Thursday
To add to the puzzlement about Polly’s desperate visit
during the night, Cleo and Gary could not explain why she could have absconded
from what she had said was a safer place than home. What had she meant and was
she now in acute danger?
***
Gary’s first morning duty was to attend to PeggySue. Charlie
needed her breakfast, too. Incidents like Polly’s appearance and disappearance
should not be allowed to interfere with the usual morning ritual. It was only
after Charlie had gone to school that Gary could tell Cleo that the knife had also
gone.
“Polly must have taken it with her,” he surmised.
“Didn’t you take it away and hide it, Gary?”
“She said she wasn’t going anywhere.”
“And you believed her, didn’t you?”
“Where would she go if she was too scared to go home? I’m
really angry with myself, Cleo. I was just glad to get back to bed. I should
have been less gullible.”
“Don’t be angry with yourself, Sweetheart. The knife is
under the bed on my side. I am not as easily taken in as you were.”
“That’s worth a hug,” said Gary. “Will you marry me?”
“Yes, I plan to, but that prospect doesn’t stop me keeping
my wits about me, Gary.”
“I’ve noticed. I was amazed to see that barmaid here. She went
home rather than spending the whole night with Foster,” said Cleo, “probably to
avoid the wrath of her hated step-mother.”
“We need to find out why she hates her, Cleo.”
“But she did spend some of the evening in the crypt, Gary.
Just imagine. What could she have been thinking of to go anywhere near the same
cold floor on which Ali had been stabbed.”
“She said they were in the hut, Cleo.”
“The hut was knocked down a month or two ago, Gary, after
some rowdies had half destroyed it. They must have been in the crypt.”
“She’s not very fastidious, is she?” said Gary.
“Wasn’t the crypt out of bounds?”
“I don’t suppose a cordon of red and white striped ribbon
would hold anyone back who wanted to go in there,” said Gary
“Fastidious, did you say?” said Cleo. “What an odd word to
use.”
“Well choosy then.”
“The whole situation is odd,” said Cleo. “Polly did not want
to go home from here although she had already been home to be sure that her
step-mother did not start a quarrel because of the unfinished washing-up.”
“If you can believe that story, Cleo.”
“Whatever! It sounds as if Vivienne Spencer has some kind of
hold over Polly.”
“Or vice versa. She said that the woman slept in other men’s
beds,” said Gary.
“She was a call-girl when Spencer met her. He was a client.”
“One thing is certain: Polly Spencer is cunning,” said Gary.
“We need to know if it’s a family trait.”
“I’ll second that. Polly could have been telling lies. She
could have stabbed Ali if she was not lying under him and we only have her word
for that,” said Cleo. “Maybe she had hidden the knife in the crypt earlier, coaxed
him there, played some weird sex game, stabbed Ali then squeezed herself under
him.”
“I’d like to think your imagination is running wild, Cleo,
but you have come up with the truth so often that I have the highest respect
for even the most absurd theory.”
“Not absurd, Gary. We only have Polly’s account of what
happened. She may not even have been there for sex, but with the intention of
killing the guy,” said Cleo. “The sex angle may have been to cover up her true
intention.”
“Dorothy would say there was a motive missing.”
“Let’s think of one,” said Cleo. “or instance : Supposing
Ali told her he wanted to drop the affair and stick to Molly?”
“Surely she would have killed Molly, Cleo.”
“Maybe she wants to, or maybe it’s just a case of Molly not
having him if Polly couldn’t.”
“So how did she get Ali to lie on the stone floor facing
downwards?” said Gary.
“Ali might have suggested it,” said Cleo. “Then she would be
underneath keeping him warm.”
“Or he’d read some helpful erotic literature,” said Gary.
“I don’t suppose he needed it,” said Cleo.
“Did you find him attractive, Cleo.”
“No. He had shifty eyes.”
“Criminologists say we should look out for shifty eyes
during interrogations,” said Gary.
“What motive could she really have had to kill the guy? Getting
him to go off with her was a triumph.”
“Don’t forget that don’t know what kind of a character Ali
Lewis was.”
“Maybe Frank kin find out. How about asking Molly if Ali had
any strange sex rituals?” said Cleo.
“Don’t ask me to do that,” said Gary.
“I won’t. Molly might get the wrong idea.”
