The Scent of Death--A Sukey Reyholds British police procedural (25 page)

The church was in a quiet street a short distance further on. It was set back from the road and there was a forecourt with half a dozen spaces, one of which was reserved for the vicar and the other for the church secretary. A single car was parked in one of the unreserved spaces and Sukey gave a squeak of excitement. ‘That's his car!' she exclaimed.

‘Are you sure?'

‘Of course I'm sure. He was driving it when he came to identify his brother's body. He must be doing something in the church.'

‘Shall we go in?' said Harry.

‘Not you; he'll assume you're a copper and ask for an ID. You go somewhere out of sight and wait for me to call you.' She got out of the car and watched him drive away before crossing the road to the church and opening the door. A heavy curtain shielded the interior; she pushed it aside and went in. It was a typical Victorian church, with oak pews on either side of the nave and a stained glass window above the altar. On the right of the chancel steps was a pedestal on which a woman was arranging foliage and flowers. A man was seated in the front row of pews, watching her. It was clear that neither of them had heard her come in. She walked quietly up the carpeted aisle and sat down beside him.

‘Good afternoon, Mr Grayson,' she said.

His head jerked as if pulled on a string. ‘What the he—' He managed to bite back the expletive. ‘How did you know I was here?'

‘I'm a detective, remember? It's what we do.'

He glared at her. ‘Haven't I answered enough of your stupid questions?' he hissed. ‘This is sheer harassment.'

‘Luke, what's this about? Why should a detective want to talk to you?' The flower arranger had evidently overheard and stood staring at Grayson with a half-open daffodil in one hand.

Sukey stood up. ‘Mrs Grayson?'

The woman's face turned scarlet. ‘No … I'm … that is, I do the flowers and Mr Grayson is kind enough to give me a lift to the florist and then to the church.'

‘How kind of him,' said Sukey, ‘but perhaps you can do without him for a few minutes while he and I have a quiet chat about one or two things.' She turned to Grayson. ‘Shall we find somewhere a little more private?'

‘But …' the woman began.

‘It'll be all right, Cynthia,' said Grayson. He turned a look of sheer malice on Sukey and said, ‘Come on, let's get this over.' He led the way to a corner at the back of the church where a small circle of chairs was arranged round a table on which copies of the parish magazine and a brochure advertising open learning courses were laid out. ‘Will this do?'

‘Fine,' said Sukey. ‘It shouldn't take long.'

‘This is exceedingly embarrassing, to say the least,' he said in a low voice. ‘If you have to ask more of your perpetual nit-picking questions, why did you have to come here instead of to my office?'

‘It so happens I'm in London for the weekend and a friend took me to lunch at the Ritz,' Sukey began. ‘Does that ring a bell?'

‘Should it?'

‘You gave a party there for your mother-in-law's one hundredth birthday last Saturday.'

‘So what if I did? Don't tell me you're thinking of holding a similar function there?' The idea seemed to amuse him, the subtext of the remark being,
I doubt if you could afford it.

‘Not exactly,' said Sukey. ‘If you would cast your mind back to my recent visit with my colleague, DS Armstrong, to your office, you may recall that when you told us you were at the Ritz on the Friday evening you suggested – rather sarcastically as I remember – that I could check your alibi with the maitre d'.'

‘So?' he said. His tone became less confident as if he sensed what was coming next.

‘I did just that – or rather, I spoke to the events manager. He agreed that you were there on Friday to check the arrangements, but was quite positive that you were there in the morning, not the evening. So I'm asking you once again, where were you on that Friday evening between eight o'clock and midnight? At home with your wife?' If so, I'm sure she'll be happy to confirm it.'

‘My wife had gone to collect her mother, who lives in Manchester. She was bringing her back in the morning.'

‘So you were at home on your own?'

‘Yes.'

‘Can you prove it?'

‘Why should I have to?'

‘This is a murder enquiry, Mr Grayson. Anyone who might have a motive to commit the murder and who has no alibi is naturally under grave suspicion.'

‘What possible motive could I have for killing Rainbird? The idea is preposterous.'

‘But you don't have an alibi either.'

