White Lies (34 page)

“Did you see anyone else? Either in the cemetery or later?”

“I stopped off at the White Hart for a beer and picked up a packet of chips from the shop around the corner. I ate them here and them went back to the flat in Chervil Close just after midnight.”

“That should be easy enough to verify. Thank you.”

“You’re not going to arrest me then?”

“Not just at the moment, no, though I will ask you not to leave the environs of Laverstone for the next week or two.”

“Sure.” Jimmy picked up his tea like a crane from a penny arcade and sipped from the gap between thumb and forefinger.

“It’s the White Art now.” Peters was still leaning against the door frame.

“What?”

“You called it the White Hart. It hasn’t been the White Hart for twenty years or more, not since the H dropped off and they decided they liked the new name better.”

“Right yeah. The White Art. I’d forgotten. Grew up here, see. It always had the aitch when we were kids.”

“I see. That must be it, then.” Peters nodded.

Jimmy turned to Meinwen. “Why didn’t you phone me? I’d have come and looked after you. Did you see who did it?”

“The mugger took my phone, didn’t he? I could hardly call you without it.”

“You could have used a payphone. Or borrowed someone’s?”

“And do what? Was I supposed to remember your number? It was on my phone. Which was stolen.”

“Oh, right. Sorry. You’re okay though?”

“I’ll survive, thanks.”

Sergeant Peters’s phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket, looked at it and held it up. “Sorry. I’ll take it outside.” White nodded and he opened the door. They could just hear him say “Hello?” as he closed it behind him.

“Is there anything I can do? Where did it happen?”

“Right outside your flat. I honestly think I’d be dead if one of the dealers hadn’t turned up to drive the mugger off.”

The door opened again and Peters returned, still holding the phone. “It’s the station, sir.”

White held out his hand but Peters shook his head. “No, sir. They want to speak to Ms. Jones. Apparently they’ve got a patch request from Dafydd Thomas. Very urgent he gets in touch with her, he says.”

“Then you’d best give it her.” White waved a hand in her direction. “Honestly, if we could get her to work for us I think we could all retire.”

“For me?” Meinwen took the phone and held it gingerly to her ear. “Dafydd? What’s going on?”

“Meinwen? You’ll never believe who I’ve just had at the house.” He sounded breathless and excited.

“Who?”

“Your Catherine Godwin. Well tasty she is.”

“What did she want?”

“To see you, obviously. That’s not why I’m ringing though. Guess who she had with her?”

Meinwen mouthed a sorry to the two policemen who were waiting patiently for her to finish. “I don’t have time for guessing games, Dafydd. Just tell me.”

“Richard Godwin. He’s not dead at all. You can tell your policeman friends they’ve got the wrong body.”

“Dear dog.”

“I was right to call you, wasn’t I?”

“Of course. Yes. Thanks. You did exactly the right thing.” She widened her eyes at the inspector and mouthed, “He’s alive.”
 

“While I’ve got you, do you want curry and chips for dinner?”

“No, not curry again, nor chips neither. I’ll make a casserole.” She closed the connection and handed the phone back to Peters.

“Well?” White stared at her. “What was so urgent?”

“That was Dafydd. He’s had a visit from Catherine Godwin.” Meinwen took several breaths before she continued. “Richard Godwin was with her. He’s not dead at all.”

“Not dead?” White frowned. “Then who the devil have we got in the morgue?”

Chapter 33

Two uniformed officers were already waiting for them at The Larches. PC Mike Brandsford and another officer Meinwen didn’t know. She nodded to Mike as she followed White and Peters inside, glad she had some official backup this time, though she was looking forward to Richard’s explanation of where he’d been for the past two days.

Happier than she’d been yesterday, Jennifer smiled as she showed them in to the same sitting room Meinwen had occupied with Dafydd. Her smile faltered as she caught sight of Jimmy, but she recovered before anyone but Meinwen had noticed. Once everyone was seated she headed off toward the kitchen.

She returned with a tray of cups and followed it with a pot of tea and a cafetière. White stared at it suspiciously, but quite what he expected it to do was beyond Meinwen. Such a look of disgust hinted at a past experience. She leaned forward, ignoring the warning pain from her rib. “Can I pour you a coffee, Detective-inspector?”

“No thank you, Ms. Jones. I think I’ve had sufficient for the time being. Perhaps Sergeant Peters might like one, though.”

“Please.” Peters turned from the examination of a series of Noir photographs. “I’m parched. Extra milk and no sugar.”

“Jimmy? Would you mind?” She gestured to the tray with a pained expression. “My ribs are playing up.”

“Sure. No problem.” He picked up the cafetière in one hand and the milk jug in the other and poured both at once. “Anyone else?”

When nobody piped up he passed the cup to the sergeant who took it with a cheerful “Ta.” He used the cup to gesture at a photograph of a woman in a corset and bolero jacket. “That’s one of Sir Robert’s, isn’t it?”

“No, Sergeant, it’s one of mine.” Richard Godwin stood in the doorway, his wife behind him. He ushered her into the room. She was, Meinwen was only half relieved to see, dressed more conservatively than she’d been last time they spoke.

She rose with some difficulty, holding her side. “Catherine. Good to see you again. I’m so sorry I upset you last time we met. I honestly believed...”

“No, the apologies are mine to make. I couldn’t believe what you were saying but of course, when I read in the paper that what you said was true I felt doubly awful. Not only was my husband apparently dead but I’d accused you of making it up for some reason of your own. I almost didn’t answer my phone I was so upset but I’m glad I did.” She smiled at Richard and squeezed his arm. “But I see you’re hurt. What happened?”