“I could have had Molly a dozen times, Cleo.”
“Really?”
“But I only wanted you, my love, and that still applies.”
A circumspect hug followed since Cleo’s baby bump was now,
as she herself said, a bit over the top.
“Let’s face it: Ali was good for an affair and Polly was
hardly likely to spoil her fun by murdering him. As Dorothy would say…”
“… look for the motive and you have your killer” Gary
quoted.
“The whole crux of homicide is the ‘why’. The ‘how’ is
subordinate,” said Cleo.
“There have been exceptions,” said Gary.
“Of course. There’s plenty of choice. The clever killer
decides on his victim and the reason for his action, then choses the best method
for the deed, meaning the one least likely to be detected. Sometimes that
includes throwing the blame on someone else. Viewed that way, Polly might be a
victim or the perpetrator, or maybe both,” said Cleo.
“You mean she was framed?”
“I wanted to keep Dorothy on the edge of this case. She was
to find Steve Foster, that’s all, but even that is out of her hands now. Polly
might react better to Dorothy’s questioning since she seems to have run away
from ours.”
“Brief Dorothy!”
“We’ll have to find the girl first,” said Cleo.
“I’ll get onto it immediately, but that step-mother of hers
sounds like a nasty character. She must not be put on her guard.”
“If I were Dorothy, I’d say that Vivienne hid the knife.”
“Do you think that yourself, Cleo?”
“I think it’s probable, but let’s wait for forensics to tape
any fingerprints,” said Cleo.
“And if Vivienne or someone else wiped the knife handle
clean?”
“Then we have a conundrum on our hands. The handle would
have been wiped to protect the identity of the killer and the murder must have
been premeditated. Why else would a kitchen knife be carried around and used?
Identifying the kitchen might help if the knife were unusual, but the knife
Polly brought here can be found anywhere. Here, for instance.”
Cleo fetched a knife that was identical with the
blood-smeared knife Polly had handed in.
“A special offer from Milton’s,” said Cleo. “They sold
hundreds.”
“I get the point,” said Gary. “I’d better get to HQ.”
“So I’ll meet you at the car firm, shall I?”
“Blast! I’d forgotten all about the car. You‘ll have to
bring Gloria along. We’ll need three drivers.”
“You must be joking! How long will it take to get the car,
Gary?”
“The car can wait a few more days if we can’t make it.”
“Can we fit the Registry Office into the schedule?”
“Of course. There’s even time for a siesta before we drive
into Middlethumpton.”
“Let’s do the car exchange at lunchtime, Gary, and get it
over with.”
“You will be driving the red car if Gloria drives yours.”
“Can I get into the red car?” Cleo asked.
“OK. I can drive you home. Gloria can drive me back to the
salon to collect the red car. Is that a better idea?
“If you want to risk a drive with Gloria. I’m not sure that
I would.”
“I can’t wait, though I’m far from confident about Gloria’s
skill at driving on the left.”
“You can instruct her, Gary.”
“Am I insured?”
“Was that a rhetorical question?”
“OK. Here’s another plan: We circumnavigate Gloria and do
the delivery in easy stages. I’ll take her out over the weekend and teach her
how to drive on the left and I’ll walk to the Salon to fetch the new car,“ Gary
proposed.
“It’s better if she doesn’t go to the showroom, anyway,”
said Cleo. “She would be bound to find a car she likes better than mine.”
“Knowing Gloria, that’s more than likely!” Gary agreed.
“Considering I had forbidden her to drive here at all, she
is getting off lightly,” said Cleo.
“That’s settled then. We’ll leave Gloria out completely. I’d
better go to HQ now. I’ll organize a car seat for PeggySue. Nigel can buy one.
He likes shopping.”
“You might think about getting dressed first,” said Cleo.
“I’m thinking.”
***
Since Gary was taking the whole weekend off, his contingency
plan was to work on-line with availability per telephone, though in the light
of the way things were starting to move in the Spencer case, he thought he
would probably end up spending most of the weekend at HQ, or even worse
pursuing the Mortimer case in some form or other. He would have to squeeze his
nuptials in between all the other stuff.
