Narrow is the Way Page 9

  ‘Charlie, yeah.’

  Tommy automatically ticked the name off the list. ‘Please, sit down. You’re a friend of Mr Roger Greenwood?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Thank you for coming in.’

  Charlie Bellamy shrugged. ‘I don’t mind. I mean, it’s murder, right? You have to do what you can. Mind you, I don’t know what I can do to help.’

  ‘How did you come to be invited to the party, Mr Bellamy?’

  ‘I work for the Wallises. I’m their gardener. Nothing fancy, mind, it’s only me, but they like the garden to look good, and there’s enough of it to keep me employed full time. It’s what I went to horticultural college for.’

  Tommy nodded, trying to look impressed. ‘And you’re also a friend of Roger Greenwood?’ he pressed.

  ‘Yeah, since primary school.’

  ‘So you knew Julia?’

  ‘Yeah. Not well. I mean, she was younger than I was, and so we didn’t socialize or nothing. But even if we had, I doubt she’d have given me much of a second look. I wouldn’t have rated.’

  Tommy looked up from his notebook. Had he detected a touch of bitterness there?

  ‘Oh?’

  Charlie Bellamy had one of those friendly faces with red cheeks and the fit, compact body of someone who did a physical job, five days a week. He would easily have had the strength necessary to strangle a young and equally healthy woman.

  Now Charlie grinned. ‘I can see what you’re thinking, mate, and you’re only half right. Yes, I suppose I felt a bit resentful that Roger’s bird didn’t even deign to notice my existence, but no, it never really worried me. For a start, she was my mate’s bird, so I wouldn’t have looked at her twice anyway. But besides that, she was definitely not my type. She was much too hard for my liking, know what I mean? I like ’em cuddly and not overly bright.’

  Tommy nodded absently. Like Hillary, he too had been building up a mental image of their victim, and this description of Julia tallied with what others had been saying about her.

  ‘Did your friend know how you felt? About Julia, I mean?’

  Charlie shrugged. ‘I dunno. I never came out and said, “Hey, Rog, I think that Julia is a right hard cow”. I mean, that’s not the way you talk to a mate, is it?’

  ‘No. But if things were getting serious, I mean, if you thought he was about to propose to her, you might have said something then? Nobody likes to see a mate head for the rocks, right?’ Tommy raised an eyebrow in question. After all, if there had been some sort of bust up between friends, it’s possible Charlie might have felt miffed, and blamed the rift on the girlfriend. Such things had happened before.

  Charlie Bellamy seemed to give this question some serious thought before finally shaking his head. ‘Nah. First off, I think it’s always best to keep your nose out of other people’s lives. And secondly, I don’t think old Rog actually was going to propose. I think his old man being so anti had finally begun to make him think again.’

  ‘Really?’ Tommy said sceptically. ‘It’s been my experience that when a parent sticks his oar in, the son is more likely to dig in his heels and carry on regardless.’

  Charlie laughed, and nodded. ‘I know what you mean. But Rog isn’t like that. For a start, his old man is loaded, see, and getting more loaded by the minute, and Rog isn’t stupid. He knows which side his bread’s buttered all right. He wouldn’t want to get disinherited or nothing. And besides all that, I think he wasn’t quite so keen on Julia as he was in the beginning. You know, it was beginning to cool off some. At least on Rog’s part. I think Julia was still keen to get him down the aisle though.’

  Tommy nodded. Bellamy sounded sincere. ‘The night of the party, did you and Roger meet up?’

  ‘Sure. Had a few drinks. I was on shandies, Rog was sticking mostly to beer. Nothing heavy. He wasn’t drunk or nothing.’

  ‘And Julia?’

  ‘Oh she was knocking back those fancy drinks in bottles. Alco-pops or whatever. She could get really rat-arsed, but most people wouldn’t notice. She wasn’t one of those who got maudlin, or really loud. I reckon she was well on her way to being sozzled, though.’

  ‘And you didn’t see Roger leave with her? Go out into the garden for some fresh air?’

  ‘No. And frankly, mate, I think you’re barking up the wrong tree. Don’t get me wrong or nothing, I read the papers too. I know when some bird gets killed, you have to look real long and hard at her old man. But Rog just ain’t the sort to go and do something like that. And, yeah, I bet the friends and families of killers say that all the time too, but.…’ He shrugged helplessly.

