The Scent of Death--A Sukey Reyholds British police procedural (30 page)

‘Right, Guv.'

He handed the address book to Sukey. ‘You will make a similar check in this. From a quick glance through I notice that not every entry has an address but they all have phone numbers, so one way or the other you should be able to find what you need. Both of you are to report to me as soon as you turn up anything significant.'

‘This could either turn out to be a doddle or a monumental task,' said Vicky when she and Sukey returned to the CID office. ‘By the way,' she added in a lower voice, ‘I had the impression yesterday that Sir wasn't exactly a happy bunny, but he seems to have bucked up today even though we're no nearer a result. Was something bugging him?'

‘Why do you ask me?'

‘He's been different since his promotion, and I've been wondering if he's asking himself if he's really up to the job. From what you've told me he hasn't got anyone close, so …'

‘So you thought he might have dropped a hint in my ear? If you must know, as we were leaving yesterday after having eliminated Grayson, he did mention that he was feeling frustrated at the lack of progress on his first case as a DI, but I pointed out that it was one hell of a case and that DCI Leach probably shared his frustration. He seemed to cheer up when I said that.'

‘Understandable, I suppose, but Mr Leach didn't say anything to suggest he felt our DI, or any of us come to that, had missed out on anything in particular. Right, I guess we'd better get on with our researches.'

They had been working for a while on their respective tasks. Sukey was checking a telephone number on her computer when Vicky came and tapped her on the shoulder. ‘I think I may have found something,' she said.

‘I'm glad to hear it,' said Sukey. ‘I haven't had any luck so far. What is it?'

‘You remember Hugh Pearson?'

‘Yes, of course. He was the rather grumpy man in the Aran sweater whose wife couldn't be with him because her sister had flu? What about him?'

‘I remember he seemed a bit ill at ease when we spoke to him. And guess what, they live in Richmond. And I'm sure you also remember that the Days mentioned Julie Pearson as one of Rainbird's admirers who always sided with him in his spats with Eric Bowen?'

‘You're thinking maybe her husband suspected, or even knew, that she was having an affair with Rainbird and took the opportunity of killing him when she was unable to be with him?'

‘And was spotted by Reg Law, who very foolishly didn't go straight to the police but tried to sell his story to the press?'

‘It's feasible. He was there on Sunday as well. He could have overheard Law's call to Harry.'

‘But Freeman hadn't noticed anyone absent from the afternoon session.'

‘That's true, but he was probably feeling a bit stressed at the time, there were over forty people in the group and he might not have noticed. Anyway, I'm going to report this to Sir and see what he has to say.'

‘I'm going to take a coffee break,' said Sukey. When she returned to her work station Vicky was on the telephone and Sukey heard her say, ‘Three o'clock tomorrow afternoon. That's fine. Thank you very much, Mrs Pearson.'

‘Don't tell me you've struck oil?' said Sukey.

‘I've had a chat with Mrs P. She sounded very wary at first, couldn't think how she could possibly help with the enquiry, wasn't even there and so forth, but I managed to persuade her that it was just to tie up a loose end. She said she had to have a word with her husband first and she'd call me back, which she's just done. So I have another trip to London.'

‘Lucky you. I'm still trawling through the address book. I've got as far as H. without finding anything remotely feasible. Let's hope the rest of the alphabet will yield something useful.'

‘With luck you could join me tomorrow,' said Vicky. ‘I suppose I'd better check on the rest of the people on Freeman's list, in case there's another possibility.'

They resumed their respective tasks. It was just before midday that Sukey gave a little squeak of excitement. ‘Bingo!' she exclaimed. ‘I've found a woman called Pansy with a local number … that is, it has the same area code as Rainbird's.'

‘That sounds promising,' said Vicky. ‘Have you got the address?'

‘There's only the number in the book, but I can get the address from directory enquiry if she proves difficult. I'll check through the rest of the book before reporting to the boss.' She quickly flipped through the remaining pages but found nothing else significant.

‘Is that the only one?' said Rathbone when she reported her findings. ‘There's no address here so I presume it must be someone who lives near whoever our mystery woman is. Give her a call and see what you can get out of her.'

