Shades of Murder (27 page)

‘That,’ said Juliet, ‘doesn’t look like any kind of squad car
I’ve
ever seen.’

‘I’ve seen it,’ said Meredith slowly. ‘I mean, I haven’t seen that car which is obviously brand new, but I’ve seen that plate or similar. It belongs to Dudley Newman.’

‘The builder? Hell’s teeth!’ Juliet threw open her door. ‘Let’s get in there. It looks as if we’ve arrived not a moment too soon!’

It had been some time since Meredith had met Dudley Newman and she wondered whether he’d remember her, or if he’d want to. On the previous occasion there had been a death on a building site run by his firm. Generally people don’t want unpleasant memories revived.

He rose from his chair as they entered, ushered in by Damaris. He looked much as she recalled him, well-built, running to a little extra weight now, in his early sixties, thinning hair. Florence looked relieved at the sight of Juliet. Meredith wondered what Newman had been saying.

‘We’ve met before.’ Newman cut through any possible embarrassment with minimum fuss. ‘Markby investigating this one, too, is he?’

His tone was jovial but his eyes sharp. He shook Meredith’s hand perfunctorily. He wasn’t pleased to see her but he was assessing the situation, wondering if he could turn it somehow to his advantage. He knew of her friendship with Alan.

‘No, I believe someone else is going to take charge of investigations.’

At this both Damaris and Florence looked alarmed. ‘Not Alan?’ Damaris asked.

‘I don’t think so, Miss Oakley. I don’t know much about it, but I
understand there will be someone else.’

Florence said in trembling tones, ‘I know he warned us, but we had hoped it would be Alan. We know Alan.’

‘Yes, I’m afraid that’s the problem.’

‘We’ve met as well, just the once,’ said Juliet to Newman, entering the conversation.

Newman was nodding. ‘You had a client might’ve been interested in that big place I renovated over Cherton way. He didn’t take it.’

‘He liked the house but then he found one he liked better,’ Juliet said simply.

‘Well, that’s business.’ Newman dismissed the topic and retook his chair.

‘And are you interested in Fourways?’ Juliet also saw no need for niceties.

Newman looked cautious. ‘I might be, in a manner of speaking. Not to do it up. It’s gone past that stage. Sorry, ladies.’ This last was cast as an aside to the owners of the house he was disparaging.

‘Mr Newman,’ said Damaris, ‘is interested in purchasing the property with a view to developing the land. We’ve told him, Juliet, that we shall be advised by you.’

Clearly Newman didn’t like this arrangement. ‘It’d be a good thing,’ he said sulkily.

‘And what,’ asked Juliet, ‘exactly do you have in mind, Mr Newman?’

‘Five or six upmarket, four-bed, double-garage homes. Possibly built of local stone. There’s a call for that kind of house around here. I’m fairly sure I can get planning permission.’

‘Including demolishing the present house?’ Juliet asked.

‘It’s not going to attract English Heritage, is it?’ Newman said coarsely. ‘I could, of course, turn it into flats but the cost’d be prohibitive.’

‘So,’ Juliet said smoothly, ‘it’s a question of what you’d be prepared to pay for the land.’

He returned her stare. ‘Naturally, I’d have to go to the banks to fund a big development. That means I’ve got to think about interest payments. So, while I pay a fair price for anything I buy, I’ve also got my costs to think about, too. So I can’t be paying over the odds.’

Meredith saw this kind of conversation distressed both sisters. This was why they’d asked Juliet to handle the sale of Fourways. This kind of business deal wasn’t their world. They had no idea how to go about it. They flinched from it as from some gruesome sight.

‘Perhaps I could come to your office and talk it over,’ Juliet suggested.

Still unwilling to admit the necessity of including her, Newman mumbled, ‘If you want. Give my secretary a call.’

He’d clambered awkwardly to his feet. ‘Well, I’d better be getting along. Nice to see you again – er – Meredith.’

‘My regards to your wife,’ said Meredith politely.

‘What? Oh, yes, I’ll tell her.’

‘He is a graceless sort of man, isn’t he?’ said Damaris when she returned from seeing the visitor out. ‘I am so glad you came, Juliet.’

‘Was he trying to get you to agree to something?’ Juliet demanded, instantly combative.

‘No, not exactly. I suppose, if he really wants to buy, it would be best to sell to him? He’s quite right when he says no one is going to want the house as it is, isn’t he? I don’t think Florence and I have any illusions about the house. Who would want to live here? We don’t. In fact, neither Florence nor I is particularly attached to the place.’

