Classic Mistake (17 page)

Taking Josie with me, I went down the track to the front of the house, where there was as yet only one police car drawing up. A female PC was first to emerge, followed by her male partner. I didn’t know either of them, but they told me that, as I had predicted, Brandon was on his way. I led the male PC to the crime scene, leaving Josie with his partner. The constable looked so green as he quickly emerged from the barn that I wondered whether this was his first serious crime scene. Certainly, I found myself more or less in charge and told him to stay at the barn while I joined the other two.

From then on it was like any gathering of people: slow build-up and then suddenly everything’s happening at once. One minute I was wondering whether to launch into a full explanation of who I was and what I was doing here, the next there was a blare of sirens and I was directing traffic for parking. The die was cast now. It would all begin in earnest, and it was out of my hands. Cars and vans parked, disgorging uniform, plain clothes and civilians alike. I briefly saw Brandon, who nodded at me, then got down to work. Josie and I were the outsiders, banished to remain by the house as cordon tape, medics, pathologists, and photographers took over. We were spare wheels as the machinery of the crime scene revved into action. I had a ridiculous longing to yell, ‘
Stop
,’
and pretend that none of this had happened and that Ambrose was once again smiling vacantly by the fire.

‘Let’s go inside,’ I told Josie abruptly, unable to watch any longer.

She managed a grin of sorts. ‘Do my job? Make coffee?’

‘We’ll do it together.’

Brandon was remarkably unquestioning of my discovery of the crime scene when he finally got round to me. It wasn’t the first time I’d happened to be present at one, but he was too sensible to make a point over that. Been there, done that, start from here was his approach. It took some three hours before he started in on
me
in earnest. I’d given my story several times in brief both to him and other officers before this grilling really began. Ambrose’s body had not yet been removed, so it was going to be a long haul. Josie and I had lunched on a coffee plus a sandwich she insisted on making for me with surprising energy. ‘It’ll help,’ she snapped when I resisted. It did help, and I had told her so. She was the first to be interrogated in full – unsurprisingly – and it was late afternoon by the time she emerged (in tears) and I took her place.

‘Any particular reason you were here today, Jack?’ Brandon asked me.

I was still ‘Jack’ to him, I noted, so I might not yet be at the top of the list of suspects – yet.

I had my answer ready. ‘Job for Dave Jennings. It was in that barn that Daisy Croft’s Morris Minor was last seen.’

‘And you thought it might have come back? Exceptionally industrious of you to check.’

So he didn’t believe me. Hardly surprising, I suppose. ‘This is a car that does more disappearing acts than the traditional lady in the cabinet trick,’ I explained. ‘It’s an interesting case and—’

‘What else?’ he cut in.

‘I thought it might have links to the Mendez murder.’

‘So you said on the phone. Tell me more,’ Brandon said grimly. ‘
After
you’ve explained why you’re poking your nose into my case.’

I saw red, but managed to subdue that to pink when I replied. ‘You can’t expect me to take a cruise to the Bahamas while my ex-wife is banged up in Holloway. She’s probably not guilty of anything except acute jealousy and not being able to distinguish reality from fantasy.’

‘You could be right,’ Brandon agreed more amiably. ‘Unfortunately, until we and the CPS have solid evidence to the contrary and can therefore delete the “probably” we’ve no choice.’

That sounded cautiously good news. ‘Are you still working on it? You’re on to something – someone? Found the gun?’

‘No to all of those,’ he said dampeningly, ‘and we’ve checked the river and round the hotel grounds. Trace evidence in plenty, so she now admits she saw him on the towpath though she claims he was already dead.’

I was torn, glad that Eva had at least admitted to her presence at the scene, but terrified that she still had further to go: that she had killed him. In vain I reminded myself that if Eva had gone provided with a gun, whether hers or Carlos’s, and then used it, she wouldn’t have had the sense to take care over hiding it. She would have chucked it straight into the river or even left it by the body. ‘I’ve some new leads,’ I began too eagerly.

A step too far. Brandon was on to me like a flash in DCI mode, brooking no flimflam. ‘That’s the reason you came here, isn’t it?’

‘No. I did want to check on the car, but my main reason was to take Ambrose to the haunts of his former Kentish archaeological interests. At Eastry.’

That caught him off balance. ‘Very generous of you. Why?’

‘He wanted to go.’

