Constable Evans 03: Evanly Choirs (24 page)

Evan stayed wisely silent.

“So now the question is what made him confess?” D.I. Hughes asked, almost rhetorically.

“He thinks he knows who did it and he’s covering up for whoever it was.”

“That much is obvious, but the question is who? The mother?”

“But we know she didn’t do it.”

“I wonder.” Again the D.I. seemed to be speaking more to himself than to Evan. “Is it possible that this is a well-thought-out conspiracy between them? What if they both planned his death together and they agreed to take it in turns to confess and then be proved to be lying? All they needed to do was to tell stories that didn’t jibe with the facts. And until we turn up the weapon, we can’t prove otherwise.”

“We will test those golf clubs, won’t we, sir?” Evan asked.

“I’m sure that’s already been done, but I’ll get the lab to go over them again.” He stared out past Evan. “We may have to start playing games, Constable. Maybe if we let the mother think that we believe the son and we’re arresting him … or the other way around?

“So you got nothing more out of the mother this morning then, sir?” Evan asked.

D.I. Hughes frowned. “Not after the bloody solicitor got here. He wouldn’t let her say a word without interrupting.”

“I suppose it is his mother that Justin is covering up for?” Evan said thoughtfully.

“Who else do you have in mind?”

“Well, it’s just possible that—” He broke off at the sound of voices on the other side of the swing doors. “If my mother and brother are here, then I want to see them right now.” A young autocratic voice with the same arrogance as Justin’s. “I’ve been dragged here from Milan because you had to see me and I’m not going to sit in a bloody waiting room and drink tea!”

The swing doors were pushed violently open and a young girl swept through them. She stopped short as she saw Evan and D.I. Hughes blocking the hall in front of her.

“Can I help you, miss?” the D.I. asked.

“I bloody well hope so,” the girl said in an annoyed voice. “I’ve just arrived here and I understand my mother and my brother are both in jail. I’m Jasmine Llewellyn.”

Evan stared at her, taking in the chin-length black hair, the very white face, the mouth like a red gash, and the black-lined eyes. He realized he was looking at a stranger, a person he had never seen before in his life.

Chapter 20

“You’re Ifor Llewellyn’s daughter?” Evan blurted out.

“I just said I was, didn’t I?” The same confident arrogance of her brother. A definite look of her father in the toss of her head.

“Ah, Miss Llewellyn.” The D.I. extended his hand to her. “So good of you to come. My condolences on your father. Detective Inspector Hughes. I am an opera buff and I can tell you that the world has lost one of its greatest—”

“If you’re so sorry about it, can you please tell me why you’ve thrown my entire family in jail?” Jasmine demanded.

“I can assure you that they’re not in jail, Miss Llewellyn,” D.I. Hughes said, flushing at her belligerence. “They are here, in this building, helping us with our enquiries.”

“That’s what the police always say when they’re about to get a confession out of some poor bastard,” Jasmine Llewellyn said. “He was helping police with their enquiries, and now he’s inexplicably dead.”

“We don’t use strong-arm tactics here, Miss Llewellyn. You’ve been living in Italy too long!” D.I. Hughes gave her a patronizing smile. “Your mother was reading the Sunday papers in the cafeteria when I last saw her. But we’ve been having an interesting conversation with your brother. He just confessed to killing your father.”

Jasmine threw back her head and laughed. “Justin? He couldn’t kill a fly without throwing up. He probably thinks that Mummy did it and he’s being noble on her behalf. The Sydney Carton of Lake Como! He worships her, you know.”

“Before we go back to your brother, Miss Llewellyn, maybe we could ask you a couple of questions.”

“Of course. Fire away.”

“You live in Milan—is that correct? And you were in Milan all this week?”

“No, I wasn’t, actually.”

“Oh, where were you?” Evan noticed the D.I. tense up.

“I work in the fashion industry, Inspector. I coordinate shoots. I was up in the Alps for a fur coat shoot on Tuesday. I was in Tunisia for bathing suits on Thursday. We got back Friday afternoon. Late Friday afternoon.”

*   *   *

“That pretty much rules her out, doesn’t it, sir,” Evan ventured after they had escorted Jasmine to the cafeteria and left her with her mother and the solicitor. “She wouldn’t have had time to catch a flight over here and get to Wales to kill her father.”

