Wake the Dead Page 7

  ‘Anything interesting, Mike?’

  ‘Not really. I was just going through this list of people at the fête yesterday.’ Lineham waved a batch of closely typed sheets.

  Someone had been hard at work last night.

  ‘Nothing rings a bell, though.’

  ‘Didn’t think it would. Still, it had to be done and we’ll take it with us today, get people to glance through it. Did anyone think to list the helpers?’

  ‘Yes. There’s a separate section, at the end.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Oh, and a reporter from the Kent Messenger rang up.’

  The first swallow, thought Thanet. No doubt others would come flocking along soon enough now. He was glad he’d eventually managed to get hold of Superintendent Draco at the hospital and let him know what was happening, though Draco had obviously been anxious and preoccupied with Angharad’s treatment. After a few perfunctory questions he had simply said that he relied on Thanet’s discretion and would see him at the morning meeting on Monday, as usual.

  There was a knock at the door and Mallard came in.

  ‘You’re about bright and early for a Sunday, Doc.’

  The little doctor beamed. ‘Had an early call, so thought I’d pop in on the way home to breakfast.’ He crossed to the window and stood looking out. ‘Lovely day, isn’t it? Helen and I thought we might go on a picnic.’

  Thanet and Lineham groaned.

  ‘Don’t rub it in,’ said Thanet. ‘Anyway, how can you if you’re on call?’

  Mallard turned around and twinkled at him benevolently over his half-moons. He patted his pocket. ‘Beep, beep. The wonders of modern science, Luke. We’ll stay within easy reach. Anyway, I thought you might like to know, I had a word with old Mrs Fairleigh’s doctor – Dr Beltring, do you know him?’

  ‘Know of him.’

  ‘Yes, well he’s a nice chap, good reputation, conscientious. He just confirmed what we already knew, really. He wouldn’t have been in the least surprised if Mrs Fairleigh had had another stroke.’

  ‘What did he say when you told him she’d been suffocated?’

  ‘He was shocked, naturally. Couldn’t believe it. Said he’d like to see the PM results.’

  ‘He was querying your judgement, you mean?’

  ‘No. Just out of interest.’

  ‘Do we know when the PM is?’

  ‘I managed to fix it for first thing tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Thanks … Doc, there really isn’t the slightest doubt in your mind, is there?’

  At one time Thanet would never have dared ask Mallard such a question. The police surgeon would have gone through the roof. Now, Helen’s mellowing influence was such that he just smiled and said, ‘I won’t take offence, Luke. I know you’re just asking me to confirm it again, not implying that I could be wrong.’ He held up his hand as Thanet opened his mouth to verify this. ‘After all, we can all make mistakes. But in this case, no, I’m certain. The evidence was there, plain as a pikestaff to anyone who knew what to look for.’

  Thanet felt bound to justify himself. ‘It’s just that …’

  ‘Really, Luke, say no more. I can just imagine how you-know-who would react if we’d started tossing the word “murder” at people like the Fairleighs without justification. I assume you think that one of them is involved?’

  ‘More than likely, don’t you think?’

  ‘But you haven’t actually said so to Fairleigh yet?’

  ‘Not yet, no.’

  ‘I’m glad it’ll be you not me in the firing line this time.’

  ‘It must have crossed his mind though, surely,’ said Lineham.

  ‘True,’ said Mallard. ‘But crossing his mind is one thing, having it spelled out to him is another. Well, must be off. Let me see, what did Helen say was on the menu this morning? Ah yes, fresh croissants.’ He gave a cheery wave as he disappeared through the door. ‘Have a nice day’ floated back at them.

  ‘All right for some,’ said Lineham.

  ‘Come on, Mike. You’re a workaholic and you know it. Tell me truthfully, now. Which would you prefer, a day at the beach with the family, or a murder investigation?’

  ‘I don’t like traffic jams,’ said Lineham with a grin. He nodded at the window. ‘And today the roads to the coast will be solid with traffic.’

  ‘Now that we’ve got that straight, we’d better get on. First thing I want to do is have a chat with Caroline Plowright, get a bit of background on the family.’

