An Unhallowed Grave (31 page)

Wesley looked at his watch. "Must go, Neil. I've got to meet the boss."

Neil watched him walk away down the aisle before taking the picture down from the wall.

For the first time in their brief acquaintance, Wesley saw Philip Thewlis as Napoleon after Waterloo rather than Napoleon the conqueror of Europe. "I don't think I'll ever forget that day," he began quietly.

"Was there anything you didn't tell the police at the time?" asked Wesley.

Thewlis hesitated. "I don't suppose it can do any harm now ... not after all this time. Pauline Quillon was quite right when she said I could clear her name ... not that I realised it at the time, of course. I was young and had other things on my mind. I never put two and two together." He smiled wistfully.

"Go on," prompted Wesley.

"I'd bought a pair of binoculars and I'd left them at the house. I think I mentioned it last time you were here." Wesley nodded. "I was getting bored playing with Tim he was a lot younger than me so I went to fetch them. On the way back I was using them and I saw Pauline going into the rose garden with Tim's father. I suppose she could have been with him when the baby died. I can't be sure, of course, but..." He hesitated. "I've been thinking about it since your last visit and I must admit that at first I thought the mother probably killed that poor baby ... but now ..." His voice was flat, unenthusiastic, as though he didn't want to believe what he suspected.

"What about Tim? If he was alone

Thewlis nodded slowly as if he knew Timothy Wills could have killed his baby brother on that summer day thirty years before. In the back of his mind he had probably known it for years and had buried the thought deep in his subconscious. Now it emerged into the daylight, discomforting and bleak. "Tim was certainly in a strange mood that day. He said his mother was sending him away. He was being a bit of a nuisance ... I think that's why I went off for the binoculars. I suppose he could have ... no, I can't believe it, but ..." He paused as if making a decision, then took a deep breath before he spoke again. "I saw him. When I was coming back from the rose garden, I saw him running away from the trees where the baby was found. When I met up with him he was acting strangely. He wasn't being much fun so I went off home. I never asked him what was wrong: kids are pretty heartless about the feelings of others. Now that I think about that day ... yes, it is possible, it's just not something I've wanted to consider before... but it all fits."

"Did you tell Pauline this?"

"I must admit I did hint at it."

"Did you tell Timothy Wills that Pauline had come to you to ask you to tell the truth?"

"She was dead before I saw him again. But I suppose she might have met him and told him what she knew," he added thoughtfully.

"And the Saturday night when Lee Telford died did you see him then?"

Thewlis shook his head. "You'd better ask Gemma, our nanny." He paused. Confession was difficult for a man used to being in control. "Gemma and Tim were having an affair. He was an old friend so I let them meet here; I turned a blind eye. Caroline found out, of course, and she didn't like it one bit. She thought Tim was abusing our friendship, using our house for... you know. I didn't see Tim on Saturday night... but Gemma might have. Shall I call her for you?"

"Yes please, sir, if you wouldn't mind. What about Friday? Did you see him on Friday night at all?"

"No. I believe he was at some sort of dinner over in Bloxham. Has my coat been examined yet?" he added casually.

"Yes, sir. As you said, the stain was rust."

Thewlis smiled and walked over to the fireplace, where he pushed a button. Five minutes later Gemma Matherley glided into the room, her expression wary. When she saw the two policemen the colour drained from her face.

"Did you see Timothy Wills last Saturday night?" Gerry Heffernan came straight to the point.

The girl nodded. "He was walking up the drive with someone," she said quietly.

Wesley knew he wasn't mistaken. The nanny looked frightened.

Rachel was feeling pleased with herself. Charles Stoke-Brown was in custody at Tradmouth, her boyfriend, Dave, was taking her out for a meal that evening, and all was right with the world. She hardly noticed Steve Carstairs as he walked up the village hall steps in front of her.

"Hi, Steve," a female voice called from over by the village shop. Rachel turned to see Leanne Matherley perched on the wall, hitching up her short denim skirt.

Steve hesitated, only to be rewarded by a sharp jab in the back. "Ignore her, Steve," Rachel advised. "I suppose you know she's only fifteen?"

"Bloody hell. She told me she was seventeen."

