Maxwell's Revenge (27 page)

Hall looked mulish. ‘How would Maxwell know?’ he said. ‘I don’t believe he could be that sure.’ But he sounded less certain and Jacquie saw her advantage and took it.

‘Finally,’ she said, ‘Max said that the man he
grabbed was smaller than him, if not even below average height. Angus is like two yards of pump water. There’s no way you could mistake him for a short person, unless he came out of the shop on his knees.’

Hall threw up his hands. ‘I still think—’

‘I know what you think,’ Jacquie said, cutting him off. ‘You think that Angus gave himself a smaller dose, to put us off the scent.’

Hall nodded, and poked at a piece of paper with his pen. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Well spotted.’

‘But, guv, that’s the only reason it could be Angus, don’t you see?’ Really, the man was so stubborn she just wanted to scream. ‘You can’t just say it is Angus because we’ve got a mob outside. We have to get the right man, otherwise we’ll be watching for poisoners for the rest of our lives. Please, guv.’

Deep down, Hall knew that Jacquie was right. If this was one of Maxwell’s beloved Westerns, the mob would be waving a noose, demanding that Sheriff Hall hand the sonofabitch over. He would fire a shot in the air and they’d all go home, muttering darkly about Randolph Scott. As it was … ‘All right. We’ll keep looking. But we’ll also keep Angus under surveillance.’

‘I think we should. I think the poisoner knows he had unravelled the voicemail. He might have another go.’ Please, please, listen, you cussed man; she tried to send subliminal messages to him.

He picked up the phone and dialled. ‘I’ll change the emphasis,’ he said to her, ‘from arrest to protection.’

While he made the call, she went into the corner of the room and redialled her mother’s mobile number. It was switched off. Probably at home by now, Jacquie thought, sleeping off the remains of her hangover. She certainly had seemed very strange on the phone earlier. Breathless. Excited, even. A small worm of doubt started to gnaw in Jacquie’s stomach.

‘Jacquie,’ Hall said. ‘Let’s get on with this then, shall we? Maxwell said he knew who had done this. Do
you
know who it is?’

‘He’ll have told the cat,’ said Jacquie, at a tangent.

‘Will the cat talk?’ Hall asked, straight-faced.

‘Unlikely,’ she said.

‘We’re at square one, then,’ said Hall. ‘I just don’t know where to go from here. The manager of the Vine had just taken on the new barman on Saturday. He could be anyone. He could be our man, but he could just be someone who, for reasons of his own, didn’t want to get involved in a police investigation. Let’s start again.’

‘What, guv? From Leighford High?’

‘Oh, God, no. I can’t stand that. This lunchtime. From when we went in.’

They picked the events over into tiny pieces, and then put them all back together again. It
couldn’t be Angus, and yet, somehow, it had to be Angus. He was always after more hours; Hall believed he had been willing to kill for the extra work. People today killed for peanuts; in this case, they could kill
with
peanuts. Jacquie couldn’t believe that laconic Angus could be bothered to plan something like this and, although she knew that he wanted the cash, and liked his sleuthing and mild showing off in his lab, she knew in her heart of hearts that he was a gentle soul.

So, here they were again, whittled down to a smallish man, not too fit, smoker, homicidal maniac. Easy-peasy.

Hall’s phone rang.

‘Hall,’ he barked. ‘What? That was quick. Give me the list. Yep, right, uh huh, yes, I see. Wait a minute. Who? Are you sure? No, no, sorry, no offence. Thanks for being so fast with that. Yes, thanks. No, we don’t really think it’s him. No. Don’t worry.’ He put the phone down and looked across the desk at Jacquie. ‘SOCO,’ he said. ‘Prints from the bar. Loads of unidentified, of course. The Vine isn’t very hot on polish. But … well, let me make another call, then we’ll talk.’ He picked up the phone again and dialled zero for the desk. ‘Hello. Yes. DCI Hall. Just a quick question, I know you’re busy. Whose fingerprints were on that plant. Yes, I know about his. And hers. Anyone else? Really? I
see, thanks.’ The phone went down and Hall was on his feet in one movement. ‘Let’s go,’ he said to Jacquie over his shoulder.

‘Where are we going, guv?’ she asked, out of her seat and grabbing her bag.

‘Do you know where Bob Davies lives?’ he asked, randomly.

‘Er … no, I don’t,’ she said.

‘Well, you’re about to find out.’ And he made for the stairs.

