Jam and Jeopardy (11 page)

‘Which one would be the love nest, I wonder?’ McGillivray mused, screwing up his eyes to read the nameplates. ‘Ah, here it is.’ He opened the second gate and walked up
the short path.

His press on the bell was answered by a young woman who could have passed, at first glance, for being under thirty, but was probably a good few years older than that. Her face was free of any
make-up except for the deep red gash of her mouth. The DCI thought that she possibly felt naked without her lipstick.

‘Mrs Gilbert White?’

‘In the flesh,’ was the light-hearted reply.

‘May we come in?’

A flash of alarm showed in the green eyes for a fraction of a second. ‘But who . . . ?’

‘I’m sorry, I should have introduced myself. Detective Chief Inspector McGillivray, Grampian CID, and this is Detective Sergeant Moore.’

Showing them into her living room, she asked anxiously, ‘There’s nothing wrong, is there? Gilbert hasn’t been in an accident, or anything?’

McGillivray hastened to reassure her. ‘No, no, Mrs White. I apologise if I frightened you. We’re investigating the murder of Miss Janet Souter of Honeysuckle Cottages.’

‘Yes, I heard about that. It was about time somebody bumped the old bitch off.’

‘May we sit down?’ The inspector was already lowering himself into an armchair by the electric fire.

‘Sure, why not? Make yourselves at home. Would you like a drink?’

‘No, thank you. Not when we’re on duty.’

She fluttered her long eyelashes. ‘Oh, come on. A little drop won’t hurt you.’

Moore glanced at McGillivray hopefully, although he expected to hear another firm refusal, and was deeply thankful when the inspector said, ‘A very small one, then, and I really mean
small.’

‘You too, Sergeant?’

‘Yes, please.’

‘Coming right up.’ May White switched off her stereo and went across the room to the cocktail cabinet against the rear wall. Her catlike movements were accentuated by the fact that
her legs were encased in tight black satin trousers, and her scarlet T-shirt outlined her shape in perfect detail. The two men watched with great admiration while she poured out three generous
measures of whisky.

When she turned to ask, ‘Lemonade, soda or water?’ the inspector had to drag his mind away from the pleasant contemplation of her figure. ‘Just a splash of soda,
please.’

When she sat down, opposite McGillivray, she held her glass up. ‘Good luck in your quest, gentlemen. I don’t think I’ll be able to help you, mind, but fire away.’

‘We’ve been led to believe that Miss Souter was instrumental in bringing your . . . association with Douglas Pettigrew to an abrupt end,’ he began.

May giggled. ‘Association? That’s putting it mildly. We’d a real hot affair going till she put her oar in and told his dad. Now he’s not allowed to come here any
more.’ She took a small sip of the spirits, held it in her mouth for a second, then swallowed.

‘So we could gather that you had good reason to dislike her?’

‘Enough to murder her? Oh no. I despised Douglas for just knuckling down and not defying his father, so he’s not worth a damn to me now. I like my men to be men.’ Her eyes
teased.

‘You weren’t heartbroken by his desertion, then?’

‘I was bloody annoyed, but my heart doesn’t break so easily. There’s plenty of other fish in the sea.’ She leaned back in her chair and stuck her stockinged feet out
towards the fire. ‘He was only a boy, but he amused me for a while. Gil’s away such a lot, he can’t expect me to be faithful to him.’

McGillivray persisted. ‘The boy himself, though. He was apparently very angry with Miss Souter. Would he have been hot-headed enough to kill her?’

Her laughter was derisive. ‘Hell no. I’d a helluva job getting him where I wanted him.’ She leaned over and lifted a packet of cigarettes from a coffee table.
‘Smoke?’

‘Not just now, thanks.’ McGillivray waited until she flicked the table lighter and inhaled deeply. ‘Maybe the boy was deeply in love with you. Love makes people do strange
things.’

‘Oh, I know, but not Doug. I think you’re barking up the wrong tree there. A lot of people in Tollerton hated the old sod, for she was always interfering and causing
trouble.’

‘Can you think of anyone in particular?’

‘There’s the two old dears next to her, for a start, the sisters. She made their lives an absolute hell. She even poisoned their dog. Oh!’ May looked regretful. ‘I
don’t think they’d have killed her, though. They’re very gentle ladies. Mrs Grant’s under her sister’s thumb, of course, but I can’t picture even Mrs Skinner
poisoning anybody.’

