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Authors: Clare Curzon

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BOOK: The Edge
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‘Did you have any reason to think he had money troubles?'
‘Not till then. He'd always seemed to be rolling in it. Whenever we needed to expand he'd usually look the plans through, ask a few questions, then OK them right away. Easy about further outlay. Then I thought — what if the family … Well, his wife was spoilt, always demanded the best of everything. Only she was supposed to have private income from her arty stuff. But I know that a couple of months back Freddie had removed his son from an expensive school and sent him to a local one as a day boy …'
‘You were worried.'
‘Wouldn't you be? Freddie had sounded tense, not a bit like himself, and he wouldn't give me any inkling over the phone. There's a long list of orders we're part-way through, and a good-sized workforce who could be thrown on the market if the firm goes bottom up.'
‘I don't think there's any danger of that. In fact, Mr Hoad's worries concerned something going on at the Bristol end. You'd no hint of that yourself?'
‘My end? God, no. Is that what your Inspector was getting at? Hang on, man. You mean Salmon was simply keeping me out of the way while you served a search warrant!'
Yeadings leaned back in his seat, head tilted as he suffered the man's explosive rage. Fallon's astonishment seemed genuine enough, but there was a lot to clear up before he could be let off the hook.
‘I'll level with you, Mr Fallon,' he said. ‘From what we discovered, it appears Mr Hoad was right to be concerned. He had received an anonymous letter suggesting there were irregularities at your factory, if not criminal activity. This is what we found …'
Fallon boggled at him. ‘And you think I was behind this!' he shouted as Yeadings finished. ‘As if eleven hours a day overseeing production isn't enough, without you'd have me falsifying other departments' paperwork!'
Yeadings sat back and waited.
‘It involves a bit more than paperwork,' Beaumont challenged. ‘Somebody's raking in a fortune channelling salaries for fictitious staff. Small wonder Hoad wanted a word with you. And very convenient he got killed when he did, wouldn't you say, Mr Fallon?'
Fallon's jaw sagged. ‘Oh my God? You're not thinking I …? Me harm old Freddie? You're bloody stark staring mad! Who the hell was the informer, and why didn't he come to me about it?'
‘Perhaps,' Beaumont suggested, ‘because he, or she, was pretty sure you were involved in the scam yourself.'
 
Yeadings returned to his office to pick up his hat and coat. From a drawer he took out a copy of SOCO's report on findings at the hut. He scanned it again rapidly, grunting at the described mess of smudged prints, the only recognisable latents being those of the housekeeper, young Daniel and his dead mother.
So had the boy broken into the hut in the woods, curious about what went on there? Or had Jennifer invited her adolescent son to her funky partying? Even involved him as a novice in occult rites?
Daniel's dabs were clearest on one of the gilded masks, that of the ram. The goat head, with its prominent, slitted, pale eyes, revealed Jennifer's fingerprints overlaid by Alma Pavitt's. Whatever had gone on in that part of the woods began to look less innocent than orgiastic.
Several items had been in contact with cocaine, and smoking apparatus had been unearthed from below the floorboards. A few
minute pieces of white grit appeared to be from prepared ‘rocks' of crack; which suggested that the pure drug's mixture with bicarbonate of soda, and the microwave baking, had taken place there.
Pavitt and the boy, sole survivors of the Manor's carnage, would need to give an account of themselves, whether it was relevant or not to investigation of the deaths.
How deeply was the boy involved in the drug scene? Yeadings asked himself. Had Jennifer used him as a teenage distributor to a local outlet? And would that be a further motive for his ditching his mobile phone, if it contained incriminating contact numbers?
All those questions were for tomorrow, Yeadings decided. He'd have Daniel brought back to Area nick, to face himself and Rosemary Zyczynski, with the grandmother present as responsible adult when the boy was questioned. All softly, softly, and strictly according to the book. Certainly not an occasion to risk Salmon's bigoted impatience or Beaumont's black humour.