***
Greg Winter phoned. He had been tailing Vivienne and it had
been an eye-opener. With Mr Spencer safely behind bars, Mrs Spencer had
literally gone to town. She had gone into a hotel on Wednesday night, and not
alone. Greg had photos of the guy. Vivienne was probably not averse to earning pocket-money
with prostitution. She had certainly been dressed for it. Greg could not say if
the tryst had been planned, or if she had picked up the client. He would get a
few hours’ sleep before making enquiries into Mrs Spencer’s nocturnal
activities.
Actually, he had been late getting going because Brass had
arrived back later than expected at his office, and there had been things to
talk about. Running Brass’s sub-police station was a bit like reality TV.
***
“Brass was here having dinner and giving us a hysterical
account of the first couple of days in his new job.”
“I read his hilarious reports,” said Greg. “Do you want Mrs
S. brought in, Gary?”
“You asked that before and I said no. You’re asking again
and I think you should, and soon. There’s a new development,” said Gary.
“Can you tell me about it?”
“Of course. Half way through our beauty sleep last night,
Polly brought us a blood-stained knife that had been hidden under their kitchen
sink.”
“It’s definitely time to get the whole Spencer family in,”
said Greg.
“Chance would be a fine thing. I was gullible. Polly
absconded.”
“That does not surprise me. I expect her visit was an
impulsive action because she was frightened. When she had time to think she probably
decided she would be suspected of using what looked like a weapon.”
“I would not have thought deep thinking was Polly’s
speciality.”
“There’s always a first time, Gary, and she is not as naïve
as she would like us to think.”
“That’s what Cleo said.”
“She could be caught in a web of lies, Gary. It’s worth
bearing in mind.”
“Your ideas tie in with Cleo’s, Greg.”
“I hope you hung on to the knife, Gary.”
“Cleo did. Chris will analyse the DNA for any clue to the
person who handled it and I hope there’ll be fast results, but Ali’s blood
group will tell us instantly whether the knife was used on him.”
“Whoever did it could have washed the knife and didn’t, so
maybe Polly was meant to find it and handle it. That would point to great
criminal energy on the part of the real perpetrator, wouldn’t it?”
“You’re right, Greg. Up to now I’ve only viewed that barmaid
as a silly girl who was looking at her options, but that makes her an ideal
scapegoat or even a killer. Cleo thinks she’s capable of it. She went through a
lot in the three years she spent with Coppins,” said Gary. “I hope you read the
report on that case. I expect Polly learnt how to survive against the odds.”
“I think we should also consider who could have a reason to
frame her, Gary. And failing that, why the sudden gesture of turning in the
murder weapon if she had used it herself?”
“I think I’ll start calling you Dorothy,” said Gary.
***
Polly had to be found fast. Gary thought he knew where she
could be, but first things first. He
ordered Spencer to be brought into his office.
***
“I thought you had forgotten me. It’s illegal to hold people
captive if they have not been charged, Mr Hurley.”
“We do get time to investigate, Mr Spencer. You are
assisting us.”
“There’s nothing to investigate, Mr Hurley. How often do I
have to tell you that?”
“I’d be grateful if you could answer one or two important
questions.”
“I’m not sure I want to.”
“It’s a condition of your release, Mr Spencer,” said Gary.
“Can you do that?”
“Yes. We have evidence…”
“What evidence?”
“A blood-stained knife was found in the cupboard under the
sink in your kitchen.”
Mr Spencer paled. He was clearly horrified. Nigel, who was
taking notes at his little table at the back of the office, and also acting as a
witness to the interview, dropped his biro. Spencer turned to him briefly. He’s
on edge, thought Gary.
“Sorry, “said Nigel.”
“Did you say blood-stained?”
“Yes. Do you know something I should know about that knife,
Mr Spencer?”
“That’s the sort of thing Polly would do.”
So he wasn’t above blaming his daughter.
“What about the woman she calls Vivienne? I gather that they
don’t get on well.”
Mr Spencer sighed.
“I was unfaithful to my first wife, Polly’s mother, Mr Hurley.
Polly can’t forgive me for that.”
“She says that you brought your current wife home before her
mother was dead and buried.”
“We all make mistakes, Mr Hurley.”
“Was the woman called Vivienne a prostitute before your
relationship with her, Mr Spencer?”
“She was a call-girl. I got her phone number from the Gazette
and visited her several times.”
“In my book that is prostitution, Mr Spencer.”
“That’s as maybe. She had to move out of her flat. She was
desperate so I offered to put her up. I had strong feelings for her.”
