The Celibate Mouse (10 page)

CHAPTER 15

Breakthrough

Detective Inspector David Maguire

Tuesday: mid morning.

D
etective Inspector David Maguire’s patience had quickly worn thin when he interviewed Lady Ferna the previous afternoon.
Bloody hell, why didn’t I bring the old battle-axe into the station before she got a chance to ring her mates?

Lady Ferna had been in contact with the Police Commissioner and the local Federal and State members, not to mention the Premier, the Mayor and, ‘God only knows who else.’

He tried for the umpteenth time to get Ferna to talk about her deceased relative.

‘I really don’t know, Inspector. Jack Harlow was not a close relation. Is there anything else?’

He wanted to strangle the old bag with one of the thick plaits wound around her head. She had done everything she could to obstruct him, even ordering him to the back door when he arrived at the house. He’d ignored her, of course. Having taken a chance and driven out to the homestead to catch the elderly couple in their lair, he hadn’t been about to give up when Lady Ferna had begun her shenanigans.

‘Madam–’

Her arched eyebrows did their dangerous best. ‘Lady Robinson, if you don’t mind.’

‘Lady Robinson, you are not legally obliged to answer my questions, however, failure to do so will cause me to suspect you are withholding evidence. Now, let’s start with Jack Harlow. I am informed he is your husband’s second cousin and he lived in your household for about a year prior to his marriage eleven years ago and you have been in regular contact with him? So how well
did
you actually know him? I expect you to answer the question, thank you.’

‘If I must. He was a perfectly ghastly man. Sir Arthur insisted he stay with us all those years ago. It was not long after his mother passed away.’ Her mouth folded into hen’s bum mode. ‘He had a room out the back of the house.’ Where he couldn’t contaminate us,’ was the inference.

Maguire clenched his teeth so tightly that his gums hurt. ‘Did Jack have many friends?’

It transpired that Jack’s friends were numerous and of the hoi polloi–farmers, truck drivers and
sheep
people. ‘He was a disgusting reptile. Far too many dogs and an eye for the ladies,’ spat Lady Ferna. Could a disgruntled husband have gone over the top? Maguire wished a wife had gone over the top and “done” Ferna, but having seen a photo of Sir Arthur, conceded it was an unlikely scenario.

Relations between Maguire and the old woman had deteriorated somewhat by the time Ferna led Maguire into the garden in time to see Sir Arthur collapse. The DI administered CPR while her Ladyship phoned, reluctantly he suspected, for help.

The paramedics bundled the old boy into the ambulance and Lady Ferna, who seemed to feel her husband had let the side down badly, aimed a surreptitious kick at a fat, white Persian cat lurking nearby, then climbed into an ancient Bentley and followed the ambulance.

His team had brought in reams of statements from townsfolk and the general consensus from the locals was that, ‘Jack was a good bloke. No one would want to shoot him, unless it was over a woman.’ Further inquiries amongst the relatives and friends yielded similar information. Uniform branch only recounted rumours. John Glenwood, who apparently knew in which cupboards all the local skeletons were hiding, seconded general opinion.

‘Was the old bat trying keep me from asking too many questions, or is she a just crazy old cow who like to treat the police like dog shit?’ Maguire suspected a bit of both. After two days there’d been no progress on the Harlow case and during that time, someone had ‘nailed’ Edna Robinson.

The CIB team seethed with frustration. The perpetrator wasn’t about to leap into the arms of the law of his own accord. Short-staffed, Maguire ploughed bad-temperedly through the interview reports. The security camera recorded the perpetrator of Edna’s murder as around 190cm and of male build. A bulky, hooded coat precluded any identifiable feature, including the proportions of the killer’s form.

Two members of his team interviewed the patients who were in hospital at the time. Most were elderly and those who still had all their marbles maintained they hadn’t heard anything. His partner, Detective Senior Sergeant Pete Hansen, commented wryly that as the majority were wearing hearing aids, it wasn’t surprising.

Before the first killing, the press consisted of one local reporter, who could be intimidated and was grateful for any scraps of information the local station tossed him. Now, when the city press weren’t propping up the bars in the hotels, they were camped on the steps and in the forecourt of the station.

