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TO RAFFERTY’S SURPRISE, gaining access to the suspects’ bathrooms turned out to be surprisingly easy.
Derek Fowler, when Rafferty went to his home late the next morning, was all genial bonhomie, doubtless brought about by his inheritance off Keith Sutherland’s share of the business. His face was redder than ever and provided evidence that he’d had a celebratory drink or three, as did his whisky breath.
‘So what can I do for you, Inspector? Tying up loose ends, is it?’
‘Something like that, sir.’
Invited to sit in the fussy, floral living room, Rafferty said, ‘I imagine you’ll be planning your retirement now?’
‘You imagine right. Keith could have been too, if things had worked out differently. I awarded myself a day off today to get into the swing of retirement. Will you have a drink, Inspector? The sun must be approaching the yard arm somewhere in the world.’
‘Not just now, thank you, sir. Tell me—what do you know of Ian Sutherland? For instance, did you know his business was on its uppers?’
Fowler nodded. ‘His father told me. He had a bit of a crow about it, as a matter of fact. Such a shame. If he’d only taken the offer from Electra, he’d have been able to bail the boy out, perhaps see him through the credit crunch.’
‘Would he have done so though, sir? You said he crowed about his son’s difficulties.’
Fowler sighed. ‘Perhaps you’re right. Keith and his son didn’t have a good relationship, something that was almost entirely Keith’s fault. He didn’t give Ian an easy time of it.’
‘What about his daughter, Susie? What was his relationship with her like?’
‘Better than it was with Ian, but still not easy. Basically, I don’t think Keith was cut out to be a father. He was too selfish, for one thing.’
‘What about his marriage? Was that relationship in a bad way, too? I’ve heard about his womanising and know that Carol Mumford was his long-term mistress.’
‘I think they just managed to rub along. Of course, Keith didn’t spend a lot of time at home. Between his women and his wheeling and dealing, he was out a good deal.’ Fowler paused, then asked. ‘Can I ask my wife to get you a coffee, Inspector? Or tea, if you’d prefer.’
Rafferty hadn’t seen Mrs Fowler since his arrival. ‘No, thank you.’ He stood up. ‘But could I use your bathroom? Too much tea at the station before I came out,’ he explained.
‘Of course. It’s at the top of the stairs.’
Rafferty thanked him and made for the door. In the bathroom, he quickly checked the contents; there were no bottles of Vixen perfume. He came out to the top of the stairs and listened. There was no sound of movement from downstairs. He tiptoed along the landing and opened the first door. It contained a double bed and stuff on a dressing table, indicating that this was the marital bedroom. He tiptoed again, treading carefully, anxious about creaking floorboards. No Vixen here, either. He crept his way back to the bathroom and flushed. Then he let the hot tap run for a few seconds. The pipes gurgled satisfactorily.
He thumped his way back downstairs and poked his head round the living room door to say goodbye.
Back in the car, he headed for Gilbert Fortescue’s home, though if his wife wore Vixen, he could think of no good reason for her to kill Keith Sutherland. Or Carol Mumford either.
He drew a blank on the perfume with both the Fortescues and the Hurleys. By now, that left only the Sutherlands themselves. It was a short journey to their family home. Mary Sutherland opened the door.
She looked startled to see him. ‘Back again, Inspector? What can you possibly want from us now when you have my son in custody and when we’ve answered all your questions?’
‘Just a few more questions, Mrs Sutherland. It won’t take long.’
With a faint sigh, she let him in, and led him into the living room. There was no sign of Susie.
‘Your daughter out?’ he asked.
‘Yes. She has several appointments today with potential clients.’
‘So how are you bearing up, Mrs Sutherland?’ he asked as he sat down. ‘It must be a great comfort to you to have your daughter staying.’
‘Yes. She might stay on here indefinitely actually and rent out her flat. It would keep her costs down while she gets her business off the ground. It makes sense. The house is way too big for me to rattle around in on my own.’
‘Maybe you should sell and get yourself an easy-to-manage flat?’
‘Oh no. I couldn’t do that. This is the family home. I want to keep it so that Susie and Ian can come back any time they want. It’s their inheritance. If I sold it and bought a small flat the money would be sure to just dribble away. But you’re not interested in my family concerns, I’m sure. You said you wanted to ask me some questions.’