‘Yes, he has!' Sukey and Grayson swung round. The flower arranger, evidently overcome with curiosity, had approached unobserved and stood behind them with an expression of sheer horror on her face. She moved across and put a hand on Grayson's shoulder. ‘I can tell you who was with him. I was.'

He pushed her hand away and said, ‘Stay out of this, Cynthia.'

‘And have you suspected of murder? You think I'd stand by and let that happen? He was with me on the Friday before the party, Detective whatever your name is. All evening … and all night.'

L
uke Grayson broke down and wept, racking sobs that seemed to tear the heart out of him and leave him gasping for breath. The woman sat down beside him, took his hand and tried to soothe him, murmuring words in his ear that Sukey, who had withdrawn a short distance to give them some privacy, could not hear. She recalled the time she had sat at his side as he shed quiet tears for his dead brother. Then, she felt nothing but compassion for him in his grief. She felt no compassion for him now; instead the words ‘How are the mighty fallen' came into her mind. She waited until he had become calmer before saying, ‘I'm Detective Constable Sukey Reynolds of the Avon and Somerset Police. May I know your name, please?'

‘I'm Cynthia Franks.'

‘Well, Mrs Franks, as you will have gathered, I have already interviewed Mr Grayson in connection with the death of one of his colleagues, Lance Rainbird, who was found drowned a week ago yesterday in the grounds of a hotel near Clevedon. Perhaps he told you about that?'

Mrs Franks shook her head, ‘No, he didn't. He never talks about anything to do with his work.'

‘That's a little surprising, don't you think? The death of a colleague by drowning isn't exactly “anything to do with work”, is it?' Mrs Franks made no reply. ‘We weren't sure at first how he came to meet his death,' Sukey continued, ‘but our enquiries have now established that his death wasn't an accident; he was murdered.'

‘That's awful, of course,' said Mrs Franks, ‘but as I've just told you, Luke was with me on the day you mentioned so he couldn't possibly have had anything to do with it.'

‘We have learned from witnesses that there was considerable friction between Mr Grayson and Lance Rainbird, chiefly because Rainbird held very strong atheistic opinions and often offended Mr Grayson with his blasphemous remarks. That's correct, isn't it?' she said to Grayson.

He nodded. ‘I believe he made some of his most outrageous statements with the deliberate intention of offending me,' he said.

‘I remember you telling me something about the arguments you had with him from time to time, Luke, but you didn't tell me he was dead,' Mrs Franks said reproachfully. ‘Why not?'

He made a helpless gesture. ‘It didn't concern us … and we have so little time together.'

‘But you couldn't possibly have had anything to do with his death, so why did you lie to the police?' she persisted.

‘It was because of
her
.' He jerked his head in Sukey's direction. ‘She had the cheek to ask me where I was at the time Rainbird was killed and I told her I was at the Ritz and suggested she check with the manager and the maître d' if she didn't believe me. The detective sergeant who was with her assured me that wasn't necessary; she probably agreed with me that her
subordinate
–' he managed to inject a hint of condescension into his tone – ‘had overstepped the mark and I naturally assumed she believed me. It wasn't an outright lie … I mean I was there, it was just the time … it never entered my head that
she
would actually go and check up on me.'

‘You were right, we had no reason not to believe you,' said Sukey, ‘but it so happened that the opportunity arose and it seemed to make sense to take advantage of it.'

‘And now my sin has found me out,' said Grayson. He looked up at Cynthia Franks. ‘I'm sorry I got you into this; will you forgive me?'

‘There's nothing to forgive,' she assured him. ‘We have both sinned; we must both pray for forgiveness.'

‘Mrs Franks,' said Sukey, ‘are you prepared to swear that you were with Luke Grayson between the hours of eight p.m. and midnight the day of Lance Rainbird's murder?'

She drew herself erect and said, ‘Yes, Constable Reynolds, I am.'

Sukey sank into the passenger seat of Harry's car and closed her eyes. ‘That,' she said, ‘was the most distressing interview I've carried out in a long time.'