And he'd have Dr Abercorn, as profiler, watch from the observation room with radio hook-up to his own ear-piece.
Half-way home he remembered. Tomorrow, at midday, was the Hoads' funeral. There could be no questioning until that was over. Angela and her parents were to be buried together in Fordham churchyard. A service for the other child, Monica, would take place at Ashridge on the following day. Although there was bound to be a great turnout of villagers at the church, both interments were for family only, with press and sightseers excluded. But not the police. Yeadings, as Senior Investigating Officer, was to attend, plus the Deputy Chief in full dress uniform.
Anna Plumley, told in no uncertain terms by Daniel that he'd have nothing to do with arrangements, had called on the Vicar of Fordham, borrowed a Book of Common Prayer, checked on The Order for the Burial of the Dead, and decided that the full works went a bit over the top.
Freddie, like many a decent and unimaginative man, hadn't had a lot of time for formal religion. Nor she in her younger days. She remembered Jennifer's confirmation as a formality of white dress, costly gifts from the godparents and little else. For the youngster herself the sacrament had been water off a duck's back. As a married couple, Jennifer and Freddie had put in a church appearance at special festivals and times of national crisis and, according to the Reverend Piers Farrier, Freddie had covenanted generously. The children, although christened, had seldom attended church and never Sunday School.
‘Something comforting,' Anna requested, ‘and not excessive. But I still prefer the language of 1662. And a couple of hymns with tunes everyone knows, so we can roar any lumps out of our throats.'
‘I'll do what I can,' the Reverend Piers promised. He had made it tolerable.
There was a modest buffet lunch arranged for afterwards at the Manor. Yeadings asked Z to drive him there. It would be a good time to buttonhole the housekeeper and Daniel.
In the event he found that the invited guests included Fallon, both Huggetts and the Bartons.
‘By Graham Dent's request. On account of Freddie's will being read this afternoon,' Anna Plumley explained.
So my little diversion can wait until later, Yeadings decided.
At a sign from Anna, Graham Dent, the solicitor from Aylesbury, moved off towards the dining room where extra chairs had been brought in, and in twos and threes the others drifted after him.
He looked at them over his half-moon spectacles and gave a little nervous cough. ‘I must explain that normally when a
married couple are involved in any unwitnessed disaster it is assumed that the older of the pair has predeceased the younger. That would mean that Mrs Jennifer Hoad, outliving her husband by however short a period, would benefit from any provisions made by him, rather than vice versa.
‘In this case it has been established by the police forensic experts that Mr Frederick Arthur Hoad was indeed the first of the family to be killed in the early hours of Saturday October twenty-first. It is his last will and testament that I am now about to read to you.'
He began with announcing minor legacies to the Parish Church, the Samaritans, Oxfam, old friends, workers at the Bristol foundry, then summarised. ‘Provision has already been made for the future of the firm, all shares in the company passing to the only other member of the Board of Directors, Mr Norbert Fallon, by a separate deed which does not concern us here.
‘I will not trouble you with complicated measurements and rights of way at this moment, only to explain that the estate and grounds of Fordham Manor House and Fordham Manor Farm have already been divided by conveyance into two private residences and a separate agricultural unit.
‘The will continues thus, “To my trusted friends and employees Edwin (Ned) and Constance Barton I bequeath the freehold property of Fordham Manor Farm with its surrounding five acres as designated by deed of conveyance dated February twentieth in the year two thousand and two to be theirs in common absolutely and without impediment.”
‘There is also a condition of sale on the agricultural land which requires further limited acreage to be sold at market value to Edwin Barton upon his request.'
He looked round at the amazed couple. ‘This is something we might well pursue together at some later date.'
‘Oh lordy,' Barton said, turning to Anna. ‘When you mentioned the will, ma'am, I thought maybe a coupla hundred'd be nice. But this …!'