Hall’s car was parked out in the shoppers’ car park so they commandeered a squad car, complete with driver and back-up. The mob had gone now, except for a small picquet of the most piqued of Leighford, DSS card-carriers to a man. And one retired colonel with shares in a supermarket. They passed the Volvo, alone now except for Jacquie’s Ka, in splendid isolation in the usually busy space. They had driven about half a mile further before the impact hit Jacquie.

‘Guv,’ she said. ‘My car is still in the car park.’

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I saw it. So what? They’re out shopping.’

‘But my mother didn’t answer her phone.’

‘They’re in a shop. She had no signal.’

‘Guv. She’s with Max. He thinks he knows who did it.’

Hall looked serious. ‘Call the station. See if any calls have involved them.’

‘What?’ Jacquie was almost climbing out of the car. ‘They’ve got Nolan with them.’

‘Well, make up your mind, Jacquie,’ Hall said. ‘I know Maxwell is completely crazy, but his madness stops short of anything that would hurt Nolan. So, there’s no need to worry.’

‘But … my car …’

‘Perhaps it wouldn’t start. Perhaps your mother had a drink …’

‘What do you mean by that?’ Jacquie was becoming very sensitive on that issue.

‘Nothing.’ Hall looked at her askance. Perhaps the last few days had been too much. ‘Either put it out of your mind and come with me on this arrest or get out now.’ He waited, tapping one finger on the back of the driver’s seat. This was a habit of which he was unaware, but it drove all of his drivers almost to the point of homicide. ‘Make up your mind.’

‘Yes, Jacquie,’ muttered his driver. ‘Make up your sodding mind.’

After what seemed an eternity, she said, ‘OK, guv. I’m sorry. Let’s go.’

‘Thank Christ,’ the driver muttered and changed down for the hill that led to Davies’s house.

Davies lived in a bungalow on the outskirts of Leighford. It just had a number but, had there been a scrollwork plaque outside as sported by
all its neighbours, it would have read ‘Screwed Over In The Divorce’. It was neglected and, even in the fag end of the loveliest summer in years, the garden was unkempt and somehow the dying flowers in the borders managed to look sinister in their damped-off death throes. The policemen all were reminded of a Tim Burton set – the whole thing was just one step to the left of normal.

The driver of Hall’s car stopped, out of habit, a few doors further on. The squad car following them stopped a few doors back. There was no real need for subterfuge, they knew; Davies was well up on all their tricks, but even so, there were the neighbours to consider in this rather seedy road. It was probably the most exciting thing that had happened there since the Silver Jubilee.

‘Stay here,’ Hall said to his driver. ‘Radio the other car and tell them to wait as well. If we need back-up, Jacquie has her radio with her and will just press alarm. Then come running.’

‘I thought that poisoners couldn’t hurt you, guv,’ said Jacquie. ‘Only by stealth.’

‘That’s an actual
poisoner
, Jacquie,’ said Hall. ‘Davies is a policeman who has chosen to poison people. He’s a completely different animal.’ He led the way down the path and knocked on the dusty door. An unexpected smell of a Sunday roast wafted out as Davies answered their knock.

‘Guv! Jacquie! How lovely to see you both,’ he said, smiling like a crocodile. ‘In you come.
You’re just in time for lunch. Will you join me?’ They didn’t reply, just edged in past him into a hall that had seen better days. Every inch of the paintwork was Nicotine Yellow, a shade which even Dulux had a hard time marketing. ‘No, I didn’t think you would. There’s plenty, if you change your minds. This is rude, but would you mind if I carried on? It’s always nicer if it’s hot, don’t you think? Go on through. Yes, that’s it, right through, into the kitchen. I eat in the conservatory at the back.’

He ushered them into the kitchen and through into what was essentially a glass-sided lean-to. They looked around with faint distaste at the green-streaked glass and lifted their feet surreptitiously to check that they hadn’t stepped in anything. The initial delicious smell had become rather less pleasant the further into the house they went. Davies was behind them, a plate of dinner in his hands. He gestured to the table.

‘I’ve only laid for one, so if I can sit there, guv? You and Jacquie sit anywhere you like.’ He sat down and pulled the salt, in a red plastic drum, towards him. ‘After all, you usually do just as you like, don’t you?’

Hall and Jacquie sat reluctantly. Hall had had no game plan on this one, he was running on anger and adrenalin. This was one of their own, and he had tried to kill Margaret. A small part
of his brain tried to weigh up which of these sins was the worst. It was a close call. ‘Let’s keep this pleasant, Bob, shall we?’ he suggested.

Davies took a huge bite of his dinner. ‘Why?’ His tone was reasonable, and it was hard to see him as a mass poisoner. For the first time, Jacquie wondered whether her guv’nor had made a mistake.

