Element of Doubt Read online

  He seemed much calmer now. He had stopped sweating and had relaxed a little, sitting back in his chair and folding his arms. ‘Sorry, Inspector. Looks as though I misled you without intending to. It had just slipped my mind …’

  ‘You told us you spent lunchtime at home.’

  ‘But I did. After going to try to see Ner … Mrs Tarrant.’

  ‘How did your wife react?’

  ‘To what?’ Unaccountably, Speed was looking nervous again.

  ‘To your appearing at home unexpectedly.’

  ‘Oh, yes, well …’ Speed shrugged, composure recovered. ‘I’d told her I might be home dinnertime, so she wasn’t too surprised.’

  What other, more alarming area had he brushed against unawares? Thanet wondered. What was the question he should have asked, just then? He had no idea. ‘Was she surprised that you had showered and changed?’

  Speed gave a complacent shrug. ‘Told her I’d had to see an important customer.’

  And without more details from the witness who had seen Speed’s car, that was about as far as they could go, thought Thanet.

  The boy who had been helping Speed when they arrived had now gone out onto the forecourt – too grand a name, really, for the small apron of oil-stained concrete which separated the workshop and office building from the road – and was serving a customer with petrol.

  ‘Is that your son?’

  Speed’s slightly smug expression was instantly erased. He glanced uneasily out of the window. ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’d like a few words with him. May we have the use of your office?’

  Speed rose clumsily to his feet. ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘What did you say his name was?’ said Thanet pleasantly. ‘Tim?’

  Speed cleared his throat. ‘That’s right.’ At the door he paused. ‘Er … Will you be wanting me?’

  Thanet shook his head. ‘No, that’s all, thank you, Mr Speed. For the moment.’

  He watched through the window as Speed approached the boy and spoke to him. Tim glanced over his shoulder at the office and said something. Speed shook his head vigorously.

  ‘What d’you think is going on out there, Mike?’

  Lineham shook his head. ‘I’d give a lot to know.’

  Despite their attempts to conceal the fact, it was obvious that they were arguing now, the boy with his head down, glowering up at his father from beneath lowered eyelids, Speed with chin thrust forward, hands gesticulating. Both of them kept shooting nervous little glances in the direction of the office. Eventually Tim nodded and, head drooping, began to walk towards the office, reluctance in the sag of his shoulders and dragging feet.

  He pushed it open. ‘Dad says you wanted to see me.’

  He was a good-looking boy, handsome even, with regular features, firm chin and a tumble of curly brown hair. Well built for his eighteen years, too. A rugger player, perhaps? He looked tired, though, as if he hadn’t had much sleep last night.

  Thanet gave a reassuring smile. ‘Just one or two things we thought you might be able to help us out with. May I call you Tim?’

  The boy nodded.

  ‘Sit down.’ Thanet waved a hand at the desk and Tim perched stiffly on one corner. He reminded Thanet of a bird poised for flight as danger approaches.

  But Tim was no bird and there was nowhere to fly to. What was he afraid of? In the course of his work Thanet had met countless boys – young men, really – of Tim’s age. They came in all shapes and sizes and ranged from the innocent to the depraved. Thanet would have guessed that Tim tipped the scales well down on the innocent side, but his behaviour indicated otherwise. What on earth could he be hiding? The fact that his father was lying? Tim was supposed to verify Speed’s alibi. What if he didn’t want to, felt it would be better to tell the truth? Was that what the argument had been about, just now?

  Thanet introduced himself and Lineham. ‘Actually, it’s the sergeant who wants to have a word with you.’ Then he turned, folded his arms and leaned casually on the window ledge, apparently dissociating himself from the proceedings. At this stage he wanted the atmosphere to be as unthreatening as possible. As Lineham and the boy started to talk he edged himself imperceptibly around so that he could see the boy’s face.

  ‘We understand you’re a friend of Damon Tarrant.’

  Lineham had selected the right opening. Tim relaxed slightly.

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘A close friend?’

  Tim shrugged. ‘We know each other quite well, yes.’

