Dead Money (A Detective Inspector Paul Amos Lincolnshire Mystery) (12 page)

He hurried up to Amos.

“You’re not letting him go, are you?” he demanded impertinently. “It’s obviously him.”

Amos and Swift stared at Clarke blankly.

“He’s left handed,” Clarke explained opaquely with an air of triumph. “So was the murderer.”

“How do you make that out?” asked the baffled Amos.

“The murderer struck from the left hand side of the bed. Think how you would hold a cricket bat, A left handed person would hold the bar with his right hand at the end, with his left hand further up the bar, the opposite way to a right handed person. He would strike naturally from the left of the bed. That’s what the murderer did.”

Then, conspiratorially, he added: “Did you notice Berry’s face? His beard was trimmed better on the right. And he had shaved better on the right cheek, too. He had cut himself two or three times on the left cheek and there was more stubble. That’s because as a left-handed person he has more control reaching to the right side of his face.”

Clarke stood beaming at the other two offices. He was somewhat deflated, and a little disgruntled, when Amos replied: “The murderer struck from the left side because that was the side nearest the bedroom door. He would hardly have walked round the bed in the dark and risked bumping into it.”

Nonetheless, Amos was slightly uneasy. There was no way of knowing if Berry wrote left handed as he did not write. The inspector turned brusquely to Swift.

“Let’s visit the estate office,” Amos suggested. “That last remark of Berry’s puzzled me. What was he on about? Why did he suddenly clamp up?”

Amos expected the estate manager to resent police intrusion into his office in addition to his block of flats. The manager, however, took a refreshingly pragmatic line.

“It’s as much in my interests as yours to get this matter cleared up as quickly as possible,” he told the two detectives.

“Am I right to think, sir, that just one of the former residents of Killiney Court went back in after the refurbishment?”

“That’s right, inspector, as far as I know. The place had got pretty run down – in fact, some of the flats were uninhabitable. We spent a lot of money on the block and the apartments are quite exclusive.

“I’m not being snobbish,” said the manager, who hadn’t sounded at all snobbish until he uttered the disclaimer, “but the sort of people who rent council flats are hardly likely to be in a position to buy at the upper end of the market. Some may well have bought elsewhere after they moved out but not in Killiney Court.”

“Yet Miss Norman found the money from somewhere,” Swift returned.

“You’ll appreciate I can’t go into client’s personal details but Miss Norman was a woman of comfortable personal means. She originally moved in, I think you’ll find, when the council block was in better condition and when she, perhaps, was not so well off.

“Look,” he went on confidentially, “I don’t think I’m giving any secrets away when I say that Miss Norman came into some money. I believe a relative died some time ago. She probably just hadn’t got round to finding somewhere else when we stepped in and solved the dilemma for her.

“She was very fond of her old home, you know. She moved back into the same flat, although of course it had a different number on it. That caused a bit of confusion. She thought we were trying to trick her into moving into the wrong apartment.”

The estate manager laughed. Amos was not laughing. He was remembering the odd remark that Berry had made about the tenants moving up a rung.

“Why was the flat number different?” he asked.

“Didn’t you know?” came the slightly surprised reply. “Well, no, I suppose there was no reason for anyone to mention it to you. The development company renumbered the floors after the refurbishment. I suppose it was partly to make it clear that this was a very different apartment block from the old council estate.

“I think, also, there was a certain cachet in going over to US-style numbering. So we made the ground floor one, the mezzanine with the caretaker’s flat became two and the old English-style first floor became three.

“Miss Norman’s flat, formerly 4A, became 6A and so on.”

Unaware of the bombshell he had just dropped, the estate manager continued: “Once Miss Norman looked out of the window she was quite satisfied. She could see at once that it was her old flat overlooking the front drive. I suppose she was a bit lonely and liked to see people coming and going.”

Amos was already on his feet.

“Thanks,” he said. “We might want to talk to you again.”