“I suppose you mean you were in love with her.”
“Yes, I was.”
“Was?”
“Am.”
“Although you knew how she earned a living,” said Gary.
“I had no doubt that she was in love with me.”
“How could you be sure?”
“She only had safe sex with the others.”
Gary was nonplussed at this argument.
“I don’t suppose you explained that to your daughter or your
wife,” he said.
“I didn’t think they had noticed.”
“How could they fail to notice, Mr Spencer?”
“She slept in the guestroom.”
“Quite sordid, Mr Spencer. You indulged in unsafe sex and
housed your whore in the guestroom. I expect you spent your nights there,
didn’t you?”
Mr Spencer did not answer.
“How long was Vivienne there before your wife died, Mr
Spencer?”
“A week or two. My wife was unwell.”
“OK. I’m not a judge of morals or chairman of an HIV
society. I just want to get Ali Lewis’s murderer. Could it have been your
second wife, Mr Spencer? Was she plying her old trade and came across a hitch?”
***
Spencer was clearly struggling with something. Gary waited.
The interview had become very unpleasant. His hunger for the kind of erotic
moments he had with Vivienne had blotted everything else out. Finally he came
out with what he had intended to keep to himself.
“I’ve had my suspicions, Mr Hurley, but I could not prove
anything. I’m not sure I want to.”
So life was cosy with Vivienne whatever she had done, Gary
mused.
“I’ve only been married a few months. Viv said it was either
she led the life she wanted or…”
“…she would leave you and go back to full time prostitution.”
“Yes.”
“But she did anyway, didn’t she?”
“I think she did.”
“It’s the old story, Mr Spencer. Women who have gone into
the horizontal trade seldom leave it quite behind them.”
“But she was mine, Mr Hurley.”
“Correction, you think she was yours. I’m not saying she was
running her enterprise seriously after she moved into the guestroom. I’m just
speculating. You trusted her enough to invite her to stay with you although
your sick wife needed you.”
The man thought about that for some time before saying that
he had been nervous about the situation. Later, after his wife’s death and
marriage to Vivienne, he had suspected her of carrying on with Ali Lewis, among
others.
“So you stopped trusting her so implicitly, did you, Mr
Spencer?”
“I suppose I did.”
“Have you stopped to think why Ali was stabbed?”
“She would not do that, surely, Mr Hurley.”
“She might, if Ali was blackmailing her.”
“Why would he blackmail her?”
“Your wife was onto a good pad, Mr Spencer. She would not
want to lose it. But then, you would not want to go without what Vivienne had
to offer, would you, Mr Spencer? “Did you kill Ali? Did you follow him and
Polly to the crypt?”
“No, Mr Hurley, I did not.”
“But you suspect that your wife did, don’t you, and have
done so since it happened.”
Spencer nodded.
“If you did not kill Ali, why did you not go to the police?
Someone who has killed once and seemingly got away with it could kill again.
The floodgates are open. You and your daughter are in danger if Vivienne is a
killer.”
“What do you mean, kill again?”
“Think about it, Mr Spencer.”
“God help us,” Mr Spencer croaked as he fought with tears.
“I’ve finished my questioning now, Mr Spencer, but can you
first give your daughter a ring on your mobile?”
“You’ve got my phone, Mr Hurley.”
“At a nod from Gary, Nigel went down to security and fetched
the phone and Spencer’s other possession after the officer on duty had checked
back with Gary that Nigel was following instructions.”
The mobile was still charged. Mr Spencer pressed the key for
fast dial and almost immediately had Polly on the line. Gary gestured Spencer
to hand him the phone.
“Where are you, Polly?”
Polly gasped audibly.
“Mr Hurley.”
“I repeat, where are you?”
“In the crypt, Mr Hurley.”
“Stay there. You’re safe there, Polly.”
“Yes, Mr Hurley.”
Nigel phoned for a patrol team to get to the crypt very fast
but quietly. Gary decided to keep the girl talking as long as possible.
“You could have stayed with us, Polly,” said Gary.
“I was scared,” said Polly.
“Scared of me?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Why? Miss Hartley was there.”
“Men take advantage of girls like me,” said Polly.
“But I would not do that,” said Gary, horrified and
wondering how long he could keep the chat going.
