Dying in the Dark (10 page)

‘Yes.'

‘Did she spend a lot of her time in other people's houses? And
if
she did, was that because your wife – being blind – was unable to look after her as she should have done?'

‘How dare you!' Rutter said furiously.

‘How dare I what?'

‘How dare you suggest that my wife couldn't look after our baby properly?'

‘I'm merely considering the facts, Mr Rutter.'

‘It wasn't as easy for Maria as it would have been for a woman who could see, but she made up for that by trying harder. She had more guts and determination than any other woman I've ever met.'

‘So she was a determined woman?'

‘Haven't I just said so?'

‘And once she's made her mind up on something, there was no way you – or anybody else – could change it?'

‘I didn't say she was inflexible. I never suggested she wasn't capable of persuasion.'

‘Let's return to the question of your child,' Evans suggested. ‘Did your wife farm her out to the neighbours a great deal?'

‘No, she bloody didn't!'

‘But she did leave the baby with neighbours last night?'

‘Yes.'

‘Was it, in fact,
she
who left the baby with them. Or was it, perhaps, someone else?'

‘Are you asking that question because you don't know the answer – or because you
do
?'

‘Whichever is the case, it should not affect your reply.'

‘
I
took the baby to the neighbours',' Rutter said wearily.

‘And when might this have been exactly? After you'd finished driving around?'

‘No, you bastard! Before I
started
driving around!'

‘Let me assure you that personal abuse will get you nowhere with me,' Evans said rebukingly.

‘I'm … I'm sorry,' Rutter said. ‘You have to understand the pressure that I'm under.'

‘So you took the child to the neighbours' between the time you abandoned your team and the time you started driving?'

‘Yes.'

‘Which must mean that you went home.'

‘Well, of course it means that I went home!'

‘Did you record that fact in your notebook?'

‘No.'

‘Why not?'

‘Bobbies nip home for a few minutes all the time,' Rutter said. ‘It's something that's always turned a blind eye to.'

‘Not by me,' Evans told him. ‘Never by me. Who's idea was it to take the baby round to the neighbours'?'

‘Maria's.'

Evans raised a surprised eyebrow. ‘I thought you said your wife was a very conscientious mother.'

‘I don't remember using that exact word, but yes, she was.'

‘And yet she abandoned the baby.'

‘Abandoned her? For God's sake, she asked the neighbours to look after the baby for a few hours. She'd have done the same for them.'

‘If they'd felt they were able to entrusted their children to the care of a
blind
woman.'

‘You really
are
a bastard, aren't you?' Rutter said.

‘At any rate, it was not she who asked the neighbours to look after the child. It was you.'

‘Yes.'

‘Why?'

‘Maria said she wasn't feeling very well.'

‘Physically? Or psychologically?'

‘Physically.'

‘Do you have any witnesses to this conversation?'

‘Of course not. We were alone in the house.'

‘How convenient. So your wife wasn't feeling well. In which case I fail to understand why you chose to drive around, instead of staying with her. Unless, of course …'

‘I told you, I had a lot on my mind. I needed some thinking space.'

‘… unless, of course, you were away for a much shorter time than you now claim you were.'

‘When I got back to the house, the place was a burned-out shell, and the ambulance … the ambulance had already taken my wife away.' Rutter stood up. ‘I've answered all your questions, now I have to be going.'

‘Sit down, Inspector!' Evans said.

‘I have my daughter to consider.'

‘Your daughter is in good hands. The Social Services Department is looking after her.'

‘I don't
want
the Social Services looking after her.'

‘I'm sure that's true. It's probably one of the very few things you've said during the course of this interview that
is
true.'

‘What's that supposed to mean? Are you calling me a liar?'

‘If you do not sit down, Inspector, I will call for assistance to
make
you sit down,' Evans said.

Rutter sank defeatedly back into his chair. ‘What am I supposed to have done?' he asked.

‘You
know
what you're supposed to have done. You're supposed to have killed your wife.'

‘Are you seriously suggesting that I rigged up the explosion that killed her?'

‘No, I am suggesting that you struck her on the back of the head with a blunt instrument.'

Rutter's mouth fell open, but though he struggled for words, none would come out.

‘A most impressive show,' Evans said. ‘But not quite convincing enough in the face of the facts we already have – and the ones we will no doubt collect during the course of the investigation. You thought you were totally unobserved when you sneaked back to your house, but that is what people like you
always
think. Experience should tell you that someone will have spotted you – or at least spotted your car – and that is really all we'll need.'

‘I didn't kill my wife,' Rutter said, finally finding his voice.

‘You probably thought the fire would destroy all the evidence of your vicious attack, but, unluckily for you, it didn't.'

‘Are you charging me?' Rutter asked.

‘Not yet,' Evans told him. ‘But I'd be surprised if we hadn't by the end of the day.'

C
hief Constable Henry Marlowe was very happy with his position in life. He liked drawing the large salary which went with his job, and being driven around in an official car by a uniformed driver. He relished the power he had to make and break careers, and the attitude that power engendered towards him in others. He took pleasure from the fact that as Chief Constable he was always right – even when he, and everyone else, knew that he was wrong. Yet even in the most perfect of existences, there were still a few flies in the ointment – a couple of wasps buzzing around to spoil the picnic. And the biggest of these, he had long ago decided, was Chief Inspector Charlie Woodend.

Woodend refused to be impressed by his title. Woodend simply would not see that the main aim of any investigation carried out in Central Lancashire was to enhance the reputation of its Chief Constable. And worst of all, there had been occasions when Woodend had made him look a complete fool.

