Dead Woman's Shoes: 1 (Lexy Lomax Mysteries) (24 page)

Milo shook his head. “It had been in her system for at least twenty minutes before death. At least. That’s the really baffling thing.”

“Did she die straight away? As soon as she was hit on the head?”

“Yes. Death was instantaneous. Single blow to the left temple. Brain haemorrhage.”

They contemplated the red curry.

“So any effort to revive her...”

“Would have been futile.”

Lexy felt guiltily relieved at this, as she had made no such effort, although Milo had certainly made up for it. She glanced at him. That look of pain was back in his eyes again.

“Any idea what the murder weapon was?”

“No. But from what I saw myself, the impact wound was about six millimetres deep. Made with something hard and rounded at the end, like a walking stick.”

Lexy couldn’t stop her eyes darting around the room, trying to remember where Glenda Doyle’s knobbly walking stick had been left.

“Bit of a mystery, in fact,” he continued.

There was something in his voice.

Lexy froze. All that stuff about being suspended from the police force was bollocks. He’d been stringing her along, coaxing information out of her, and now he’d finished off her crispy noodles he was going to arrest her. Bastard.

“Really?” she said, coldly.

“Yup.” He paused. “They’ve found a trace of DNA in the head wound that doesn’t belong to the victim.”

Lexy narrowed her eyes. “Therefore it belongs to the attacker?”

“As it turned out, it was dog DNA.”

There was a heavy silence as they turned to Kinky. He blinked benignly.

“So – you going to arrest my dog?” said Lexy.

Milo gave a faint smile. “They reckon it came from a large dog. Labrador or something. Not that that would have made it any more capable of hitting Avril.”

“So the attacker could be someone who owns a big mutt?” Lexy felt herself relax again.

“You’ve got it.” Milo rubbed his clean-shaven chin. “Anyway, they’re awaiting further tests on that.” He shifted. “By the way, what do you know about these poison pen letters?”

After a moment’s internal deliberation, Lexy told him about the two letters Edward had received and the four delivered to the Ellengers’ surgery. She didn’t divulge Hope’s dark revelations on the Ellenger family history; she wasn’t going to spill every last bean in the pot till she knew for sure that this cop, or ex-cop or whatever, was on the level with her.

“All the letters seem to be on the same theme,” she said. “I think Avril was just digging, you know, making stabs in the dark. And when she hit a really sensitive spot she composed a blackmail letter. Like the one she sent Sheri-Anne Davis.”

Lexy described the letter in the gold compact in Sheri-Anne’s locker, and how the girl had left the package in the palm tree. She didn’t mention that she thought she now knew why Sheri-Anne was being blackmailed. Not until she was sure...

“So, as far as you’re aware, the package is still there, in the palm tree?” Milo gave her a keen look.

She shrugged. “Guess it must be.”

“I ought to get it picked up for safe-keeping. Some other bugger might find it and have it away.” He thought for a moment. “I’ll get uniform to pick it up tomorrow – just say I got a tip-off about a robbery. My informants don’t know I’m suspended, do they?”

Lexy regarded him with narrowed eyes. He still couldn’t stop playing the policeman. That’s what worried her.

Milo started stacking the empty foil containers into a neat pile.

“Right, so what do we know? We’ve got a murdered woman. We think the most likely reason she’s been murdered is she’s been writing obnoxious anonymous letters to certain members of the Clopwolde am-dram society and possibly blackmailing them. This is something she has history of. You got some paper?”

Lexy silently fetched a lined pad she had bought earlier.

Milo produced a pen and drew a circle in the centre of the page, writing
Avril Todd
in it.

“The murder occurred at about twenty past eight, didn’t it?”

Lexy nodded.

“We know for a fact,” Milo said, adding a satellite to the circle, “that Avril was sending letters to your neighbour, Edward de Glenville, who lost his father in an accident, and to the local vet, Guy Ellenger and his sister, what’s her name? Hope – ” he added more satellites, “ – who lost
their
father in an accident. The letters suggest foul play in each case, perhaps intended to flush out some hidden truth, as you say. It’s also a fair bet that Avril sent letters to the vet’s nurse, Sheri-Anne Davis, on a different theme, something tangible and juicy that she had obviously uncovered. This ended in an attempt to blackmail Sheri-Anne, which would have worked if Avril hadn’t been killed two days before the cash drop. Sheri-Anne made the drop anyway, so we can assume that she didn’t kill Avril.”