Forensics advised Harlow was shot in the heart with an Enfield SMLE bolt-action rifle and as Susan had surmised, the sniper was probably positioned amongst the cars parked below the ring announcer’s box, around fifty metres from the victim. The point that the perpetrator was a marksman of some talent hadn’t gone un-noticed, but so far none of the Robinson clan fit the bill. Enquiries of the local rifle club had yielded nothing useful, although there were several members who had the skill to have picked Jack off at a considerable distance, CIB had uncovered no motive for the crime. The commentators in the announcer’s box at the sheep-dog trials swore they weren’t aware of what happened until everyone started gathering around Jack. Maguire was incensed. ‘Bastards had a radio up there and were listening to the cricket, more like.’

He peered crankily into his almost empty coffee mug. It was too much trouble to get up, re-heat the electric jug and make a fresh cup. His mind went back to Edna. How long, he wondered, had the killer stood there, watching and waiting for an opportunity to get the poor old thing? When his chance came, it wouldn’t have taken long. Say, two minutes at most to suffocate her, a minute to check he’d left no trace and get out of there. The monitor must have been turned off before the killing. To do all that without being seen? An idea fluttered at the edge of his consciousness ...

He shook his head, unable to retain the thread. Frustrated, he got up to make yet another mug of coffee and root through the caddy, disappointed to find all the chocolate biscuits gone. Thinking dark thoughts of his colleagues, he selected a shortbread and carried his coffee to the end of the corridor. A police cruiser and four nondescript sedans were the sum total of vehicles in sight. The station OIC’s goats grazed in the paddock behind the car park, stopping occasionally to rear up and grab leaves off the lower branches of the wild apple trees. An idyllic scene which had nothing to do with hatred, greed, jealousy or secrets.

He finished his drink and went inside to stare at Edna’s gentle, sheep-like face on the whiteboard, side by side with the long, horsey face of sly Jack Harlow, who had left a large superannuation and generous life insurance policy, which was inherited by a noisy wife, ten dogs and some sheep. The insurance company would no doubt be praying that Penelope would prove to be the murderer so they didn’t need to pay out. Beside that stood the diagram of the trajectory of the bullet and photos of the outlines of Jack and Edna’s bodies–though the old woman’s was safely tucked into a bed at the time of her death. The diagram of her room showed there was no way her killer could have hidden until the doctor and nurse left on their Code Blue emergency.

Heavy footsteps heralded the arrival of three detective constables, who gave verbal reports then clustered around the coffee maker, mourning the paucity of biscuits. After they left to follow up more interviews, Maguire re-read a copy of Edna’s will.

She left a more than comfortable bank account, a cottage on forty acres, antique furniture and some valuable rings.
Worth doing her over for?
‘People have been done over for less,’ he reminded himself. She had left her property to Libby and divided her cash and investments between the RSPCA and her son. ‘Can’t see one of them knocking Edna off,’ Maguire muttered, ‘but we’ll check the grand-daughter.’ Daughter-in-law, Beatrice Eams. Hm.

He’d heard that Libby had screamed the hospital down when she’d heard about her grandmother’s murder. Fake? Unlikely, but possibly in partnership with someone? She was engaged to Dr Jason Hardgreaves but fortunately for him, the doctor’s alibi had been provided by two nurses and a patient. They’d also established that the two victims, although related, hated each other’s guts. Their only point in common seemed to be their membership of the same family, and Edna had strongly disapproved of Jack’s extra-marital activities.

‘There has to be a good reason why the old girl was killed, but what in God’s name could she have done?’ he muttered. The only person, other than hospital staff, to have spoken to Edna on the day she died was Susan. A giant hand had squeezed his heart when he saw her standing at the top of the steps to the farm house. The past thirteen years had been kind. Her glossy hair smelt of flowers. Her skin, always fine and clear, looked as smooth as silk. He had wanted to reach out and run his hand across her cheek.

‘Jesus, don’t go there ...
’ He shifted uncomfortably as he felt the beginning of a boner. Having just broken off a recent relationship, he had fled to the southeast to escape recriminations. The last thing he needed was more complication in his private life.

The phone beside him rang, startling him out of his reverie. He was soon brought down to earth by a lengthy discussion with CIB headquarters, during which Adam Winslow came into the room.