“Is that it?” a startled manager asked.

Amos was already making for the door with Swift in tow.

“That’s all for now,” the inspector replied without pausing.

“What’s the rush?” Swift asked as Amos strode for the outer door to the office car park.

“Stevens,” came the sharp response. “Do you realise the implication of what he said?”

They were at the car and Swift had to wait until they were seated in it and moving for the explanation.

“Supposing the murderer made a mistake. Supposing he didn’t know the floors had been renumbered. Supposing he was looking for the old 4B.

“Think about it,” Amos went on urgently as he drove off down the road.

“All the floors look the same. The assailant comes up the stairs to avoid meeting anyone in the lift and counts out the floors. He comes out onto the landing and there are four doors, two on the left and two on the right. In front of him the far wall comes up to waist height, topped with railings. Every floor is identical.

“He gets into what he thinks is 4B, makes for the bedroom – remember all the flats on top of each other are the same layout – sees the sleeping figure and beats it to death. The only trouble is, it’s the wrong figure.”

“You’re forgetting something,” Swift pointed out. “Even if the murderer did break into the wrong flat he would have realised his mistake as soon as he entered the bedroom. Remember the table light was on. I know the bulb was fairly dim but you were there when we switched off the main light and closed the curtains. You could see Jones quite clearly.

“The two flats below Jones were both occupied by women. The killer couldn’t possibly have mistaken Jones.”

“Not if he was the one who switched the light on – after the deed was done. If I’m right,” Amos declared, “then Jones was killed by mistake for the occupant two floors down. Joanna Stevens is in serious danger.”

Chapter 24

No-one but Amos was pleased about the 24 hour guard he put on Joanna Stevens, least of all the ungrateful recipient of his well meaning intentions.

Swift could not accept Amos's theory. Martin, the first officer to take up the duty, and the other officers who followed him, accepted the inevitable boredom with a bad grace.

The Chief Constable objected to the cost. He was, though, as Amos had expected, reluctant to remove the chaperone after Amos had set the arrangement in place. He did not want the responsibility if anything happened to Stevens.

“Still,” he told Amos, “if she cooperates we need to put only one officer on duty at a time. And if she doesn't cooperate we can't do much to help her so we needn't bother trying.”

For all this Amos was prepared. What he had not been expecting was the truculent attitude of Stevens herself. Amos and Swift, being close to Killiney Court, had dashed in vain up to Stevens' flat, just in case she had returned home from work.

The lift had been ages coming to take them back to ground level. Amos paced impatiently.

“It never struck any of us as odd that the first level of flats was the third floor,” Swift commented without realising that her attempt at calming Amos was only making him more agitated. “We were so busy getting a list of everyone who lived in the building and finding out where they were that weekend that the numbering didn’t seem important. I never gave it a moment’s thought myself.”

The lift rumbled up and took the two officers back to the ground. The sentry unhelpfully said he had not seen Stevens leave that morning but he had not been on duty then.

 It came as a relief to reach her place of work and be greeted on the pavement by Martin, who had got there first in answer to Amos's urgent summons.

“She's fine. She was a bit startled when I barged in, though. I think she's assuming you will explain what it's all about, sir.”

Stevens was a lone worker in a small office. She was putting some files into a briefcase as Amos entered.

“Now what's all this about?” she asked abruptly. “And can we make it quick? I have an appointment.”

"I'm afraid it's rather serious," Amos told her. "Miss Stevens, I have reason to believe that your life may be in danger."

"Nonsense!" Stevens gasped. "Do you think," she started to inject a tone of sarcasm, "do you think someone is working his way round Killiney Court?"

"No, Miss Stevens," Amos insisted. "It is possible that the murderer intended to kill you."

 "I can't see why," Stevens commented. "All right, I worked for Ray Jones. But I wasn't employed by him. I have my own business and my own clients. I only check the figures. I don't wheel and deal. Why would the murderer want to kill me as well?"

