The Scent of Death--A Sukey Reyholds British police procedural (5 page)

‘How many of Mr Freeman's events have you attended since your first encounter with Mr Rainbird?' asked Sukey.

Bowen appeared taken aback by the question. ‘I really couldn't say,' he said after a few moments' thought. ‘Half a dozen, perhaps – I don't go to all of them of course – but I can't recall whether Lance was at all the ones I attended. I keep all the programmes for reference,' he went on, ‘so if you think it's important I can check when I get home; something in one of them might trigger a recollection of him being particularly obnoxious with his sup-erior wisdom.'

‘Thank you,' said Vicky. ‘We'll bear your offer in mind.'

‘By the way,' said Sukey, ‘do you have a view of the lake from your bedroom window?'

‘No, my room's at the side of the hotel, facing north.'

‘So you have a view of the car park.'

He nodded. ‘Part of it. There are some spaces at the front of the building as well, but I can't see them. What of it?'

‘Just checking.'

‘Is that it, then?'

‘For the time being,' said Vicky.

They returned to the corner where Freeman was draining his coffee cup. Sukey had the impression that although they had been well out of earshot while talking to Bowen, he had been keeping a close watch on them from his window seat. ‘How did that go?' he asked as they approached.

‘I think there's time to speak to one more before your next session begins,' said Vicky. She consulted the list. ‘Is Mr Hugh Pearson still here?'

Freeman stood up and glanced round the room. Most of the people had already drunk their coffee and left, apart from a few who were still standing around chatting. ‘That's Hugh, over there.' He indicated a tall, bespectacled man wearing a bulky knitted sweater who was hovering on his own by the door and had been casting slightly anxious glances in their direction. Sukey suspected that, like Freeman, he had been observing the conversation with Eric Bowen. ‘If you don't need me any more for the time being I'd like to get back to the Orchard Room.'

‘That's fine,' said Vicky. ‘Thanks for your help.' She invited Pearson to join them saying, ‘I'm DS Armstrong and this is DC Reynolds. We're having a word with all the members of your group, so perhaps you can spare us a few minutes before the next part of your programme?'

‘Yes, of course,' he said.

By now the room was empty and they sat on the cushioned window seat, with Pearson between them. He appeared to be slightly on edge and in an attempt to put him at his ease Sukey said, ‘I've been admiring your pullover – Aran, isn't it? Did your wife knit it for you?'

The remark did not appear to give him any particular pleasure. ‘Yes, that's right,' he said offhandedly. ‘I understand you're here on account of Mr Rainbird's death,' he went on without giving her a chance to offer a further comment, ‘but I don't see how I can help you. All I know is what everyone else knows – he went outside saying he needed some fresh air and one of the staff found him floating in the lake. Surely it must have been an accident – unless Eric Bowen offered answers to some questions you haven't thought of asking.'

‘What makes you say that?' asked Vicky.

‘He's a bit of a big-head and loves to show off his knowledge about music – and more or less any other topic that comes up,' said Pearson. ‘Lance seemed to know almost as much about music as Justin – it was always an obsession with Eric to try and score points off him. In fact, I've noticed that he's a touch obsessive about a lot of things, especially security. My room is close to his and he practically shakes the door down when he comes out to make sure it's locked. I've noticed him going down to check his car every evening after dinner to make sure he's locked that as well.'

‘You've all been together on these events before?'

‘Oh yes, and they're always the same. My wife quite liked Lance but she can't stand Eric Bowen; during the regular disagreements between the two of them she always made a point of disagreeing with Eric and supporting Lance. She was very upset when I phoned to tell her about the accident.'

‘She isn't here with you?'

‘Not this time; we usually come together and her sister looks after our children when we're away, but she has flu so Julie's had to miss this one. She was really disappointed; Schubert is one of her favourite composers.'

‘What a shame. Anyway, thank you, Mr Pearson. Enjoy the music.'

‘That's interesting,' said Sukey after he left the room. ‘I wonder why Bowen didn't mention going down to check the car.'

‘I
wonder what became of Charlotte and Millie,' said Vicky as the last few members of the group swallowed the remains of their coffee and wandered out of the room. ‘Surely she can't have been in the loo all this time.'