  ‘Doesn’t miss much, that one,’ agreed Lineham.

  ‘Exactly. Think it’s too early to ring her?’ Thanet glanced at his watch. ‘It’s nine o’clock.’

  ‘I’d say give it a try.’ Lineham was already riffling through his notebook, reaching for the phone.

  ‘I think I’ll speak to her myself. Might be more diplomatic. She’s not directly involved, after all. What’s the number?’

  Thanet dialled as Lineham read it off.

  She answered on the second ring.

  ‘Detective Inspector Thanet here, Sturrenden CID. We met yesterday at the –’

  ‘Yes, I remember. What can I do for you?’

  ‘I’m sorry to trouble you on a Sunday morning, but I wondered if you could spare us a little of your time.’

  ‘Why?’ The monosyllable was uncompromising.

  Thanet was equally blunt in reply. ‘Because you know the Fairleighs well. I think you might be able to help us.’

  ‘If it’s dirt you’re looking for, no. Not that there is any anyway, but …’

  ‘I’m not looking for dirt, as you put it, Miss Plowright. Just a little straightforward background information.’

  She was silent for a moment. ‘Very well. But it’ll have to be at the shop. I’m just leaving.’

  ‘The shop?’

  ‘Big is Beautiful. In the High Street.’

  ‘Ah yes, I know it. Right. What time?’

  ‘As soon as possible, before I get started on my work. Then I won’t have to break off. In fifteen minutes?’

  ‘Fine. Thank you.’

  Big is Beautiful was at the Market Square end of the High Street. It had opened a couple of years previously and specialised in clothes for larger women. As Joan was an average size fourteen she and Thanet had never had occasion to go in and he’d had no idea who its owner was.

  ‘Remind me to ask Mr Fairleigh for the name of his solicitor,’ he said as he and Lineham left Headquarters.

  ‘We’re going out to Thaxden next?’

  Thanet nodded. ‘I want to talk to them all again, today.’ He was enjoying the fresh air and sunshine, and the rare experience of a walk along Sturrenden’s picturesque High Street without the crowds which usually thronged it. At this hour it was too early even for the weekend window-shoppers who came to gaze into the antique shops even though they were closed on Sundays.

  They paused outside Caroline Plowright’s shop.

  ‘Looks as though she’s expanding,’ said Lineham, nodding at the premises next door. These had been empty for some time and now Thanet noticed that the façade had just been painted to match the green and gold façade of Big is Beautiful. The words ‘COFFEE SHOP’ had been outlined above the arched windows, some of the letters already filled in by an expert hand. ‘OPENING SOON’, announced a notice on the door.

  ‘Very clever,’ said Thanet. ‘Tempt people in with a cup of coffee and hope they’ll drift next door to spend.’

  ‘I see you’re admiring my new venture,’ said Caroline Plowright, unlocking the door to let them in. This morning her generous proportions were masked by a silky straight skirt and shift top with three-quarter length sleeves and flattering cowl neckline. The bold abstract pattern in muted blues, greens and turquoise suited her colouring.

  She was a good advertisement for her wares, thought Thanet.

  ‘Come and see. I’m very proud of it.’

  ‘We were just saying what a good idea it is.’

  Inside the preparations were virtua
lly complete. A generous archway had been opened up in the wall which divided the two premises and the green and cream colour scheme carried right through. The effect was spacious, elegant and congenial. The coffee shop had a conservatory-like air, with tall plants in big cream ceramic pots, comfortable sturdy wicker chairs designed to accommodate the bulk of prospective customers and glass-topped wicker tables well spaced out to allow the passage of substantial bottoms without embarrassment.

  ‘Very nice indeed,’ said Thanet admiringly.

  ‘And good for business, I hope.’ Caroline ran her hand lovingly over the smooth cane of a nearby chairback. ‘A substantial investment, I can tell you.’

  ‘I can imagine. Still, it’ll pay off, I’m sure.’

  ‘I hope so! There are just a few final details to sort out, and we’ll be launched. I don’t suppose you happen to know any large ladies who are looking for jobs?’

  ‘Large ladies?’ said Lineham.