Amos was put on the spot. He was reluctant to divulge his suspicion for two good reasons. Firstly, it was only supposition, little more than a hunch.

Secondly, there were times in any investigation, especially murder, when it was best to keep some vital pieces of information away from the general public. The murderer could give him or herself away by revealing knowledge of unpublicised facts.

So Amos said simply: "I'm sorry, Miss Stevens, I can't divulge the reason for my suspicion.”

“Has Warren ever threatened you?” Swift asked.

Stevens shook her head. “I’ve not really had much contact with him, even though we live in the same block. I didn’t mix with him socially and just called in his office every six months to check the books. He usually made sure he happened to have an urgent reason to be in London whenever he knew I would be calling. That’s why I didn’t warn him in advance that I was going to pop in last Tuesday to tear his books apart.”

“What about Jim Berry?” Swift asked.

“What, that grubby little man who did Ray’s spying for him? I don’t think he even knew Warren,” Stevens answered, misunderstanding the question.

“I mean, did he have any reason to hate you? Were you, for instance, involved in winding up his old company?”

“That was before my time. Ray wasn’t among my clients then. Or Berry for that matter. I can’t for the life of me see why he should hold a grudge. Nor did he owe me any favours. I can’t see why he would have any reason to like or dislike me.”

Amos and Swift suggested other names of residents in Killiney Court but Stevens was clearly getting bored with the exercise. She showed no greater enthusiasm as Amos produced the lengthy list of business contacts of the late and, so far, unlamented Raymond Jones.

She did, however, go to the extent of marking those whom she had had dealings with, roughly half the roll call.

“Please try to think if anyone on this list, or anyone else for that matter, had any kind of grudge against you,” Amos urged. “Meanwhile, we will keep a female officer stationed in your flat overnight and an officer will escort you during the day. I can assure you my officers will be in plain clothes and will exercise the utmost discretion - although it would be far better for your own sake if you went away for a few days.”

“Impossible,” Stevens said shortly. “Too much work. And how is one person going to protect me? What will they do if someone drives past with a sawn-off shotgun? I just can't see the point. I am perfectly capable of looking after myself. I always have done and I always will."

“If I am right - and I am quite sure that I am - the killer will not strike in such a melodramatic fashion,” Amos said.  “Mr Jones was killed in the utmost privacy and the killer will try to strike when there is no-one around. If he knows we have an officer on duty at Killiney Court and accompanying you he will be deterred.

“Otherwise, he will wish to eliminate his next victim as soon as possible. I intend to publicise the arrangement in the local media. 

"Don't worry," he added hastily as Stevens opened her mouth to protest, "I shan't say specifically that we are guarding you. I shall say that we are keeping a guard on Killiney Court itself and shadowing all known close associates of Ray Jones. I daren't spread it too widely or it will lose its effect. The murderer must know he can't get at you until such time as we can track him down."

Chapter 25

Stevens finally accepted the arrangement with a bad grace. Being now late for her next appointment, she preferred to acquiesce rather than prolong the debate. Martin tagged on behind her. Having given way on the general principle, she also conceded that the shadowing officer would normally travel in her car and stay overnight within her flat.

Swift was despatched back to county headquarters in Martin’s car to organise a rota with a female officer assigned to the night duties.

"How long do you want the rota drawn up for?" she asked Amos as she was departing.

 "Hard to say," he admitted. "Take it for a week and we'll see how we go. I can't see us sorting this one out quickly. Every time we seem to be getting somewhere the net widens again. We don't even know for sure who the target was, let alone the murderer."

Left on his own, Amos found a telephone box and rang Sheila Burns, his contact on the local evening newspaper. Burns had her head screwed on the right way. She could be trusted with a tip-off because she knew if she played fair she would be used again.

“Sheila? Amos. Can we meet quickly? I've an exclusive for you. Will it be in time for the final edition?”