‘He may not find it so easy to pull it down, though,’ said Juliet, ‘for all his talk of planning permission.’

‘It’s not listed,’ Damaris pointed out ‘It’s not special.’

‘All the same, you’d be surprised how many people can object to an old house being demolished. Though I’m sure Newman’s got friends in the right places. He’ll get his planning permission for the houses.’

‘You think we should sell to him, then?’

The sisters gazed at Juliet in a way which reminded Meredith of a pair of trusting dogs. She thought she wouldn’t want Juliet’s job, this responsibility. The Oakleys’ future depended on her advice and decision.

‘I think I should have a good talk with him first and get him to make a firm offer,’ Juliet said. ‘Leave it with me.’

They were clearly glad to do so. Damaris made a movement with her hands as if pushing aside the whole problem. ‘Would you care for a glass of wine?’

She meant sherry. Both her visitors accepted, individually of the opinion that a restorative was what the sisters needed.

‘We have,’ said Damaris, when the sherry had been poured, ‘had rather an unpleasant morning and it hasn’t all been the fault of Mr Newman.’

Florence sipped her sherry and dabbed at her mouth with the handkerchief scrunched in her thin fist. ‘Awful,’ she muttered. ‘Awful news.’

‘My sister means the police have now told us Jan died from arsenic poisoning.’ Damaris’s voice was taut. ‘You know, of course, that is how poor Cora died. Well, not exactly in the same way. She didn’t eat it – she
breathed it in. But William was held to have used the same poisonous substance.’ She paused. ‘It seems as though someone has gone out of his way to be wicked. Murder is evil enough, but to choose that means. So much malice. Someone hates us.’

Though this echoed her own feelings, Meredith protested, ‘No, surely not.’

‘What else can we think? The police want to know where the poison came from. We can offer no suggestion. Jan ate breakfast here. It was simple, cornflakes and toast. He had butter and marmalade on the toast, sugar and milk on the cornflakes. The police took away the marmalade and sugar. In fact, they took every open bag and pot in the store cupboard. Jam, salt, salad cream, everything, even some cod liver oil capsules. We – that was distressing.’

Hastily Meredith said, ‘He came to tea with me in the afternoon and I’d made chocolate cake. The police have taken that, too. They have to check everything.’

‘So he was telling the truth?’ Damaris asked in mild surprise. ‘He said he’d been to see you. I’m afraid Florence and I were inclined to disbelieve anything he said.’

‘I was trying to help,’ Meredith confessed. ‘I don’t think I did much good.’

‘Thank you for trying, anyway,’ said Damaris.

‘What about lunch that day?’ Juliet dragged them back to the main matter.

Damaris was able to answer that. ‘I made up some salad, just some ham and the usual tomato, lettuce, cucumber and some cress. Oh, and cold boiled eggs. For pudding we had baked apples. We do very little in the way of meat and two veg, that kind of meal, because the old gas cooker is so unreliable. We all ate the same and neither Florence nor I has been ill.’ She glanced at her sister who sat, head bowed, the half-full sherry glass in her hands. ‘It’s all a great strain,’ she concluded.

‘It’s no good my saying don’t worry,’ Juliet told her. ‘You’re going to worry and nothing can be done about that. But don’t read anything into the police taking food from the kitchen. Above all, don’t give any kind of verbal agreement to Dudley Newman. I don’t say he’s dishonest, he’s got a good reputation. But he is a businessman and it would be in his interest to get the land cheap. Just refer him to me.’

‘We’re very grateful to you, Juliet my dear.’ Damaris reached out her hand. ‘Thank you for coming and thank you, too, Meredith. Tell Alan
we’re sorry he isn’t to be the one dealing with this. Do you know who will be?’

‘It’s going to be a London man, Superintendent Minchin,’ Meredith told her.

‘London?’ Damaris raised her eyebrows. ‘They must think us very important.’

Outside the house, Juliet paused by her car, keys in hand.

‘Meredith? You’re not in a hurry, are you? I’d like to take another look round the grounds in view of Newman’s offer.’

They set off across the back lawn. ‘He’ll get five or six houses in here easily,’ Meredith said. ‘Even more, possibly, although not if he’s going for the more expensive homes. He must see it as a profitable scheme for himself. Not that I’d have thought Dudley Newman short of cash, but no matter how much he’s made, I expect he’d like to make more. I wonder how much he wants to carry through this scheme.’

‘Enough to kill someone who might appear in the way of it?’ Juliet asked.

‘I didn’t say that.’

