‘His alibi is solid.’

‘But he did have a crossbow,’ said Maggs. ‘And a motive.’ The collective penny dropped. ‘I think we’d all better go quickly to Drew’s house,’ said Den.

For Maggs the penny rolled down a further chute or two. ‘We have to save Stephanie!’ she yelled.

Karen was still awake when Drew arrived. The sentinel policeman was by her bedside, with notebook open. ‘She wouldn’t tell me anything until you got here,’ he grumbled to Drew.

‘I’m obstructing the course of justice,’ she said proudly, the bandage on her head looking loose and lopsided.

‘I want you to know who shot me,’ she said to Drew. ‘Because it sounds so bizarre, the police will think I’m crazy.’

‘Go on, then,’ he encouraged, taking hold of her hand. ‘Put us out of our suspense.’ He felt light-headed, carefree. Somewhere, the situation was almost funny. Perhaps that was an occupational hazard – funerals could so readily slip into farce; someone almost always managed
to say the wrong thing at a moment of high tension. It got so that you expected hysteria to erupt, whenever things got strained.

‘It was Della,’ she said, her voice low. Drew felt a thud of anti-climax, almost disappointment. Karen
was
crazy, after all.

‘No, darling,’ he corrected. ‘Of course it wasn’t Della.’

‘Yes, it was,’ she insisted, wide-eyed. ‘She stood there, in front of everyone else, looking right at me and Steph, and pushed a gun barrel out from under her anorak. She must have been holding it under her arm, somehow. I never heard the bang, but I saw it. And I saw the look on her face.’

‘But why? Why in a million years would she do that?’

‘I think – and this is the truly awful part – I think she took Stephanie and Timmy with her when she went to kill Peter. I think she left them in the car, went into the public loos with the crossbow and shot him through the window overlooking the square. And I think Stephanie either saw the crossbow, or noticed something – I don’t know – and Della got more and more worried that she’d say something.’

‘But …’ Drew’s mind was working slowly.

‘Yes, I know. It’s awful to think of. Maybe she just wanted to add some new trauma, which
would make Steph forget. I still can’t really believe she’d deliberately try to shoot a little girl – a child she’s looked after for over a year. But then, the more I thought about it, the more I decided she’d never liked Steph. And she’s always wanted a girl of her own.’

‘But why would she kill Grafton?’

‘That I don’t know,’ Karen admitted. ‘But Drew – you have to go now, and make sure Stephanie’s all right.’ She closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply through her nose.

Horror flooded through him as he remembered. ‘Oh, no!’ he cried, getting to his feet. ‘I’ve just asked Della to go and look after them.’

‘What?’ Even in his haste, he noted her colour fading.

‘Don’t worry, Kaz. I’ll go and make sure she’s OK. You just leave it to me. And don’t get worked up. It’s not good for you.’

She smiled wanly and he tore himself away. The nurse was already hurrying to the bedside. ‘Will she be all right?’ he asked, from the doorway.

‘I’m sure she will,’ came the reply.

He paused in agony. ‘Maybe I could phone someone?’ he said, to the policeman and the nurse together. ‘And stay here.’

The policeman was already heading for the phone that had been dedicated to his use. ‘As
you like, sir. I’ll get our people onto it, anyway.’

Drew dithered. Wife – child; child – wife. How in the world could he choose? Karen made it easier for him.

‘Go!’ she repeated. ‘They need you, Drew. Go and bring them back safely. I want to see them when I wake up again.’

Den drove the short distance with the three women chattering like starlings in the car, trying to explain everything to each other. Nobody listened, and little sense was made, beyond the utter conviction that they had identified the killer, and that the Slocombe children were therefore in jeopardy.

They arrived to find the house quiet, and Karen’s car missing from the parking area beside the house.

‘Wait there,’ Den ordered them all. ‘I’ll go and see what’s what.’

Mrs Westlake, rosy-cheeked farmer’s wife, met him at the door, eyebrows raised.

‘Hello?’ she said slowly. ‘It’s my lover boy who walks down the lane.’

‘That’s right,’ he agreed, trying to control his impatience.

‘Might I ask what’s going on, then? Why has Della Gray gone off with little Stephanie the way she has? Nobody said anything about
that, when I was asked to come and babysit.’

‘She’s taken Stephanie?’

‘Said you told her her mother wanted her at the hospital, and she’d got to borrow Karen’s car, since her husband had hers. Seemed all right, I s’pose.’ Her tone was doubtful and resentful. ‘Wasn’t too sure about the insurance, mind.’