  ‘Did you know that he had disappeared?’

  ‘What do you mean, “disappeared”?’

  Lineham lifted his shoulders. ‘Perhaps that’s too … dramatic a term. Let’s say that he left his house yesterday afternoon at about twenty to six, and he hasn’t been seen since. Did you know that?’

  ‘I had heard something of the sort, yes.’

  Naturally, thought Thanet. Every last detail would have been around the village before the last police car had left last night. He was well aware of that strange osmosis whereby news in a village is transmitted without apparent means of communication.

  ‘You didn’t see him yourself, last night, then?’

  ‘No. I haven’t seen him since Wednesday.’ Tim gave a sheepish grin. ‘Several of us finished our A levels that day, and we had a bit of a celebration in the evening. I asked Damon along.’

  ‘Do you have any idea where he might have gone?’

  Tim shook his head. ‘Haven’t a clue.’

  ‘Could you make some suggestions?’

  ‘Not really. He could be anywhere.’

  ‘Where, for example?’

  But Tim merely shook his head.

  ‘Look,’ said Lineham, ‘it really would be to Damon’s advantage, if he could be found quickly.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Has it occurred to you that he might not even know his mother is dead? How would you like to learn that your mother had been murdered by reading about it in a newspaper, or hearing it on the radio?’

  Thanet mentally applauded. That shot had really gone home. Tim’s face had darkened and he was gazing down, all his concentration apparently bent upon picking at a piece of loose skin beside his thumbnail.

  ‘Well,’ demanded Lineham. ‘Would you?’

  Tim sighed and glanced up at the sergeant, eyes narrowing. ‘You don’t suspect him of being … involved, then?’

  Lineham shot a little sideways glance at Thanet as if seeking guidance, but Thanet avoided his gaze. Mike was doing very well without any help from him.

  ‘I’ll be honest with you,’ said Lineham ‘We just don’t know. There’s no point in my swearing that we’ve discounted him as a possible suspect because at the moment we just don’t know how things will turn out But … Look, can I trust you not to let this go any further?’

  Tim nodded. Lineham really had his attention, now.

  ‘Well,’ said the sergeant, leaning closer to the boy and lowering his voice in conspiratorial fashion, ‘it’s obvious that there are three possible alternatives. One: when Tim left, his mother was still alive; two: when he left she was dead and he didn’t know it; three: when he left she was dead and he did know it. In the first two, he’s innocent. It’s only in the last that there’s any question of his being involved, and I can truthfully say that at the moment we have heard nothing whatsoever to suggest that he might be. Quite apart from the fact that we’d like to find him and break the news gently before he hears it some other way – contrary to popular opinion, we are human, you know – you must see that whichever of these possibilities applies, he just might know something that could be very helpful to us.’

  There was a pause while Tim considered what Lineham had said.

  ‘Well?’ said the sergeant.

  A further hesitation, then Tim said, ‘You really mean that? You honestly have no reason to suspect him?’

  ‘Cross my heart,’ said Lineham, smiling. ‘That’s right, isn’t it, sir?’

&nb
sp; Thanet nodded. ‘It’s true, Tim.’

  ‘OK. Not that I can help you, really …’

  ‘If you could just make some suggestions,’ said Lineham, ‘we would at least have some idea where to begin …’

  ‘There are one or two friends he might have gone to,’ said Tim doubtfully.

  ‘Good. Let’s start with them.’

  Tim managed to come up with four names and, after some thought, two of the four addresses.

  ‘Thanks. Now, if he isn’t with any of them, have you any other ideas where he might be?’

  ‘A party?’

  ‘Where?’

  Tim lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. ‘Anywhere. A friend. A friend of a friend. Who knows?’

  ‘OK. Well, if you come up with any other ideas, could you let us know?’

  ‘Right.’ Obviously under the impression that the interview was over, Tim slid off the desk and stood up.

  ‘Just one other point …’

  At once the wariness mingled with apprehension was back. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘We understand from your father that you’re helping out here at the moment.’