‘You were thinking it. So was I.’

They walked on in silence. Eventually Meredith said, ‘It’s the arsenic, isn’t it? Where would Newman or anyone else, come to that, get such a thing? How would he administer it? Can we show that he ever met Jan?’

‘We don’t know what Jan was up to, that’s the trouble,’ Juliet pointed out. ‘How do we know he wasn’t trying to cut some deal with Newman and they fell out?’ She stopped and took off her spectacles. Her eyes were a pale china blue and she’d accentuated the lids with eyeliner although otherwise she wore little make-up, only a touch of pale pink lipstick. The magenta fingernails seemed in quirky contradiction to her otherwise plain style. She took out the spectacle case, extracted the yellow lint cleaning square and began to polish up the lenses.

‘You’ve never thought of contact lenses?’ Meredith asked.

‘Can’t get on with them. Make my eyes water. I suppose if I persevered I’d be all right. I don’t mind wearing specs. It helps a bit in business. I like to think they make me look intelligent and you know what Dorothy Parker said: “men seldom make passes at girls who wear glasses”!’

‘Is it true?’ Meredith grinned.

‘No, actually. Some men seem to find the specs quite a turn-on.’ Juliet replaced the spectacles on her nose. ‘Hello, there’s Ron Gladstone.’ She raised a hand and waved. ‘He looks a bit down in the dumps. I expect
he’s worried about the Oakleys and he probably saw Newman’s car. He’ll know what that means. Poor Ron. He loves this garden.’

The gardener had seen them. For a moment he appeared to hesitate and then he began to walk slowly towards them. He did look, thought Meredith, as if he carried the cares of the world on his shoulders and his normally spruce appearance was distinctly ruffled.

‘Good morning, Ron!’ Juliet hailed him.

‘Good morning,’ returned Ron. ‘If that’s what it is, which I very much doubt.’

‘Mustn’t get down-hearted, Ron,’ she told him bracingly. ‘Do you know Meredith? She’s a friend of Superintendent Markby. You’ve come across him, haven’t you?’

Ron indicated he had. ‘He called here after that fellow died. I showed him the garden.’

‘He’ll have appreciated that,’ Meredith told him.

Ron cheered up slightly. ‘Yes, I think he did.’ He relapsed into gloom. ‘You saw that builder fellow, Newman, was here?’ His voice rose on a note of despair. ‘He wants to put bricks all over this.’ Ron swept out an arm to encompass his garden.

‘If he does it,’ said Meredith, ‘which isn’t settled, he’s talking of just five or six houses and he’d want the surroundings landscaped. He’d probably try and save some of the grounds as they are, certainly the nice old trees. In fact, he may
have
to spare the older trees. It should be possible to get a preservation order on them.’

This crumb of comfort did little to brighten Ron’s manner which remained resolutely depressed. He put his hands in his pockets and stared from one to the other of them. ‘I haven’t seen the police since Markby was here. Any news?’

‘A London man is taking over,’ Juliet told him.

Ron received this with a ‘Huh!’ Alan would agree with that, thought Meredith.

‘And,’ said Juliet, ‘we know Jan was poisoned with arsenic. Hard to believe, isn’t it? Would—’

She broke off. Both she and Meredith stared at Ron with dismay. His face had turned a greenish-pale on which his red moustache stood out like a wound. He took his hands from his pockets, swayed slightly, and asked in a hoarse tone, ‘Come again?’

‘Arsenic. What’s up, Ron? Are you all right?’

Ron shook his head as if to clear it. ‘No,’ he mumbled. ‘Not all right. All bloody wrong. Oh, hell.’

Meredith stepped forward and touched his elbow. ‘Ron, do you know something? Because if you do, you must speak out.’

‘That’s it,’ he replied miserably. ‘Should’ve spoke out before. I mean, normally, I wouldn’t forget a thing like that. But what with one thing and another it did slip my mind. Then, well, he died and I thought first of all it’d be drink and drugs. I said as much to Markby. Then I heard it was poison, but I had in mind some modem stuff.’ He stopped and made an effort to pull himself together. ‘I’ll show you where I found it,’ he said. ‘This way.’

He set off briskly and they followed behind.

‘Where are we going, Ron?’ called Juliet.

‘The old potting shed!’ came in reply.

‘Something nasty in the woodshed?’ whispered Juliet to Meredith.

‘I’ve got a feeling,’ Meredith replied, ‘that it might prove very nasty indeed.’

‘Yes, it was!’ said Ron tetchily, overhearing. ‘Only it’s not there now, is it?’