Den almost howled his alarm and frustration, but controlled himself, knowing he must keep the woman’s goodwill and cooperation. ‘Mrs Westlake – would you be able to carry on here for a while longer, keeping an eye on Timmy? Is he asleep?’

‘He was, until Della showed up. Then he kicked up a fuss and said he wanted to go as well. Fact is,
he
wanted to go a darn sight more than his sister did. Della ended up carrying her to the car, with all sorts of trouble. Didn’t seem fair, I thought – poor little man, left behind.’

Only then did Den notice a small face peering out from behind Mrs Westlake’s broad hips. ‘Hi, Timmy,’ he said. ‘Are you being a good boy?’

Timmy did not reply.

‘I’ll go and fetch Stephanie back, shall I? And your dad might be home again soon, as well. Best go back to bed, and in the morning it’ll all be just as usual.’

He marvelled at his own facile untruths. But they seemed to have some effect. ‘Come on
then, Timothy,’ said Mrs Westlake, turning and shooing him back into the house. ‘Let’s get nice and comfy, shall we?’

Den didn’t wait for any more. He hurried back to the car, and opened the rear door on the driver’s side. ‘Sorry, ladies, but this is just Maggs and me from here on,’ he said firmly. ‘You’re going to have to walk back to your cars. I’ll catch up with you another time.’

Maggs was making her brain work double time. ‘So, is this what happened? Della and Bill are in a foursome with Julie and Peter Grafton. Everybody fancies everybody else, and a bit of wife-swapping might not be out of the question. The men work together, and Peter betrays Bill bigtime. Then he betrays Della, who thinks if he’s going to have a girlfriend, then it’s definitely going to be her, not Sally Dabb. Everybody’s talking about them. Julie’s fobbed off with some garbage. Della flips, and shoots the bloke before he can do any more damage.’

‘A woman scorned,’ Den agreed.

‘But
how?
She was looking after the four kids that morning. Nobody even considered her as a possible, because of that.’

‘She must have taken them with her. Left them in the car, probably.’

‘And Stephanie saw something. Or heard something. Enough for Della to worry that she’d give the game away.’

‘Right.’

‘Because we know – don’t we – that she wasn’t aiming that gun at Karen at all. It was
Stephanie
she meant to shoot.’

‘Assuming that was Della as well,’ he cautioned. ‘That’s a bit of a leap.’

Maggs shook her head. ‘It was her,’ she said. ‘And I bet I know where the weapon is, too.’

‘Weapon?’

‘Sorry – weapons. Call Danny again, and see if they’ve stopped that BMW yet.’

‘Where are we going?’ she asked a minute later.

‘Nowhere in particular. We’re just keeping a lookout for her.’

‘We should be able to work it out,’ Maggs sighed. ‘There has to be some clue we’ve missed.’

They each puzzled silently, while Den drove along the main road for a few miles, in a westerly direction. A sign pointing to the left saying FERNGATE seemed to trigger a thought in Den’s mind.

‘Mary Thomas!’ he said. ‘The glaring loose end in this whole mess.’

‘Hmmm?’ Maggs only half attended. ‘Why Mary Thomas?’

‘Because she’s been much too quiet and invisible these past few days. And nobody mentions her. As if there’s a conspiracy to make us forget all about her.’

‘OK,’ Maggs shrugged. ‘Any hunch is better than none.’

Den swerved recklessly into the small road, with little time to slow down before doing so.

‘Yes!’ he crowed, as they entered the pretty compact little village. Karen’s car was clearly parked outside ‘Cherry Blossoms’.

‘Call Danny,’ Maggs ordered him. ‘This is no time for heroics. And I’m going to call Drew. Let’s hope he’s not still in the hospital, or the mobile won’t be switched on.’

Den was more successful than Maggs in making his call. Drew’s phone rang, but he didn’t respond. ‘I bet he’s left it at home,’ she tutted irritably. ‘I’ll do him a text message – though I doubt if he’ll see it.’

Steph with della and mary thomas. Frngate. Will keep u posted.

Den was too late to stop her sending it. ‘What good’s that going to do?’ he demanded. ‘It’ll drive him even more frantic.’

‘I just thought he should be kept up to date,’ she pouted. ‘It’s his kid, after all.’

‘So what now?’ he asked. ‘Do we just sit here?’

‘We do,’ she said firmly. ‘And hope they don’t notice us.’

‘Until the cavalry arrive?’

‘Something like that.’

He let her think she was making the important decisions. Den had developed a knack of allowing Maggs to assume control. It oiled their relationship miraculously.