  Tommy felt like joining him. He tried to get some sort of timeline going on Roger Greenwood’s night at the party, but, like all the others, Charlie had only the vaguest sense of time. He could only say as far as he knew, Roger had been ‘around’ throughout the entire evening. Tommy finally shook his hand and let him go.

  Janine was in the interview-room adjacent, this time questioning the friends of the victim.

  ‘It’s Miss Morley, right? Phillipa Morley?’ she spoke now to the latest in a long line, trying not to look impressed in any way. But the fact was, this girl was almost as stunning as Julia Reynolds had been, but in a dark, exotic way. She had the mocha skin that bespoke a mixed parentage, and the long, tightly curled, raven-black hair that looked so stunning en masse. Add to that almond-shaped and coloured eyes coupled with an instinctive sense of fashion, and you had a recipe that would set many male hearts pounding.

  Janine sincerely doubted that Julia Reynolds had ever regarded this woman as a friend. A potential rival, perhaps. The competition for sure and one who had to be constantly watched at all times. But a friend? Not on your Nelly.

  ‘It’s Pip,’ Phillipa Morley said at once. And smiled charmingly, revealing dazzlingly white teeth. Janine smiled briefly. According to her notes, Pip Morley worked in Summertown in a travel agency. Had Julia cultivated her friendship in the hope of cheap holiday deals, Janine wondered cattily?

  ‘You knew Julia well?’

  ‘Oh yes. But we weren’t close. Julia’s best friend was Mandy Tucker.’

  Janine nodded. ‘So, have you any idea who might have wanted to kill Julia, Pip?’

  ‘No. She had a boyfriend, but I never saw him as the dangerous type. Besides, I think he was beginning to cool a little.’

  ‘This is Roger Greenwood we’re talking about here?’

  ‘The rich man’s son, yeah,’ Pip grinned. ‘Julia liked to brag about him. And at first it was obvious that she had him really hooked. He was like a little panting puppy dog.’

  ‘But not any more?’

  ‘No. At least, I didn’t think so. Of course, Julia didn’t see it.’

  ‘And you didn’t mention it?’

  Pip laughed. ‘I should say not. Nobody ever rained on Julia’s parade, not unless they wanted to get flattened.’

  Janine nodded. ‘You didn’t like her?’

  Pip Morley shifted restlessly on her seat. ‘It’s not that. I didn’t dislike her, I just understood her, that’s all. She wanted the best, and was beautiful enough to get it. I could respect that, in a way. It’s just not my way, and Julia knew it.’

  ‘So how would you rate Roger Greenwood as a potential killer?’ Janine asked, genuinely curious to get another woman’s honest opinion.

  ‘I’d have rated him very low, frankly,’ Pip said at once. ‘I never got any bad vibes off him and, like I said, I think he was well past the stage when he could get ragingly jealous. Besides, he always struck me as being something of a pragmatist, and I know from Julia that his father was dead set against her. Roger always struck me as being too wary, too careful of himself, to do anything really out of line. Know what I mean?’

  Janine, unaware as yet that Tommy was getting almost exactly the same reading of Roger Greenwood’s character in the next interview-room, simply nodded.

  ‘So, do you know anyone who might be the strangling type?’

&nb
sp; ‘Only her bit of rough,’ Pip said promptly.

  And Janine nearly fell off the chair. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Leo Mann.’

  Janine blinked. She’d heard that name before. Leo Mann. Mann. Of course. Leo, ‘The Man’ Mann. Big-time loser. Thug. General purpose, up-for-hire bully boy. She took a deep breath, wondering for some obscure reason, if Pip Morley was having her on. ‘Let’s make sure I’ve got this right,’ she said carefully. ‘Julia Reynolds was seeing Leo Mann?’

  ‘Sure. On and off,’ Pip admitted casually. ‘I think she liked the glamour of having a boyfriend on the wrong side of the law. She used him a bit like an accessory, you know - the ultimate thug on her arm, whenever she wanted to go clubbing.’

  Janine smiled. ‘Sounds like you knew Julia very well indeed.’

