The House of Women (40 page)

It
was Carter’s turn to give Angel a quizzical look.

He
stared back at her in surprise.

The
two women went out. His eyes followed Carter’s every move. He was still staring at the door after it had closed.

It
took him a little time to settle down and accept that he now had a women sergeant on his team and that he would have to get used to it.

It
was about an hour later that he had read and approved Friday’s reports, and read and shredded two anonymous letters from cranks. He was beginning to investigate the heavy brown envelope from the Home Office entitled
The
Proliferation
of
Graffiti
in
the
Rural
Community
which included a letter, a pamphlet of 148 pages justifying its necessity, explaining how a census was to be taken, four blank forms in different colours to be completed, and a prepaid return envelope to ‘Art in the Community’, Inverstolly University, Aberflamburyloch, Wales. He was wondering what was the quickest, easiest and best way of disposing of the stuff when the phone rang.

He
eagerly stuffed the bumph back into the envelope, and reached out for the phone. From the cough, he knew immediately that it was the superintendent.

‘
There’s been a triple nine. Woman reports she found a dead man by the name of Redman. Appears to have been assaulted in his bed. Uniform say it looks like murder. Informant’s name is Krill. Address is 14 Creesforth Road.’

Angel
’s heart began thumping.

‘
Right, sir,’ he said and rang off. Then he quickly tapped in another number.

It
was soon answered.

‘
PC Ahaz. How may I help you?’

‘
Ahmed, find DS Crisp and DS Carter and tell them I’m on a triple nine, suspected murder at 14 Creesforth Road. Got that?’

When
Angel said ‘murder’, it sent a shiver down Ahmed’s spine. He wondered if he really was in the right job. He desperately wanted to be a detective on murder cases like Inspector Angel but he was always so easily unnerved.

‘
Right, sir,’ he stammered.

Chapter Two

Angel had no difficulty finding the house. Blue lights flashed silently from the tops of two high-visibility police Range Rovers, which were parked bumper to bumper in front of Dr Mac’s car and SOCO’s white van on the drive at the front of the house. A uniformed constable stood wearing out the front doorstep and trying to look as if he was serving some useful purpose.

Angel
parked his BMW on Creesforth Road, and noticed the lace curtains in the front bay window of the house next door move almost imperceptibly as he walked through the drive gate and dodged under the DO NOT CROSS - POLICE LINE tape.

The
constable threw up a salute. ‘Good morning, sir.’

‘
Good morning.’

DS
Donald Taylor, head of SOCO was coming out of the house to the van carrying a white transit case. He was dressed in the white allover suit, boots and elasticized head covering.

They
met on the front door step.

‘
Ah, Don. What we got?’

Taylor
pulled down the linen mask. ‘Good morning, sir. Elderly man, dead in bed, covered in blood. Looks like he’s been stabbed. Been there a while. Nothing appears to be stolen. Method of access not known. The man, a widower, lived here on his own. We’ve cleared the drawing room; his daughter, a Mrs Kathleen Krill, is in there. Wife of Cyril Krill, the property developer, who lives in Sheffield. He’s coming over. She found him forty minutes ago. That’s about it.’

Angel
nodded. ‘Dr Mac working on the body?’

‘Yes.’

Another constable in white overalls came from round the back of the house. He saw Taylor and Angel and called, ‘There’s a ladder been left between the garage and what looks like the summer house, sir.’

Taylor
and Angel followed him round on fancy cobblestones to the side of the house.

There
was a three-piece aluminium ladder wedged between the two outbuildings hidden from the road. They glanced at it.

Taylor
said, ‘Might be some prints.’

‘
I’ll check it,’ the PC said.

Taylor
nodded towards him and then he and Angel made their way back toward the front door.

Angel
frowned, then looked at Taylor. ‘Is it possible that access to the house was through an upstairs window?’

‘
I dunno, sir,’ Taylor said. Then he looked upwards and pointed at the big casement window on the front elevation of the house facing the road. ‘That’s the room where the man’s body was found. The daughter said that when she arrived this morning both doors were locked. I’ve checked the downstairs windows. They were all closed and locked. I haven’t got round to checking the upstairs windows yet.’