‘This is fun, isn’t it,’ she said after a minute or two. ‘You and I haven’t done this before – not really. Though I must admit that this time there isn’t the same adrenalin rush. I just can’t believe Della would do anything to actually harm Stephanie.’

‘I wish I had your confidence,’ he said. ‘I’m only staying out here because I think it would make things worse to rush her. I’m not at all sure about her mental state.’

‘And Mary Thomas? Is she going to be a calming influence?’ Den gave this some consideration. ‘Probably,’ he concluded.

The police arrived with the most admirable circumspection. No sirens, nothing to indicate the sudden presence of six officers, two of them armed. They were just
there,
from one moment to the next. Maggs gave a stifled squawk as they loomed out of the dark and surrounded the car.

‘Two women and a kiddie in there, is
that right?’ Danny asked Den, with perfect professionalism.

‘As far as we know,’ Den confirmed. ‘We haven’t actually seen anybody.’

‘And we have the strong suspicion that one of the women is the killer of Mr Grafton, and is the same person who attempted to kill Mrs Slocombe?’

‘That’s right,’ said Den. ‘A very strong suspicion.’

‘Right.’

‘I don’t think she has a firearm with her. I’m almost certain she hasn’t,’ Den added. ‘And we believe the second woman will be entirely cooperative. She’s on our side.’

‘Or so we think,’ interjected Maggs. ‘That might be wrong.’

‘OK.’

Detective Superintendent Hemsley mobilised his team. They moved on the house, back and front simultaneously. Den listened for sounds of doors being kicked in, shouts, screams, even shots. There was nothing. He and Maggs stood beside their car and strained their ears.

Then a group of people came out of the front door, as if assembling for a funeral party. A woman police detective was carrying Stephanie. Maggs ran up to her. ‘Hey, Steph,’ she greeted the child. ‘Are you OK?’

Stephanie wriggled in the woman’s arms. ‘Put me down,’ she said.

‘I think she’d be best coming with me,’ Maggs said. The policewoman looked dubious. The threat of conflict was averted by the arrival of Drew in the Peaceful Repose van. Maggs recognised the engine sound before anyone else even noticed. ‘Here’s her Daddy, anyhow,’ she said.

Den was standing in front of Della. ‘You killed Peter Grafton,’ he said.

‘Hey, steady on!’ Hemsley cautioned him. ‘That’s not the way to do it. Surely you haven’t forgotten?’

Della said nothing, but Mary Thomas stepped forward. ‘I’m afraid she did,’ she said. ‘It’s all most dreadfully sad.’

‘And you? Where do
you
fit into the story?’ Den demanded.

‘I don’t think this is quite the time or place, do you?’ she replied, with some gentleness. ‘Let’s just say I’ve followed developments fairly closely.’

‘Just tell me this,’ he insisted, with a glance at Maggs to ensure she could hear. ‘Have you or haven’t you really got a twin sister?’

For reply, another woman stepped from out of the shadowy porch of the house. She was a greyer, plumper version of Mary, the facial
features identical. ‘I’m Simone,’ she said, in a voice lacking any trace of an accent. ‘I think that answers your question, doesn’t it?’

Den realised that it did no more than unleash a further long list of enquiries, but he merely nodded and turned to where Drew and Stephanie were enjoying a happy reunion.

Della was inserted into the back seat of a police car and driven away. Hemsley led Den to a point below the one and only village street lamp, and gave him a severe look. ‘I don’t believe you kept me very well informed on all this,’ he accused. ‘If it hadn’t been for DC Plover at the hospital confirming that Mrs Slocombe had clearly accused Mrs Gray, I don’t know that I’d have believed you when you called this evening.’

‘I’m glad you did,’ said Den. ‘For Stephanie’s sake.’

‘Would she really have hurt Steph?’ Maggs asked in a low voice. Drew and the child were not far away.

‘Who can say?’ shrugged Hemsley. ‘But I might just mention that she was relieved of a rather nasty knife just now. The sort of knife you’d expect to find in the pocket of a mugger or a street gang member. It suggests she meant business.’

Maggs winced. ‘Why did she come to Mary Thomas’s, then? Surely Mary would never have allowed her to harm Stephanie?’

Den cleared his throat. ‘I think I know the answer to that,’ he said. ‘Mary Thomas was Della’s mother’s best friend. They’ve always been special to each other. The story about the twin sister being the person Karen saw at the supermarket was pure fabrication. Karen did see Mary there – and she had just set that bomb to explode. What’s more, Stephanie had seen her as well. I think you’ll find they were checking on whether the child recognised her. If so, then Mary would have reason to collude in her disposal.’