Fortunately, the patrol team had moved fast and presently he
could hear a voice.
“She’s come to get me,” screeched Polly. Her words were
followed by “Help! Help!”
An officer wrenched the phone out of Polly’s hand and said
“Sergeant Murray, Sir. We’ve got the girl.”
“Polly heard a woman’s voice, Murray.”
“My colleague is a woman, Sir.”
“I’m glad about that.”
“So am I, Sir. I would not have wanted to hold on to her.”
“You’ve done a fine job, Murray. Bring Miss Spencer to my
office, will you? Hurley, second floor. Don’t let her abscond. She makes a habit
of it.”
“Mia Curlew is with her now. She doesn’t let anyone go,
Sir.”
“Mia is on patrol?“
“Coincidence, Sir. My team-mate dropped out ill, and Mia
offered to stand in.”
“OK. Mia is very competent. See you in a few minutes,” said
Gary.
To Spencer he said “As you will have gathered, Polly is safe
and sound.”
“I don’t get it, Mr Hurley.”
“Polly is afraid of her step-mother, Mr Spencer.”
“Why?”
“She has not said why. She was due to be questioned,” said
Gary. “The problem is that if a killer can’t think of a better way of dealing
with a situation, he or she kills again. That way, there is one less person to
spill the beans.”
“Can I stay here, Mr Hurley?”
It would be an understatement to say that Gary was
flabbergasted.
***
Gary did not return the cell phone to Spencer. After the
incident of the knife, Gary was anxious not to make another mistake.
“Collect your possessions and go to the canteen. I’ll inform
security, but you can’t have your cell phone yet, Mr Spencer. Wait in the
canteen until Nigel collects you. You can have the phone back then. We are
bringing Mrs Spencer in now. I don’t want you to meet.”
“I never want to see her again,” said Spencer.
“Are you afraid of your wife, Mr Spencer? Is there something
else you should tell me? Don’t you want to go home?”
***
The Majestic Hotel phoned. Since the incident with Sybil
Garnet a while back they had been very conscious of women accompanying men to
their rooms. There had been another incident, according to the night porter,
but he had been too busy to notice much. A description of what had happened
made Gary even more aware that he was about to interview someone who could
easily been one of those night butterflies.
***
Greg phoned to say he had brought Mrs Spencer in after
surprising her. Gary went outside his office to talk to Greg out of Spencer’s
earshot.
Mrs Spencer was asleep in bed after her night on the tiles
and had sworn like a trooper on being woken up. She claimed to have no idea why
she was being brought to HQ.
“Great, Greg. I think we’ll find that she is a killer. Come
in here with her and listen to her confession.”
“You are very confident, Gary. Why would she confess?”
“It’s possible that she was avoiding being blackmailed when
she murdered Ali Lewis.”
“An interesting woman.”
“And a vile one, Greg. I don’t think it was her first killing.”
“She might not confess but try to save her skin instead,
Gary.”
“You are talking like Cleo,” said Gary.
“I’ll take that as a compliment!”
***
Gary sent Mr Spencer down to security with Nigel before
phoning Cleo to report on the state of affairs. She was relieved that Polly had
been found and full of praise for Gary’s ruse with Spencer’s cell phone. She
did not want to be at Vivienne Spencer’s questioning and she thought Polly
would be more forthcoming once Vivienne was behind bars.
***
Gary then phoned reception and gave instructions for Polly
to be taken to a neutral room. She was not to talk to her father in the
canteen. If she needed anything it was to be brought to her. Mia Curlew was to
be in charge of her until she received new instructions.
***
It wasn’t many minutes before Vivienne Spencer was brought
into Gary’s office by Greg, closely followed by Nigel. He had been supported by
a new patrol cop, Barbary Fielding. The instructions were clear. No woman
suspect was to be escorted only by males
“Thanks for escorting the lady, Miss Fielding. I’m sure you
want to hear what Mrs Spencer has to say. How are you getting on here?”
“So-so,” she said. “I’ve been helping the drugs squad out. A
bit disorganised, I thought.”
“I’d like to hear more, Barbara. Have you talked to Roger Stone
about it?”
“Not yet, Sir. I was afraid my job would be at risk if I
did.”
“Well, it won’t be. There have been some slow reactions
recently among those guys.”
***
Vivienne Spencer was handcuffed and Gary shook his head when
she gestured that she wanted the cuffs removed.