“Not unless she’s clever as well as devious,” said Lexy.

“She got on the phone to someone straight after she made the drop,” she went on. “Told them she’d put the money in the tree. Then she told them Avril had died. So we could assume that whoever she was talking to didn’t know Avril was the blackmailer either.”

“We need to find out who that was.” Milo made a note. “Say we rule out Sheri-Anne Davis and the mystery person for now, that still leaves us with several am-dram players whose movements we should check for the Friday night. And we can include any other players, like Avril’s husband. There’s a chance that the poison pen letters might not have been the motive. She wasn’t exactly a popular woman, by all accounts.”

Lexy nodded. “I’ve done a bit of ground work there.” She ticked people off on her fingers, while Milo steadily wrote, looking up at her from time to time.

“Roderick Todd – he was in Lincoln at an old boys’ reunion. That’s probably been verified by your lot...”

Milo nodded. “I’ll see if I can check that one out on the QT.”

“Edward,” continued Lexy, “was having a lovers’ tiff at Peter’s shop in the high street, which ended up with Edward being taken to Lowestoft nick on Friday night. He told me that himself on Saturday morning.”

“OK – that’s another one to check.”

“I honestly can’t see Edward having killed her,” objected Lexy.

“Nevertheless, we check
all
alibis.”

“Hope Ellenger.” Lexy drew a deep breath. “She says she was at home on her own on Friday night.” Lexy made a tippling motion. “She seems to have a drink problem at the moment.”

“Can we check she was there at the time of the murder?”

Lexy sucked in a reluctant breath. “I can try her neighbours.”

“Good. And her brother?”

Lexy swallowed quickly. “I’m not sure. I think he was in the vet’s surgery all evening with Sheri-Anne Davis.” She paused. Nice one, Lexy. Here she was, glibly supporting the vet’s alibi, even when she had overheard Sheri-Anne Davis herself saying she was at a barn somewhere on Friday night. Still, Lexy had her own reasons for keeping that one quiet. But, once again, where did it leave Guy Ellenger?

“What about the rest of the cast?”

“It was supposed to be the annual am-dram company dinner on Friday night, but from what I could gather only Maurice, the director, and a couple of stage hands and extras went. The main cast – Guy and Hope Ellenger, Edward, Peter and Sheri-Anne Davis blew it out. Oh, and the Caradocs didn’t go either.”

“Caradocs?”

“Tristan and Tammy. They live next door to Guy Ellenger, and they loom large in the am-dram society.”

“Tammy Caradoc.” Milo’s eyes took on an unexpectedly hazy quality. “I remember her when I was young. She was in
Bergerac
, wasn’t she?”

“You used to watch
Bergerac
when you were a kid?”

“I wanted to be a policeman. What did you watch?”

Lexy thought back to the portable telly in the caravan. “
The X Files
. I wanted to be Agent Scully.”

He looked around the cabin. “Not exactly living the dream, then?”

“And you are?”

He smiled thinly. “Right. Alibis. What have you got on the Caradocs?”

Lexy thought. “Tristan Caradoc was doing a ghost walk on Friday night – you know, terrifying the tourists with grisly tales of ye olde Clopwolde.”

“What time?”

“I can tell you that exactly.” Lexy fetched the poster Tristan had presented her with. “There’s an eight o’clock walk, then a ten o’clock one.”

“Has to work for his money, then.”

“I actually saw him on the way back from the ten o’clock session on Friday night.” She wasn’t going to add that Tristan had helped her to restart the Panda.

“What about Tammy Caradoc?”

“Tristan said she stayed in. She’s distraught about losing her cat – that’s why they didn’t go to the am-dram company dinner.”

“Her cat?”

“You can’t have missed the posters all over Clopwolde.”

“Oh – that cat.”

They sat in silence for a while, Milo staring at his notes, Lexy staring at the ceiling.

“One of the things I really can’t figure out is what Avril was doing in that field,” Lexy said suddenly. “It can’t be where she was getting people to drop off cash. Much too dangerous for her. Even her husband couldn’t understand what she was doing out there. He said she didn’t like the countryside.”

