Rest Assured (12 page)

It sounded quite threatening, in Lambert's calm, measured tones. Lisa Ramsbottom wondered if it was meant to do so. She was already disconcerted by the steady scrutiny she felt from those clear grey eyes, which seemed to study her as no other eyes had ever done during normal social exchanges. She said nervously, ‘We know Sergeant Hook. He's a neighbour of ours. He came here and played golf with Jason, back in May.'

‘But that wasn't the primary reason for his visit, was it, Mrs Ramsbottom?'

He made her feel as if she'd been concealing something. ‘No. We'd received some rather disturbing notes. I spoke to Bert and he agreed to come to see the set-up here and conduct an informal investigation.'

‘Yes, Bert would do that. He's good at the informal. Especially if a game of golf was part of the deal.' It was the first hint of humour, but accompanied only by the most minimal of smiles.

‘The golf was deliberate. We wanted the people here to think that Bert was just an ordinary visitor.' Jason sprang to the defence of the inscrutable Hook. ‘You have to bear in mind that it was almost certainly someone here who shoved those notes under our door.'

‘Agreed. And DS Hook told me about those threats and named to me the people he had questioned about them. He didn't mention his score on your golf course. We agreed to do nothing about the notes unless there were more of them. I understand that the agreement was that Lisa would let Bert know if there were any further developments on that front.'

‘Yes. I'm away for most of the week.' Jason gave a small, encouraging smile to his wife.

‘And I'm the one who was most upset by the messages. Jason was more ready to shrug them off.' Lisa wondered why she felt it necessary to explain that it was she who had made and continued the contact with Hook.

‘And have there been any more of them?'

‘No. I'd have been straight round to tell Bert at home if there had been.'

The mention of home was a reminder to the CID men that these were second homes to the invisible people around them, that this was a kind of permanent holiday village where the occupants knew each other but worked all over the country and had other and perhaps very different lives away from Twin Lakes. Lambert said, ‘Has anyone else received similar notes to the ones sent to you?'

‘No. Well, not as far as we know.' She glanced at Jason, who gave her a taut nod, which seemed to signify approval as well as agreement.

Lambert nodded. ‘Of course, other people might have received them and said nothing about them. You yourselves chose to ask Bert Hook to look into the matter, rather than comparing notes with people here. Which was, incidentally, the right thing to do. Such things rarely lead to any serious injury, but it's much better that the police are informed about them. Apart from anything else, it often brings about an abrupt end to the trouble. People who send messages like the ones you received are usually no more than unpleasant mischief-makers. They cease activity at the prospect of police investigation and possible legal action.'

Jason said firmly, ‘It's my belief that this is what happened here. We've had no more notes, and I don't believe that anyone else has.'

‘But if everyone acts as discreetly as you did, how can you be sure of that?'

Jason glanced at Hook and received a grin which encouraged him to proceed. ‘It's public knowledge around here now that we were threatened. Bert questioned Debbie Keane about it when he was here. That was because we told him that Debbie was the one most likely to know the source of anything untoward like this. She lives here permanently, apart from the month when she has by law to be somewhere else. And she makes it her business to know everything that goes on around here.'

Bert Hook spoke for the first time in many minutes. ‘It was a deliberate decision on my part to speak to her. She was the person most likely to know of anyone making a nuisance of himself or herself in this way, because she's a great gossip. But discretion isn't in her nature. I was aware when I spoke to her that she simply wouldn't be capable of keeping such a juicy titbit of news to herself. But that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. The knowledge that the police were aware of the threats which had been offered to Lisa and Jason might at least frighten off the twisted mind which was behind this, in the manner you just mentioned.'

‘Which is what seems to have happened,' said Jason Ramsbottom. ‘We haven't had any more notes.'

‘And has Debbie Keane unearthed any other similar threats to other people who have units here?'

‘No. The whole thing seems to have gone very quiet. Hopefully it's died the death.'