“Stop the clap-trap then and tell me why I’m here,” she said
now.
“I thought you would know why you are here,” said Gary,
deciding to cut the questioning short. She seemed to be lining them him and
Greg up as prospective clients. Nigel, who had as usual taken his notebook to
the back corner of the office, was looking repulsed by the woman.
“Look, Mr. I have things to do. I can’t sit around here for
long.”
“You won’t have to sit around here for long, Mrs Spencer.”
“OK. Just get these cuffs off me and we’ll say no more about
this little incident.”
“The cuffs are staying on and I’m about to arrest you, Mrs
Spencer.”
“What the hell for?”
“For murder, Mrs Spencer.”
“I did not kill Ali Lewis.”
“Who mentioned Ali?” said Gary.
“You did.”
“I did not, but there is the small matter of a guy in a
hotel early this morning, Mrs Spencer.”
Now it was Greg’s turn to look surprised. Gary continued.
“I had a phone call just minutes ago. There’s been an
incident at the Majestic, Mrs Spencer.”
“But that’s where I followed her to last night, Gary.”
“You followed me?” said Mrs Spencer.
“You came out just before dawn, Mrs Spencer. I followed you
until you got home….”
“… Mr Winter had no reason to watch you any longer. You were
at home and he needed some sleep, too.”
“What happened at the Majestic, Gary,” Greg asked now.
“Would you like to tell my colleagues, or shall I?” said
Gary.
“I’ve no idea what you are talking about.”
Was Gary bluffing? Barbara and Greg could not tell and Nigel
had not been in the office when the phone rang.
***
Gary picked up the house phone and gave instructions for the
Spencer house to be searched, especially the bedrooms. They were to look for a
gentleman’s wallet that probably belonged to a man named George Fullerton. There
could be other items that might have been stolen. They were to search for K.O.
drops, probably in a small bottle. Everything they found was to be brought to
his office.
“I expect you took the booty home, didn’t you, Mrs Spencer?”
The woman shrugged her shoulders. Gary was sure that he was onto
her. His accusation had been a long shot, Cleo would have said.
***
The phone rang and it was Chris.
“The blood on the knife is Ali Lewis’s, as you suspected,”
Chris reported. “The knife handle has been wiped clean.”
“Wiped clean, did you say?” said Gary, but noted that Mrs
Spencer did not react.
“You might have two murders to your credit, Mrs Spencer,” he
said as he put the phone down.
“You‘re bluffing. My stupid husband killed Ali because Ali was
sleeping with that gormless daughter of his.”
***
Amazingly, Vivienne Spencer thought she was turning tables
on the assembled police officers. Gary was now very confident that she was
guilty – he was not quite sure to what extent, but she would no doubt give the
game away.
***
“That’s what you would like us to believe, isn’t it, Mrs
Spencer?” said Gary. “But you had a strong motive, didn’t you? Ali Lewis was
blackmailing you, wasn’t he?”
“He had nothing to blackmail me with.”
“Oh yes he did.”
“What?”
“Your continuing activity as a prostitute, Mrs Spencer. Your
husband was not to find out that you were augmenting your pocket-money, was
he?”
Silence.
“Of course, Polly had a motive, too.”
“What then?” Mrs Spencer asked, curiosity overcoming her.
“Your smutty affair with Ali.”
“It was not smutty. He paid. That’s legal.”
“But Polly did not know that Ali was hiring you.”
“So she killed him. Satisfied?” said Mrs Spencer, thinking
she was now free to go.
“I suppose that’s what you wanted it to look like. You
planted the blood-stained knife in the cupboard under the sink. Polly would
find it eventually. You may even have emptied the washing-up liquid out of the
old bottle so that she would be forced to open a new one. She would find the new
bottle, force it out of the jammed position you had put it in and in so doing
loosen the wedged teacloth containing the knife. It would fall down and the
knife would roll out. Polly would pick it up and that would be enough evidence
to convict her.”
“You can’t prove that. Maybe it’s one of Polly’s double bluffs.”
“But you are stuck with Ali’s murder, Mrs Spencer, and while
you’re here why not confess that you gave your client K.O. drops at the
Majestic Hotel, smothered the sleeping guy then robbed him and left.”
“You’ll have to prove it, Mister. I want a lawyer.”
