Kennedy 01 - Into the Shadows (21 page)

‘My -? Er, no.’

‘What does his credit card have to do with anything?’

Liz asked curiously.

‘Well, now,’ Max explained cordially, ‘it seems that either your husband, or someone using his credit card, checked into a hotel in Manchester just after 2 p.m. on Monday afternoon.’ He turned his smiling face to Tony. ‘Would that have been you, sir?’

Before Tony could respond, Liz marched across the room and threw her vodka in his face. She then stormed from the room, slamming at least four doors on her way upstairs.

‘And the lady you checked in with,’ Max went on, as if nothing had happened. ‘Would you give us her name and address, please? We’ll need to speak to her.’

‘Is this necessary?’ Tony demanded, no longer smiling.

‘God, I’ll own up to being in the blasted hotel. There’s my alibi. What more do you need?’

‘To speak to the lady in question,’ Max replied. ‘If you’d give us her address, sir, I’d be very grateful.’

Tony Hutchinson gave them the necessary contact details for Mrs Pamela Struthers. Max remembered the name; she was the school secretary. Very cosy.

‘Thank you. Right, hopefully we won’t need to bother you again. As soon as we find your gun, we’ll let you know. Oh, and in the unlikely event of it turning up, perhaps you’d be good enough to give me a call.’

“I will,’ Tony snapped, his voice angry and sarcastic.

‘Thank you. We’ll show ourselves out.’ Max paused in the doorway. ‘I’m sorry your wife’s upset. Perhaps you should go and talk to her.’

“I think I’m best qualified on how to deal with my wife, don’t you?’

‘Of course. Thank you for your time. Goodbye.’

Max and Grace let themselves out.

‘We’d better have a word with the lucky Pamela, boss,’

Grace said.

Lucky?

‘Do you like him?’ Max asked curiously.

‘He’s OK, yes. Nice-looking in a way. Too old for me, of course, but yeah, he’s OK.’

It must be a gender thing, Max decided. He detested the man.

Seeing Max’s car pull up outside was getting to be a habit.

On this particular Saturday morning, however, Jill saw two young boys jump out. That wasn’t fair.

She opened the door, and Ben raced into her arms, his legs still moving when he reached her. He felt warm, and sticky, and she loved him. Harry came more slowly, but he was still young enough to be hugged. She stood at the door, an arm around each of the boys, and couldn’t speak for the huge lump wedged in her throat.

‘Dad said we could show you our dog,’ Harry

explained, and still Jill could only nod.

‘He’s in the car,’ Ben said, ‘in case he chases the cats.

Where are they?’

‘Erm …’ Jill cleared her painful throat. ‘They’re about, but I’m sure the dog will be OK. Go and fetch him, eh?’

Max was standing to one side.

‘They bring tears to my eyes, too/ he said softly as they ran back to the car for the dog.

‘Bastard!’ she muttered.

‘Tsk! And my dad always speaks so highly of you.’

The cats raced off at the first sight of the tail-wagging bundle of energy that invaded the cottage, and Jill was tempted to join them. Then Rabble, recalling days from her youth perhaps, suddenly turned and delivered a swift right hook strong enough to make the dog’s nose bleed.

‘He won’t chase cats for a while,’ Max said with amusement.

They took Fly into the garden, and spent a hectic time throwing a stick for him.

‘Right, you two,’ Max said, ‘keep that dog amused.

I need to talk to Jill.’

‘He needs training,’ Jill remarked breathlessly.

‘He needs a lot of things,’ Max retorted. ‘Tranquillizers, concrete boots, humane killer.’

Fly was a lovely dog, though. His only fault, as far as Jill could see, was his enthusiasm for life. That could hardly be deemed a fault.

Jill followed Max inside and, without conscious thought, they stood in the lounge at the window overlooking the garden where they could watch the boys.

‘No more envelopes?’ Max asked, and Jill shook her head. ‘Seen anyone? Anything?’

‘Nothing. As far as I know, only Ella Gardner has walked up the lane this morning. She called to tell me about a history group meeting. Oh, and Tony Hutchinson ran past early. He does that most days because he’s getting in training for walking the Pennine Way.’

‘It always comes back to him, doesn’t it?’

‘How do you mean?’ she asked curiously.

“I don’t know, but he keeps cropping up. His gun has been stolen ‘

“I didn’t even know he had one!’ Jill was amazed.

