The Price of Butcher's Meat (25 page)

“I'm sorry?” said Pascoe, thrown by the sudden change of subject.

She rolled her eyes as if in appeal to some upper-class god for protection from the dullness of the proletariat.

“You seem to fear that my brother might be tempted to poke around the house if he remains here,” she said slowly and very distinctly. “Miss Brereton actually lives here. What is to stop her from poking around all she likes when she's alone in the house tonight?”

Denham exclaimed, “Good lord! I'd never thought of that.”

For a moment Pascoe thought he was sharing his sister's unchari
table suspicions. Then he went on, “Poor Clara won't want to stay here by herself all night, not after what's happened. We must invite her back to the park.”

He strode out of the room.

Nice to see that one of this pair has got some human feelings, thought Pascoe.

He said stolidly, “Looks like you've got yourself a houseguest, Miss Denham.”

She drained her glass and smiled at him. It was a mocking smile, no sun through April clouds here, more will-o'-the-wisp through marsh mist. But he couldn't deny that she was a very good-looking woman.

“I don't think so,” she said. “Five gets you ten she won't come.”

“I'm not allowed to gamble on duty, miss,” said Pascoe.

Which was just as well, as he'd have lost.

“Says she'll be fine here,” said Denham, coming back into the room.

He sounded rather chastened. His sister said sweetly, “I'm surprised you didn't offer to stay and hold her hand, Teddy.”

He ignored her and said, “You done with us, Chief Inspector?”

“Just one other thing, sir,” said Pascoe. “This private beach you mentioned, how do you reach it?”

“There's a path down the cliff.”

“Is there anything at the bottom to stop anyone unauthorized from coming up?”

“What? Ah, I see where you're going. No, apart from a sign saying private, and of course local terror at the possibility of encountering Auntie, there's nothing to deter an intruder. You don't think—”

“Rest assured, we'll check all possibilities. One thing more, sir. I gather that you and your aunt had a conversation earlier today, before the party started.”

“We were always having conversations,” he blustered. “We got on very well.”

“I'm sure you did. But the smoothest of relationships can have abrasive moments. I gather this conversation may have been a little heated.”

“Who's been saying that?” he demanded.

His sister, who'd taken the opportunity offered by the extended exchange to refill her glass, let out a snort as if this were the stupidest question she'd ever heard.

Pascoe said, “So you're saying such a conversation never took place.”

Denham glowered at him for a moment.

He's trying to recall the circumstances, what he can and cannot deny, thought Pascoe.

He said, “Oh yes. Auntie did give me a bit of a rocket for getting involved in setting out the tables for the refreshments and buffet. I explained that Clara was getting her knickers in a bit of a twist about it and I was just trying to help, but she said that the girl had to learn from her mistakes. End of story.”

An ingenious explanation closely linked to the known facts. Perhaps he was a clever bugger after all.

“Thank you for that, and thank you both for your indulgence,” said Pascoe. “I may need to talk to you again, so if you could keep me apprised of any plans you may have to be away from Denham Park in the next few days, I'd be grateful.”

“Don't worry. We won't be straying far till things are sorted here,” said Edward.

“We'll be as quick as we can, sir,” said Pascoe, though he did not for a moment think that the man was referring to the investigation.

He stood aside from the door, making it clear he was ushering them out of the room. Esther finished her drink and set her glass down. She'd used only her left hand, Pascoe noticed, both for preparing and disposing of the drink. This he felt was a proper observation for a senior detective to be making, and it helped distract him from the very improper observation of the plump brown breasts pushing like baby seals against the net of wool.

After they left the room he went over to the bureau. He leafed through the papers on view but found nothing that cried for attention. He made a note to tell Wield to get someone to make a detailed list. At least it might tell him what young Sir Edward
wasn't
looking for. The one thing he found that sparked his interest was a small diary, but when he opened it he saw it seemed to contain nothing but appointments. He slipped it into his pocket for further examination.

He left the drawing room and went back to Clara Brereton's room.

“I gather you've turned down Sir Edward's invitation to stay at Denham Park,” he said.

“Yes.”

“Your decision, but it might be better not to stay here by yourself tonight.”

“Better for whom?”

“For yourself.”

“But won't you have policemen patrolling the grounds?”

“Perhaps. Nevertheless…”

She regarded him shrewdly for a moment, then said, “Teddy's been poking about, hasn't he? And Esther thinks I might do some poking of my own.”

He still wasn't certain how bright the bart was, nor indeed whether his sister had anything more than that superficial brightness derived from a posh school and an ingrained assumption of superiority, but he had no doubts about Clara Brereton.

“Perhaps,” he said. “If Sir Edward were doing some poking, what might he expect to find? Where for instance might Lady Denham have kept her private papers?”

“I'm not sure. The bureau in the east drawing room, perhaps.”