‘Will do, Guv.' Sukey went back to her desk and dialled the number. A woman's voice said, ‘Hullo, Pansy here. Who's calling?'

‘This is Detective Constable Reynolds of the Avon and Somerset CID,' said Sukey. ‘I apologize for bothering you, but we've found an address book with your name and phone number in it and we'd like to ask you one or two questions.'

There was a short silence before the woman said, ‘I don't understand. Where did you find this book? And why do the police want to talk to me?'

‘If you don't mind, I would prefer to explain in person. If we could agree on a convenient time for me to call?'

‘Just a minute, how do I know you're the police? You could be a criminal trying to get me to open my door so you could rob me.'

‘You are quite right to be suspicious,' said Sukey. ‘May I suggest that you get on to directory enquiries and ask for the number of the Avon and Somerset Constabulary. Ring that number and ask to be put through to DC Reynolds of the CID. I'll be here waiting for your call.'

‘All right.' Pansy put the phone down. Sukey turned to Vicky. ‘Either she knows something and wants to check with whoever owns the book before talking to me, or genuinely suspects me of being a crook. If she doesn't call back I'll check with the DI; my guess is he'll tell me to get the address and turn up anyway.'

It was another five minutes before her phone rang. When she answered, Pansy said, ‘You obviously are who you say you are, but I really don't understand why you want to talk to me.'

‘As I said, I'd prefer to speak to you in person. Would some time tomorrow afternoon, say half past three, be convenient?'

A resigned sigh drifted over the line. ‘Oh, all right. Here's where I live.' She dictated an address in Turnham Green. ‘I hope you won't turn up in a police car; I don't want to give my neighbours something to gossip about.'

‘I assure you that won't be the case. May I know your full name please?'

‘I'm Mrs Pansy Denny.'

‘Thank you for your cooperation, Mrs Denny. I'll see you tomorrow.' Sukey put the phone down to avoid further questions. ‘Good,' she said to Vicky. ‘That fits in nicely with your visit to Mrs Pearson. I'll go and check with Sir.'

‘Ask him what we do about transport,' Vicky reminded her.

The following day, after an early lunch, the two detectives headed for Richmond in Vicky's car. When they reached the road where Pansy lived, Vicky drove slowly past the house, an impressive detached property not unlike the house where Luke Grayson lived. ‘It's a pretty up market area,' Vicky commented as she pulled into the kerb and waited for Sukey to get out. ‘Our mystery woman obviously has rich friends.'

‘She may be in the same league herself,' said Sukey. ‘I'm not surprised Pansy wanted to check my credentials, though. OK, I'll leave you to your visit to Mrs Pearson. I'll give you a call when I finish here. Good luck.' She waited until Vicky's car was out of sight before walking up to the front door. It opened before she touched the bell.

Mrs Denny was a slim woman in her fifties, immaculately dressed, with beautifully styled hair and discreet but flawless make up. Without a word she ushered Sukey into the house, taking a quick glance over her shoulder as if fearing her arrival might have been observed before closing the door. She led the way across a wide entrance hall and gestured with a manicured hand at a door in the corner. ‘I hope this won't take long,' she said as she followed Sukey into the room, ‘I have friends coming for cocktails later on.'

‘I see no reason why it should take more than half an hour or so,' said Sukey as she sat down in the chair Mrs Denny indicated. The room was small, the only furniture being two chairs and a table on which stood a telephone, a directory and an address book.

Mrs Denny said, ‘As I told you over the telephone, I can see no earthly reason why you should be so interested in me that a personal visit is necessary. If, having been satisfied as to your bona fides, I had given you my address, you could have put the book in the post to me and I could have given it to its owner.'

‘That's an interesting point,' said Sukey, ‘but what if I had asked you the address of the owner so that we could return it to her ourselves. It is a woman, isn't it?' she added as a faint flicker of unease dawned in Mrs Denny's carefully made-up eyes.

‘Does that make a difference?' she asked.

‘Does the name Lance Rainbird mean anything to you?'