Maguire observed the young constable from the corner of his eye as he finished his conversation. Young and ambitious, it could have been himself standing there, jittering while a senior officer set him straight. Unbidden, a former Superintendent’s voice flashed its unwelcome way into his mind. ‘Maguire, you’re too quick to judge. You don’t listen to what people, Susan included, are trying to tell you. And one day that’ll be your downfall.’

Not long after he’d left his marriage and four years later, lost his children. ‘Damn. Why is it all of a sudden I can’t function without thoughts of Susan?’ The realisation that maybe he had never stopped loving her, was unpalatable.

After Adam had explained that the senior constable appeared to be AWOL, Maguire followed the constable to the front office to make soothing noises to Glenwood’s wife, but was saved by the Sergeant George Harris’s arrival. After expressing his concern, Maguire left them to it and trudged back to the computer, only to be recalled because his daughter had arrived at the front desk.

‘I know you said you’d call, but I couldn’t wait to talk to you. Am I interrupting your work?’

Maguire pulled a chair forward and gestured for her to sit. ‘Nothing that can’t wait. Coffee?’

‘I’d love some, white, no sugar,’ she replied shyly. He made two cups, set them on the desk and sat down. He felt nervous, unable to think what to say to this child he had not known since she was a toddler. They stared at each other, and then Marli took the initiative. ‘Will you be here in town long?’

‘I don’t know. It depends on the cases we’re working. Of course, that makes no difference to you and me. Now I know how to contact you, we can get together. And I’m living in Ipswich now.’

She smiled and relaxed. He listened to her chattering, between sips of her coffee about her life, sister, pets and friends. His heart twisted with regret because he’d not been around to share all those things.
Damn you Susan, and damn me for not forcing the issue years ago.

Harris bustled into the room. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt, Dave, but can I have a word?’ His look said, ‘Outside.’

Maguire stood up. Harris nodded to Marli and backed out into the passageway. Her father placed a re-assuring hand on her shoulder. ‘I won’t be a moment. Wait here, okay?’

‘We’ve had a message that John Glenwood’s car was found down the side of an embankment on the road to town. The ambulance is on its way and I’m going have to go and tell his wife.’

‘How badly hurt is he?’

‘Not good. It appears he was there all night. Significant head injuries.’ They shared a few words, and Harris accompanied by an officer, face tight with worry, hurried out to the car park. Moments later, the cruiser left.

‘What’s happened?’ Marli asked, when they were alone again.

Maguire, knowing the word would be out in no time, filled her in on the details ‘We’ll have to wait and see how he is. Did you know him?’

‘No. We’ve only been here since Saturday afternoon, remember.’ Maguire could see her hands trembling.

‘A lot’s happened since then, Marli. I’ll need to talk to your Mum again. Is she home today?’

‘She was, but she phoned me and said Mrs Winslow asked her to come with her to old Mrs Robinson’s cottage. I’m going shopping with Carissa after this.’

‘Constable Winslow’s mother?’

‘Yes,’ Marli replied, puzzled.

‘Why would Mrs Winslow take your mother over there?’ he mused, chewing his lip. Susan getting together with the Winslows could be very useful, if only she would co-operate.

‘Apparently she wanted mum to keep her company while she packed up Mrs Robinson’s stuff. None of the family wanted to go over and mum thinks Mrs Winslow was scared to go by herself.’ She rolled her eyes.

Would Daniella Winslow want Susan to attend Edna Robinson’s funeral? The wake would be at Sir Arthur and Lady Ferna’s property. Sir Arthur was still in hospital, but Maguire would bet his pay cheque on the old knight hosting the party. From what he remembered of his ex-wife, she’d had a strong sense of what was right and felt confident she would regard it as her duty to attend the funeral. He realised his mind was wandering, when Marli tugged his sleeve. ‘So you will phone me won’t you?’

He looked down at her, surprised by a great rush of tenderness for his child. ‘Of course I will. In fact, if I can manage it, I’ll take you out to dinner tomorrow night. Where would you like to go?’

Her face suffused with pink and her eyes sparkled. ‘That’ll be fabulous! Have you heard of the Dale Restaurant?’ she asked, naming a trendy place up the road which he’d heard was the latest excitement in town.