A waiter who was loading the used cups and plates of biscuits on to a trolley said, ‘If you mean the lady in the wheelchair, her carer has probably taken her up in the lift. It's through there.' He indicated the door through which Millie had disappeared earlier.

‘Thank you,' said Vicky. Once again she looked at the list. ‘I suppose we'll have to start pulling witnesses out of their pre-lunch session now. Shall we start with Charlotte? She's one of the names Freeman ticked.'

‘I suggest we leave her until teatime,' said Sukey. ‘I have a feeling she might not take kindly to being interrupted; she'd probably be anxious to get the interview over and back to the music as quickly as possible.'

‘You reckon we'll get more out of her if she doesn't have to miss a few bars of whatever composer they're listening to until lunchtime?'

‘Something like that.'

‘I think that'll be Mozart's Fortieth Symphony,' said Vicky. ‘I heard someone say something about it being a classic example of sonata form – any idea what that means?'

‘Vaguely – I think it's to do with the way the various movements are organized. We can ask Freeman to explain it if you think it's significant.'

Vicky shrugged. ‘I don't see how it can help our investigation, but you never know – it might be worth asking. Tell you what, why don't we leave them all in peace for the time being? We could go and look for Romeo's motor caravan and have a word with him next. Didn't Freeman say he's parked in a lay-by half a mile or so down the road?'

‘I think so,' said Sukey, ‘but I don't recall passing a lay-by between here and the roundabout. It must be in the other direction. It's hardly worth taking the car; the sun's shining – and the walk will help get rid of some of the flab,' she added with a sly glance at Vicky's waistline.

‘Touché,' Vicky sighed. ‘It's Chris's cooking, especially the pasta. That's his Italian grandmother's influence of course.'

After a fifteen-minute walk they spotted the lay-by where an old blue Dormobile was parked. ‘I reckon that was nearly a mile,' said Vicky. ‘Anyway, it looks like Romeo is there.'

A swarthy, bearded man in green corduroy trousers and waistcoat over an open-necked shirt was sitting on a stone wall with a mammoth burger bun in one hand and a can of beer in the other. He wore gold earrings and a gold chain round his neck. ‘Mornin' ladies,' he said. He raised his beer can in salute before taking a swig and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘Out for a walk? Mild for early March, innit? Brought the blossom out early.' He waved the can in the direction of a blackthorn bush on the opposite side of the road, its flowers frosty white against the duck-egg blue of the sky.

‘Yes, it's lovely,' said Vicky. ‘Actually,' she went on, ‘we came specially to see you. We'd like to ask you one or two questions, if you don't mind.' She and Sukey showed him their IDs.

He gave a knowing grin. ‘I s'pose you wanna know if I saw anythin' suspicious about the goin's on at the manor.'

‘What goings on?'

‘Some poor sod found drowned, so I heard. Is that right?'

‘Who told you that?'

‘One of the reporters what was sniffin' around. The blues was chasin' 'im an' his mates away and they started askin' me a lot of questions. Couldn't tell 'em nuffin'; only got 'ere a couple of hours or so ago.'

‘Mr Freeman has told us that you have a very fine voice and that you sometimes give impromptu recitals at his musical events. Is that why you're here?'

Romeo, rendered speechless for a moment by a large bite from his burger, nodded. ‘Tha's right,' he said after chewing noisily for several seconds and taking copious swigs of beer. ‘Sent me a text one day last week. I was expectin' it anyway; 'e comes every year about this time. The punters show up around five on Friday and leave after breakfast on Tuesday.'

‘I understand you've shown up at quite a few of these events,' said Sukey. ‘Have you got to know any of the attendees?'

‘The what? Oh, you mean the geysers what come to these music parties. I've chatted to a few regulars; some are friendly and say nice things about the voice, but one or two are a bit toffee-nosed and look down on me 'cos I live in an old van and never 'ad much schoolin'.'

‘Do you know a man called Lance Rainbird?'