  She laughed. ‘I still need a couple of new staff and I make it a policy never to employ-anyone below a size sixteen. It wouldn’t do the egos of my customers much good to be served by young slips of girls with sylph-like figures.’

  Sound psychology, thought Thanet. He was right, she was pretty acute, and he was hopeful that this augured well for the coming interview. ‘If we think of anyone we’ll let you know. Do you always come in on Sundays yourself?’

  ‘Yes, to catch up with the paperwork. I never seem to find time during the week. But that’s enough of my business. What about yours? Do sit down. I’ve made some coffee,’ she went on, making for the counter at the back of the coffee shop. ‘It’s fun playing with the new equipment and I thought we might as well be comfortable. You will have a cup?’

  ‘Please.’ Her earlier reservations about the interview seemed to have disappeared, thought Thanet as he and Lineham settled down in two of the new chairs, which were just as comfortable as they looked. Perhaps it was just that she had really enjoyed showing off her new baby. She was obviously very excited about it. It had been lucky for them that they happened to have caught her at the right moment.

  Her next words punctured his complacency. ‘I’m not dim, you know,’ she said as she handed out the coffee. ‘I mean, yesterday the Fairleighs were talking as if it were a foregone conclusion that it was a burglar who finished off the old girl. Oh, don’t look so po-faced, Sergeant. I couldn’t stand the woman and refuse to be hypocritical about it. Anyway, I gather from this visit that the police have a different view of the matter.’

  Thanet took a sip of coffee. It was good, hot and strong. ‘Delicious coffee.’

  ‘Good.’ But she wasn’t going to let him get away without replying. She raised her eyebrows at him over the rim of her cup and waited.

  Refusing to respond would annoy her and he wanted her cooperation. ‘At the moment we have an open mind on the subject.’

  ‘Really. I’m glad to hear it. All the same. I’ll be interested to hear what Hugo has to say when he finds out he’s a suspect in a murder case, along with his wife and his aunt.’

  ‘He’s no fool, Miss Plowright. He must be aware that we have to consider the possibility.’

  ‘Consider it, maybe, but take it seriously … I gather you haven’t actually broken the joyful news to him yet?’

  ‘Not in so many words.’

  ‘Would I like to be there when you do! He’s going to blow his top!’

  Thanet grinned. ‘You want me to arrange it?’

  She gave a rueful smile. ‘Well, it would have been fun.’

  He decided to risk a snub. ‘It doesn’t sound as though you’re too fond of Mr Fairleigh.’

  She shrugged. ‘I make no secret of it. We’re civil to each other, no more. I’ve no time to waste playing social games.’

  ‘But you’re obviously fond of his wife.’

  Caroline lit a long thin brown cigarette and blew out a plume of smoke. ‘We go back a long way. To our schooldays, in fact. You could say that providing moral support for each other has become a habit.’

  Thanet sensed that she was beginning to open up. Her expression had softened, her eyes grown reminiscent. This was the moment to keep quiet and hope that she would begin to talk.

  She took another pull on her cigarette and put her head back, this time blowing the smoke out dragon-like through her nostrils. ‘I suppose you’re thinking, why, especially, did you need it? Moral support, I mean.’ She grinned and lowered her head to look him in the eye. ‘Everybody does, wouldn’t you agree, Inspector? If you’re lucky you get it first from your parents, then from your friends and then, if you’re very lucky indeed, from your husband or wife. Well, Grace and I were out of luck. We missed out on numbers one and three, so number two was particularly important to us. Still is.’

  ‘Neither of you had parents alive when you were young?’

  ‘Oh they were alive all right, but they didn’t do us much good. Quite the reverse, in fact. My mother was so unhappy she spent half her life stuffing herself with food and the other half stuffing me. Added to which neither of us was exactly slim to start with.’ Caroline held out her wrist. ‘Look at that, Inspector. Big-boned, you see? And did you know it’s now been proved that a predisposition to fatness is inherited?’ She laughed. ‘A fat gene, can you imagine it? I wonder if it’s bigger and stronger than its fellows? It must be a bully, because it nearly always wins.’ She shrugged. ‘When I was fifteen I was fifteen stone, can you imagine? School was hell. Girls can be pretty spiteful. If it hadn’t been for Grace … She took me in hand, you see. Slimmed me down as far as possible, built up my ego, made me see that there are far worse things than being oversized. It took a long time but eventually I learned that she was right. So long as you’re fit and have a modicum of commonsense you can make your way in the world as well as anyone else, whatever your size. And if you can forget the chip on your shoulder other people will forget it too.’

