CHAPTER THIRTEEN

‘We’ve put Mr Jenkins and Mr Clarke in separate interview rooms, sir.’ Chris Brooke went to the coffee station in the incident room and poured himself a cup.

‘Did they see one another?’ Trevor asked.

Chris smiled. ‘As ordered.’

‘When you’ve finished your break, check on the search warrants. As soon as they come through organise searches of the Jenkinses’ house and Matthew Clarke’s. After they’re completed we’ll track down and interview their fellow chapel elders.’

‘Like a coffee, sir?’ Chris asked.

‘Please.’

‘You take it black, no sugar?’

‘I do.’

Chris poured Trevor a cup and carried it over to the computer where Trevor was inputting and cross-referencing Matthew Clarke’s and Sam Jenkins’s witness statements.

‘How did you know Sam Jenkins was lying?’ Chris pulled up a chair.

‘I didn’t. But there was something odd about the way he related his movements on the day his daughter was killed. And, besides his peculiar manner, a two hour meeting followed by a six hour painting session didn’t ring true to me. Not for six or seven men. Most people who decide to tackle a job like repainting a chapel would start first thing in the morning. Not sit around discussing chapel matters for two hours, then start painting. A late start would cut into their evening, and most wives of Sam Jenkins’s generation want their husbands home in the evening to share a meal.’

‘I didn’t think of that.’

‘And there’s the timing. How long does it take to splash on a coat of emulsion?’

‘Depending on the size of the room, a couple of hours.’

‘You saw the chapel and we’re talking six or seven men. Strange neither Matthew Clarke nor Sam Jenkins could give us the exact number,’ Trevor mused.

‘Glossing would take longer.’

‘It would. But most chapels have stained and varnished pulpits, benches and skirting-boards. As this one did, when we finally persuaded Matthew Clarke to open it up.’

‘You really had nothing more to go on than the timing and “there was something odd” about Sam Jenkins’s story?’

Trevor pressed “print” on the list of discrepancies he’d compiled and pushed his chair back from the computer desk. ‘It’s called instinct. When I first joined the force I was told to distrust it, but the longer I serve and the older I get, the more I find myself relying on it.’

‘What do you expect to find in the searches?’ Chris asked.

‘What we expect to find in every search, Constable.’ Dan walked into the room. ‘We don’t know until we see it, and when we see it, we’ll know it.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Can I have a word in my office, Trevor?’

‘I’ll be with you in a minute. Do me a favour, Chris, copy this print-out into evidence and distribute them in the files. Then compile a list of the names and addresses of the other chapel elders.’

Trevor followed Dan into his office. Peter was sitting in front of Dan’s desk poring over the PM report on Kacy Howells. He looked up when Trevor walked in.

‘Heard you’ve brought in Kacy’s father and one of the chapel elders for questioning.’

‘You can’t keep anything quiet around here,’ Trevor grumbled.

‘Does that mean Alan’s off the hook?’

‘It means that chapel elders who should know better are telling porkies about where they were on the afternoon of the murder. Why are you looking at Kacy Howells’ PM report? You’re off the case.’

‘He is and he isn’t.’ Dan squeezed past Trevor who’d perched on the edge of his desk. ‘Snaggy told Peter last night that the Red Dragon ordered the killing of a suburban housewife and paid Lofty to do it.’

‘Kacy Howells?’ Trevor looked at Dan.

‘She’s the only murdered suburban housewife on our patch this year.’

‘And you believe Snaggy?’

‘You’re the one who always insists on following every lead, no matter how bizarre.’ Peter tossed the report onto Dan’s desk. ‘For what it’s worth I think Snaggy’s theory is plausible.’

‘More plausible than nailing Alan Piper as her murderer?’ Trevor suggested.

‘I don’t buy Alan as the killer and if you think that’s down to sheer bloody prejudice because he’s my cousin and unlike most of my relatives, likeable, you’d be absolutely right,’ Peter conceded.

‘She was axed to death and inexpertly at that. Hardly the method of a professional. They generally use knives or guns,’ Trevor picked up the report Peter had discarded.

‘Suppose someone wanted to frame Alan for Kacy Howells’ murder?’

‘What possible motive could anyone have for doing that?’ Trevor asked logically.

‘I can think of half a dozen reasons. One, that wet wimp apology of a gay husband of hers discovered she was unfaithful and paid someone to get rid of her. And the hired killer fitted up a neighbour to take the rap for the murder to put us off the scent? Snaggy said Lofty fingered someone else using rubbish from a bin. The tissue and chewing gum could well have been in Alan’s bin bags.’