Romeo guffawed. ‘I'll say. One of the worst – thinks his farts sound like Schubert's serenade.' For a few seconds he was overcome by laughter at his own witticism, while Sukey and Vicky exchanged covert smiles. ‘Don't suppose 'e's flavour of the month with anyone,' he said when he had controlled himself. His good humour suddenly faded. ‘Don't tell me he's the stiff they pulled out of the lake?'

‘We can confirm that a man's body was found in the lake,' said Vicky, ‘but until he has been formally identified and the cause of death established, no details are being released.'

Romeo shrugged. ‘That figures – his folks must be told first.'

‘That's right.'

‘So – d'you want anything else from me?'

‘You obviously don't have a very high opinion of Lance Rainbird,' said Vicky. ‘Is that just because he was – “toffee-nosed” I think you said – or did you dislike him personally?'

Romeo scowled. ‘He said my singin' was rubbish and anyone could tell I'd 'ad no trainin'. Said as much to Mr Freeman, who was pretty sharp with 'im. What does 'e know anyway – it's not as if 'e had a string of qualifications after 'is name like Mr Freeman, is it?'

‘Perhaps he was jealous because
he
couldn't sing,' suggested Sukey.

Romeo beamed. ‘Maybe. Now there's a thought!' He laughed again, although less heartily, drained the can, dropped it into a bag that was on the ground at his side and pulled out another. ‘Come to me recital,' he said as he pulled at the ring. ‘Three o'clock this afternoon.'

‘Maybe we'll do that,' said Sukey. ‘Enjoy the rest of your lunch. It occurs to me,' she said to Vicky as they waved him goodbye and headed back to the hotel, ‘that we don't actually know much about Freeman except what he told us. From what Romeo's just said it sounds as if – despite what he said to us – there are times when Rainbird got under his skin and he let it show.'

‘You're right,' Vicky agreed, ‘but by and large it's not in his interests to upset the customers – bad for business and all that. I wonder what made Rainbird think he had a right to be so critical; maybe we'll learn more about him when the woodies have spoken to his next of kin.'

‘Romeo also suggested that Freeman's pretty highly qualified,' said Sukey. ‘Does it give any details in the programme?'

Vicky searched through the pages. ‘There's a short piece in here about him. It describes him as “a well-known lecturer in the music world and part-time amateur conductor” and he's got degrees in several American universities including a doctorate in Musical Arts, whatever that may be.'

‘Sounds impressive,' Sukey commented. ‘It'll be interesting to find out something about Rainbird's background when they've managed to contact his next of kin. Maybe he also had some letters after his name that Romeo doesn't know about – or Freeman doesn't know about either,' she added as an afterthought. ‘I wonder – suppose he does know but for some reason or other keeps it quiet.'

‘From what Eric and Hugh told us, it's not something that's generally known,' said Vicky. ‘Just the same, if it's true and Freeman knows, it might have made him feel a bit defensive when Rainbird started holding forth.'

‘No one's claimed that Rainbird openly challenged or disagreed with Freeman,' Sukey pointed out, ‘and we've no reason to think there was any sort of private disagreement between them. It was in discussions with the other members of the group that he tended to throw his weight around.' By this time they were back at the hotel. ‘It's just under half an hour to their lunch break. We can't sit around for all that time so we'll have to interrupt. Who shall we pull out first?'

‘There are the Days – Trixie and Stan, who've been regulars since these events began,' said Vicky. ‘Why don't we start with them? Hang on a minute, here are Tim and Mike,' she added as the two DCs suddenly appeared and headed towards them. ‘Let's see how they've been getting on.'

The four of them sat down in front of the fire and began to compare notes. ‘We've spoken to ten so far,' Tim began, ‘including two couples who insisted on being seen together. We've been allowing ten minutes each, including a couple of minutes to discuss what we've learned; they all agree that Rainbird said he was going out to get some air and none of them saw him after that. We've got all their details and told them they can go home if they want to, subject to your OK, Sarge.'

‘They're all a bit jumpy,' said Mike, ‘particularly the older women who are here on their own. One lady said she double-locked her bedroom door last night and then pushed an armchair against it – and still hardly slept a wink. She can't make up her mind whether to go home after lunch or stay the rest of the time and get her money's worth. The others said they've no intention of leaving before the end of the session.'