Lambs to the Slaughter (28 page)

‘Yes.'

At four o'clock on Monday morning, even Monika Paniatowski hadn't known she'd be investigating a murder, Meadows thought. At four o'clock on Monday morning, Len Hopkins' body hadn't even been
found.

T
he coughing fit had gone on for over half an hour, and the bottom of the enamel bowl which Tommy Sanders held shakily on his lap was spattered with spots of red and black.

He looked up at the waiting Beresford.

‘This is how it will all end,' he gasped. ‘One day, I'll start coughing and I'll never stop. I'll spew up what's left of my life into this bloody bowl, and then I'll be gone.'

‘If you'd like me to come back later . . .' Beresford began.

‘Haven't you been listening to what I've been saying, lad?' Tommy asked. ‘There might not
be
a later, so let's get it over with now.'

The sick man was right, Beresford thought – he could go at any time.

‘Do you mind if I take notes, Mr Sanders?' he asked, wishing he'd brought a tape recorder, so that he could have on record what would be – for him – a necessary humiliation.

‘I don't mind what you do, lad, as long as you listen,' Tommy said. ‘Now where was I? Oh yes, I was telling you that I didn't see Len Hopkins at the brass band competition.' The old man paused for a moment. ‘No, that's not strictly true,' he continued. ‘I did see Len, though it was only at a distance. But there was someone else I saw—'

‘I couldn't really give a toss about what happened at the competition,' Beresford interrupted. ‘It's the events of the night which followed it that I'm interested in.'

The moment the words were out of his mouth, he regretted saying them. He had broken one of the cardinal rules of questioning, he told himself – you
never
hurried a suspect, not even if you were desperate – as he was – to learn if you'd made a mistake.

Tommy was glaring at him through watery eyes. ‘I'll tell my story in my own way, and at my own speed, lad,' he said, ‘and if you don't want to listen, then you can just piss off.'

‘I'm sorry,' Beresford said.

‘And so you should be,' Tommy agreed. He was about to say more, then shook his head with frustration. ‘Now see what you've done,' he continued, after a few moments, ‘with all your interrupting. I've completely lost my train of thought.'

‘You were saying that you didn't see Len close up at the competition,' Beresford prompted.

‘That's right. I didn't see him close up – but I did see Susan Danvers. She was standing all by herself, behind the refreshment tent, and she was sobbing her eyes out. So I asked her what was wrong, and she said that bastard Len had kicked her out, just because his bloody pastor had told him to.'

And that gave you one more reason – on top of the political one you already had – to drive a pickaxe into Len's skull, Beresford thought.

But how had he managed to lace Len's cocoa with laxative?

Easy! Susan had a key to Len's front door, Tommy had asked her for it, and she had handed it over. So maybe Susan had been part of the murder plot after all – and if that were the case, arresting her would begin to look, in retrospect, like a very smart move by a young inspector in charge of his very first major investigation.

‘Are you listening to me, lad, or are you off in a dream world of your own?' Tommy demanded.

‘I'm sorry,' Beresford said. ‘Go on with your story.'

‘I can't describe how sorry I felt for her at that moment. Anyway, it was obvious to me that she was in no state to be left on her own, so I asked her if she'd like to come round here for a while when we got back to the village, and she said she would.'

‘Did she come back on the coach with you?'

‘No, she couldn't have faced that – not with all those people she knew looking at her – so we both came back on the regular service bus.' He paused again. ‘Don't you believe me, lad?'

‘I'm not sure,' Beresford admitted. ‘I thought everybody in the village was very keen on the brass band competition.'

‘We were.'

‘And yet you were willing to leave before the end?'

Tommy shrugged. ‘The results had already been announced, so it was all over, bar the shouting. Besides, the state Susan was in, I couldn't let her make the journey all by herself. And if you still doubt I'm telling the truth, just ask the other people who took the coach if they saw me on the return trip, and they'll tell you they didn't.'