Graham Dent controlled a smile and continued with ‘the property known as Fordham Manor;' which to further
amazement was bequeathed, together with fifty thousand pounds yearly for life “to my dear friend and mother-in-law Anna Plumley in the hope that she may long enjoy it and maintain a second home for her grandchildren, Daniel and Angela”.'
Anna's gaze swept to Daniel who sat with mouth agape, shaking his head in disbelief.
Dent waited for the murmurs to be stilled before continuing. “‘To my relentless poaching friend and more recent gamekeeper Benjamin Huggett I give thanks for his comradeship and worldly wisdom. And I bequeath that part of Fordham Woods delineated in the relevant deed of conveyance dated February twentieth in the year two thousand and two for his absolute use maintenance or destruction as shall be his will”.'
There followed details of a trust fund for the two children, with ‘the remainder of the estate whatsoever and wheresover bequeathed to my wife Jennifer Suzanne Hoad in the knowledge that this was all she ever expected of her inadequate husband.'
‘Mad! He was right out of his mind!' Daniel shouted.
No, just sad, Anna thought. Poor dear Freddie, I hope he got some kind of pleasure out of putting all that together.
She looked up and saw Yeadings looming square in the doorway. She stood, thanked the solicitor and walked across to the detective. ‘You heard all that? I get the impression you're not in any way surprised.'
‘I came across his rough copy for this revised version,' he admitted. ‘It was made less than three weeks ago. Almost as though he knew things were coming to a head.'
‘But not the way they did.'
He nodded. ‘Thank God for that, at least.'
 
The visitors began slowly to disperse while Yeadings and Z made themselves inconspicuous in a corner of the drawing-room. Neither missed Ben Huggett's departing gesture towards young Daniel. He patted one bulging pocket of the straining dark blue suit, withdrew a keyring and shook it meaningfully. They heard the jingle of metal across the room.
The boy flushed and started forward, fists clenched, then,
realising he was observed, turned back. His gaze flickered towards the two detectives and after a moment's hesitation he made for them, chin defiantly out-thrust.
‘What was that about?' Yeadings asked amiably.
‘As if you don't know! He's got access to some of the outbuildings. We'll see what Gran thinks about that.'
‘He has a key to the hut in the woods?'
‘The rave cave, yeah. That's where the will's reference to “destruction” comes in.'
‘Maybe he'll just return it to its original use, and raise pheasants for future shoots.'
‘Who cares? It's the house that matters. You heard. It goes to my grandmother. I shall dispute it. As legally adopted son I'm his heir. The way he's set it up I'd be tied to her even after I come of age. And I'd have nothing but the trust fund.'
‘Including your late half-sister's share, unless that automatically reverts to her natural grandmother.'
‘You bet it will. She's got it all sewn up. She'll have been manipulating him for years on the quiet.'
‘One thing I find interesting,' Yeadings pursued. ‘Your housekeeper, Mrs Pavitt, wasn't present, apart from serving refreshments earlier. And no mention of her in the will. That's unusual.'
‘Because he'd sacked her. She'd be going at the end of the month.' His voice was full of contempt.
‘I see. So she was irrelevant, because your father wasn't expecting the will to be activated so soon.'
‘It's all a bloody mess,' the boy broke out. ‘And the Bartons getting the farm. That won't stand, will it, when it's disputed?'
‘Are you sure you want recourse to the law? Haven't you a few matters to settle yourself before you go so far?'
Daniel closed his eyes. From flushed, he had gone sickly pale. ‘I have to get out of here.' He plunged away.
Yeadings caught Z's reproachful glance. ‘You think I was hard on him? He has worse coming. He needs to face up to the truth. All the truths. But we'll leave him until later. Let's round up the unfortunate Mrs Pavitt. She still has a few questions to answer before she departs.'
Nevertheless it was towards Mrs Plumley that he steered first. ‘Did you have forewarning of the will's contents?' he asked.