‘As has Debbie Keane's husband, Walter,' Lambert said grimly. ‘That is our greater concern now, as you will understand. Do you think there is any connection between the threats you received and what happened to Walter Keane last night?'

‘No,' said Jason promptly. ‘I think those notes we received were from someone who was no more than a mischief-maker, as Bert suggested at the time. There's been no sign of any activity from him – or her, as you pointed out it might be – in the last three months. I can't see that person suddenly acting against Wally Keane. And who'd want to kill Wally?'

‘Someone certainly did,' said Lambert dourly. ‘Our business over the next few days will be to find an answer to the question you've just asked. Have you any ideas yourself?'

Jason felt almost as if he'd been slapped in the face, because the question he should have expected had been flung at him so abruptly. ‘No, I haven't. This will be a shock to everyone on the site.'

‘Not to one person, it won't. Or possibly two.' Lambert glanced from one to the other of the shocked faces opposite him. ‘We can't rule out a joint effort. In fact, we are in no position to rule out anything at the moment, so your views as regular weekend visitors will be welcome.'

There was a moment of silence before Jason said brusquely, ‘Wally was a loner.'

‘Was he a likeable man?'

‘Likeable wouldn't be the right word. He wanted to be in charge of things, and that doesn't always make people popular. Some people resented the way he adjusted their golf handicaps without reference to anyone else. He could be a law unto himself and he liked to assert his opinions about everything that goes on here. But he was prepared to put in a lot of unpaid work and he was here for most of the time, as others aren't. So you could say that he had a right to do the things he did.'

Jason hadn't looked at his wife through this, but she now supported him. ‘And he didn't offend people, as his wife sometimes does. He didn't seem to want to know everyone's business, as she did. Jason is right when he says people sometimes resented Wally, but that was all very petty. I can't think of anyone who would have wanted to kill him and I'm sure Jason would agree with me on that.'

Her husband immediately nodded his confirmation. Lambert looked at both of them for a moment, as if weighing the likelihood of accuracy in what they said, then gave a nod of acceptance. ‘Give some thought to the matter over the next day or two, will you? However unlikely it may seem, the overwhelming probability is that it's someone to whom you have spoken many times, perhaps even someone whom you would call a friend, who has done this thing. It will be better to ring this number at Oldford CID than to wait to contact Bert at home. He's likely to be working long hours until we have an arrest.' He gave them the card with the number and appeared to have finished with them.

It was left to DS Hook to complete the exchanges. ‘You'd better tell us where you both were last night, please. For elimination purposes. It's just routine.'

Jason glanced at Lisa, giving her a small, encouraging smile. ‘I expect you use that phrase about routine a lot, Bert. You hear it in police series on the telly, don't you? Well, I think we were together for the whole of the evening, weren't we, darling?'

It was the first time he had used the endearment and it dropped a little oddly into the tension in the room. Lisa didn't look at him but at Hook's substantial feet: perhaps she was concentrating on her memory, or on what she had to say now. ‘We arrived here at about half past five, I think. We unpacked what we'd brought with us, which only took a few minutes. Then we went across to the bar-restaurant and got ourselves something to eat there. We saw quite a few of our friends in there. They'd remember us, I'm sure, if it's necessary.'

‘What time did you leave there?'

She glanced at Jason, who said immediately, ‘Around eight o'clock, I'd say. It's difficult to be completely accurate, when you don't think you're going to be questioned about it by CID the next day.'

He gave a nervous laugh, which brought no response from Lambert or Hook, who said merely, ‘And during the later part of the evening?'

‘We were together all evening and all night.' He made another attempt to lighten the tension. ‘That's the kind of alibi the police don't like, isn't it, the husband and wife one?'

This time Hook did allow himself a rueful smile. ‘We often suspect it, when we're dealing with known crooks. But it's difficult to break down, and the known crooks know that as well as we do.'

Lambert stood up, then paused to deliver a final sobering thought to them. ‘It's early days, of course, but as I said, we haven't ruled out the thought that more than one person might have been involved in this crime. Two people would have made it easier in several respects.'