“That was where I met the Denhams, right? And was the bureau kept locked?”

“Not usually. I doubt if she kept anything there she felt was really confidential. She'd deposit anything like that with Mr. Beard, her lawyer.”

“And he's local, is he?”

“Oh no. London. Aunt Daphne didn't believe in employing local firms for confidential matters. That was a piece of advice she gave me. She liked dishing out advice. Local professionals might be very competent but they employ local people. A wise woman takes care that her correspondence with her lawyer cannot be looked at by, say, the daughter of her milliner. That's what she told me.”

“I'm sure you took it to heart,” said Pascoe, smiling. “Did she go to see Mr. Beard or did he come up here?”

“He came here pretty regularly as far as I can gather.”

“She had a lot of legal work then?”

“She enjoyed changing her will, certainly,” she said, pulling a face.

“Really. And the last time Mr. Beard was here was…when?”

“Week before last.”

“And was that about a will change?”

“You'll need to ask him,” said Clara Brereton dryly. “I may have been a sort of cousin, but in some respects I was still a sort of milliner's daughter.”

“Do you have Mr. Beard's address?”

“Gray's Inn Road, I believe. The number will be in Auntie's address book. Shall I get it for you?”

Pascoe shook his head.

“No. I'd rather you didn't. In fact, Miss Brereton, if you'd care to put a few things of your own together, I really do feel you ought to move out of the hall for a couple of days.”

“This is beginning to sound more like an instruction than an option. And where am I to go?”

“You could change your mind about Sir Edward's invitation.”

She shook her head and said, “No, I couldn't.”

“Any particular reason?”

Before she could answer, the phone by the computer rang.

“Am I allowed to answer that?” she said.

“Of course.”

She picked it up and said, “Hello…yes, it's me.”

She listened for a while, then said, “Yes, in fact, the police have suggested I move out for the time being…that's very kind of you…very kind indeed. Thank you.”

She put down the phone and said, “You haven't been talking to Tom Parker, have you?”

“No, I think one of my officers should have interviewed him by now, but I haven't encountered him personally yet. Why?”

“It was just so timely. That was Tom. He said he and his wife had just realized that I would be all by myself here and they've invited me to stay with them at Kyoto House.”

“That was kind of them. And purely fortuitous, I assure you,” said Pascoe. “You've no objection?”

“They're kind people,” said Clara. “No, I've no objection. Right, I'd better go and pack. Are you going to supervise me?”

Pascoe said gently, “Please, Miss Brereton, don't feel badgered. You've had a terrible shock. I admit there are other considerations but, more important, I really feel it's better all round that tonight you should be among friends. Do you have transport?”

“Not my own. I sometimes borrowed my aunt's Jeep, but I'd better not risk that or Esther might be demanding you arrest me for theft.”

She said it lightly but Pascoe noted it was the sister she focused on.

“Okay. I'll fix a lift for you. Now off you go and pack.”

She nodded, more, it seemed to him, at some inner decision than in acknowledgment of anything he'd said, then left the room.

Pascoe took out his mobile and rang Wield.

“Car round to the hall ASAP please to take Miss Brereton to Kyoto House, Tom Parker's residence. And when she's gone, get someone to give the house the once-over.”

“Looking for anything special?”

“Not really, but Sir Ted was looking for something and I don't think he found it. Will maybe. Lady Denham's bedroom might be a good place to start.”

“On the principle that's where women are most likely to keep their secrets?”

“I'm surprised you knowing a thing like that, Wieldy,” he said and switched off.

Clara Brereton came back into the room, carrying a small grip.

“You were quick,” he congratulated her.

“I didn't pack for a long stay,” she said.

He smiled as he recalled Ellie explaining to him that packing for a short stay was much harder than packing for a long stay when you just threw everything in.

How should I pack for this case? he wondered.

“Then let's get you on your way,” he said.

As Shirley Novello left Kyoto House, she felt reasonably pleased with herself.

Okay, she hadn't lit upon that crucial bit of information that was going to crack the case, but that only ever happened in detective stories. What she'd got were three witness statements, each packed with useful detail, plus the bonus of Charley Heywood's e-mail observations on recent events and activities involving the main protagonists. How useful these might be remained to be seen. Probably just a lot of sisterly gossip.

She opened her car door.

From the passenger seat, Minnie Parker said, “Hello.”

“How the hell did you get in?” demanded Novello.

“It wasn't locked,” said the girl.

“It bloody well was,” said Novello.

Faced with such vehement certainty the girl didn't argue but said, “Okay. But you left your window open a bit.”

“Yeah? That's forced entry, I could do you for that. What are you doing here anyway?”

“I'm waiting to be interviewed,” said Minnie.

“Sorry?”

“That's what you're doing, isn't it? Interviewing witnesses? Well, I was at the hog roast too. I'm a witness.”