‘
If access was made by that ladder, maybe there would be marks where the ladder was placed,’ Angel said. ‘You carry on, Don. I’ll have a quick look round.’

Taylor
dashed off into the house.

Angel
looked in the flower border below the window, and found two marks the feet of the ladder had made. Also there were some wallflower bulbs thoughtlessly stamped on and uprooted. He peered eagerly down at the soil and pulled a disagreeable face. There was no chance of detecting a footprint.

The
sound of a car pulling up on Creesforth Road caused Angel to look round. The driver was DS Carter. She parked her car behind his BMW, got out and came rushing down the drive, her hair and skirt flying.

‘
Got here as soon as I could, sir,’ she said rushing up to him and smiling.

He
didn’t return the smile.

She
was eye-catching, but looking at her, smiling, willing and so unquestionably attractive, irritated him. Her film star figure and face were wasted in the business of being a copper, indeed, could even be a distraction in the harsh business of solving murder cases. He briskly told her the bare facts of the findings and then said, ‘Now do the door to door.’

‘
When did the assault or murder take place, sir?’

His
eyes opened wide and he glared across at her. ‘I don’t know. That’s the point of the door to door. I’m hoping someone may have seen a ladder up there. Now get on with it.’

Her
mouth dropped open. She breathed in quickly. Her eyes moistened. She turned away and dashed off.

He
saw her face before she turned. He shook his head irritably and stamped into the house.

The
long hall floor and large staircase were covered with white plastic sheeting. The first door on the left was wide open.

A
woman in a summer dress and a lot of make-up was sitting in an easy chair looking at him. She jumped up.

‘
What’s happening?’ she said, her bright eyes glaring at him.

Mrs
Krill?’ Angel said.

‘
Of course,’ she said.

‘
Please sit down. I am Detective Inspector Angel. I am very sorry that-’

‘
Yes. Yes. Yes,’ she said. ‘What’s happening? Has my husband arrived?’

Angel
frowned. ‘Not yet,’ he said. ‘I have to ask you a few questions. I understand that you found your father’s body?’

‘Yes,’
she said, her lip quivering. ‘I should never have left him.’

‘
Sit down, Mrs Krill. Please.’

She
sat down uneasily. He sat down opposite her.

‘
He should have been properly looked after...full time. He could have come and lived with us.’

‘
And what was your father’s full name?’

‘
Luke Lancelot Redman,’ she said. ‘There was plenty of room. But he wouldn’t move. So stubborn, you know. He expected me to move in here and look after
him
. But I couldn’t leave my husband - he’s a property developer and builder, you know. He would never have moved in here. My daughter’s at boarding school most of the time. We could have gone back to live in Sheffield at her holiday time, but Cyril wouldn’t hear of it. He needed to be near his business. The trouble is that men are so stubborn, Inspector Angel. Neither of them would compromise. Of course, they simply didn’t get on. They never had, that’s the truth of it. Both self-made men. You know...clash of personalities.’

Angel
smiled gently at her. ‘What is the name and address of the school where your daughter is a pupil, Mrs Krill?’

‘
Why do you want that? My daughter has nothing to do with this.’

‘
I am sure that what you say is absolutely correct, Mrs Krill. But we have to check everything, you know.’

She
glared at him before answering. There was a few seconds’ pause before she said, ‘Rosehill Academy, Weeton on the Water, Gloucestershire.’

‘
Thank you,’ Angel said as he noted it on the back of an envelope he pulled out of his inside pocket. Then he said, ‘So your father lived here on his own?’

‘
Didn’t I just say that? Yes, he lived in this massive four-bedroomed house for more than forty years. My mother died three years ago. I thought he would move then. I begged him to move to be near us...so that I could more easily keep an eye on him, but no. At one point, Cyril half agreed to build a bungalow on some land next to our house in Sheffield. So that Dad would have been in an independent unit virtually at the bottom of our garden. That would have been handy. I could have popped in each day. Of course, dad wouldn’t hear of it.’

‘
What brought you here this morning?’

‘
Isn’t it reasonable that I would want to see my own father, Inspector?’

‘
Of course it is, I simply wondered if he had called you or something like that?’

