The Saint Valentine's Day Murders (18 page)

A deep flush of pleasure crept over Pooley’s fair skin. ‘That’s my favourite too, sir.’

‘Good. Now leave me in peace for the rest of the journey. I’ve got to think about how to make use of it.’

For a mean man, he lives in unexpected opulence, thought Milton. This house must be worth at least £80,000. But I suppose he sees it as an investment. He must have done some clever cashing in on property booms to afford this on his salary.

He looked appreciatively around the landscaped housing estate as he waited for someone to answer the door. As such developments went, it was very well laid out.

‘It’s like one of those neighbourhoods where they go in for wife-swapping,’ said Pooley.

‘I should think Farson probably charges for his,’ said Milton. As the door opened to reveal Gloria, he felt conscience-stricken about this coarseness. The woman before him, vulgar though she might be, was a bereaved mother. She bore the signs of it too. Her hair, though apparently expensively dyed and permed, looked neglected, as if she hadn’t bothered to do more than pull a comb through it. Her jeans fitted her superbly, but there was a large brown stain on the knee. As she led them into the living room he saw that her bottom bore the legend ‘Gloria Vanderbilt’. She was certainly taking the loss of Tommy hard. No woman vain enough to throw away money on a label would have normally allowed herself to appear like this.

She went in search of Tony, allegedly working in his den. Milton looked curiously at the decor. He would have expected Tony to save on items with a low re-sale value, yet the room was well if rather garishly furnished. It was only as both Farsons entered that he realized that even though they clashed, the carpet and the furniture had one thing in common. They were all hard-wearing. Gloria might have chosen the colours, but Tony had been around to make sure that what she got would need no replacing for years.

‘Would you like a beer or a whisky?’ asked Gloria.

Milton wondered if he was imagining an expression of instant resentment on Tony’s face. What misery must it be to love money so much that you grudge a stranger a can of beer? Every day must bring Tony several moments of exquisite agony. Well, he thought, I’ll start him off in a good mood. ‘No thank you, Mrs Farson. You’re very kind, but we’re on duty.’

‘Tea and biscuits?’

‘No thanks. We couldn’t manage a thing. We’ve just eaten.’

His stomach reminded him sharply that it had that day consumed a bowl of cornflakes and a ham sandwich, but he had his reward in the relaxation of Tony’s face. He sat down opposite the policemen as Gloria left the room and said abruptly, ‘I hope you’ve come here to tell me you’ve caught the man who murdered my son.’

‘Not yet, I’m afraid.’

‘I’ve always known that the tax-payers’ money was wasted.’

‘Actually, our salaries come out of the rates, Mr Farson.’

‘Very high salaries they are too.’

‘Look, Mr Farson. I haven’t come here to discuss the level of our recent pay increases. My job is to find the person who was responsible for Tommy’s death and bring him to justice. For that I need your help.’

Tears gathered in Tony’s eyes and began to trickle down his face. He hastily wiped them off with a crumpled handkerchief. Milton suppressed his compassion. There wasn’t any doubt that Tony regretted Tommy’s death. The question was: would he have regretted Gloria’s?

He decided to eschew the routine introduction and questioning. If the man had no time to recover from his emotional state, so much the better. ‘Mr Farson. When I spoke to you last week you did not tell me that the children were due to be picked up from school on February the fourteenth by your mother-in-law.’

‘What if I didn’t?’

‘We understand from her that they would have been away from home until the following afternoon, as the circus she was to take them to – the one that was cancelled – would have ended late and she thought it better they should go straight home to sleep at her house.’

‘So?’

‘So you believed they would have left the house before the first post on Monday and not have returned until mid-afternoon on the Tuesday.’

‘So?’

‘So had you – to put it crudely – wished to murder your wife, you could have been sure your children would run no risk.’

As Tony’s face assumed an expression of fury, Milton added, ‘Please, Mr Farson. Don’t tell me I’ve no right to make any such suggestion. You know as well as I do that I have to ask unpleasant questions whether you like it or not. It’s only by getting the truth from the innocent that I can identify the guilty.’

He was pleased to see the mollifying effect of this platitude.

‘All right, then. If I had wanted to kill my wife, which I didn’t, I suppose I could have known my children would be safe.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me this when I saw you last, Mr Farson?’