‘A shotgun. He used to be a keen member of a shooting club.’

Yes, that would appeal to him. A competitive man, Tony would have to be the best.

‘We checked out licences,’ Max explained, ‘and when we went to see this gun, he realized it had been stolen any time between the end of September and now. It may or may not have been used to kill Jonathan Trueman.’

‘You’re joking!’

‘Er, no,’ Max said drily, never one to joke about murder.

‘He has an alibi for the night Jonathan Trueman was shot.

Having spent the afternoon in bed with his mistress, he attended a meeting at the school.’

‘God, poor Liz. Does she know?’

‘She does now. And she said something telling. She reckoned he was more likely to want to sleep with Alice Trueman than kill her. Do you think he and Alice ever had an affair?’

“I wouldn’t know,’ Jill said thoughtfully, ‘but I’d doubt it.

I can’t see him being Alice’s type.’ Not that she had known Alice. ‘And surely, he wouldn’t sleep with anyone in the village. As Jim Brody said, you can’t breathe in this place without everyone knowing about it.’

On the other hand, Tony was an attractive man and an incorrigible flirt. A woman like Alice, living her quiet life at the vicarage, might have been taken in by his charm.

She’d spent a long time being treated as a wife. Even Jonathan had admitted to stifling her. Wasn’t it likely that she’d enjoy being treated as an attractive woman?

“I don’t know/ she said again, ‘but it’s possible, I suppose.

He’s not your killer, though. For one thing, he has damn good alibis.’

‘Mmm. He also has reasonably strong alibis for a couple of the nights Valentine struck.’

‘Oh, come on, Max. He might be a pain in the arse, but he’s not out there killing prostitutes. And anyway,’ she reminded him, ‘you were pulled off Valentine’s case, remember?’

‘Mm. It doesn’t hurt to check people out, though. Anyway, on the night Anne Levington was murdered, he was at a conference in Birmingham. The local paper took a photo of them all at dinner, and his face is easily recognizable.’

‘That’s more than a reasonably strong alibi,’ Jill pointed out.

‘It depends how long it would take him to get from Birmingham to Burnley. Two hours at a push late at night.

He was there the next morning to check out of the hotel, but he could have got to Burnley and back easily enough.

Whether he’d have enough time to kill her, and then cut those sodding hearts from her skin, I don’t know.’

‘He’s not a killer. He doesn’t -‘ She was about to say Hutchinson didn’t fit her profile, but changed his mind.

They both knew what had happened to the man who had fitted that profile. ‘He’s not a killer,’ she said again.

Max shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and Jill could almost hear his brain working.

‘What do you know about Andrew Collins?’ he asked suddenly.

‘Andy? He’s the estate agent who sold me this place.

Nice enough. Seems popular with people.’ She remembered Prue’s description: drop dead gorgeous. ‘You need to speak to Prue/ she told him. ‘He called in when she was visiting and you know what Prue’s like. She mentally calculated the cost of his suit, shoes and watch and decided I ought to marry him.’

‘What did he call here for?’

‘God, Max, I do have friends, you know. As it happens, he brought me a sale brochure for an auction being held at a local farm, but I often see him. We’ve been out for lunch.’

She enjoyed that. It was confirmation that, like Max, she could attract good-looking partners. Confirmation that she could enjoy life without him.

‘Did he tell you he’d been accused of rape?’ Max asked.

Jill’s head flew up. ‘Rape? Never!’

‘He was twenty, and the charges were dropped,’ Max allowed, ‘but there’s no smoke without fire.’

‘When he was twenty?’ she scoffed. ‘So some girl fancied him, and he’s a very good-looking bloke, and decides she’ll accuse him of rape? That hardly makes him a murder suspect.’

Thinking about it, though, she realized she knew very little about him.

‘He is a bit cagey about his past,’ she admitted. ‘This is Prue again. She was trying to get his life story from him, and she failed miserably. His father’s dead. He and his mother lived here in Kelton for a year when he was a kid, but moved around the country a lot. He’s lived here for about the last ten years.’

Max looked at her long and hard.

‘If you’re planning any more cosy lunches with him,’ he said at last, ‘be on your guard.’

‘In case he tries to rape me? Or in case he tries to murder me?’

Max ignored the sarcasm. ‘Watch Tony Hutchinson as well,’ he went on. “I don’t like him.’

Jill didn’t either.