Mrs Denny sucked in her lower lip. ‘The name does sound familiar,' she said warily. ‘Haven't I seen something in the paper recently about somebody called Rainbird having been drowned … in Clevedon wasn't it – oh, I understand now why you're interested.' Her attempt at a laugh had a brittle quality. ‘Clevedon's in Somerset, isn't it? But I still don't understand …'

‘It's true Mr Rainbird was found drowned in the lake in the grounds of Dallington Manor, which is a short distance from Clevedon,' said Sukey, ‘but he lived in Kew – as I am sure you are aware,' she added, using Rathbone's technique of looking her subject directly in the eye. ‘And it is in his flat that we found this address book.'

Mrs Denny covered her face with her hands. ‘Oh my God, Pet, how could you have been so careless?'

‘So you do know her? Will you give me her name and tell me where I can contact her?'

‘She's my kid sister. I've promised from the beginning that I wouldn't breathe a word to a soul. How can I break my word? I couldn't live with myself if …'

‘If her husband should find out she's been having an affair with Lance Rainbird?'

‘She was heartbroken when he … when she heard of his death, and of course she had to hide it, as while it was obviously very shocking everyone had to believe it meant nothing to her personally. Why does it have to come out now?'

‘Because,' said Sukey, ‘Lance Rainbird's death was no accident. He was murdered. And we believe the owner of this address book can give us important information in our search for the killer.'

‘Yes, I understand, but,' she broke off as if she had remembered something, ‘did you say you found the book in Lance's flat?'

‘That's right. It was under the bed.'

‘Under the bed? Oh how stupid of me – I never thought of looking there.'

‘So it was you who called at Mr Rainbird's flat on Saturday afternoon? His neighbour heard someone go in and assumed it was his “lady friend” as she referred to your sister.'

‘That would have been the old busybody in the flat opposite, I suppose. My sister rang me on Saturday morning; she was very upset because she couldn't find her address book and she was terrified she'd left it in Lance's flat, so she asked me to go round and check, which I did. As I couldn't find it she assumed she'd either lost it somewhere else or simply mislaid it.'

‘So both of you have a key to his flat?'

‘No, he gave her just the one. She daren't take it home in case her husband notices a strange key on her bunch and asks questions, so she leaves it with me.'

‘How long has the affair been going on?'

‘It started about three – no, I think it was four years ago. She told me the first things she noticed about him were his smile and his voice and she was attracted right away. She said he was a strange character, didn't talk much; in fact, she told me the only other person he felt really at ease with was a man in his office. Have you spoken to him? I think his name is Ashman; perhaps he could help you. I really don't want Petunia involved.'

‘We have spoken to Mr Ashman, but I'm afraid we really need to speak to your sister.'

‘And if I refuse to tell you where she lives?'

‘I'm sure you are aware that withholding vital information from the police is a serious offence and can result in prosecution.'

Mrs Denny got up and went to the door. ‘I need a drink,' she said. ‘Can I get you anything?'

‘A glass of fruit juice would be nice, thank you.'

‘Right, I'll be back in a moment.' She returned shortly after with a glass of orange juice for Sukey and what looked like a gin or vodka and tonic for herself. She sat down, took a mouthful of the drink and sat for a moment turning the glass in her hands. ‘Pet's isn't a bad marriage,' she began, ‘but it isn't ideal either. She was just twenty-one; I was a couple of years older, we were both pretty hard up and on our own.'

‘Your parents were both dead?' asked Sukey.

‘Yes. Our mother died of cancer when we were still in our early teens. Dad struggled on for a couple of years – he used to call us his little flowers. That's why he named us after some of his favourites; I'm Pansy Rose and my sister is Petunia L …' She broke off and took another mouthful of her drink. ‘Anyway, Dad seemed to fade away after Mum died. There wasn't much money left after all the expenses were paid, just enough with what we earned from not very well paid jobs to keep the house. And then this man turned up at the recruitment agency where Pet worked, looking for a job and he obviously fancied her from the word go. He invited her out a few times; then he was interviewed for a job, got it, asked her to marry him and she accepted.'