  But despite her protestations, Caroline had never quite recovered from those childhood humiliations, thought Thanet. All the more credit to her, then, for having turned her biggest liability into her greatest asset.

  ‘And young Mrs Fairleigh’s parents?’

  Caroline got up to fetch an ashtray from the counter, tapped off the long thin worm of grey ash which had been in danger of sullying the new carpet. ‘Too engrossed in each other, never had time for Grace. She was a late child, her mother was over forty when she was born, and her arrival was rather a shock to them. I don’t think they ever wanted children and certainly the only thing they ever wanted from Grace was academic success.’ She shrugged. ‘Unfortunately, Grace couldn’t come up with the goods. Poor kid, she kept on trying and failing, trying and failing until eventually she gave up. And naturally that just made things worse. They couldn’t seem to accept that any child of theirs could be anything but brilliant. No, they always made it very clear that they had no time for Grace, that they could get along very well without a child, thank you very much. Grace, of course, was very different and I’m sure that was why …’ She stopped, as if aware that she was about to stray into matters too private for the ears of policemen.

  Thanet could guess what she had been going to say, though. ‘Why she was so devastated when her baby died, you mean,’ he said gently.

  She raised her eyebrows. ‘You know about that, then. My, you have been busy, haven’t you? But yes, that was what I meant. She absolutely adored that child, despite …’ She looked at Thanet, read the knowledge in his eyes. ‘So you know that it was a Down’s syndrome baby, too.’

  Thanet nodded.

  ‘Yes, well, most people couldn’t understand why she was so attached to it, being mentally handicapped and so on. But I could. Somehow, the very fact that it was handicapped, so much more helpless even than a normal baby, made her feel more protective towards it.’ Caroline leaned forward to stub out her cigarette, took another sip of coffee. ‘She told me once that one of the reasons why she so longed for a baby was because she’d then have
someone of her very own to love, and love her back. You should have seen them together.’

  Caroline shook her head and briefly there was a sheen of tears in her eyes. ‘She insisted on breast-feeding, and on looking after the child herself. Hugo wasn’t too pleased about that, as you can imagine. It was inconvenient, you see, meant that she wasn’t always available to accompany him to functions. In the end she gave in and employed a nanny, and of course that was what she never forgave herself for, when the baby died. She was always convinced that if she’d been looking after it herself, that cot death would never have happened. She and Hugo were away that night, you know, at some function in London. And when she heard … I saw her next day.’ Caroline compressed her lips and shook her head. ‘I thought she’d go out of her mind with grief and guilt. I don’t think she’s ever got over it. If she’d ever had another child, it might have been different, but she never did.’

  ‘You said, “someone of her very own to love”. But she had her husband.’

  Caroline’s lip curled. ‘Her husband. Oh, maybe I’m prejudiced, but I can’t help it. He was as much use to Grace when she needed him as an empty water bottle in the desert. To be honest …’ She gave Thanet a considering look.

  He knew what she was thinking. Shall I tell him what I really think? This was what was so fascinating about interviewing witnesses. If you were lucky and handled it well you could almost see the invisible barriers going down, one by one. And if they did, people would become progressively more and more confiding, tell you things that they had originally had no intention of revealing. Perhaps it was because they were enjoying the relatively unique and seductive experience of having someone listen to them with complete attention and genuine interest. This applied especially to those who lived alone. Did Caroline? he wondered.

  But as far as she was concerned, there was more to it than that. Realising that her friend must be a suspect Thanet thought that Caroline’s aim in this interview would be twofold: to present Grace in as favourable a light as possible and Hugo as the potential villain of the piece. This was why she had told him so much about Grace’s background and why Thanet suspected that she would now not hold back from launching into a character assassination of Hugo.