‘Why should I? I don’t have to do your job for you.’

‘No. You don’t of course. Although I should have thought you might consider it in your own financial interests to assist in saving police time.’ The jibe seemed to go over Tony’s head at first. Then he glowered.

‘You’re wasting your time with me anyway. Why would I have wanted to kill my wife?’

‘I don’t know. Quite possibly you didn’t. But I should like to put a few specific questions to you. If you wish to be left in peace, I suggest you co-operate.’

The sullen silence lasted some seconds, then Tony said, ‘Oh, all right. Go on.’

Thank God he’s a bit more intelligent than Graham Illingworth, thought Milton. Resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands, he leaned closer to Tony. ‘When did you learn that your wife was pregnant?’

‘Some time in the middle of January.’

‘Were you pleased?’

‘You can’t have the right to ask me questions like this. I’ll complain.’

‘Complain away. I have the right. Perhaps I should put them to your wife instead?’ He watched Tony closely. He could see the facial signs of his mental struggle. He would have to come clean. He couldn’t trust Gloria.

‘If you must know, I was a bit put out.’

‘This baby was not planned?’

‘No. It was an accident. Or so she said.’

‘How much did you mind?’

‘I said I was a bit put out and that’s what I meant.’

‘Did you want her to have an abortion?’

‘She thinks abortion’s wrong, so there wasn’t any point arguing with her. I’m glad now anyway. It might take our minds off Tommy.’

Milton sat back on the sofa, crossed his legs in a relaxed way and then said suddenly, ‘Why didn’t you want a baby, Mr Farson? Most men would have been pleased.’

‘I’m getting a bit old for all that crying at night. But I didn’t mind that much. I mean I might have got a bit cross, but I was getting used to the idea.’

You’re lying, thought Milton. But I doubt if I can prove it. Gloria is unlikely to rake over the dirt at a time like this.

‘If you’re saying I tried to murder Gloria because I didn’t want the kid, you must be daft. How could I afford to hire someone to do the work Gloria does?’

The fellow’s a monomaniac, thought Milton. He sees everything in terms of money and thinks everyone else does as well. Still, it’s convenient that he’s set up this opening. From the corner of his eye he could see Pooley, aware of what was coming and tense with anticipation. ‘Have you not got life insurance on your wife, sir? I should have thought that a responsible man like you…?’

The colour drained out of Tony’s face. He stared at Milton with loathing. ‘You don’t mind what you say to people, do you? Have you forgotten my son’s only been dead nine days?’

Milton decided to treat that question as rhetorical. ‘Have you or have you not taken out life insurance on your wife?’

‘Some.’

‘For how much?’

‘Not a lot. Only about £20,000 or so.’

‘Can you show me the policy?’

‘I’ll get it now.’

While he was out of the room Milton observed, ‘That’s no motive, I’m afraid. It’s just not enough.’

‘But sir. Maybe he’s got more than one policy.’

Milton cursed himself for a fool. He was beginning to miss the blindingly obvious. When Farson returned and handed him the policy he looked at it perfunctorily.

‘I want you to think carefully before you answer my next question, sir. You should know that I will be able to go if necessary to all the insurance firms in the country and check with them. Have you any other policies covering your wife?’

About half a minute later Tony muttered an assent.

‘May I see them, please? All of them?’

Before he returned, Milton said, ‘Ellis. Would you please wipe that grin of triumph off your face? You are supposed to be invisible.’

‘Sorry, sir. But…’ He relapsed into silence as Tony stormed into the room and handed Milton one of the two files he was carrying.

‘They’re all there. I took the other two out over the past few years. But I was only being prudent. I’m heavily insured as well.’

Milton examined the contents of the file. ‘You, I note, are insured for £50,000. Your wife appears to be insured for eight times that amount.’

‘I thought you’d get the wrong end of the stick. First, she’d have my pension. And look at this. This is how much she’d cost to replace.’

Milton blinked at his choice of word but took without comment the newspaper article Tony had pulled out of the second file.

‘You see. It says that taking all the costs into account, you’d need about £10,000 a year to pay housekeepers and babysitters and laundries and so on. And her part-time job brings in £3,000.’