‘No? Maybe you’re right.’ McGillivray considered for a moment, filing away the information about the poisoned dog. ‘Can you think of anyone else?’

‘What about the nephews? I’d imagine they’ll come into her money, and it’s often the nearest and dearest who kill the rich old lady, isn’t it?’

The inspector smiled. ‘In some cases, yes. We’ll be going to see them tomorrow. There’s no one else?’

May shook her head. ‘Most of the old biddies round here think I’m a proper tart, but I wouldn’t cast suspicion on any of them out of spite. No, I’m afraid I can’t
help you.’

McGillivray drained his glass and laid it down, then he rose to his feet. ‘It was worth a try, but, by the look of things, we’ll be interviewing people till Kingdom come.’

‘Is there nothing else I can do for you?’ She looked at him invitingly from under her sweeping lashes.

‘No, Mrs White. I’m sorry to have troubled you.’

‘It was no trouble, believe me. I’m always glad of male company.’ She winked at David Moore when she showed them out, making him blush to the roots of his reddish fair
hair.

He followed the inspector up the Lane until the older man slowed down enough to let him catch up.

‘Phew!’ Callum McGillivray let out a long sigh. ‘I think we’re lucky to have got out with our trousers on. She’s a proper man-eater, that one.’

Moore groaned. ‘I’ll say! But I don’t think she’d anything to do with Janet Souter’s murder.’

‘Probably not, but she’s got nerve enough.’

When they neared the cottages, McGillivray said, ‘Why didn’t Mrs Skinner tell us the truth about their dog’s death, I wonder? Could she have something to hide, for all her
seeming honesty? I think we’ll pay them another visit, on the pretext of finding out more about young Pettigrew and Madam White. I trust Mrs Grant’s recovered from her fainting spell.
It was most peculiar, happening at the precise moment I mentioned that the dead woman thought somebody was trying to poison her.’

Moore passed no comment. He was rather disappointed that the inspector had such a suspicious mind.

When Mrs Skinner took them in, her sister was sewing, but as soon as she saw the callers, Violet jumped up in alarm, letting her embroidery slip from her fingers onto the floor.

‘Sit down, Violet!’ Grace almost barked it out. ‘What’s the matter with you?’ She turned to the two men. ‘My sister’s always timid with strangers. She
has a very nervous disposition.’

McGillivray smiled. ‘No need to be scared, Mrs Grant. I just want to discuss a little matter with you both, that’s all.’ He pulled a chair round and sat down, leaving his
sergeant to watch the reactions of the two women; one poised and seemingly perfectly at ease, but the other biting her lip and casting pleading glances at her sister.

The inspector assumed his most apologetic manner and leaned forward to speak confidentially to them. ‘You see, ladies, in all murder investigations facts come to light which, although
serious to the persons concerned, have no bearing on the crime in hand. Do you understand what I mean?’

‘Of course.’ Grace Skinner nodded her head graciously.

‘Yes,’ whispered her sister, one hand clasping and unclasping at the worn upholstery of her chair.

‘It has come to light that Miss Souter uncovered a clandestine love affair between Douglas Pettigrew, the chemist’s son, and a Mrs Gilbert White.’

‘Oh that!’ Grace laughed. ‘Everybody knew about it except the Pettigrews. It’ll peter out in a few weeks.’

‘Oh yes, May’s affairs usually do,’ put in Violet, her anxiety gone now that the reason for the visit had proved to be nothing to do with them.

‘That’s as may be,’ McGillivray said. ‘But Miss Souter took it upon herself to inform the boy’s father, and caused much ill feeling between them.’

‘That old busybody!’ exclaimed Grace. ‘I’ll never understand why she couldn’t keep her nose out of other people’s business.’

‘Maybe she thought it was her duty,’ Violet ventured.

‘Duty my foot! She was an interfering old . . . I’m sorry, Inspector, but bitch is the only word to describe her, and I’m not given to profanity.’ Grace looked
incensed.

‘Quite.’ McGillivray let a smile play across his craggy countenance. ‘We have also been informed that she’d approached the young man himself, earlier.’

‘Oh, yes, I remember now.’ Violet looked quite animated. ‘I was passing along the street at the time and he told her to mind her own b— business, and he said the word
right out. Then he threatened her. ‘I’ll get you yet, you old . . . Violet couldn’t bring herself to repeat the word.’

‘You never told me,’ her sister accused.