‘Yes.’ Rafferty was damned if he knew what to ask her now he was here, but he managed to dredge up a couple of points. As he had with Derek Fowler, he asked if she had known that Ian’s business was on the downward spiral.’
To his surprise she admitted it. ‘It was too bad I couldn’t help him. He just needs a little financial support, until this recession is over. His father—’ She broke off.
‘You were going to say something about Mr Sutherland?’ he prompted.
‘Only that Keith’s business was also going through a bad patch, so he was unable to help Ian.’
‘Would he have helped him if he could?’
‘Yes. I’m sure he would. Ian was his only son after all.’
Only son, and only rival, was another way of looking at it.
‘At least, with his share of the life insurance, he’ll be able to prop the business up. It’s a lifeline for him.’
A very fortunate and timely lifeline was Rafferty’s thought, as he began to question his doubts about Ian Sutherland’s guilt. Though, of course, with Ian in prison, his business was likely to go to the wall anyway. And if he was convicted of his father’s murder, he wouldn’t receive the money, as the law decreed you couldn’t profit from your own crime.
A silence fell—Rafferty had run out of things to ask.
‘Was there anything else, Inspector?’
‘No. That’s it. Just tying up a few loose ends.’ He didn’t tell her that he was wracked with doubts over her son’s guilt. What was the point in getting her hopes up if he failed to find someone else at whom he could point the finger?
He asked to use the bathroom. Unfortunately, this being a big house, it had a lavatory on the ground floor as well as a bathroom upstairs. But he took a chance, and crept up the stairs, too. And hit jackpot. A bottle of Vixen stood on the bathroom shelf—though whether it was Mary Sutherland’s, or one Susie had brought from her flat, was a moot point, her things being jumbled up with her mother’s on the bathroom shelf.
But it was a definite pointer to the possible guilt of one of the women. Now, if he could only find something else...
***
SUPERINTENDENT BRADLEY was waiting in his office when he got back to the station.
‘Where have you been, Rafferty?’ he demanded. ‘I’ve been asking for you for the last hour. You had your mobile switched off, too.’
Unwilling to reveal that he was still investigating other suspects in the case when Bradley thought he had the case – and Ian Sutherland’s guilt – all sewn up, especially after the ego-stroking media appearances, Rafferty came up with what he hoped was a more acceptable story. ‘Sorry, sir. I was seeing one of my snouts. He gets a bit edgy if we’re disturbed.’
‘Seeing a snout, was it? What about?’
‘About the spate of recent burglaries, sir,’ Rafferty improvised. ‘I thought he might give me a handle on them.’
‘And did he?’
‘Nothing concrete as yet, sir, but I’m working on him. He’s proving a bit coy.’
‘Hmm. Well don’t go disappearing another time.’
‘No, sir.’
‘And leave your mobile switched on. I needed to contact you urgently. There’s a press conference organised for this lunchtime about these burglaries. I want you there. One o’clock. Don’t be late.’ Bradley banged out.
‘He hasn’t been hanging about in here for the last hour, has he?’ he asked Llewellyn.
‘No. But he kept popping back.’
‘What did you tell him?’
‘What you told me to tell him.’
‘That’s good. It’s as well for our stories to tally. Did he believe you?’
‘I don’t know. But it’s fortunate that he can’t prove it either way, isn’t it?’
Rafferty grinned. ‘Isn’t it, though?’ He told Llewellyn what he’d found in the Sutherlands’ bathroom.
‘Interesting,’ he said. ‘You really think it could be significant?’
‘Yes. Sanjay Gupta was positive that Vixen was the perfume he smelt. I think the trail’s narrowing, Daff. It’s got to be one of the Sutherland women Susie must be favourite, as I can’t imagine a mother letting her son go to jail for something she did, whereas I don’t think there’s that much love lost between Susie and her brother.’
‘You could be right.’
‘I know I am,’ Rafferty said with more confidence than he felt.
Mindful of giving Bradley another excuse to carpet him, he settled down to the official work after that, spending what remained of the morning arranging for the usual suspects to be questioned over the burglaries.
Just before one, he paid a visit to the gents’, and made ready for the press conference. It would probably mostly be just the local press and regional TV, which was a relief. He hated press conferences, and usually did his best to get out of them. Not trying to wriggle out of this one had been a sop to the belligerent Bradley. It wouldn’t do to antagonise him over anything else just at present, especially when, if he was to have any chance of finding the final solution to the murders, he was likely to need to do his disappearing act again.