  Pip shrugged. ‘At first I thought she was crazy. Leo Mann gives me the creeps. But she’d been seeing him for months and months, and I never saw her with a black eye, so I suppose she kept him under control. Knowing Julia, I suspect she did, anyway. Still, not my cup of tea.’ And Pip shuddered.

  Janine could hardly believe her luck. Their vic had been two-timing Leo Mann. You could almost say the case was solved.

  She rushed Pip Morley through the rest of the interview at double-speed, then all but skipped upstairs. She should have clocked off her shift over an hour ago, but like all cops, barely bothered to register the overtime. She’d never get paid for it anyway. You just worked to solve the cases so that it looked good on your CV when promotion opportunities came a-knocking. That was one good thing about working with Hillary Greene, Janine acknowledged, she always made sure credit was given where it was due. Not like some dinosaurs, who took the credit for everything. She was thus very careful to report to Hillary Greene directly with her latest offering.

  Hillary, who was already shrugging into her jacket ready to go home, listened carefully. Tommy, not to be outdone, remembered the purple Mini, and made his own modest report.

  ‘OK Janine, first thing tomorrow, pull in Leo Mann,’ Hillary ordered. ‘But do your homework first. See if any of his previous trouble has involved violence against women.’ She had a nagging idea that it didn’t, although her memory wasn’t as reliable as it had once been. If Frank Ross had been there she’d have asked him, but Ross, much to everyone’s relief, always left on the dot when his shift was over. But Leo ‘The Man’, was just the sort of low-life scum Frank would know well.

  She could see Janine was fizzing, and wouldn’t have dreamed of giving someone else the follow-up interview, or even taking it for herself. She just had a hunch her sergeant might be in for a disappointment, that was all. Still, them was the knocks.

  ‘Then I want you both to get off to Nuneaton to interview this Vivian Orne woman. She doesn’t sound very promising, but the purple Mini needs to be crossed off the list. Tommy, you’re sure from the speed camera photo that it was a woman driving, not her husband?’

  ‘It looked like it to me, guv,’ Tommy confirmed, and Hillary nodded glumly.

  Her phone began to trill and she sighed heavily. Another few minutes and she’d have been safely out the door. She picked it up, hoping for a simple enquiry or wrong number.

  No such luck.

  ‘Hello, DI Greene? Owen Wallis here. Look, I thought I’d better tell you. I found some strange bloke hanging around the cowshed this afternoon. He ran off when I challenged him.’

  Hillary gave a mental groan. ‘I’d better come over then,’ she said dully. She glanced outside, noting that although it wasn’t yet fully dark, it soon would be. She hung up and briefly explained to Janine and Tommy. Janine was already applying some lipstick, ready to leave, and looking bored.

  Tommy asked hopefully, ‘Want me to come, guv?’ A moonlight walk out in the countryside with Hillary would be just what the doctor ordered.

  ‘No, it’s all right Tommy. You slide off.’ She was sure he had a girlfriend waiting for him somewhere. It was only pitiful old maiden DIs like herself who had nothing to go home for, and no one to go home to. Briefly she wondered if she should get a cat. But the way her luck seemed to be running lately, the poor thing would probably end up drowned in the cut, and mourning over a soggy moggy wasn’t her idea of fun.

  Janine yawned. ‘Well, I’m off to change into my party frock.’

  Hillary blinked, then nodded. Of course. It was the promotion party for Marcus Donleavy tonight. All the gang were going, which meant she’d have to put in an appearance as well. Thankfully, Puff the Tragic Wagon started first go in spite of the cold and damp, and she was soon on her way out into the sticks. If she hurried, she wouldn’t miss too much of Marcus’s party.

  It was near dark when she arrived and Owen Wallis was already waiting in the Range Rover. Hillary, unasked, climbed in beside him.

  ‘Like I said, he was up in the cowshed. Took off like a rocket when he heard the Range Rover coming,’ the farmer said by way of greeting. He must have had eyes like an owl, for he set off up the track without turning the headlights on, and Hillary clung on to the side of her seat nervously.

  ‘Can you describe him?’ she asked.

  ‘Tall, lanky-looking bloke. Light-coloured sandy hair. Not old, not from the way he ran, but I wouldn’t say he was really young either.’