“If she really was in Tunisia. That will be easy enough to verify. I’ll get someone onto calling Milan right away. I’ve established personal contact with the chief of police there, so it should go smoothly. He’s only too willing to help us in any way he can.”

Evan remembered the lawyer’s letter that must still be in Sergeant Watkins’s pocket. He decided to say nothing for now. Better let him find out the truth about his Mafia hit man from Watkins! Evan had already one-upped him on the left-handedness and the D.I. didn’t take kindly to that. This was confirmed when the D.I. said, as they reached the interrogation room, “Well, I shouldn’t keep you from your duties in the village any longer, Constable. I expect you’ve got a whole slew of lost tourists and missing car keys waiting for you up there.”

“It’s Sunday, sir. My day off,” Evan said innocently. “I’ll be happy to assist in any way I can … and you might need me to drive some of the Llewellyns home—whichever of them ends up not confessing to the murder, that is.”

The D.I. managed a tight little smile. “Ha ha. Very droll. Quite. Very well. I suppose you could hang around for a while, just in case we need a driver. Go and get yourself a cup of tea.”

“Thanks a lot,” Evan muttered, not loud enough to be heard as D.I. Hughes headed purposefully back in the direction of the interrogation room. Evan watched him go, then sighed, and walked in the other direction, toward the cafeteria.

Mrs. Llewellyn, Jasmine, and a bald-headed man, presumably the solicitor, were sitting at a table by the window. They looked up when he came in.

“Well?” Mrs. Llewellyn asked. “What’s happening with Justin? When will we be allowed to see him?”

“I’ve no idea, madam,” Evan said. “I’m just an ordinary P.C. I don’t make any decisions.”

“Yes, but any idiot could see that Justin didn’t do it,” Jasmine said. “He’s not the head-bashing type.”

“I can’t understand why he doesn’t want me in there with him. It’s most dangerous to be in these situations without a solicitor present,” the elderly man said. “I hope he doesn’t say anything he regrets later. He always was impetuous, Margaret.”

“I’m sure the inspector will come to the right conclusion fairly quickly now,” Evan said. “You’ll probably be able to go home soon.”

“Home,” Mrs. Llewellyn said with a sigh. “Doesn’t that sound wonderful. Lake Como, sun, fresh peaches. Soon this will all seem like a terrible nightmare.”

“Except that Daddy’s gone,” Jasmine pointed out.

“Yes, except that Daddy’s gone,” Mrs. Llewellyn repeated.

Evan bought a cup of tea and a cheese sandwich, only realizing as he ate it that he had missed breakfast and it was now close to lunchtime. As he ate he tried not to look too obviously at the Llewellyns. Jasmine was relaxed and laughing now. Even Mrs. Llewellyn’s face had lost the pinched, strained look of earlier that day. Was it possible that the D.I. had been right for once? Had it been a family conspiracy, cleverly thought out to confuse the police and make them all seem innocent?

A disturbing picture was still nagging at the back of Evan’s mind—the figure on the shore, the car in the lake and the defiant young girl, so like Jasmine that she could almost be her double.

Double
 … he spun the word around inside his head. Was it possible that Jasmine Llewellyn had needed a double for some reason? He had to find the truth.

He had just finished eating when Sergeant Watkins came in. He motioned Evan to the door.

“Justin’s changed his tune now,” he muttered to Evan. “Now he’s not saying another thing until the lawyer’s in there with him. It was when the D.I. started probing into why he’d lied that he became very defensive. He’s covering up for someone, sure enough.”

“It can’t be the sister. She’s got a pretty watertight alibi.”

“Then who?”

“Listen, Sarge,” Evan said. “Is there any way you could arrange to let me have a private talk with Justin? It’s about this car-in-the-lake business. It has to tie in somewhere. I have to find out who the other girl really is and what she was doing here. If I could just sort it out, it might solve a lot of things. But I can’t ask the D.I.”

“I’m not really sure what you’re getting at,” Watkins said, “but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks,” Evan said.

“It shouldn’t be too hard. I can’t imagine the D.I. would want to keep Justin Llewellyn around much longer, especially now he’s not willing to talk. What we have to do is arrange that the others leave without him and you can give him a ride.”

“Brilliant.” Evan nodded. “This might be the missing link we need.”

“And now I’m going to check up on our other missing link,” Watkins said.

“Mrs. Llewellyn’s boyfriend?” Evan asked.

Watkins nodded. “We still can’t rule him out, can we? It could be him that she’s been covering for all along.”