“Kind of unfortunate that she drew her last breath there, then. So, if she wasn’t collecting her blackmail proceeds, what was she doing? Meeting someone?”

“Guess so. But not someone she was blackmailing – again, too dangerous.”

“What if it was a woman?”

“Do you think it might be, then?”

Milo shrugged. “From the evidence at the scene, we’re looking for someone strongly built, but not necessarily a man. The blow that killed her had been delivered with substantial force, though,” he mused.

“When I heard Avril call out, her voice sounded weak,” said Lexy. “Not like at the vet’s – she was really strident then.”

“The sedative had probably kicked in by that point.” Milo doodled on the paper. “Is there anything else we need to take into consideration?”

Lexy squeezed her eyes shut, trying to think. “I spoke to one of Avril’s neighbours on Saturday morning – an old dear. Bit weird this – she said she’d seen Avril come up the hill and go into her house at half-seven on Friday evening. But her next door neighbour reckons it was at a quarter past.”

“Also an old dear?”

“Not as old as the first one, apparently.”

Milo’s mouth twitched. “It happens all the time – trust me. People are incapable of agreeing about the time, and the older they get...”

“I still might check it out.”

“Whatever – we’ve got a few other things to go on, as well. Let’s do some digging and get together again? I’ll call you.”

Milo pushed himself up and went to Lexy’s phone, taking the number. “If you think of anything else – well, you know my number. Call any time.”

“Don’t you ever sleep?” asked Lexy.

“No – not lately.”

He left abruptly, and got into his car.

Lexy watched him go. Why was he so... she searched for an appropriate word to describe Milo. Pompous? No, not exactly. Arrogant? Not really that, either. Disquieting – yes, that was it.

Why was DI Bernard Milo so disquieting?

17

News of the Costello’s warbler was spreading fast. When Lexy awoke from a fitful sleep and pulled open her tattered curtains she discovered a small army of avian anoraks assembled in her garden.

At least it was a quiet invasion; in fact any sound at all, apart from the hallowed warbling, was heavily frowned upon.

Acutely aware of this, Lexy took Kinky along to the heath for his morning constitutional, all the while thinking about the methodical way Milo had pulled together the strands of the case the previous evening.

Why was he so keen to solve this murder? He was on convalescent leave because of some unexplained accident, but he wasn’t exactly taking it easy. He seemed determined to do his job, whether the police force wanted him to or not. And he was working alongside Lexy whether she wanted him to or not. But only in the matter of Avril Todd’s murder. He wasn’t going to get near her other assignment. That one was worth money. There was a substantial reward for the return of Princess Noo-Noo.

That afternoon, Lexy and Kinky went into Clopwolde, Lexy sporting the nearly new collection she’d bought the previous day. First she was going to do some sleuthing, just to fulfil her obligations. Then she was going to call into every pub and shop in the village to look for a sensible job.

When she reached the newsagent, Lexy checked the rack outside. The news of Avril’s death hadn’t made the front pages of the nationals, but a couple of them ran the story inside. The local papers wouldn’t be out until later in the week. Lexy quickly read through the accounts. As Milo had confirmed, the only mention of her was as a passer-by with a dog. She heaved a sigh of relief.

Then she remembered that her next port of call was the vet’s. “This is going to be painful,” she said to Kinky, as they turned into the alley where the shabby surgery resided. He was all for giving it a miss, but Lexy was resolute.

Hope was behind the reception desk, looking as if the slightest noise would shatter her into a thousand pieces. There was no one else in the waiting area. As soon as she saw Lexy she came out from behind the desk.

“Come in here – we can talk.” She led Lexy into Guy’s surgery and Lexy put Kinky on to the examination bench, where he sat apprehensively.

“Are you going to go to the police?” Hope was on the edge of tears.

“You remember everything, then?”

“I know I told you about Guy. I wish I hadn’t.”

Lexy wished she hadn’t, too.

“Look, I’m... just going to pretend I didn’t hear anything.” Lexy made herself meet Hope’s eyes. “It’s your own business. If what you say is true, Guy did what he did to save your mother. If there’s any more to it, I guess your conscience will tell you what to do. Mine does. It’s on at me all the time. Nag, nag...”

Hope gave a small wail and unexpectedly put her arms around Lexy. She felt as frail as she looked. It was like hugging balsawood. “You and your brother need to move on,” Lexy told her.