‘
No. He would
never
have called me. He was craftier than that. If he needed a button sewing on, for instance, he would phone me and ask me if I knew a good tailor. Then I’d ask him why and he’d say it didn’t matter, but eventually he’d let me wheedle out of him that a button had come off his shirt. Then I’d get in my car in Sheffield and come over here to sew the button on. He knew I wouldn’t let him go out looking unkempt.’

‘
Have you any brothers or sisters, Mrs Krill?’

‘
There’s just me, Inspector.’

‘
Did he have a housekeeper or a daily or any domestic help?’

‘
He did have. Several. Well, more than several, but he couldn’t keep them. He was too pernickety and too critical. And he was downright rude to them, as well. He thought he was living in the days of Dickens. He was also very house-proud. Even though he was eighty-two, he did the housework himself. Look round. Everything is spotless and in its place. I have a fulltime housekeeper but I swear this house is cleaner and tidier than mine.’

Angel
glanced round the room and he had to agree that everything that had a smooth surface glistened and reflected back at him, it was also noticeably tidy and uncluttered. ‘Did he have any friends, or worse, any enemies? Have you any idea why anyone would want to kill him?’

‘
Certainly not. He was Mr Charm himself to everyone except Cyril and me. You never heard a bad word said about him. You have to remember, Inspector, that he lived in this town all his life. He worked at the Northern Bank for forty-three years. He worked his way up from clerk to branch manager and then on to local group manager. He may have upset one or two people in all that time but not sufficient to give them a reason to...to...’

She
had seemed to have been in control, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to use the word ‘murder’.

‘
There must have been somebody,’ Angel said quickly. ‘What were his interests?’

Mrs
Krill frowned. ‘He hadn’t any. He was fond of gardening. He enjoyed the house.’

‘
No hobbies or sports?’

‘
No. He had plenty of interests in his younger days. Football. Photography. Am-dram. Golf. He was into all sorts of clubs and activities in his younger days, but as he got older he lost interest and then my mother was ill. He spent more time with her and his outside interests were neglected.’

‘
Did he have any money troubles?’

‘
Certainly not. He was well off, I understand. He was always talking about his portfolio of shares, which were coming to me...that I had nothing to worry about...and then there’s this house.’

‘
You are the sole beneficiary?’

‘Yes.’

There was the sound of a doorbell. Angel glanced towards the door to the hall. He thought it was the front door.

Mrs
Krill looked anxious.

‘
When did you last see your father alive?’ he said.

‘
Friday afternoon. I came to see that he was all right and to tell him that I was going down to Gloucestershire to visit my daughter. You see, my husband was going to be away at the Solar Heating and Power Exhibition in London. So I thought it would be a good opportunity for me to take a break. If I had thought that this was going to happen, of course, I would never have gone.’

A
PC peered into the drawing room, looked at Angel and said, ‘Excuse me. There’s a Mr Krill, sir. Says he’s looking for his wife.’

‘
That’s all right, constable. This is Mrs Krill.’

‘
In here, sir,’ the PC said. ‘This is the inspector.’

He
stood back to allow a man to enter and then he went out.

A
man in an expensively sculptured suit saw his wife, went over to her, took hold of her outstretched arms, gave her a quick kiss and said, ‘Oh darling. Are you all right?’

She
smiled and nodded. He turned to Angel. ‘I hope you’re going to get this madman, Inspector.’

Angel
gave him his best non-committal nod of the head, several times, then said, ‘Have you any idea who might have wanted Mr Redman dead, sir?’

‘
Not the slightest. He was a great man. He’ll be sadly missed.’

‘
Your wife suggested that you and he didn’t quite hit it off.’

The
Krills exchanged quick glances.

Mrs
Krill said, ‘I only told Inspector Angel the truth, Cyril.’

Krill
pursed his lips then said, ‘It’s true. He could be very…very difficult.’

Angel
was weighing the answer when Krill said, ‘Inspector Angel? Your name is Inspector Angel? You must be the famous Inspector Michael Angel. The man with the same reputation as the Mounties, that you always get your man? I’ve heard that you have never failed to solve a murder case?’