“In the meantime I am charging you with the murder of George
Fullerton, Mrs Spencer. We can deal with any other murders later.”
Mrs Spencer laughed.
“The hell you can,” she said.
“I think we can conclude this meeting,” said Gary. “Take
this lady to the arrest cells and have her searched thoroughly and locked up. I
hope you can manage that, Barbara. If not, get one of the other female
colleagues to help you. We’ll talk again soon, Mrs Spencer. There are a few
more questions I want to ask you.”
***
“Why don’t you ask Molly Moss?” said Mrs Spencer. “She was
in the crypt after me.”
“Now you’re talking, Mrs Spencer,” said Gary, who did not
know which of the women had killed Ali, but had known from experience that a
wrong accusation could produce interesting evidence from the suspect. “If we
can’t get you for two murders or more, we’ll get you for one, Mrs Spencer, and
that’s enough for a life sentence.”
***
Greg wanted to ask a question.
“Mrs Spencer, how did you know Molly Moss was there after
you if you had already left?”
“Because I saw her go in,” was the answer.
The woman was led away.
***
“All in all, a good morning’s work, Gary,” said Greg.
“You did a great job, Gary” said Nigel.
“After her last comment, I must admit that I have my doubts about
the strength of my questioning,” said Gary. “You were right to ask that
question, Greg. What if Molly Moss really did kill Ali? Her motive was even
stronger since Mrs Spencer would not want to spoil her suburban idyll.”
***
Gary wondered if he should brainstorm the matter with Cleo
and Dorothy. How fortunate that Vivienne Spencer had committed that offence at
the hotel. He would get Chris and forensics to help wind up that case as fast
as possible. They had time to secure the evidence Gary was sure they would
find.
***
At lunchtime Gary and Cleo had coffee at the cottage before
Gary went to collect the new car. Gary decided to keep the events of the
morning to himself for the time being.
“I’m going with you for the car,” said Cleo.
“Are you sure?”
“Sure I’m sure.”
“What about PeggySue?” Gary asked.
“Early Siestas. PeggySue and her Grandma are in Charlie’s
bed, gone to the world.”
Gloria had collected her granddaughter from the nursery and
given them both some lunch before deciding they could use a nap.
“I like Gloria most when she’s fast asleep,” said Gary.
“You could have a point there,” said Cleo. “Let’s go.”
***
Cleo and Gary drove to the car salon in the red car and came
back in the new family-sized one, which turned out to be very large indeed-
Gloria got up as soon as she heard the front door open.
“Where have you been, folks?”
“Buying a car, Mother.”
“You already have two.”
“Too small, Gloria,” said Gary. “We are making a big family.”
Gloria did not comment on the ‘hanky-panky’ involved. She
was too excited at the prospect of a new car.
“So I can have yours, can’t I?” said Gloria, rightly
assuming that Cleo’s little car was now up for grabs.
“Not until you’ve learnt how to drive it,” said Gary.
“I was driving before you were born, young man,” retorted
Gloria.
“Exactly.”
“Can you stay till we get back from the Registry Office?”
“Sure, but this will be one of the last times,” said Gloria.
“You’ll have to reorganize.”
“Meaning?” Gary asked.
“Romano is collecting me at seven and I’m moving in with him
next week.”
“Wow, Mother. You haven’t wasted time!”
“At my age you don’t waste time,” said Gloria.
“We have just one hour for a siesta and then we’ll dash to
the Registry Office and be back well before seven.”
“No hanky-panky, mind,” said Gloria.
“At the Registry Office?”
“No. In that nice big bed of yours.”
“I could say the same to you, Mother-in-Law to be,” said
Gary.
Gloria bit her lip.
“I….well….”
“You have our blessing, Mother, if we have yours,” said
Gary. “Time for a big hug, Ladies. We’re happy. Remember?”
***
That was of course true. Any conflict seemed trivial in
comparison with the warmth conveyed by a big hug at the right moment for the
right reason.
“Talking of hanky-panky…” said Gary when Gloria had returned
to the sofa until PeggySue woke and the lovers had retired to the bedroom for
their siesta. Gary threw off his clothes and streaked under his duvet.
“I’ll join you for some, if I may,” said Cleo.
“Some what?”
“Some of that stuff mother says is naughty.”
“Oh, that!”
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