‘I didn't realize before that Susan was such a good friend of yours,' Beresford said.

‘She isn't,' Tommy said. ‘I knew her, of course – I know most people in this village – so we'd nod to each other if we passed in the street. But that was about as far as it went.'

‘Then I don't see . . .'

‘You don't see why I'd have gone to all that trouble for a casual acquaintance?'

‘Yes.'

Tommy shook his head sadly. ‘Let me tell you a story,' he said. ‘It might not make sense to you at the start, but it should do by the time I get to the end.'

‘I'm listening,' Beresford said, determined not to repeat his earlier mistake of rushing the old man.

‘It's a terrible thing when the roof of a coal seam collapses,' Tommy said. ‘You can tell it's going to happen before it actually does – I can't explain how, but you do – and you know there's nothing you can do about it. When it does come down, the whole seam rocks as if it was being shaken by an angry giant, and the air gets so thick that you can't see your hand in front of your face.'

‘That happened to you, did it?' Beresford asked.

‘It happened to me,' Tommy agreed. ‘For a few seconds, I was in shock, and then I realized that I was one of the lucky ones, because I hadn't been buried alive. After a while, the air started to clear a bit, and I could see the caved-in section about a dozen yards away from me. Now what I was
supposed to do
in them circumstances was make my way to the cage and wait for the rescue team to arrive. They've got all the right equipment, you see. They shore up the roof as they go along, to make sure it doesn't collapse on
them
.'

‘But you didn't do that,' Beresford guessed.

‘I didn't,' Tommy agreed. ‘I was going to, but then I heard this voice. It wasn't a voice I recognized – I found out later that the feller had only been taken on a couple of days earlier – but it was calling out, “Help me, please help me.” I knew it was madness to go any closer to the cave-in, but I did it anyway, and I pulled him clear.' Tommy paused. ‘Do you get the point, lad?'

Beresford nodded. ‘When you heard his cry for help, you felt you had no choice but to go and help him.'

‘And when I heard Susan's cry for help, I didn't stop to ask myself whether she was a mate or not, I went to help her,' Tommy said.

Beresford nodded for a second time, and realized he was feeling slightly ashamed of himself.

‘So you returned to Bellingsworth on the service bus,' he said, doing his best to sound like a crisp and efficient police officer again.

‘That's right. I brought her back home, and we had a cup of tea and a bit of a chat. Then, when it got to about half past six, I asked her if she fancied coming to the Miners' Institute to celebrate the victory, and she said she'd rather not, but she didn't mind if I went. So I left her here, and went on my own.'

The key! a voice screamed in Beresford's head. Tell me when she gave you the key to Len Hopkins' front door!

‘You know what happened next,' Tommy continued. ‘I got into a fight with Len. Now there's a real comic turn for you – two old men battling it out. Anyway, at the time, I thought I'd lost my temper with him over the strike, but looking back on it, I think I hit him because I was so angry about what he'd done to Susan.'

And
that
was when you finally decided that you were going to kill him! Beresford's inner voice yelled.

‘I left the Institute soon after Len, and came straight back here,' Tommy said. ‘Me and Susan spent some time together . . .'

‘Spent some time together? What you really mean is that you had sex,' Beresford said, before he could stop himself.

‘Sex!' Tommy repeated in disgust. ‘That's all that you young fellers these days call what goes on between a man and a woman, isn't it? There's no tenderness any more. No compassion. You just “ram it home”, don't you?' Tommy paused for a moment to cough into the enamel bowl. ‘So tell me, Inspector Beresford, how many women have you
had sex with
in the last month or so?'

Too many, said the voice in Beresford's head.

He was shocked to hear his own mind betray him like that.

Too many!

How could it be
too
many?

But it was, he thought. It was too many because it was turning him into a person he didn't like very much – a person who was constantly challenging Monika, who took offence far too easily, who just had to be
right
.

‘Well?' Tommy asked.