‘There isn’t a good outcome, is there, Bob? You’ve killed two people, and …’

Davies waved a gravy-smeared knife at Hall. ‘Hold up, now,’ he said. ‘I haven’t killed two people. Just the barman and he was an accident.’

‘And Mel Forman.’

‘Who the fuck is Mel Forman when he’s at home?’

‘She,’ said Jacquie. ‘The teacher at Leighford High.’

Davies put down his knife and fork and guffawed. ‘Idiots,’ he said. ‘I didn’t do that one. I got the
idea
from that one. No,’ and he resumed attacking his food, ‘somebody else did that one. A nutter, I suppose. Had the right idea, though, targeting Leighford High. Probably after that wanker you live with, Jacquie.’ His tone was still reasonable, he was just stating facts. He held out a forkful of greens towards her. ‘Go on, try some. Spinach. Lovely. Put hairs on your chest.’ She shook her head. ‘No? You don’t know what you’re missing.’ He ate it in one bite.

‘Bob,’ said Hall, trying to get the conversation back on track. ‘You’re a policeman …’

‘Was. Was a policeman.’

‘You know the odds of two poisoners in one town are astronomic.’

‘But there aren’t two poisoners, are there?’ he said. ‘There’s
one
poisoner and there’s me. I just copied him. You must have already worked that out.’ He looked from one to the other, smiling. ‘Fuck me, you two. You won’t solve anything without me. I can’t believe you’ve been looking for just one person. You must be nuts.’

Hall and Jacquie looked at each other. All of the things that hadn’t added up had been because they were doing the wrong sum. They had tied themselves in knots trying to make links between unlinked crimes. Into their minds came a simultaneous thought: that while they were here, watching Davies filling his face, another poisoner was out there, at large and able to get at his original victims, able to have another go.

Davies burped resonantly. ‘Oops,’ he said, and patted his chest. ‘Wind in the willows. Where were we? Oh, yes. I am your
random
poisoner. I’ve done, ooh, I forget how many shops. And not just shops either. I’ve done pubs, cafes, restaurants. The casual job in the Vine was ridiculously easy to get and very useful, as you already know.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘Shame I missed Angus, though. I really thought he’d be
up for two or three pints before you got there. I was planning putting something in his stash if the beer failed, but that went a bit tits up, of course. Never mind, it’s all one now.’ He reached out and helped himself to some more mint sauce from a pot on the table.

‘Putting aside Leighford High for a moment,’ Hall said, ‘did you try to poison Jacquie’s son yesterday afternoon?’

Davies looked aggrieved. ‘I most certainly did not. Poor little bugger, he’s got enough to contend with, with those two for parents, without me slipping something in his juice. I heard about that, though. When I dropped in to the nick.’ He bent a solicitous gaze on Jacquie. ‘All right now, is he, young Nolan?’

‘Yes, he is, thanks,’ said Jacquie, tightly.

‘Tell you what, though,’ Davies went on, ‘while young Nolan is the subject of the conversation. Two things, really. One is, don’t use birthdays as your PIN. I’ve been listening to your messages for months. The other thing is … well, I hardly like to say.’

‘What?’ Jacquie snapped, half rising from her chair.

‘Where is he?’

She sat down again. ‘Stop trying to scare me, Davies, you shit,’ she said. ‘He’s with his father and grandmother.’

‘His grandmother. Looks like you if you
were made up to look like a boot. Short legs. Fat arse.’

It seemed disloyal, but it was accurate enough. Jacquie nodded. Hall dipped his head. Now was not the time to crack his first smile.

‘When I saw them running down Silversmith Row I didn’t see him. Perhaps they left him with someone, eh?’

Jacquie grabbed Hall’s arm and shook it. ‘I told you,’ she said. ‘I told you it was odd my car was still there.’

‘Calm down, Jacquie,’ Hall said. ‘I’m sure there is a perfectly rational explanation.’

‘Bugger that,’ she said and dashed off towards the front door, yelling down her radio as she went. ‘All units, Silversmith Row. Stat. Repeat, all units. Silversmith Row.’

‘Alpha Charlie Two,’ came the steady response. ‘Unit November Echo already at Silversmith Row. Query send other units, over.’

‘Why are they there?’ she snapped. To hell with all this Alpha Charlie rubbish.

‘Casualty. Elderly man. Poison. Paramedics in attendance.’

Elderly? Did Maxwell class as elderly? ‘Any other casualties?’

‘Negative Alpha Charlie Two. Two civilians called it in. A Mr Maxwell …’