Brandon eyed me speculatively, but obviously decided to leave Eastry lying fallow. ‘
Why
check on the car?’

‘Because, as I explained, I think it’s connected somehow to Carlos’s death.’

‘How?’ he whipped back like a busted fan belt.

I had no choice now. ‘Josie was the singer in Carlos’s band. You were following up the former members. Did you talk to all of them?’

He nodded. ‘We did. Including Josie Gibson. But it seems unlikely that any of them would rush to Allington Lock to kill Mendez after so long. Ambrose Fairbourne’s murder is a different matter, especially if you’re right and that Morris Minor has any link to it.’

‘It’s certainly one heck of a coincidence its turning up here if it doesn’t.’

‘Likely or not, it could be Miss Gibson was complicit in the theft – and it was serious enough for someone, if not her, to kill Fairbourne because he got in the way.’

I felt my stomach turn over, but despite my personal reactions it had to be considered. ‘Before Daisy Croft,’ I told Brandon firmly, ‘the Morris belonged to Belinda Fever, her grandmother, who was owner of the May Tree Inn at the time the Mendez band was formed.’

He frowned. ‘Very cosy circle, as Miss Gibson was with the band at that time. We’ve nothing to suggest a Minor was involved in Mendez’s murder though. He drove an old Ford Granada there.’

‘His killer could have come in the Morris. It’s an unusual colour,’ I pointed out. ‘Pinky-grey. Might have been spotted?’

‘Timing?’ Brandon asked.

I thought back. Justin had taken Melody on May the ninth, moved her on the thirteenth to her new ‘home’ at the Black Lion, and on the seventeenth she had vanished again. Those eight days included the evening of Carlos’s murder, the thirteenth. It was theoretically possible that she had been ‘borrowed’ from the car park just for the purposes of Carlos’s murderer and then returned a few hours later, but in that case why had she been taken again four days later?

‘Just about possible but unlikely.’

‘OK, Jack. Leave it to us. I’ll liaise with Dave.’

Colby not required, I realized. Tough. ‘What about the boat angle?’

‘No sign of one that would fit the bill, all checked. Nor any evidence of Carlos having been on the lock side of the river.’

‘There are moorings back in the Maidstone direction on the side Carlos was found.’

Brandon dismissed this right away. ‘We checked those too.’

I was getting desperate. ‘Suppose there
wasn’t
a boat?’

A beady look. ‘A ploy? Why? How?’

‘The towpath was an odd place to suggest as a meeting point. The killer lures Carlos there with talk of locks and a boat for entertainment or discussion, whichever. But that doesn’t mean there had to
be
a boat.’

‘Agreed. That’s the conclusion we reached.’

I was too wrapped up in this to stop now. ‘Mendez’s car was found in the lane down to the river on the side his body was found. The killer suggested they met there for a drink and chat and then that they would go over the bridge to the boat – which didn’t exist. No problem, as he’d planned to kill Carlos anyway.’

‘Agreed. We got there as well,’ Brandon repeated, deadpan. ‘Any ideas on how he got Carlos to stroll along the towpath in semi darkness on the weir side of the bridge though?’

‘No,’ I admitted. ‘Unless the killer suggested they strolled out to see if the boat had come through the lock, because a chum was bringing it through.’

‘Possible, but weak,’ Brandon conceded. ‘Thanks, Jack. So now all I have to do,’ he added, ‘is to find out why Mendez was killed and who killed him. No problem. Luckily, we already have someone who has motive, opportunity, left evidence, and has lied like blazes from the word go.’ He spoke dispassionately, not sarcastically, and I had to see his point of view.

‘The Charros also had motive enough.’

‘As I said, it’s a long time to cherish the idea of revenge.’

‘Refreshed by a memorial annual lunch?’ I was heartened by seeing his expression change. ‘As you know,’ I continued, ‘one of the band committed suicide, thought to be because Carlos’s actions had ruined his life.’

Brandon dismissed this angle – rather regretfully, it seemed to me. ‘Too way out, Jack.’

‘Even though those involved were at Wychwood House on Tuesday – a mere three days ago – and one of them was possibly here this morning, Matt Wright?’

A split-second freeze, then: ‘Miss Gibson told us about Wright. We’re following that up. Now –’ he came to the salient point … for him – ‘how do
you
know about the band being here on Tuesday?’