“I was mugged on the way home from your hotel.” Meinwen sank back into the chair “Don’t worry about me though I’ll–” She was interrupted by a pointed cough for the inspector. “We’ll talk later.”

White stood and held out his hand. “Mr. Godwin. This is the second time you’ve given us the runaround.”

Richard shook his hand. “Purely accidentally this time, Detective-inspector. I don’t know who you’ve got in your morgue but it clearly isn’t me. I was in Paris, would you believe? I got back this morning, discovered I was thought dead and well, here I am.” He helped himself to a coffee.

“May I ask what you were doing in Paris?

Richard looked at the doorway and lowered his voice. “Looking at an apartment, actually, though I’d be grateful if you keep it under your hat for the time being. I’d rather my aunt wasn’t made aware of that.”

“An apartment? I was under the impression you were in a good deal of debt.”

“No more than anyone, inspector. I had to offload some of my shares recently to pay for Catherine’s alternative accommodation and it left me a bit short but I’m no more in debt than I was when I inherited the house three years ago. I had to mortgage the place just to keep up with the death duties and between you, me and the gatepost my beloved aunt is up to her old tricks again. I wouldn’t put it past her to have me murdered just to get her paws on the rest of the silver.” He laughed.

“Murder is no laughing matter, Mr. Godwin.” White nodded at Peters who took a photograph from his pocket. “This young man was murdered not far from here. Could you tell me if you recognize him?”

Richard looked at the photograph and his face paled. “Good Lord. It’s Kevin. What the devil was he doing in the cemetery?” He showed the photograph to Catherine. “I thought he was with you?”

Catherine’s brow furrowed as she looked from the photograph to her husband to the inspector. “It is Kevin. Then who have I got in my cage?”

“Cage?” White took the photograph back. “What cage? And Kevin who?”

“Kevin Oakley, the missing student.” Meinwen spoke over him. “He’s been with you all along, hasn’t he? Why didn’t you inform the police he wasn’t missing?”

“Is this true? You had him all the time? In a cage? I should arrest you for false imprisonment.” White looked at Peters. “Fetch the uniforms in.”

“It’s not like that, Inspector.” Catherine moved to block the sergeant’s egress. “It was purely consensual. I met Kevin in the course of my business. He was very easy to get along with. All he really wanted was someone to talk to. He was being abused at home, you see, and went to college to get away from it, not because he particularly wanted to be an engineer. He liked the feeling of safety he got from being with me and ended up spending much of the time in my suite at the hotel. He’d do odd jobs for me in return for being my bouncer in case of difficult clients. He wasn’t a prisoner or anything. He came and went as he pleased.”

“But he looked like your husband. I identified him myself from his driving license. Your driver's license. How was he in possession of that?”

Meinwen looked at Richard’s face. He seemed genuinely surprised by the revelation and he checked his breast pocket automatically. If there had been subterfuge, it wasn’t by his design.

Catherine spoke up. “Richard left his jacket behind when he came to see me the night before. I didn’t think about it again until Meinwen had been to see me and when I looked for it, it had gone.” She shrugged. “I just assumed he’d come back for it before his Paris trip. Kevin must have borrowed it and pretended to be him.”

“Why on earth would he pretend to be me? In real life, I mean.” Richard turned to the inspector. “When Catherine met Kevin she was surprised at how similar we looked. We went further with it and cut and dyed his hair to match mine. It gave her a buzz to have two of me, I suppose. We all got along quite well so it was fairly natural I use him in some of my photo shoots. I mean, he looked just like me and you can’t let a face like that go to waste.” He winked. “Anyway, he must have borrowed my jacket.”

“Did you not notice your wallet and phone were missing?”

“Of course, but as I said, I was on my way to France so I didn’t need my wallet. I knew it was in safekeeping and I had my passport and plenty of Euros. I had my business mobile with me so it wasn’t worth the extra time to go back to retrieve the other one. I was only away two nights, anyway.”

“And how did you get to Paris?”

“Train to London then the Eurostar.”

“I see. Make a note to check that, Peters.”

“Yes, sir.”

Meinwen watched the sergeant make a note in his pocketbook. It would be a formality. If she was any judge of character at all, Richard was telling the truth about this. He was keeping a secret, though. He kept glancing at Catherine. Meinwen shifted her concentration to the dominatrix.

“Let me get this straight.” White flicked backward and forward through the notes he’d taken. “Kevin Oakley, who’s so afraid of his home life he’d rather live in a cage in Mrs. Godwin’s hotel suite, takes Mr. Godwin’s jacket and, we can assume, his identity. He then goes to the cemetery where he meets another man, has a smoke and a chinwag and gets brutally murdered, presumably by the same man who thought he was who he claimed to be. Have I got that about right?”

“It does sound a bit far-fetched if you say it like that.”

“How would you say it, Mr. Godwin? I understand your life is heavily insured.”

“I suppose it is but what’s that got to do with anything? You’re not implying I set the whole thing up to get an insurance payout, are you?”

Meinwen saw a flash of surprise cross Catherine’s face. The inspector was close to the truth but was he questioning the right person?

“I’m not implying anything, Mr. Godwin. I’m merely trying to get at the truth.” White chuckled. “You have to admit it would fit the scenario rather nicely, don’t you think? You find this disaffected young man who looks just like you. You coach him to act like you, take photographs of him as if he was you, then give him your jacket so he has your identity and send him off to the meet a killer. Everyone thinks you’re dead and your wife, who everyone thought you were estranged from, pockets upward of four million pounds.”