There was no denying this, thought Novello. The thing was, the children hadn't appeared on Clara Brereton's guest list. And Wield hadn't noticed. No reason he should have, probably. But it gave Novello a frisson of glee to think that even old Supersarge could have a kryptonite moment.

Also it gave her a problem. Proper procedure was to arrange an interview with a responsible adult present and preferably a specialist officer doing the questioning. Probable result, zilch. But that was Wield's problem. Or Pascoe's when he showed.

No harm in testing the water though…

“Okay, give me it straight, kid. What did you see?”

Minnie screwed up her eyes in an effort of recall. Or creativity.

Novello said, “Listen, kid, it doesn't have to be a madman running around with an ax. It's ordinary stuff that helps, so long as it's true. You went swimming, didn't you?”

“That's right.”

“You and who else?”

“Paul, that's my brother, and the Heeley twins—Lynn and Larry, and Tony Jebb.”

Novello made a note.

“How old?”

“The twins are nine, Tony's eleven.”

“Older than you then.”

“Yes, but I'm the best swimmer,” retorted Minnie.

“Great. Any adults?”

“Mr. Jebb, Tony's dad. And Miss Lee. Mr. Jebb runs the souvenir shop. Miss Lee's an acupuncturist. She's Chinese or something, I think. Oh, and the twins' dad, Mr. Heeley, he's a joiner.”

Novello was impressed both by the girl's readiness to give useful information and the ease with which
acupuncturist
rolled off her lips, but then she was Tom Parker's daughter. She checked her interview list. Jebb was one of Seymour's, Heeley was hers, while Miss Lee was marked down to Bowler.

This meant both her colleagues should at some point discover there'd been children present. How would Wield react to being told he'd missed a bit? Perhaps best to let one of the others find out!

“They swim? The adults, I mean.”

“No. They just sat and talked. Then when the storm started
they called for us to come out. That was a real pain. The others got scared but I thought swimming when there was thunder and lightning would be really cool. Do you swim? You look like you could.”

“Oh yeah? Meaning I'm slim and silvery like a trout? Or broad and blubbery like a sea lion?”

“Well, you look strong,” said the girl cautiously.

“You'd better believe it. Okay, so you had to come out of the water. Then?”

“We ran back up the cliff path. Charley was coming down to fetch us and she grabbed hold of me and Paul and we ran into the house and said hello to Mum, then Charley took us upstairs to dry us off and then she let us sit at one of the upstairs windows and watch the storm.”

“Nice of her. You like Charley?”

“She's great. She's going to marry my uncle Sidney, you know.”

“Is that right? No, I didn't know that. She known him a long time?”

Minnie considered then said, “Not
very
long. And it's a secret, so maybe you shouldn't say anything just yet.”

Novello, recalling that Charley had only been here a week and that by her own account her acquaintance with the Parker family only extended another three days beyond that said, “This one of those secrets even Charley and your uncle Sid don't know about?”

“Maybe,” said the girl.

“Then I'll definitely keep it to myself. Okay, so you watched the storm. And then?”

“Then when it was over we went down to Mum and everyone went outside again and then people started yelling 'cos they'd found Big Bum…”

“Sorry?”

“Lady Denham, I mean. Is it true she was roasting alongside the pig?”

“More or less,” said Novello, who thought it was better for kids to
get some kind of grisly delight out of horrors rather than nightmares. “You see her at all?”

“No. I wanted to take a look, but Mum dragged us away straight off,” said the girl regretfully.

Novello gave her a poke and said, “I mean earlier, dummy.”

“Only when we arrived.”

“How did she seem?”

“She was really nice.”

“Is that unusual?”

“Well, she always makes a big fuss about seeing me and the others when she comes to the house, but it only lasts a few seconds, then she forgets all about us.”

“But this time…?”

“She seemed really happy to see us, to see everyone.”

“What sort of happy?”

“You know, like adults get when they've had a couple of drinks, or done sex.”

Trying to shock me? Impress me? Or is she really as laid back as she sounds? wondered Novello. Anyway, this wasn't a road to go down outside of a properly constituted juvenile interview.

“So who did you see after you came back from the beach?”

“Lots of people. Everyone was rushing around to get sheltered from the storm.”

“Can you be a bit more specific? I mean, can you remember anyone in particular?”

“I know what specific means,” said Minnie resentfully. “I saw Teddy Denham. He was in his trunks too, but he hadn't been swimming. Not with us anyway.”

No, thought Novello. I know what he'd been doing.

“Anyone else?”

“There were a lot of men, from the council, I think, 'cos the mayor was with them in his chain. And they were grabbing bottles and glasses from the bar to take inside, then Mr. Hollis from the pub
arrived and said he'd take care of that. No one seemed to be bothering with the food and I wanted to stop and get some 'cos we hadn't had any yet and swimming always makes me hungry, but Charley said no, let's get you all inside.”