‘I’m planning an off-the-record chat with his wife on Monday when he’s at school,’ he added.

‘That shouldn’t be too difficult. I don’t think Liz is that keen on him.’

‘She isn’t now she knows he’s been playing away.’

‘No, it does tend to put women off. Funny that.’ She gave him a sweet smile that didn’t even begin to hint at the rush of pain, anger and hurt she felt. “I expect the boys are getting hungry. I’ll go and see if they want something to eat.’

Max and Grace were at Tony and Liz Hutchinson’s house soon after nine o’clock on Monday morning.

Liz Hutchinson opened the door to them, and she looked how Max felt - tired, hungover and not quite sure what day it was. She was wearing dark blue satin pyjamas.

‘Tony’s at work,’ she told them. ‘Or is it me you’ve come to arrest?’ she added with a smile.

‘We’re not here to arrest anyone,’ Max told her, returning her smile, ‘but I’m curious about this stolen gun of your husband’s. I was wondering if we might have a chat with you and see if you can remember anything.’ He’d love to have a good look round this house, and find something to pin on Hutchinson, but a chat with his wife would do for now.

“I can’t, but you’re welcome to ask questions.’

‘We can come back later if you like,’ he offered, but she was already showing them inside.

‘No need. I doubt I’ll be sober later. Would you like a drink?’

It struck Max that she was lonely. She was even glad of their company.

‘Yes, that would be good, thanks. What are you having?’

‘Vodka.’

Even if Max touched the stuff, which he didn’t, it was too early for vodka.

‘If I wasn’t working I’d have one with you,’ he said, ‘but as I am, is there any chance of a coffee?’

‘My culinary skills aren’t great but, yes, I can manage that.’ She looked questioningly at Grace.

‘Coffee for me, too, please. Can I help you with it, Mrs Hutchinson?’

‘If you like,’ Liz answered vaguely. She motioned towards the dining room. ‘Your people have already decided there’s no sign of a breakin but you’re free to look. You know where it was kept.’

‘Thanks. I’ll take another look, if I may,’ Max said.

Grace, who reckoned Max was wasting his time and hers, followed Liz into the kitchen, leaving Max free to poke around.

It was rare Max came across anyone so obliging. If people had something to hide, it was obvious they weren’t going to welcome him with open arms, but even the most innocent tended to follow them around. Not Liz Hutchinson.

She had more or less given them free reign to delve wherever they chose.

The dining room wasn’t of much interest to him. A door off that room led into a study and that showed far more promise. It was crammed with books and the modern desk in the centre of the room had six drawers, three either side.

He listened, heard Grace talking to Liz Hutchinson in the kitchen, and tried the drawers. One side was locked, but the other three were filled with paperwork that had been thrown in rather than filed neatly. There were bank statements, credit card statements, and mortgage statements.

He’d thought this house came with the job, but no, it had a hefty mortgage on it.

There was nothing of interest on the bank statements or the credit card statements. The latter were paid off in full each month. There were a couple of hotel bookings, a fairly large amount to a jeweller’s, but nothing of great interest.

They already knew he had a mistress.

“I thought we’d lost you,’ Liz said, coming into the study just as he was browsing the books on the shelves. ‘Coffee,’

she said, handing him a mug.

‘Thanks.’

Still wearing her pyjamas, she leaned against the edge of the desk. ‘Have you found anything?’

‘I’m not sure what I’m looking for.’ That at least was true. What he’d like to find was some damning piece of evidence that would put Tony Hutchinson behind bars.

Why? Because he didn’t like the man? No, there was more to it than that. Tony Hutchinson was raising far too many questions for Max’s liking.

‘Tony isn’t a killer,’ Liz said, ‘if that’s what you’re thinking.’

‘That’s good/ Grace said with a smile.

Liz Hutchinson would make a good prison visitor, Max thought. Despite the hungover look, she was attractive.

She’d liven up any prison. If she had any sense, though, she wouldn’t bother visiting her husband.

‘And no,’ she added, ‘there’s not much love lost between us. God knows why we stay together. I suppose he stays with me because he’d find divorce distasteful - a man in his position and all that. He’s very fond of what he calls his position.’

‘Why do you stay with him?’ Grace asked.

‘He keeps the drinks cabinet stocked,’ she answered simply.

Max pointed at the glass in her hand. ‘You drink too much. And I’m allowed to say that because I drink too much, too.’