‘And Alan’s coat?’ Trevor asked.

‘If Alan left it in a pub or his unlocked car it could have been taken any time.’

‘It’s a story worthy of Hollywood, but it wouldn’t explain the Red Dragon’s involvement. There’s no evidence to connect Kacy Howells to drug dealing. If she was a user it would have been spotted at the PM.’

‘There’s her father,’ Peter conveniently ignored Trevor’s mention of drugs.

‘Why would he ask a drug dealer to kill his daughter?’

‘Because he’s a Bible-thumper and holds extreme views. I was there when he started spouting about her “being cloaked in glory” remember. He could have discovered her sexual antics and arranged for the death of her earthly body because it would purge her sins …’

‘That’s one hell of a jump, Peter,’ Trevor interrupted. ‘And, it presupposes that he knew about her sexual activities and was friendly with the Red Dragon. An entity we’re all trying to pin down.’

‘Her sexual activities are there in black and white and cartoon colours.’ Peter pulled the porn magazine from his pocket.

‘You said you could think of half a dozen motives,’ Trevor reminded.

‘Even allowing for my usual exaggeration, you’ll make me go through them, won’t you?’ Peter made a face. ‘The back of the Howells’ house is secluded. It could be used to drop drugs. What if Kacy Howells saw something she shouldn’t have?’

‘A drug drop? A dealer in suburbia.’ Even as Trevor said it, he saw the possibilities. What better cover than a quiet suburban street. Even allowing for the monitoring of the Mrs Walshes of this world, there would be any number of tradesmen and delivery drivers visiting the cul-de-sac on a regular basis – particularly in this age of internet shopping. Who was to say exactly what they were delivering? Catalogue goods or drugs? And some firms employed private drivers who used their own vehicles.’

‘It’s feasible, isn’t it?’ Peter said.

‘If Kacy saw something she shouldn’t have, the chances are it was in the woodland at the back of her house and the farmer has a prime view,’ Trevor pointed out.

‘He’s not there all the time.’

‘You’re seriously suggesting that a professional walked into Kacy Howells’ garden and killed her rather messily with an axe?’

‘A professional who had been seen dealing by her.’

‘The axe suggests spur of the moment murder,’ Trevor declared. ‘Snaggy told you it was funded by the Red Dragon, which would mean a certain amount of planning.’

‘Planning that included the framing of her next door neighbour,’ Peter argued. ‘The axe could have been planted in front of Alan’s car by the killer. He told me about the axe being in front of his car before Kacy Howells was murdered, remember. And as he had to move it, his fingerprints would be all over it.’

Trevor thought for a moment, much as he’d like to investigate Snaggy’s story he didn’t have the manpower. ‘My team are working flat out at the moment.’

‘On Sam Jenkins’s alibi?’ Dan asked.

‘You are keeping up with developments. Sam Jenkins and Matthew Clarke have concocted a story to hide something. I’m not sure what. Sarah is supervising a team in the office both Howells work in and interviewing the Howells’ friends and colleagues.’

‘I wasn’t aware they had any – friends that is.’ Peter left his chair before Trevor could press him about any other theories he might have.

‘Can we talk about this tonight? Dinner my place?’ Trevor asked.

‘As long as it’s a take-away and Peter buys,’ Dan said, ‘he let me pick up the tab for last night.’

‘I’ll phone Lyn and tell her to warm the plates. But now I have people to interview.’

‘Chapel elders,’ Peter mocked.

‘I’m starting with the two we have in custody. Bearing in mind that they’ve already lied about painting the chapel, it’ll be interesting to see how they try to explain their reasons for lying before we tackle the others. I’d also like to go through Sarah’s interviews when she gets back. And, if there’s time before the sun sets, I intend to take a look at that path that runs from the farm behind the Howells’ house down to their garden.’

‘Busy man. Good luck.’ Peter reached for his coat.

‘You going out?’

‘Snitches to see and narks to shake down.’

‘You paid Snaggy for his tip-off?’ Trevor asked.

‘No, and until I’m one hundred per cent certain he’s right he won’t get a penny from me.’

‘How will you know if he’s right?’ Trevor asked.

‘Tell you if I find out one way or the other. Good luck with your elders.’ Peter left and Trevor returned to the interview room.

‘Have Sam Jenkins and Matthew Clarke been given tea?’ he asked Chris.

