White Lies (32 page)

“I like to be in control.”

“You’re telling me.” He put the packed on the Welsh dresser. “Do you want me to make the bed up?”

“Gods, no.” She picked up the tea with her left, undamaged hand. “I had enough sleep in the hospital, thank you very much. I feel better already.”

“That’s just the sugar rush from the tea talking. You really should have a lie down. You can’t have had that good a sleep. Last time I was in hospital they kept waking me up to take my sleeping pills.”

“I remember. You were in for a fortnight.”

“I know. I was only suppose to have a blood test and–” He was interrupted by a knock at the door. “Who’s that at this time of the morning?”

“I don’t know. You made this tea with a bag so I’ve no leaves I can read.”

“What?”

“It’s probably the postman.” Meinwen made to get up.

“All right. You stay where you are. I’ll get it.”

Meinwen had her back to the door so she couldn’t see who it was until she heard his gruff tones. “Come in, Detective-inspector. To what do we owe the honor?”

“I was wondering why you weren’t answering your phone.” DI White blustered into the sitting room closely followed by Sergeant Peters. “On account of I’ve just been given the revised autopsy results from John Fenstone.” He stopped as he caught sight of her plasters and butterfly stitches. “Bloody ‘ell. What happened to you?”

“A minor disagreement with a young man who needed some valuables to trade.” She shifted in her chair to face him. “That’s why I haven’t been answering my phone, of course. He took it, along with all my cash and my bank card. That reminds me, I must cancel that and order a replacement.”

“You didn’t give him your PIN, did you?” Sergeant Peters peered past the inspector with his notebook out and a pen at the ready. “He’ll have cleaned you out otherwise.”

“It wouldn’t have taken him long to do that, Sergeant. There was less than a hundred pounds in my account. I don’t have a great deal of turnover at the shop, you know. If I wasn’t under a rent agreement, I’d be camped in your back garden by now. And the answer is no. I didn’t give him my PIN. I gave him my parent’s telephone number and good luck to him making use of that, seeing as they died years ago.”

“Did you get a look at him?” White sat where Dafydd had been up until now. “We can put out a description.”

“I’ll make more tea, shall I?” Dafydd waited for an answer, received none but left the room anyway.

“I’m sorry. It was dark.” Meinwen sat up, winced and pressed a hand to her side. “Look, I went through all this with a uniformed officer at the hospital. Can’t you read his report?”

“I suppose.” White looked at his sergeant, who closed his notebook. “At least tell me where it happened.”

“Chervil Court, where John Fenstone used to live.” She saw their faces change. “What?”

“Well known area for drugs, Chervil Court. You were probably attached by a crackhead or worse. You’re lucky you’re not dead, Ms. Jones.”

Meinwen bit her lip. “That explains it.”

“Explains what?”

The guy attaching me was driven off by another man, but one who wouldn’t tell me his name or call the police for me. If he was a dealer–”

“Drug dealer with a heart of gold? Do me a favor. You’ll be telling me next he gave you the money for a cab and a packet of fags.”

“No, but he did help me to the door of number eight, where John Fenstone lived. His brother’s there now. You said you had news?”

“Tea’s up.” Dafydd pushed past Sergeant Peters. “There’s sugar there but I hope everyone takes milk.”

White gave Dafydd an upward nod as he placed the tray on the table. Peters reached across and pulled a mug off. “Fantastic. Thanks, er...”

“Dafydd. Dafydd Thomas.” His lilting accent seemed out of place against the chintz of the cottage.

“From Wales are you?”

“I can tell you’re a detective sure enough. You’re going to make a joke about sheep any minute, I shouldn’t wonder.”

“Er...”

“Detective-sergeant Peters wouldn’t be so crass, Mr. Thomas. He got a gold star on his effective communication course and knows better than to make racially-motivated jokes.”

“That’s right. Wouldn’t dream of it.” Peters hunched over his mug.

“Sugar?”

“I bet you say that to all the sh– er, no thanks. Sweet enough as I am.”

“Detective-inspector?”

“Thank you, yes.” White spooned in three and stirred the tea slowly, the spoon making a
skree-skree
as it scraped along the side of the cup. “To what do we owe the honor?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Real tea. It’s like being offered liquid gold in these parts. We usually get offered dirt in a cup at Ms. Jones’s house.”

“Oh aye, tell me about it.” Dafydd shuddered. “Since I was staying for a few days I thought I’d buy a few of the comforts of home, see, tea being one of them.”

“What are the others?”

With a glance at Meinwen, Dafydd produced a plate. “Biscuit?”

Peters grinned. “Don’t mind if I do.”

White waved them away, drawing out his notebook. “The second autopsy of John Fenstone revealed a couple of details we hadn’t noticed before, primarily because the deterioration of the body precluded a full visual examination of the relevant area.”

“You didn’t look for evidence of foul play, you mean.” Dafydd reached for a biscuit.

White ignored him. “There appears to be a second set of antemortem strangulation marks, not consistent with the rope he was found with. We believe these marks indicate an arm held around the neck of the deceased, possibly to subdue him before he was hung from the loft of his house.”

“He really was murdered then.” Meinwen took several shallow breaths. It was fabulous they were taking her seriously. Jimmy would be relieved, too. “Any clues who?”

“We are proceeding with inquiries.”

“That’d be a no, then.” Dafydd reached forward for his tea.