The two detectives walked a hundred yards away from the little bungalow by the lake, watching the swans cruise majestically away from them over the water. Hook voiced the thought they had both had a hundred times before in similar circumstances. ‘I'd like to hear what those two are saying to each other now.'

Lambert's eye followed a skein of wild geese flying purposefully over their heads. ‘I expect they're wondering what we are saying to each other about them, Bert. And I'd put money on the fact that your first thought about what we've just heard is the same as mine.'

It was a challenge, of sorts. But they had worked together for so long now that Hook found it stimulating rather than stressful. He reviewed the conversation in his mind for a moment before he said, ‘They didn't seem at all surprised when we told them at the outset that this was murder, not suicide.'

‘That's it. Might be significant. Might mean nothing.'

Richard Seagrave felt himself relax as he drove the big Jaguar unhurriedly along the lanes around Leominster. He'd been quite tense that morning at Twin Lakes, he realized. He smiled at the thought. He wasn't used to stress nowadays.

He opened up the engine for a few miles as he moved northwards on the A49. He was pleased that he still felt the aura of superiority, of having arrived in life, which three litres of engine and the big, sleek car still gave him. Schoolboy-ish really, but that was all right. Richard still cherished the notion that all men were boys at heart and did not mature as women did. It was fond and foolish, in view of the many things he had done to banish the innocence of childhood.

He met the men in the village of Tenbury Wells. That too was an indulgence: he had chosen it purely because the name of the place appealed to him. But the village had a good hotel and restaurant; he had eaten there with Vanessa only six weeks earlier. The men he was meeting wouldn't like it. Snooker halls and lap-dancing clubs were more their scene, and they would be thoroughly uncomfortable in this place, but he liked that. People were less likely to speak up for themselves and demand things when they felt ill at ease.

They were there when he arrived, sitting in the car park in their silver Ford Focus. They hadn't gone inside to wait for him, because this wasn't their sort of place. He parked only three places away from them, reversing in with a wide sweep to make sure that they could not miss him. He gave not a glance in their direction, but flicked the button on his key to lock the Jaguar and walked unhurriedly into the inn.

It was too late for coffee; people were already beginning to move into the dining room for lunch. He strolled into the luxurious bar and ordered two pints of lager and a whisky and water for himself. The two men had joined him at his table by the time the barman brought over the tray. They looked around them and sat down carefully, plainly not at home in these surroundings, as Seagrave had intended. He was still absurdly pleased by small things.

He leaned back in his chair, deliberately unhurried, motioned towards the lager, and watched them take a gulp each. Only then did he say, ‘Is it done?'

‘It is, sor.' The bigger of the two men had a Northern Irish accent, which became more pronounced when he was nervous.

‘As planned? No hitches?'

‘No hitches, sor. Like a military operation.'

‘A smooth and successful one, I hope. No prisoners taken in this one, eh?'

The big man recognized a joke and gave a dutiful smile. ‘No prisoners, sor. But you won't be hearing any more from those two who were giving yees the trouble.'

Richard Seagrave glanced unhurriedly round the almost empty bar, noting that the other occupants were busy with their own conversations. He produced the envelope and put it on the table. The men had their eyes upon it, but neither of them made any move towards it. Seagrave said, ‘You'll tell me of anything that went wrong. I wish to know if you had any problems.'

These were orders, not suggestions. The big man said as firmly as he could, ‘It went like clockwork, sor. Just as it was planned. We're professionals.'

‘Very well. You'll be paid as professionals. The better you execute these things, the better it is for you as well as for me.' Seagrave gestured towards the envelope. ‘Take it. There's two thousand in there in used notes. There's no need to count it.'

‘Indeed there isn't, sor. Not with a man like you. Glad to be of service. Hope you'll use us again.' They downed the remainder of their pints whilst he watched them, plainly anxious to be on their way.