“So Charley was in charge of you by then? What happened to the other adults?”

“Mr. Jebb was there with Tony, and Mr. Heeley was looking after the twins. Didn't see Miss Lee. She sort of vanished when we got to the top of the cliff path. Anyway, when we came out later all the food was spoilt. I think it was Clara's fault, she usually looks after all that sort of thing at the hall, and I expect Big Bum, I mean Lady Denham, would have given her a right rollicking if she'd seen all that food gone to waste.”

The phrase and the intonation suggested she was quoting something overheard.

Novello glanced at the car clock. It was time to be on her way.

She said, “Then, after they discovered…”

She paused in search of a euphemism and Minnie said impatiently, “The corpse.”

“That's right. Did your parents take you straight home?”

“Yes. I wanted to stay and see what happened next, but you know what adults are like.”

Slightly flattered to be included as a non-adult, Novello said, “Yeah. I work for a couple of adults and they can be a pain.”

She reached across the girl and opened the passenger door.

“Okay,” she said. “That's fine. Thanks a lot.”

“Are we finished?” said Minnie, sounding disappointed. “You don't want to hear about the others?”

“What others?”

“The ones I saw out of the window while the storm was on.”

Oh God, thought Novello. I really should have kicked Minnie out of my car straight off, belled Wield, told him about her and the other kids, left him to set up proper interviews.

On the other hand, having got this far, if I dig up something really useful, then any bollocking I get will probably be token.

Probably.

“Tell me,” she said.

The girl screwed up her face in the effort of reconstruction. Or construction. Novello recalled her own childhood confessions when her keenness not to disappoint Father Kerrigan had caused much blurring of the boundaries of fact in search of significant sin. With pubescence the blurring had continued but the motive had completely reversed.

“I was looking out of the window watching the storm and down at the bottom of the lawn I saw Miss Denham—”

“Hang on,” said Novello. “Everyone says it was black as night and the rain was sheeting down and there was a gale filling the air with leaves and stuff. You must have very good eyes.”

“Yes, I have,” said Minnie somewhat complacently. “And when the lightning flashed, it was as bright as anything.”

“So during a flash of lightning you saw…what exactly?”

“I saw Miss Denham. Why won't you believe me?” insisted the child angrily.

Novello replied very quietly, “What I believe's not the point, Minnie. It's what you really believe. Just remember what we're talking about here. It's something really horrible. It isn't a game. So tell me again what you saw.”

The homily had its effect.

The girl said, more hesitantly now, “I really did see someone, and I think it was Miss Denham. At least, it could have been, and there was someone with her…a man…”

“Who?”

“I don't know!” she cried. “He looked sort of familiar, but I couldn't really say who it was. They were coming out of the shrubbery between the lawn and the hog roast…”

Novello tried to recall the configuration of house, lawn, and hog roast.

“That would be about three hundred yards. Looking obliquely. That's sideways.”

“I told you I'd got good eyes,” said the girl.

“And you saw this in one lightning flash?”

“Yes. When the next one came they were gone.”

It was time to finish here, thought Novello. She'd gone a lot further than testing the water. If taken to task, it would have been good to be able to point to some significant discovery, but what she'd got was, in the vernacular, neither owt nor nowt.

She said, “Anyone else see these two people—your brother or Miss Heywood, say?”

“I don't think so.”

“And did you mention what you saw to either of them?”

“No. I mean, I didn't know it was important then, did I?”

“Kid, you don't know that now,” said Novello. “Right. Thanks. Off you go.”

“Don't I get to sign something? And shouldn't you have been getting all this onto tape?” demanded the girl.

“Later,” said Novello. “You may have to go through all this again, with either your mum or dad present. Then you'll probably do the recording and signing thing. Think of this as a sort of rehearsal, okay?”

“Okay,” said Minnie, not moving. “So where are you going now?”

“What's that to you?”

“Maybe I could come with you. I know all the shortcuts round here.”

“Come on! A town this size, everything's so close, who needs shortcuts?” said Novello, who was an urban animal and rated any settlement with a population of less than fifty K a village. “Anyway, shouldn't you be in bed?”

“I'll be ten next birthday!” declared Minnie indignantly.

“So what do you want? A telegram from the Queen? Go go go, or I may have to arrest you.”

She saw the girl's eyes light up at the possibility and gave her a
push that sent her sprawling through the open door onto the edge of the lawn.

“See you later,” Novello called, dragging the door shut, starting the car, and sending it racing down the drive in a single gravel-spewing movement.

In the mirror she saw the girl had got to her feet and was running after the car, shouting indignantly.

Receding fast, she was difficult to hear and impossible to lip-read.

But she thought she made out the words, “You've got a big bum too!”