  ‘Yes …’ Tim was obviously on the defensive. ‘I’ve finished my A levels, as I said, and we’re allowed not to go in if we don’t want to, so Dad asked if I’d give him a hand. He’s a bit pushed at the moment. It’s a waste of time going to school after exams are over, so I agreed. It’s all above board.’

  ‘I wasn’t suggesting otherwise,’ said Lineham. ‘It’s just that this garage is in a pretty central position in the village and you are very well placed to see all the comings and goings … We were wondering if you noticed anything unusual, yesterday, while you were here?’

  ‘Not really, I’m afraid. I have thought about it.’

  ‘You were both here all day, you and your father?’

  ‘Most of the time, yes. Dad had a big job on for Mr Horton. A new gearbox for his Escort. The housing was all cracked, too.’

  ‘Ah yes, he told us about that. I understand he took the car for a test drive, at around ten past five.’

  ‘Somewhere around then, yes.’

  ‘And he was away about twenty minutes.’

  ‘Approximately, I suppose.’

  ‘What happens at lunchtimes?’

  ‘We stagger it. We both have an hour. I go first, at twelve, then Dad goes at twelve thirty, so the garage is only shut for half an hour or so.’

  ‘I see. And this was what you did yesterday?’

  ‘Yes.’ But Tim was looking uncomfortable.

  ‘I suppose, as you’re so close to home, you go there for lunch?’

  ‘Usually.’

  ‘And yesterday?’

  ‘We both went home.’

  Thanet could have sworn the boy was telling the truth, and yet …

  ‘I see. Well, I think that’s about all I wanted to ask you. Unless the Inspector …?’

  Thanet shook his head. ‘I don’t think so, no.’

  ‘Right.’ Lineham smiled. ‘Thank you, Tim, you’ve been very helpful.’

  When they were in the car Lineham said, ‘I really would like to know why they’re so on edge about yesterday lunchtime.’

  ‘So would I. The trouble is, it might be completely irrelevant, as far as we’re concerned.’

  ‘Or it might not.’

  ‘Quite.’ Thanet sighed. ‘Well, I suppose we’ll find out, eventually.’ Or it might always remain a mystery, he thought, one of those intriguing little puzzles thrown up by an investigation. Most people have secrets which they would prefer other people not to know about. If only they wouldn’t get in the way like this …

  ‘You did very well with young Tim in there, by the way, Mike.’

  ‘Thank you sir.’

  ‘Couldn’t have handled it better myself.’

  ‘Where now, sir? High Gables?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I wonder what Mr Tarrant’ll have to say about this character who’s supposed to have had a grudge against Mrs Tarrant.’

  ‘Mmm. But apart from that, I think he has some explaining to do, don’t you?’

  EIGHT

  Bridget was longing for a pair of Benetton jeans. Life, Thanet had been assured, was not worth living without them. Everyone was wearing them, and after several excursions in which Bridget relentlessly drew his attention to everyone who was wearing them, he was beginning to believe her. All the same, he was surprised to be confronted by them here, worn by the girl who answered their knock at the front door of High Gables. They were topped by a shocking-pink teeshirt, a round cheerful face liberally spattered with freckles, and a mop of unruly brown curls anchored by a shocking-pink bandeau and an assortment of pink hair slides in the shapes of – Thanet peered while trying not to look as though he was peering – yes, animals. She was in her late teens or early twenties.

  ‘Morning. Inspector Thanet?’ A wide, uninhibited grin.

  Housekeepers these days came in unexpected shapes and sizes, it seemed. Victoria Cunningham (‘Call me Vicky’) was nineteen, had spent a year at the highly respected, long-established (and expensive) Eastbourne College of Domestic Economy (Cordon Bleu Diploma in the third term) and had at once landed this very well-paid job at High Gables. She had worked here for six months, lived in a neighbouring village, drove to work in a Ford Fiesta Daddy had given her for an eighteenth birthday present, and was altogether very pleased with life. All this Thanet learned within a few minutes of being invited into the kitchen (Mr Tarrant being in the middle of a lengthy telephone call), where delicious smells filled the air and Vicky tied a white nylon triangle over her hair before resuming her culinary activities.