‘I forgot about it, till the inspector reminded me.’ Violet looked contrite. ‘It was the day you got that letter from Marilyn, telling you Terry’d got promotion, and you
were so full of it, the other thing went right out of my head.’

The inspector carried on. ‘So young Pettigrew had reason to be furious with her before she told his father, and this second interference may have kindled a strong enough feeling for him to
. . .’ He stopped short as Mrs Grant bounded to her feet again.

‘But
Douglas
didn’t poison her!’

‘Violet!’ Grace’s curt reprimand made her sister colour and become confused.

‘Oh, Grace, I never said . . . I didn’t mean . . .’ She clapped her hand over her mouth, and her eyes were staring.

The silence which fell could have been cut with a knife, but, in a few seconds, and much to Moore’s surprise, McGillivray stood up. ‘Thank you for your help, ladies.’

When the two detectives arrived at the police station, John Black took them into the small, back room which he’d allocated as an incident room. ‘Have you found any
leads yet, sir?’

‘A few things have cropped up.’ McGillivray pulled out his cigarettes, tried his lighter unsuccessfully several times, then accepted the box of matches the sergeant handed him.
‘Did you know about the row between the chemist and his son, caused by the dead woman?’

Black smiled. ‘It caused a row between the Pettigrews and the Falconers as well. That’s May’s father and mother, and now the two families don’t speak to each other.
Sydney blamed May for leading Douglas on, and Bob Falconer said it was Douglas’s fault.’

‘Whichever, Miss Souter had thrown a spanner in the works by telling his father, and the lad had been told to stop seeing the married lady. Would he be unstable enough to commit murder
because of that?’

John Black thought, then frowned. ‘No, not Douglas. He’s quite a nice boy really, and I think May turned his head with her attentions. Her carryings on are well known and it would
just have been another conquest to her, so she wouldn’t have had any reason to kill Miss Souter, either. No, Inspector, I’m pretty sure you can count both of them out.’

McGillivray sighed. ‘I don’t know. A youth in the throes of his first sexual experience might just . . . Perhaps not, in this case. Unfortunately, Moore didn’t turn up anything
else promising. Just a whole lot of nastiness on the part of Miss Souter, but fairly trivial, eh Moore?’

The young sergeant was glad to be consulted. ‘Yes sir, and I don’t think any of the shopkeepers would have killed her for complaining about their prices or their service. And they
all mentioned the arsenic quite freely, so there must be someone else who had reason to poison the old lady that we haven’t come in contact with yet.’

The inspector winked to John Black. ‘I think it’s time we put him wise, isn’t it?’

As Black nodded, grinning from ear to ear, Moore asked, ‘Have you been keeping something from me?’

McGillivray adopted his praying hands position and laughed. ‘Janet Souter didn’t die as a result of arsenic poisoning, lad.’

‘Didn’t what? What did she die of, then?’ The young man’s face was full of righteous indignation.

‘A large dose of insulin had been injected into her bloodstream.’ McGillivray leaned back smugly.

‘God! You’re a crafty bugger! . . . sir.’ Moore’s voice had risen angrily, but he checked himself. ‘How long have you known?’

Callum McGillivray and John Black were laughing hilariously at Moore’s outburst, and it was a minute before an answer came.

‘It was in the report the Super gave me this morning before we left Aberdeen.’ The inspector wiped his eyes. ‘I’d a gander at it when you and the PC were taking the bags
to the Starline.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me before? God, I feel a proper pillock, questioning all those folk without knowing the truth myself.’

‘I’m sorry, lad, but I wanted you to listen to their stories about the arsenic first, without anything else cluttering up your brain. It’s definitely part of the picture
– no smoke without fire – and we’ll have to get to the bottom of that before we’ll get at the truth. They’ve all assumed it was the arsenic, but only the murderer
knows what really killed her.’

Black picked up the telephone at the first small tinkle. ‘Tollerton Police . . . Yes, he’s here.’ He passed the receiver over to McGillivray.

‘Yes? . . . Good! Let’s have it.’ The inspector listened intently for a few moments, then said, ‘Thanks.’

As he laid the instrument back on its cradle, he looked at John Black. ‘That was the report from the public analyst at HQ, on the items of food they’ve been testing.’

Moore’s resentment evaporated, and he turned round to learn what the results were.

‘Everything’s quite clear. And he said he’d made a double check on the flour and the sugar because he’d been told that was where the stuff probably was.’