He'd tried to get rid of the bloody man a number of times – putting him in impossible situations, handing him cases which ought never to have been solved. But, like some malevolent rubber ball, Woodend had always bounced back – making the impossible possible, solving the unsolvable.

But not this time! Marlowe promised himself. This time he would
not
get away with it. This time, he would overstep the bounds in an effort to help a man who – it would soon be plain to everyone else – was beyond help.

And the true beauty of it was that Marlowe would have to do nothing himself to achieve this most favourable result. He had merely to sit back and let the Chief Inspector destroy himself.

It was these thoughts which caused him to smile when he heard the ruckus in his outer office, and allowed the smile to grow even broader as – above the vocal protests of his secretary – an unseen hand turned his inner office door knob.

By the time the door had been flung open, to reveal the big man in the hairy sports coat, the Chief Constable's smile had been replaced by a grave expression.

‘I see that while your short spell in hospital may have mended whatever damage was done to your body, it's singularly failed to mend your manners, Chief Inspector Woodend,' he said.

He liked the line. It sounded even better now than it had when he had privately rehearsed it earlier.

‘I've been told Bob Rutter's been arrested,' Woodend said.

‘Then you appear to have been misinformed. Inspector Rutter is merely being
questioned
.'

‘You can't really believe he killed Maria.'

‘I don't know whether he's guilty or not,' Marlowe said. ‘Because, unlike you, Chief Inspector, I would never presume to prejudge the results of a colleague's investigation.'

‘What colleague's this?' Woodend demanded.

‘DCI Evans.'

‘That's bastard's no colleague of mine.'

‘Ah, but he is. You're brother officers, whether you like it or not. But why are we even discussing Mr Evans? I would have thought you'd have your mind on other concerns.'

‘Other concerns?' Woodend said, momentarily mystified.

Marlowe shook his head sadly, as if this merely confirmed a long-held suspicion.

‘There is the small matter of the murder of Pamela Rainsford which you should be investigating,' he said. ‘Or had you forgotten that?'

‘Take me off that case,' Woodend said. ‘Put me on the Maria Rutter killing instead.'

‘I can't do that.'

‘Why not?'

‘Firstly, because it would be damaging to the Rainsford case to change senior officers at this stage in the proceedings. And secondly – and possibly more importantly – because you lack the objectivity to take over the Rutter investigation.'

‘Bollocks!'

‘It is far from bollocks, as you choose to put it. I've commented before on the fact that you seem to develop an unhealthily close relationship with the officers you have working under you, and—'

‘We operate as a tight team. That's how we get cases solved,' Woodend interrupted.

‘… and, as a result of that, I would be most unwilling to have you investigate one of your own direct subordinates.'

‘I don't see what you're gettin' at.'

‘Then to be blunt, Chief Inspector, I think your main aim, if you were in charge of the Maria Rutter investigation, would be to prove that her husband
could not
be the guilty party.'

‘Are you sayin' that if I was given the opportunity, I'd doctor the evidence?' Woodend demanded.

‘I'm saying you might not be objective enough to see all the facts in their proper light.'

‘An' DCI Evans is?'

‘Exactly.'

‘I want the case,' Woodend said.

‘And I'm telling you that you can't have it.' Marlowe gave a practised frown. ‘In fact, I'm no longer sure that you're currently stable enough to handle even the Rainsford case. Perhaps you should consider taking some leave. I certainly wouldn't block that.'

It was a tempting idea, Woodend thought. Being on leave would give him the free time he needed to investigate Maria's murder privately. But it would also deny him access to the resources of police headquarters – and cut him off completely from whatever snippets of information he could pick up on the case from talk in the canteen and in the corridors.

‘I'm quite prepared to continue working on the Rainsford investigation, sir,' he said.

‘Whereas, I'm no longer sure that it's—'

‘As you pointed out yourself, it might damage the investigation to change the senior officer in charge now.'

Marlowe pretended to think about it. ‘You do realize that I will expect you to keep yourself completely detached from the Rutter investigation, don't you, Chief Inspector?' he said.

‘Yes, sir,' Woodend agreed, but he was thinking: You can
expect
what you like. It doesn't mean you'll
get
it.

‘And that failure to remain detached would have to be considered a very serious infraction of discipline?'

‘Yes, sir,' Woodend replied, adding silently: But you'll have to catch me at it, first.

‘And that such a
serious
infraction would almost certainly be considered a resigning matter?'

‘Understood.'

‘I shall require a definite undertaking from you that you feel capable of handling the Rainsford case while keeping yourself completely away from the Rutter case.'

‘You've got it.'

‘In writing, Chief Inspector. I shall need it
in writing
.'

‘It'll be on your desk within half an hour.'

‘Very well, Chief Inspector,' Marlowe said gravely. ‘Given that proviso, you may keep the Rainsford case.'

‘Thank you, sir,' Woodend said, forcing the words out – and hoping they didn't bring his stomach lining with them.

Once the Chief Inspector had left, Marlowe allowed the smile to creep back on to his face.

Woodend had not only offered himself up as the sacrificial goat, he thought – the bloody fool had even offered to pull his own entrails out.

As Woodend was walking slowly down the steps to the basement, he could feel the air of despondency from the officers working on the Pamela Rainsford case rising up to meet him.

But then that was only to be expected, he thought, because Bob Rutter was a popular inspector, and nobody would like what was happening to him.

Monika Paniatowski had moved her desk to the far corner of the room, well away from any of the other officers. At that moment she had the phone in her left hand and was making notes with her right.

Woodend was surprised to see her there – and if she felt anything like as bad as she looked, it was a miracle that she'd managed to find the strength to turn up at all.

She forced a tired smile to her face as Woodend sat down beside her. ‘Good to have you back, sir,' she said. ‘How are you feeling?'