"She would. Take my advice, Steve: leave well alone."

Steve, thinking of his narrow escape and the trouble he might have been in had things gone differently, walked on, subdued, and planted himself at his desk, head down, studying witness statements.

Rachel was surprised by WPC Trish Walton, who rushed up to her and whispered anxiously. "There's a lady to see you. I've put her in the boss's office. She wants to make a statement."

Rachel thanked her and marched purposefully towards Heffernan's lair. The woman who sat there looked up anxiously and pushed her long auburn hair back from her face. "I believe you want to make a statement, Mrs. Wills," said Rachel as she sat down in the inspector's executive-style chair, trying it out for size.

The jury was told that John Fleecer, son of the late blacksmith and ordered from the village many years since, did return and my lord did order him close confined.

On this day John Fleecer, having returned to Stokeworthy after these many years, is brought before the jury to answer for his wrongdoing in the time of my lord's late father.

From the Court Rolls of Stokeworthy Manor

Wesley and Heffernan found Robert Wills at home in Worthy Court. His wife was out walking, he said. His daughter-in-law had gone out, destination unspecified; and his son was canvassing in Bloxham. He, Robert, had been left in charge of the children, a grandfather's privilege.

Wesley drove steadily. Bloxham wasn't far; even allowing for the car ferry at Tradmouth, they would be there in twenty minutes.

"His alibi's watertight," said Wesley, puzzled "Over a hundred people including the mayor and mayoress of Bloxham will swear he was there on Friday night."

"Yes, but I did a bit of checking myself. Nobody was with him for the whole night. The do was held in the Queens Hotel. I've been there for various things divisional dinners, weddings. The place is a suite of rooms, like a rabbit-warren. It'd be easy to disappear for an hour or so ... everyone would think you were mingling with the people in another room. He could have slipped out and come back and no one would be any the wiser."

"So we're making an arrest?"

"I've always wanted to arrest a politician," Heffernan said, thoughtfully. "It's a career best for me, this."

They drew up by the harbour. Standing on a raised platform in front of a small crowd was a tall, fair-haired man with a large rosette in the buttonhole of his expensively tailored suit. He spoke passionately, his hand gestures emphasising each point. The crowd veered between jeering and applause. The two policemen got out of the car and stood at the back, watching and waiting.

They could tell when Timothy Wills had spotted them. He began to stammer, losing his train of thought. Eventually he wound up his speech, trying to retrieve the situation with a hearty ending. The reset ted men with him, presumably local party officials, muttered among themselves as Timothy pushed through the crowd, attempting to smile and shake the occasional hand as he went. He was soon at Heffernan's side.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I could say it's a public meeting and I'm a member of the public but that wouldn't be strictly true, sir." The inspector put his hand on Wills's shoulder. "Timothy Wills, I'm arresting you for the murder of Pauline Quillon. You don't have to say anything but..."

Wills looked at Heffernan in horror as he finished the caution, shaking his head. "You're making a mistake. You've got the wrong man," was all he could say as he climbed into the back of the car.

After they had been questioning Timothy Wills for an hour at Tradmouth police station, they felt in need of a break. They returned to the CID office and Wesley poured them coffee from the percolator in the corner of the room.

"He's stubborn, Wcs. He'll be a hard one to break. And what were all those questions you were asking about his baby brother?"

"I think Timothy Wills killed his baby brother. He was upset that day, he'd just been told he was being sent away to school. I think he regarded that as rejection ... and his mother didn't help by telling him she'd wished he and his brother had never been born. Philip Thewlis went off to fetch his shiny new pair of binoculars; the nanny was doing a bit of nature study with Robert Wills in the rose garden. She'd left the baby supposedly asleep and was lured off for a bit of hanky-panky. I think young Tim was angry at everything that had happened, maybe blaming the new baby for his troubles, especially if the mother had suffered from postnatal depression since the birth. Everything had changed since the baby came into the house ... and there he was, alone and vulnerable. I think Timothy took his anger out on the baby. And Thewlis saw him running away from the trees."

Heffernan was silent for a while. Then he spoke softly. "The old sibling rivalry, eh?" He scratched his head. "But Wills still keeps denying it. He says he had nothing to do with his brother's death and nothing to do with our two murders."