‘I called here unexpectedly.’

‘I’ll let that go for the moment. What were they here for?’

‘They said it was to discuss the anniversary lunch. That’s on the ninth of July.’

‘What were
you
here for?’

‘To talk to Ambrose Fairbourne.’

‘Did you do so?’

‘Not for long. He was with them.’

‘To discuss a lunch? He had Alzheimer’s. What did
you
want to talk about to him?’

‘The Morris Minor.’

‘And today it was an archaeological trip? Pull the other one,’ he snapped.

‘I can’t. I thought the two might overlap and his archaeological life might have something to do with Carlos’s murder.’

Silence. ‘Did you work out what it was?’ he asked at last.

‘No. I found his body. The only obvious connection is the May Tree Inn at Tickenden. Ambrose was a regular there even before Carlos formed his band.’

‘I still don’t see it,’ Brandon said flatly. ‘Evidence?’

‘None. Except the coincidence of the May Tree Inn.’

‘Any other golden nuggets you’d like to dig up while I’m here?’

‘Yes. Does the name Frank Watson mean anything to you? He was the father of Neil, the Charro who committed suicide. Frank Watson ran off with the loot of the Crowshaw Collection in 1978. That had a lot of golden nuggets.’

A flicker of interest from Brandon. ‘Does Fairbourne link into this?’

‘Not as far as I know, but Carlos—’

Brandon sighed. ‘OK, Jack. That’s enough. You’re free to go.’

I wasn’t sure whether this was good or bad news, but I didn’t argue. ‘Is Josie free too?’ I explained to him that I would like to drive her over to stay with her mother, and he raised no objection provided he had the address. Josie must have found it tough enough living in Wychwood House with only Ambrose as company, but without him – even if there were police around – I could see she was in no state to stay here alone.

I negotiated the security system at Jubilee Crescent, Boyfield, with Josie and patted the spaniel Don, as he was indicating he was the official Cerberus and considered the house his own property. Betty came rushing out of the house, and it was a relief to hand Josie over to her care. I wasn’t too sure that Betty was the caring sort, but Josie was happy, which was the point of the exercise. They made an odd contrast: Betty extrovert, lively and in control, compared with Josie who looked almost the elder of the two.

‘What’s this all about, Jack?’ Betty said anxiously over Josie’s shoulder as her daughter clung to her. I hadn’t explained fully on the phone and did so now.

‘Murdering that old man?’ she exclaimed in horror. ‘Josie, you poor girl. Finding him like that. And all the while you and me were at the supermarket. Poor old Ambrose. You’d never think it, Jack, but Ambrose was a real looker when I first went to the May Tree in ’seventy-seven. Tony said they used to come to the pub together, Ambrose and his wife, in that car of theirs. Ambrose adored Muriel, and then she went and died of cancer. He was a real flirt after that, but it didn’t mean anything. Everyone made a fuss of him though, especially the women, but it took time for him to get over it.’

‘He looked rather dashing in his photos,’ I agreed as I followed them inside the house. ‘Was he a regular during the period Carlos formed the band and while it played there?’

‘Sure. He was still around.’

Could that have been the reason Ambrose was in the room with the Charros on Tuesday, or had that been simply because it was easier for Josie to keep an eye on him?

‘Did he still have a Morris Minor then?’

‘Couldn’t say after all this time. I think he had one for a year or two when I first went to the pub, but then he moved on to Renaults.’

‘What’s all this about then?’ Tony came in to join us, looking anxious, and when Betty explained, he tactfully indicated that we should leave mother and daughter together in favour of a beer in the conservatory. It was a non-alcoholic one for me, which won me no plaudits from Tony, who was born into a different generation. He took me (with Don barking enthusiastically) into their garden, which looked out over the Downs farmland to the blue and grey haze of the Channel far beyond.

‘Josie and you found the old chap’s body then?’ he asked.

‘I’m afraid so. A shock for us both. I’d only gone there to chat about archaeology with him.’

‘Keen on that, are you?’

‘Only because he was. I promised to take him to Eastry one day.’

He spluttered with laughter. ‘You and everyone who came to the house. He was fixated on it. Thought he knew exactly where the king was buried, along with his treasure. Poor old sod. Josie said he never got over finding the Suffolk hoard and was convinced there was another one waiting for him.’