‘Yes, sir,’ one of the duty constables answered. ‘Do you think either of them had anything to do with Kacy Howells’ murder, sir?’

‘I don’t know,’ Trevor poured a coffee, not because he wanted it but because the cup would give him something to do with his hands in the interview room.

‘Which one do you want to start with?’ Chris asked.

‘Matthew Clarke. That will give Sam Jenkins time to sweat a little longer.’

Sarah Merchant sat in the tiny private office she had borrowed from the executive officer of the section Kacy and George Howells had worked in. She opened her briefcase, set a notepad in front of her, took out a pen and read the notes Trevor had made of his interview with Kacy Howells’ brother, Mark.

Last time I bumped into John, he told me he had been trying to kick Kacy out for years. He finally resorted to paying her thousands to get her out of his house, although she never gave him a penny towards the mortgage and every month he had to fight to get her to pay anything towards the bills. He told me it was worth every penny to be rid of her because he couldn’t stand her having sex with other blokes in their garden in full view of him and their neighbours. It was her speciality at barbecues. A couple of vodkas and she was any- and everybody’s.

An arrestingly good-looking young man knocked the open door and entered the cubicle at Sarah’s “come in”.

He held out his hand. ‘John Evans. You wanted to see me?’

‘Yes. Thank you for coming in, Mr Evans. I’m DC Sarah Merchant, one of the team investigating Kacy Howells’ murder. Please sit down.’ She indicated the chair in front of the desk. She looked into John Evans’s eyes and decided the only attraction plain, mousy Kacy Howells could have possibly held for him was kinky sex. Then she remembered she was a professional – and that meant impartial with no preconceived ideas.

‘The entire office is shocked by Kacy’s murder. It’s a dreadful business.’ John Evans shook his head.

‘It is. Which is why we are interviewing all her friends and colleagues. You lived with her?’

‘For eighteen years.’

Sarah closed the file that contained her notes. ‘Why did you split up?’

‘It’s no secret I fell in love with someone else.’

‘Someone who worked in the same office as you and Kacy?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you remain on good terms with Kacy?’

‘I tried but she was having none of it. She became extremely bitter. Tried to sue me for half the value of the house we were living in. Fortunately it was in my name. I’d bought it with money I’d inherited from my grandparents and could prove it.’

‘So Kacy moved out?’

‘Not before I served a legal eviction notice on her. Even then, she refused to go until I paid her several thousand pounds she had no claim to and I could ill afford.’

‘But you still paid her?’

‘I had virtually moved into Emma’s rented flat – she was my girlfriend now she’s my wife – to get away from Kacy. Which had left Kacy in my house. I was afraid she’d try to claim squatter’s rights. She had no sense of property.’

‘Property?’ Sarah queried.

‘To say she was light-fingered was putting it mildly. I’ve always tried to get on with my neighbours but Kacy tore down the boundary fences between us and tried to claim part of their gardens. She also used to pick up any tools they left lying around and put them in our garage. She was just the same in the office. Ask anyone what she was like and they’ll tell you the same thing. Chocolate bars, sandwiches, pens, her motto seemed to be, “see it, like it, take it”.’

‘It bothered you.’

‘When I first started going out with her, I made excuses for her. I thought I had to be mistaken. She couldn’t really be constantly thieving. Then, after she moved in with me and I saw what she was really like, the excuses became a bit thin.’

‘It took eighteen years for that to happen?’

‘The last three years we were together were bloody. Look, I don’t want to speak ill of the dead but it wasn’t just that. I’m ashamed to say that she had a sort of hold on me.’ He averted his eyes.

Sarah took the pornographic magazine from the file and handed it to him. ‘Have you seen this?’

‘Everyone in the office has. A parcel of them arrived the day it was published.’

‘Were you surprised to see Kacy in it?’

‘Yes and no. When I was with her she was wild but she didn’t publicly advertise the fact she slept around. She kept her activities within a tight circle.’

‘She was unfaithful when you were together?’

John Evans shifted uneasily on his seat. ‘She was into open relationships, swinging – wife-swapping – whatever you want to call it, and I went along with it, but after a few years I tired of it. She didn’t.’

‘But you had an open relationship?’

‘I suppose you could call it that although it was more open on Kacy’s side for the last ten years we were together than mine, which is why I fell head over heels in love with Emma. She’s the exact opposite of Kacy. Sweet, loving and faithful. Just being with her made me want to settle down and have a family. Something I never wanted to do with Kacy.’

‘When was the last time you saw Kacy?’

