Читать книгу St Oda's Bones - Marcus Attwater - Страница 8

As far as Bridget Flynn was concerned, the only legitimate reasons for not showing up for a CID meeting were being in hot pursuit or at death's door. It was therefore strange to find that she wasn't there herself on Thursday morning to talk them through their current cases. When she hadn't arrived by ten past nine Collins got the meeting going himself. The DCI turned up halfway through his explanation about the excavations at St Oda's. 'Sorry, important phone call,' she said, 'Do go on.'

After Collins had brought his colleagues up to speed about the body in the church, Sergeant Pardoe rose and stuck a photo of a white-haired lady on the board.

'Valerie Harwood, widow living in Abbey Hill, 76, suicide. Or made to look like suicide,' he said briskly. 'She died from an overdose, which was most likely self-administered.'

'Why aren't you sure?' Bridget asked.

'Liquid left in the glass was full of barbiturates, some of them no longer on the market. She probably had them in the house, the medicine cabinet was full of old bottles and packets, she evidently wasn't the type that threw things away. Prints on the glass were hers, no others, but the bottle had been rinsed and placed with the other stuff meant for recycling, and the foil from the pills had been shredded and put in the bin, impossible to tell if there were prints and whose.'

'The tablets were definitely dissolved in the drink?' DS Holmes wanted to know.

'Yes, that's one of the things that made me suspicious. You can't force someone to swallow, but you can trick them into swallowing.'

'But with that amount, she must have noticed something funny about the taste, even with whisky,' Sally said.

Pardoe looked unconvinced. 'There was a lot of whisky. She may not have noticed until it was too late.'

'Was she a habitual drinker?' Owen asked him.

'No. She'd been given the bottle at Christmas, and only opened it when her daughter visited in the summer. I've spoken to the daughter. And there were no other whisky bottles in the recycling.'

'Still…' Sally began.

'I know, I don't need you to tell me it's not enough to build a case on. But the old lady owned the house, apparently, it would fetch a tidy sum, and her son's business isn't doing that well. This probably saved him. And he's far too cheerful for a man who's old ma has just died.'

'Lucky.'

'Or not. But what really bothers me is that she didn't leave a note. She seemed a careful type, methodical, did things properly. I'm sure she would have left a note, if she really killed herself.'

'Could have been impulsive, some suicides are,' Sally said.

'Impulsive? Washing up the bottle beforehand?'

He had a point there, Collins thought. 'Was she upset about anything? Was there a reason?'

'We did look at that, of course. Her grandson said she seemed thoughtful, but none of her friends from the village noticed a thing.'

'Not much to go one either way, then.'

Pardoe shook his head ponderously. 'I know it comes to little, but I can't get rid of the feeling that there's something wrong about this.'

'Well, I'll be investigating in Abbey Hill soon enough. I could slip in the odd question,' Collins said. If even the stolid Pardoe was having hunches, they probably were worth paying attention to.

After the CID meeting, DCI Flynn followed him into his office. 'Collins, there's one more thing. This isn't official yet, but we have a blackmail case, marital infidelity, rather high profile.' She closed the door behind her. 'I spoke to the victim socially, he doesn't want the blackmailer to know he's gone to the police, thought they'd be easier to catch if they believed he was going to pay up - clear thinking for someone in that situation. So he just handed me this phone with the information on it. I'm now handing it to you.'

He must have looked a question about this odd procedure, for she smiled and said, 'I thought it was the least I could do, given the risk he's taking, not to share it with the whole station.'

'Who's the victim?'

'Councillor Delamere.'

Ah. The popular Lib Dem councillor who, despite the best efforts of the press, so far had managed to avoid being tainted with scandal. Blessed with good looks, engaging manners, and an intelligent wife, he purposely presented himself as a politician with a conscience. The downside of that was of course that his voters would not easily forgive him if he was caught screwing his secretary.

'He's giving a dinner party on Sunday,' Bridget continued, 'He has invited me and my husband, since we know each other slightly, with the idea that we could talk over the case and see what's to be done. Only I'll be at that conference in Brighton over the weekend, so I want you and Sally to go. Just see what he has to say, and then we'll decide how to proceed. I've already briefed Holmes. Here you are.' She put the phone on his desk and made for the door. 'And watch that clip only once!'

With his superior's injunction ringing in his ears, Collins sat down to examine the evidence. Will Delamere was the man of the moment in local politics, and he was widely expected to stand for parliament in the next election. He had made himself very popular in town by pushing for more affordable housing where his colleagues preferred to build villas for rich out-of-towners. The son of a West-Indian father and a mother who was pure county, a large and diverse set of voters claimed Delamere as their own, and he was careful not to antagonise those who did not. That someone was trying to fracture the perfect image was not surprising, that they had found something where years of digging by the press had not was perhaps more so.

The information on the phone consisted of a short covering note to DCI Flynn and an email message with a video attached, saying Delamere would be contacted again soon. The video was a soundless fragment of a few minutes, filmed from a stationary camera. It showed what looked like a hotel bed, on which the very naked and clearly recognisable Delamere was going at it hammer and tongs with an equally enthusiastic youth.

All right, so maybe not his secretary.