Beresford took a deep breath. ‘We're not here to talk about me,' he said. ‘I asked you a question you've still not answered, so I'll ask it again. Did you have sex with Susan Danvers?'

‘We didn't go upstairs, get stark bollock naked, and jump all over each other, if that's what you mean.'

‘So what
did
you do?'

‘We did what a dying man and a broken-hearted woman
could do
to give each other a little comfort,' Tommy said. ‘It wasn't very satisfactory – neither of us ever thought it would be – but at least we did it for the right reasons.'

‘And then what happened?'

‘And then we talked – until about half past four in the morning. I wanted her to stay for the rest of the night, but she said she had to get home.'

Half past four is too late! Beresford's voice said. Len was already dead by then!

‘I told her it was pointless leaving at that time, but she said she needed to get a couple of hours' sleep before she made Len's breakfast for him,' Tommy said. ‘I asked why she wanted to go making his breakfast, when he'd already sacked her, and she told me she'd been paid her wages till the end of the week, and she intended to work out her notice.'

That's what she told me, too, Beresford thought.

‘That was just an excuse, of course,' Tommy said. ‘It was nothing to do with her wages at all. I think she was still hoping to get back with him. And I think that the real reason she went home was because she was already regretting what we'd done, and had convinced herself that if she woke up in her own bed that morning, it'd be like it had never happened.'

He was lying about the whole thing, Beresford thought. He just
had
to be lying.

‘Why did you use your granddaughter as your alibi for Sunday night?' he asked.

‘I agreed to use her because that was what she wanted. My little Becky was terrified that I might end up going to prison, you see.' Tommy chuckled, though it was a sad, wounded chuckle, and it started him coughing again. ‘I think . . . I think that maybe there was a part of her that thought I
had
killed Len. Anyway, she asked, and I couldn't turn her down.'

‘But if you already had an alibi – as you claim – you wouldn't have needed one from her.'

Tommy shook his head, almost despairingly. ‘You just don't see it, do you, Inspector Beresford? I would never have used Susan as an alibi, not even if I'd been arrested – not even if I'd been tried and found guilty.'

‘Why not?'

‘Why not? Because they're nice people in this village – as nice as you'll find anywhere – but even nice people can be cruel sometimes.'

‘I'm not following you,' Beresford admitted.

‘I know you're not,' Tommy Sanders agreed. ‘If I'd used Susan as my alibi, it would have made her an even bigger laughing stock than she already was. Poor Susan Danvers, folk would say. She was so desperate for a man – any man – that when the feller she'd faithfully looked after for twenty years jilted her, she fell right into the arms of some poor old bugger with only half a lung. I couldn't have done that to her, and the only reason I'm telling you now is because, like me,
she'd
rather go to gaol than admit where she was – and I can't let that happen.'

It could all still be a lie, Beresford told himself – but he knew, deep down, that it wasn't.

‘I want to ask you a favour, Mr Beresford,' Tommy said. ‘It wasn't part of our deal, but I want to ask it anyway.'

‘Go ahead,' Beresford said.

‘I want you to try and stop what I've just told you from becoming public knowledge around the village. I'm not asking that for myself, you understand – I'm too close to death to give a bugger what people think about me – I'm asking it for poor Susan.'

‘If what you've told me is true, then I
will
try,' Beresford promised. ‘It's the least I can do.'

‘Aye,' Tommy Sanders agreed. ‘It is.'

M
onika Paniatowski sat with Kate Meadows at their usual table in the public bar of the Drum and Monkey, her whole body trembling with rage at her enemies – and anger at herself.

‘I should have worked it out much sooner,' she told Meadows. ‘I knew that Forsyth was in Whitebridge. I should have seen that when something as senseless – as absolutely bloody pointless – as Louisa's abduction happened, he just had to be behind it.'

‘You're being too hard on yourself, boss,' Meadows said.

‘And if that wasn't enough, there was the fact that the bastard who kidnapped Louisa told her his name was Colin. Why would he have done that?'