Evan nodded. “Or he could be part of the family conspiracy.”

Watkins sucked air through his teeth. “I get the feeling that this whole confession nonsense is all a series of misunderstandings. Mother thinks lover or son did it and confesses to save whoever it was. Son thinks mother did it and confesses to save her. Bloody heroic either way.”

“Or clever,” Evan pointed out. “By the end of today we might even know the truth.”

“Or we might be back to step one and looking into Mafia hit men again.” Watkins sighed. “I wish we could come up with the weapon with a nice set of prints on it, or a friendly shopper who saw Gladys pushed under a car. The photos have gone down to the computer center in Colwyn Bay, by the way, just in case we’ve missed something. Oh well, on with the next round.”

He went into the cafeteria and Evan watched him talk to the elderly solicitor, who then followed him out again.

“They are going to release Justin soon, aren’t they?” Mrs. Llewellyn asked Evan.

“I expect so, ma’am,” Evan said. “At least for the time being.”

“I just wish this was all over.” Mrs. Llewellyn ran her fingers through her hair. “Any idea when we can go back to the house and get our things packed up? I’d like the children there when I have to go through Ifor’s effects.”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything, ma’am,” Evan said. “As soon as the case is solved, you’ll be free to arrange the funeral and get on with your lives.”

“Unless you decide that one of us did it,” Jasmine said with biting sarcasm.

“Jasmine, that isn’t funny,” Mrs. L. snapped.

“Oh lighten up, Mummy. Where’s your sense of humor?” Jasmine sounded ridiculously like her father. Evan suspected that raising her had been no piece of cake for Mrs. Llewellyn.

They looked up as the solicitor came back into the room. “They’ve decided no more questions for the present,” he said. “Justin is free to go.”

“Thank God.” The relief was obvious on Mrs. Llewellyn’s face. “Do you really mean he’s not a suspect?”

“For the moment. It was tactfully suggested that he not try to leave the area while they check with the servants at Como.”

Jasmine got to her feet. “Now we can go and find some edible food. I’ll die if I have to drink another cup of this filthy tea. Do you think there’s a halfway decent restaurant in this godforsaken place?”

The solicitor put a restraining hand on her arm. “The inspector would like to see you, Jasmine.”

“Me? What on earth for?”

“He needs names and numbers to corroborate your movements last week.”

“Bloody cheek!” Jasmine’s face flushed scarlet. “Oh well, I suppose I’ll have to give them to him to shut him up.”

“Don’t worry, darling, we’ll wait for you,” Mrs. Llewellyn said. “Even if it means drinking more disgusting tea.”

Evan had been studying Jasmine Llewellyn’s legs. She had very nice legs, for one thing, but he had seen something else that interested him. “By the way, Mrs. Llewellyn,” he said, “they never found the other shoe when they searched your house. That was strange, wasn’t it?”

“What shoe, Mummy?” Jasmine asked.

“A black shoe with a thick sole and a high heel,” Evan said. “I suppose that type must be fashionable right now. Looks sort of dangerous to me.”

Jasmine laughed. “My mother doesn’t wear shoes like that, Constable.
Que stupido.
”

“No, but you do, Miss Llewellyn,” Evan said, glancing again at Jasmine’s feet.

“Then it was lucky that Jasmine was far away in Italy, wasn’t it?” Mrs. Llewellyn said smoothly.

There was definitely something going on here that he didn’t understand, Evan decided as he went looking for Justin Llewellyn. He found him standing in the waiting area with Sergeant Watkins.

“We have reached an impasse, Constable,” Justin said in an amused voice. “I keep trying to tell the inspector I did it and he keeps insisting I didn’t. Strange but true. Anyway, the shackles are off for the time being and I am going to faint clean away if I don’t get something to eat soon.”

“I’m going back to Llanfair,” Evan said. “I’d be happy to drive you back to the inn if you like.”

“What about my mother and sister?” Justin looked around.

“The inspector has a few details he needs to get from your sister first. I understand that their solicitor is going to be driving them.”

“That settles it,” Justin said. “I’ll ride up with you. I couldn’t stand being in a car with that pompous old snot.”

“You asked for him a few minutes ago,” Evan pointed out.

“Only because I was tired of answering questions,” Justin said with a grin. “I knew once he was there nothing would be accomplished. And I was right. The inspector soon gave up, didn’t he? The old fool bores everybody into submission.”