She looked thoughtful. ‘Not specifically. I knew he aimed to convey the farmhouse and a few acres to the Bartons, but as a deserved retirement home. As it stands, coming so soon, they're still fit enough to continue working, so I imagine the proviso for taking on further acreage will interest them.'
‘If they can afford it.'
‘Whoever takes on the working farm will still need someone experienced in everyday control. In that case Ned could still be earning.'
Yeadings regarded her keenly. ‘You've got it all worked out. You intend buying into the farming estate yourself, don't you?'
She smiled ruefully. ‘You're too sharp, Superintendent. I haven't considered any details, but I've always regarded retirement as dangerous to the health. And I feel the Bartons might agree. I'd no idea the Manor was coming to me, but Daniel will need a home, even if he returns to boarding-school. Also I can see dear old Plum pottering around, scratching the pigs with a stick, getting excited about calving and milk output.'
‘And the housekeeper, will you be keeping her on?'
It was Anna's turn to face him shrewdly. ‘I rather thought to ask your advice on that. I can't overlook how in playing up to Jennifer's irregular lifestyle she's contributed to the corruption of my grandson. And I don't care for the woman. But I think there's something yet to be resolved. Have you further interest in her yourself?'
Instead of answering, he put his own question. ‘You knew she was due to leave at the end of the month?'
Her eyebrows shot up. ‘So soon? I knew Freddie was advertising for a replacement, but he hadn't been in touch with me recently. Did she give notice or was she sacked? No, obviously, if she'd chosen to go she'd have mentioned it to me. There are only a few days left.'
‘Daniel knew.'
‘They don't get on. I get the impression …'
Yeadings waited.
‘ …that it's personal chemistry. Mutual distaste. No, it's something more than that. I just don't know. You haven't said if you need to question her further.'
‘I'm about to do that now. Daniel seems reconciled to our knowing about the goings-on in the woods. She may be less so.'
 
He found that Z had run Mrs Pavitt to earth in the kitchen quarters where she was stacking used crockery in the dishwasher. As he came in she slammed its door, seized a sponge cloth, squirted cleaner over the work surface and began vigorously polishing. Since this enabled her to keep her back turned, he walked round to confront her.
‘I'm sure that can be left for the present, Mrs Pavitt,' he suggested mildly. ‘We need to talk with you for a moment. In particular about your future plans.'
The woman bent to squint along the surface she had polished, appeared satisfied and straightened. ‘Oh, I couldn't possibly leave them in the lurch now, could I? How would the poor old lady manage? And Danny, he needs someone around he's used to. Don't worry. I'll be staying on. Auntie is all right for the present in her nursing home. By spring she'll be walking as well as ever and won't need any looking after.'
‘I imagine some choice will rest with Mrs Plumley.'
‘No problem. We'll rub along fine. If she doesn't make any unreasonable demands.'
‘One hopes not. Meanwhile my sergeant would like to ask you a few questions about your position here in Mr Hoad's employment.'
‘Jennifer's.' The contradiction was immediate. ‘She was the one took me on. He had little enough interest in household matters. Well, being a man, he wouldn't care, would he? Mind, we got along fine, and Jennifer was more like a sister to me than a boss.'
‘Daniel seems to think differently.' Z wondered aloud. ‘Why would that be then? He says Mr Hoad sacked you.'
Mrs Pavitt set her fists on her hips and leaned forward confidentially. ‘He's a strange child. Between you and me, I think
this awful business has sent him right round the bend. Bit of a mummy's boy, so he's not been brought up to accept hard facts. And ever since Granny moved in he's been really on edge, against everybody.'
‘Crack cocaine can't have helped.' A laconic suggestion.
For the first time a flicker of some emotion crossed the woman's face. ‘Drugs? You mean he's into the hard stuff? Where does he get it? Maybe that manicurist girl he went out with the other day …'
‘Get your coat on, Mrs Pavitt,' Yeadings broke in. ‘We'll do this properly down at the nick. Our time's too valuable to waste on watching you play the innocent.'
BOOK: The Edge
5.9Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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