‘Last week in the office.’

‘You spoke to her?’

‘I haven’t spoken to her since she moved into George’s house.’

‘Were you surprised when she married George?’

‘Again yes and no. As I said she was vindictive. We both knew, in fact the entire office knew, George was a closet gay. Not that anyone gives a hang about sexuality these days. But George had been brought up by elderly parents whose ideas were fixed in the last century. And George had a bigger house than me and more money, that he’d inherited from his parents. Kacy is obsessed with money and possessions. She went after him and like a ripe plum he fell into her hand.’

‘Is Kacy’s eldest child yours?’

‘She told me he was after he was born. She wanted me to pay her maintenance for him. A thousand pounds a month.’

‘What did you say when she asked you for the money?’

‘I offered to have a DNA test and make the results public but only because I knew she’d back off. George was already showing baby photographs around the office and receiving congratulations. It was the ultimate proof he’d been searching for to announce his masculinity to the world.’

Sarah looked down at the notes she’d been making. ‘How long did Kacy stay in your house after you asked her to leave?’

‘Two years?’

‘That’s a long time not to get along with someone.’

‘As I said our relationship broke down years before that. I suppose the best you could say about us was that we were still living under one roof. And occasionally sharing a bed. Looking back I realise now, I never loved Kacy. But Kacy knew everything there is to know about sex and exactly how to use that knowledge. There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do and she was good at inciting others to join in with her. In the end her antics sickened me, especially after I fell in love with Emma. I hated the hold Kacy had on me and I hated myself for going along with the things Kacy did,’ he confessed. ‘Two years before she finally left my house I moved into a separate bedroom and put a lock on the door so she couldn’t get in. I was determined to get away from her. I used to get up ridiculously early in the morning to drive to work to avoid giving her a lift and stay behind late in the evenings until she’d caught the bus home.’

‘And during this time she went out with George Howells?’

‘No.’

‘Did she have any boyfriends that you knew of?’ Sarah asked.

‘Boyfriends? I wouldn’t say that, but she’d sleep with anyone. She also worked for some agency or other. A woman used to call and ask for her. That in itself was strange. In all the time we were together, Kacy never went out with the girls in the office. In fact she had no female friends. I think she saw them as competition.’

‘How did you know that Kacy was working for this woman?’

‘Because she would leave messages on the answer phone.’

‘What kind of messages?’ Sarah probed.

‘Something along the lines of, “Hi Kacy, Susie here. I have a job and a party right up your street if you’re interested.” The mention of a job made me think it was an agency.’

‘You didn’t ask Kacy about it?’

‘No. By that time we’d stopped talking.’

‘You can’t remember the name of the agency?’

‘I don’t think I ever knew it. I’m sorry,’ John apologised. ‘I wish I could be more help. To be honest my break-up with Kacy was so acrimonious, there were times when I wished her the other side of the world and not the nice side. Siberia or the Gobi desert comes to mind. But dead?’ He bit his lip. ‘I never wished her that ill. It had been good between us in the beginning when we were both young and sex-crazy. And then there are her kids. I have two of my own …’ he continued to fight his emotions.

Sarah thought back to her first love affair when she felt as though she had just invented sex, and knew exactly what John Evans meant.

‘Just one more thing, Mr Evans, where were you last Monday between four o’clock in the afternoon and nine o’clock in the evening.’

‘Clearing out my uncle’s house. He died last month.’

‘I am sorry.’

‘He had dementia, it was a blessing.’

‘Did anyone see you?’

‘I doubt it. Although my car was parked in the drive, you can’t see his house from the road. My uncle planted trees when he moved in. He would never cut them.’

‘The address?’

‘Park View, number nineteen. Surely you don’t suspect that I had anything to do with Kacy’s murder?’

‘We’re checking the movements of everyone who knew Kacy on the day of her murder, Mr Evans.’ Sarah made a note of the address. ‘Thank you. You have been most helpful.’

He reached for a tissue as he rose to his feet. ‘I hope you catch the bastard who did it.’

‘We’ll do our best, Mr Evans.’

‘I’ll send the next one in, shall I?’

‘If you should happen to remember anything more about this Susie who used to call Kacy, please give us a call.’ Sarah handed him a card with the station telephone number printed on it.

He hesitated, his hand on the door handle. ‘I think her surname was Cleopatra.’

‘Cleopatra?’

‘I know it sounds strange, but it was either Susie Cleopatra or Susie from Cleopatra’s, I’m sure of it.’