“Any news on Richard’s killing?”

“Nothing yet, but it’s still early days. We have found evidence at the crime scene but nothing conclusive.”

“What sort of evidence?” Meinwen imagined cigarette butts and fingerprints.

White nodded to Peters and the sergeant took out his notes again. “Several footprints, a cigarette butt and a slight scraping of blood. We’re having the DNA tested.”

“When will you get the results back?”

“Within the week, with any luck.”

“A week?” Dafydd leaned forward. “It’s only a minute or two on the telly.

“A week unless they’re backlogged.” White grimaced. “Then it could be up to a month. This isn’t television, sir. We don’t have fancy gadgets to advance the plot. On the other hand, we’ve discovered the murder weapon was stolen from Laverstone Manor.”

“That’s where you were going when we saw you yesterday. So if you find the thief there’s a good chance you find the murderer as well.”

“One would hope so. There were no fingerprints at the scene other than those you’d expect to be there. Mr. Waterman and his family and their guests.”

“Guests?” Meinwen tried to imagine who the people at the manor might have as guests. They were people who generally kept themselves to themselves. The solicitor, Gillian du Point, being one of them.

Peters glanced at his notes. “Richard Godwin, Mary Markhew and Peter Numan. They were there from seven until midnight on the fourteenth. The break-in happened on the night of the fifteenth.”

Meinwen stood. “It wouldn’t have been any of them, surely? I’d trust any of them with my life. Was anything else stolen?”

“Several pieces of costume jewelry and, er, a crossbow. There was, however, a trace of blood on the window the thief broke to gain access. We sent that for testing and should have the results–”

“In a week or two.” Meinwen shook her head. “And that’s only assuming you can match the DNA to a suspect, which you also haven’t got.”

“True, but we have lines of investigation.”

“Then here’s another for you.” Meinwen hissed and pressed her hand to her side again. “John Fenstone was well acquainted with Richard Godwin to the point where I believe they were lovers. John Fenstone also moonlighted as a male prostitute and professional submissive at the Hotel Luminaria. I suggest you get a warrant for their CCTV footage, not that I think it will show you his killer. Catherine Godwin was supposedly estranged from her husband but was secretly reconciled with him and Richard was heavily in debt and in secret negotiations with an unknown businessman to sell the rights to his father’s work.” She took as deep a breath as she was able. “Did I miss anything out?”

“Mary Markhew had insured his life for a goodly sum.” Dafydd grinned. “A Godwin sum, even.”

“Yes, she did, and Catherine Godwin has a large sum coming thanks to his death, too, though I really don’t think she had anything to do with it. She was very shocked when I told her of his death.”

“You told her?”

“Yes, that’s why I was walking through Chervil Court so late.”

“Is there any part of my investigation you haven’t interfered with, Ms. Jones?”

“One more thing. Jimmy was with me when I discovered John’s involvement with Richard and that was the night before last.”

“The night Richard Godwin was killed?”

“Quite.” Meinwen hissed through her teeth.

“Anything I can get for you, Meinwen?” Dafydd hovered behind Sergeant Peters. “Painkillers, perhaps?”

“Not unless you can go to the bathroom for me.” Meinwen gave him a wan smile. “Tea is a diuretic, after all.”

Chapter 31

Meinwen nodded her thanks to Sergeant Peters when he climbed into the back seat of Inspector White’s car, allowing her the relative comfort of the front. She winced when he helped her put the seat belt on.

“Tell me again why we’re taking you with us, Ms. Jones?” White turned the key in the ignition and the engine sputtered into life with a blast of black smoke from the exhaust. “I’d rather take a squad car as back up, especially if he’s armed with a crossbow.”

“We don’t know it was Jimmy who broke into the manor, Inspector. You’re jumping to conclusions.”

“I’m just suggesting it’s better to be safe than shot with a barbed arrow, that’s all.” He did a three-point turn in the road outside Meinwen’s house. “What advantage does having you with us convey?”

“Jimmy and I have established a relationship of trust ever since I agreed to help him get his brother’s case reopened.”

“Oh? It was your idea was it?”

“In a manner of speaking. He convinced me John Fenstone wasn’t the type of man to commit suicide. If you talk to any of his colleagues, you’ll find he was the life and soul of the office.”

“Would this be his estate agent colleagues, his sex hotel colleagues or his paying johns?”

“I was thinking of the estate agents, but I’m sure it would be the same story anywhere. Everybody liked John Fenstone.”

White turned into Markham Road and increased speed. “Someone didn’t, Ms. Jones, and we need to find out who.”

“Yes, Inspector, of course.” Meinwen smarted from the reprimand. He was right, of course, but he needn’t put her down like that. She was only trying to help. She fell silent, the next time she spoke was to point out the flat where she’d last seen Jimmy and the spot, as near as she could determine, where she’d been mugged. Two uniformed officers approached as they pulled up but White waved them away.

“We’ve been canvassing the area trying to find a witness to your attack. Curiously, no one wants to talk to the police around here.” He locked the car and helped Meinwen up the short path where she pressed the buzzer to flat five.

Just like the previous night there was no reply.

White tried the buzzers to the other flats and got hold of Mrs. Rogers. That got them inside and showing her his badge through the glass pane of her front door got him upstairs. He hammered on the door to flat five and called out “This is Laverstone police, Mr. Fenstone. We just need to ask you a few questions.”