  ‘You don’t mind if I go on with this pud? Oh, sorry, I expect you’d like some coffee. I took some to Roland half an hour ago.’ The Christian name was another surprise, but Thanet accepted it along with the excellent ground coffee bubbling away in a coffee machine as part of the ambiance of expansive middle-class living which Vicky exuded.

  ‘Thank you. Were you on duty yesterday afternoon?’

  Vicky’s face grew sombre. ‘Yes and no. I was on duty, but on Thursday afternoons I go into Sturrenden to do the week’s food shopping.’

  ‘When did you leave?’

  ‘About twelve. I usually meet a friend who’s doing the same sort of job for a quick snack, and we go around Sainsbury’s together afterwards. Then I do any other errands they want me to do in the town before coming home – going to the dry cleaners, that sort of thing. I usually get back about three, as I did yesterday.’

  ‘Just before Mrs Tarrant got back from the hairdresser’s.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘You heard the ensuing row with old Mrs Tarrant?’

  Vicky grimaced. ‘Couldn’t have missed it. When I’d finished putting the shopping away I went out into the hall. I was going to go up to Mrs Tarrant’s sitting room to ask her something. But I kept well out of it, I assure you, turned around and went straight back to the kitchen.’

  ‘Did you go up to see Mrs Tarrant later?’

  ‘No. It hadn’t been anything very important and I decided it could wait until the next day.’

  ‘Would Mrs Tarrant have blamed you at all, for not keeping an eye on the old lady?’

  ‘How could she? She knows I’m always out on Thursdays while she’s at the hairdresser’s, and anyway that’s Marilyn’s job.’

  Vicky finished piping an elaborate pattern of minute cream whorls on what looked like a strawberry mousse, added a few fresh strawberries as a final decoration and put the dish into the refrigerator. Then she sat down at the table, pulled the white triangle off her hair and gave her head a little shake, as if relieved to be free of the restriction.

  ‘And you finish work at four, I understand.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  So Vicky had not only been away over the lunch hour yesterday, but had probably left before the murder.

  ‘Look, Vicky, I know it’s normally not on, to t
alk about your employers, but in the circumstances I’d be grateful if you could answer a few questions.’

  She frowned. ‘Depends what they are.’

  She had been willing enough to talk about herself, but now the flow of information became a grudging trickle. She was prepared to supply facts about household routine, but not to discuss the relationships within her employer’s family. Reluctantly, Thanet gave up.

  ‘Could you find out if Mr Tarrant is free, now?’

  He was.

  ‘Don’t bother to come with us, we know the way.’ On the way out Thanet paused. ‘That was a delicious smell, when we came in. What had you been cooking?’

  Vicky reverted to her former expansiveness. ‘Chicken breast with paprika and onions. I don’t suppose Roland’ll have much appetite, poor man, he didn’t touch his breakfast, but I thought I’d make an effort, just in case.’

  Thanet mentally filed away the ingredients of the dish for Bridget’s benefit as he and Lineham pushed through the baize door and walked along the corridor to Tarrant’s study.

  ‘Come in.’

  Tarrant was standing at the window with his back to the room, and swung around as they came in.

  ‘Ah, good morning, Inspector, Sergeant. Sit down, won’t you?’

  Thanet had expected to find Tarrant crushed, bowed down beneath the burden of sorrow and pain, but here was a man simmering with a barely suppressed excitement. In complete contrast to yesterday’s formal attire, he was wearing crumpled cotton trousers and a navy sweatshirt. He had cut himself shaving, Thanet noticed. It was just as well he hadn’t gone into work today.

  Tarrant plunged straight in. ‘Sergeant Lineham will have told you why I rang. It came to me while I was shaving.’ With a rueful grin he pointed to the small red mark on his neck. ‘I didn’t get much sleep last night, as you can imagine. I kept on thinking and thinking about what you’d said …’