"Pauline Quillon was desperate to clear her name. She had her mind set on marrying Charles Stoke-Brown whether he liked it or not, and she'd have had to produce a birth certificate before the wedding, which means she'd reveal her true identity. She would have thought Charles would ditch her when he found out. I think she guessed what had really happened that day in 1969 and she pleaded with Timothy Wills to tell the truth so the case could be reopened and her name cleared. He was below the age of criminal responsibility: there wasn't much chance of him being locked up for it now. There have been so many cases of miscarriage of justice recently, why shouldn't she prove her innocence as well? You can see her point."

"But if it all came out it'd probably scupper his parliamentary career. Imagine the headlines MP kills baby brother. The tabloids'd love it."

The phone on Wesley's desk rang. He answered it.

"That was Rachel, sir," he said as he put the phone down. "Jane Wills has been to see her at the incident room and she's made a full statement. She read it to me over the phone. I think we've got him."

"Well, don't keep us in suspense," said the inspector, finishing his coffee.

Back in the interview room Wesley switched on the tape machine as the solicitor looked on disapprovingly. "We've had a statement from your wife, Mr. Wills. It seems there are a few things you haven't told us."

Gemma Matherley heard a soft tapping on her door. She lay on her bed, quite still. She had told the police the right thing ... used the right words. And besides, Tim had let her down; he was staying with that bitch of a wife, just when Gemma's hopes had been raised. He had said it was all over... just because he wanted to be elected to Parliament. Why shouldn't he be arrested? He deserved all he got.

There was another knock on the door, louder this time. "Come in," she shouted. It was probably Mrs. Thewlis wanting her to take charge of those brats of hers again. The door opened slowly and Gemma looked up. Philip Thewlis stood in the doorway watching her, as a cat watches a particularly juicy mouse.

"You did well, Gemma."

"I don't owe him nothing." She looked up. Thewlis stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. "It's a long time since I had a pay rise, you know ... and a friend of mine who's a nanny over in Morbay, she gets a car." She looked at her employer expectantly. "After all ... sir ... I've proved I'm good at my job. I'm more like one of the family, really. I know all the family secrets, don't I?"

Thewlis watched her for a while. The silence between them was making Gemma nervous. She began to fiddle with her hair. "I'll have to discuss it with my wife. She's out at the moment."

"Oh, I don't think your wife needs to know." Gemma tilted her head coquettishly. "Do you?"

"No, you're quite right." He smiled, a warm friendly smile, putting her at her ease. "As the children are out, why don't we go for a little sail? It's a lovely day ... blow the cobwebs out. We can discuss this, er ... pay rise, and we can be back in time for Caroline and the children. Come on." He held out his hand, his smile avuncular and encouraging.

Gemma Matherley returned his smile and nodded.

"Your wife tells us that Pauline Quillon called on her early on Friday evening while you were out. She wanted to talk to you urgently. Your wife said she passed on the message and you said you'd talk to Pauline." Heffernan sat back, awaiting a reply.

Timothy Wills thought for a few seconds. "When my father told me he'd seen Pauline working at the doctor's surgery, I must say it was a shock. Not that the family ever talked about it... I think the subject was too painful." He paused. "I was seven when it happened ... too young for it to mean very much. I think the prospect of being sent away to school upset me more that day than my baby brother's death." He sat back in his plastic seat and glanced at the institutional clock on the wall of the interview room. His solicitor sat silently by his side, listening as intently as Wesley and Heffernan on the other side of the table.

"Did you kill your younger brother?" Wesley asked the question gently.

"No, Sergeant. I didn't. I always assumed it was Pauline: she'd been found guilty. I loved her, you know. She was gentle, kind ... not neurotic like my mother. I asked my father about five years ago what had happened that day and he said he honestly didn't know. But he let it slip that Pauline had been with him. I was old enough by then to realise what that meant... I could tell from the way he said it. You don't think of your parents as sexual beings, do you?... or your nanny." He took a deep breath. "He never actually said it but I think he suspected that my mother had killed Peter. She hadn't been well at the time ... mentally, I mean. For all those years I never thought of what happened to Pauline ... maybe I didn't want to think about it."