‘I was getting worried,' said Harry. ‘In fact I was about to walk back to the church and put my head round the door when I got your call. Do you want to tell me about it?'

‘Luke Grayson,' she said, ‘is a broken man. A devout Christian, a pillar of the church and highly respected in the local community, he's been caught out having an extramarital affair with Mrs Cynthia Franks, a fellow member of his church, for the past three years.'

Harry whistled. ‘Don't tell me they were having it off in the vestry!' he exclaimed.

‘Oh no, it wasn't quite as bad as that. She does the flower arrangements; she doesn't drive so he takes her there, waits while she does her stuff and then brings her home. Apart from the convenience it gives them a bit of time together, but I can't believe anything improper goes on in the church.'

‘It must have scared the pants off him when you walked in.'

Sukey managed a chuckle. ‘It gave him the shock of his life; the look on his face had to be seen to be believed. I said I wanted a word with him in private so we went to a quiet spot at the back of the church, leaving Mrs F to get on with her flower arranging. But curiosity got the better of her and she managed to overhear me challenging him about his whereabouts on the Friday evening Rainbird was killed.'

‘I think I can guess what's coming next,' said Harry. ‘She realized he needed an alibi so she said he was with her.'

‘Exactly.'

‘Do you think she was telling the truth?'

‘It's hard to say. I asked her if she'd be willing to swear to it and she said she would. He begged her not to and assured her he had nothing to do with Rainbird's death, but she wouldn't budge. I took her details and said I'd be reporting to my superiors and they'd both be hearing from us again.'

‘From what you've told me about Grayson he's a pretty self-righteous bloke,' said Harry. ‘I've never met him, but I'm inclined to think he deserves to get his comeuppance.'

‘He was all but wailing and gnashing his teeth,' said Sukey. ‘It was quite pitiful; he was alternately apologizing to her and then saying “I'm ruined” and “Whatever's to become of me?” Oh, and at one point he said “God be merciful to me, a sinner”. I should have felt compassion for him, but I couldn't help feeling it was a bit of rough justice. I felt sorry for her, though. She obviously adores him and seemed as concerned for his reputation as he was. She asked me for assurance that it wouldn't get into the papers, but of course I couldn't give it.'

‘Do you know how the affair started?'

‘Grayson and her late husband used to play golf together and when her husband died he used to visit her from time to time to take her out shopping, bring her to church to the services and every so often to arrange the flowers and so on. He confided in her that his own marriage was on the rocks so they used to console each other. One day they somehow ended up in bed, and it went on from there.'

‘I take it you'll be feeding all this back to Rathbone?'

‘Of course, but what I need now is a nice strong cup of tea. I'll call him when I've had that.'

Harry switched on the ignition. ‘Right, let's go back to Greenings.'

Rathbone's reaction to Sukey's report was the most positive since the day he was forced to admit there was insufficient evidence to charge Justin Freeman with Rainbird's murder.

‘Well done, that was a smart piece of work,' he told her. ‘I'm not too optimistic about the hair and the handkerchief; lots of women use perfume and it seems unlikely that there'll be a match between any of the hair in Rainbird's flat and that of anyone known to be at Dallington Manor when he was killed. We might have more luck with his laptop. Go back to his flat and pick it up. I'll get the techies on to it first thing on Monday. Enjoy the rest of your weekend.'

‘Thanks, Guv. He sounded almost pleased,' she told Harry as she ended the call and told him what Rathbone had said.

‘Do you want to go and pick up the laptop right away or shall we leave it till the morning?'

‘Let's do it now so we have tomorrow free.'

As they reached Rainbird's flat Mrs Fellows opened her door. ‘I saw your car outside,' she said. ‘Have you any news?'

‘We've been getting on with our enquiries,' said Sukey, ‘and my Inspector has instructed me to collect something from Mr Rainbird's flat.'

‘Oh!' She sounded surprised. ‘Mr Rainbird's lady friend was here a little while after you left. I heard her go into the flat.'

‘Did she say why she was there?'

‘I didn't actually speak to her. I had a telephone call from my daughter; it went on for quite a long time and I think she must have left by the time I finished because I never heard her go.'