  Hillary nodded. That sounded like the man she’d seen before, the one who’d seemed so awkward climbing the gate. If the man who’d killed Julia was the type of sicko who liked to revisit his hunting grounds, perhaps pick up some kind of souvenir from the scene, then the sort of behaviour their mysterious friend was exhibiting would fit the pattern perfectly. On the other hand, it could just be Mr Bloggins, working for the Daily Scrunge, looking to milk the story for another byline.

  By now they’d reached the cowshed. It looked dark, smelly, and sounded full of cows. Owen Wallis turned off the engine.

  ‘Well, he won’t be here now,’ she said pragmatically, climbing out and looking around, her mind mentally ticking off the pros and cons. ‘But if you wanted to keep an eye on things, perhaps wait for a chance to have another look around, where would you hole up?’ she asked the farmer.

  Owen Wallis give her a startled glance, then slowly looked around and eventually nodded uphill. ‘Well, in the spinney, I reckon,’ he said at last.

  Hillary regarded the small copse of trees without any enthusiasm. The field between her and it had recently been ploughed. And she still needed to get back for Marcus’s party. Oh what the hell, she muttered under her breath. If she got back in her car and arrived early at the shindig, she’d only eat too much. And her hips definitely wouldn’t thank her for that.

  ‘Well, might as well take a quick look around since I’m here. Don’t suppose you have a torch?’ she asked, without much hope.

  But Owen Wallis came up trumps. She supposed farmers were a bit like boy scouts when it came to surviving in the countryside. She took the long, reassuringly heavy, black, rubber-handled torch from him and trudged off. Owen Wallis, after a moment’s hesitation, set off after her. She supposed his innate sense of gallantry was kicking in. Either that, or he didn’t want her traipsing over his fields, helping herself to his turnips. (Perhaps he’d heard her stomach rumbling?)

  She stumbled only once, over some weeds that caught around her ankle, and only Owen Wallis’s strong grip prevented her from ending up face-first in the mud. Or in something far worse.

  They made the edge of the spinney a few minutes later, where she peered uselessly into the trees, feeling a bit daft. Chummy was long gone. Besides, it was really dark inside, and she was definitely not about to go rooting about in there. ‘Look,’ she began to explain quietly, then nearly jumped out of her skin as something inside the trees suddenly blundered up out of cover and thrashed off to the left. Even then she was still thinking pheasant, or maybe deer, fox or other form of wildlife. It wasn’t until her torch beam picked out the undeniably human form running like the clappers for the far edge of the small spinney that she realized what had happe
ned.

  ‘Bloody hell, he really was holed up here,’ she yelled, her voice sounding comically aggrieved. ‘Let’s get him!’ she hollered, her blood up and for a moment forgetting that it was just herself and the farmer here, and that she didn’t, in fact, have a battalion of gung-ho bobbies behind her for backup. The next moment she realized the true situation, and wished bitterly that she’d accepted Tommy’s offer to accompany her after all. This would have been right up his alley. As it was, she was stymied.

  But she hadn’t reckoned on the fury of an irate farmer when faced with a trespasser.

  ‘I’ll cut him off this side,’ Owen Wallis yelled, dashing behind her and away to the left. ‘You take the far end,’ he called back over his shoulder.

  Hillary barely had time to yell, ‘No, Mr Wallis, please,’ before the farmer disappeared into the gloom. Great, this was just what she needed. If Wallis got injured, she could just see Mel’s face. Not to mention the new super’s. And not to mention the headlines: ‘Member of the public wounded aiding female detective inspector.’ Or something even more hideous.

  And Wallis would probably sue the shit out of Thames Valley as well.

  Hillary eyed the spinney glumly, weighing up her best chances of getting out of this with her skin intact. No way was she going to go blundering in there, holding a torch and providing an attacker with an easy means of spotting her exact location. She’d lost count of the number of times that she’d watched scary films or thrillers where the heroine did just that. It always made her want to spit.

  She tried to fight back the stomach-churning thought that the watcher in the woods might have a knife. Or even a gun – a shotgun maybe. If so, Owen Wallis might be dead before she even got to him. The thought was enough to make her set off counter-clockwise, turning off the torch and stumbling a bit in the darkness before her night vision was restored. Common sense told her that the man in the woods would surely change direction. He wouldn’t want to go back towards the farm, because his instinct would be to head for deeper countryside. But which way?