‘Even accepting these inflated figures, a capital sum of £130,000 would cover it.’

‘Not if interest rates go on dropping the way they are,’ said Tony darkly.

He’s mad, thought Milton. But is he bad as well? He looked down at the floor where Tony had placed the second file and observed that it was labelled ‘FAMILY’. He lent casually over, picked it up and opened it. ‘I must say, sir, you have a very tidy mind. Do you file in date order from front to back or vice versa?’

As he flicked through the papers inside apparently in search of an answer to this fatuous question, he came to a heading that made him pause. ‘Goodness me, Mr Farson,’ he said. ‘I never realized that bringing up children was so extraordinarily expensive.’

25

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‘If you’ve finished, we’ll go in next door.’ Pooley jumped up. ‘Let me clear this up first, sir.’ Milton waved dismissively at the fish and chip wrappers and the empty plates. ‘Don’t bother. It’s not worth doing now. Come on.’

He led the way inside and switched on two reading lamps. ‘You can get the drinks if you like. You should find all you need in that cupboard. I’ll have a neat brandy. And make it a large one.’

He sat down and began to read the memorandum. Pooley passed him his drink and sat down in the opposite armchair with his own whisky and soda.

‘I know you’re driving, Ellis. But that looks too weak to taste. You’re not just being polite, are you?’

‘Oh no, sir. I drink very little. I like to keep in condition.’

‘I commend you,’ said Milton solemnly. ‘I like my men to be fit.’ He took a long enjoyable swallow, reached over to his side-table and selected a cigar. As he lit it he saw Pooley’s eye upon him. He could not repress his chuckle. ‘It’s all right, Ellis. I’m only an occasional sybarite. Now I must get down to this. Find yourself a book and put on a record if you like.’

A couple of minutes later he heard the opening bars of a Fats Waller number. He looked up and saw that Pooley was sitting down with an anthology of
New Statesman
competition winners. Milton felt pleased. Pooley wasn’t such a prig after all.

When he finished reading, he took a thoughtful pull on his cigar. ‘Ellis,’ he asked, ‘have you any idea what all this would cost?’

‘But that doesn’t matter, does it? Not in a murder case.’

‘Not in one sense. If it could be shown to be necessary, no one would quibble about undertaking the projects you outline here. But I would have to be able to make out a good case, and frankly, for most of this, I couldn’t. Now don’t be disheartened. There’s some good stuff here. Let’s go through your paper in detail and find what I can justify. But first give me a refill.’

It was just after eleven when Milton got rid of Pooley and was free to ring Amiss. He was unable to resist describing the meeting with Tony at considerable length.

‘You’re sounding pretty pleased with yourself.’

‘Do you blame me? It’s the first real break I’ve had. Although much of the credit goes to Pooley.’

‘So where does this leave Tony?’

‘With far and away the best motive to date. If his figures are right, the death of a pregnant Gloria would have made him overall about £400,000 better off than if she had stayed alive and produced the baby.’

‘Where do you go from here?’

‘Plodding on trying to find some circumstantial link. Motive isn’t enough without something to back it up. Of course, I’m not neglecting the others. Let me fill you in on the Twillerton development. Friend Illingworth is the central character…’

‘Rotten sod,’ said Amiss, when Milton had finished. ‘Fancy trying to pin it on Tiny.’

‘Well, I suppose if he wasn’t responsible himself he might have merely intended to be helpful. But from what I know of him, I think he was. There was a caution and lack of imagination behind the tricks that seem to me to smack of Graham Illingworth.’

‘God knows how you’re going to get an assistant in a joke shop to remember someone like him after three months.’

‘Even the most tentative identification will do. I only want to be able to frighten him. There’s no chance of this coming to court.’

‘Anything on the others?’

‘They’re all lying low. Their tails have nothing to report.’

‘I never saw the point in tailing anyone. They’re hardly likely to be rushing out to get hold of more strychnine.’

‘It’s just in case they act out of character in some way. We’ve got so little to go on, we’re trying desperate measures. By the way, I’ve had to put shadows on Tiny also. My Commander rather fancies him as a candidate. Thinks he might make a break for Kenya and doesn’t like the idea of extradition proceedings. But don’t worry, I still believe him to be in the clear. Have you seen him recently?’