Death At Willows End Page 23

  “Then may I suggest that in a moment you do something with that rat's nest you call a hairdo, and while you are at it, get rid of the padding round your waist and wipe off those silly spots from your face, they really don't suit you, and when you’ve done all that maybe you can clean that muck of your teeth as well.”

  She looked at me in astonishment.

  “It's ok Tracy,” I said softly, “I won't tell her I've rumbled your little secret if you won't!”

  Suddenly, her face broke out into a broad smile showing her surprisingly perfect, if artificially discoloured, teeth. (Like I said, for some weird reason I always look at teeth) Allowing for the change in fashions, I could now see before me a poorly disguised version of the two girls I had seen in the photographs, it was just like looking at Danny as she must have been just a few years ago; no wonder it had been such a shock when the two had met up face to face.

  “You have just cost me a tenner,” she laughed, all trace of the earlier subservient manner vanishing as if it had never existed. “I bet Danny that I could keep up the pretence for a week without you rumbling me.”

  “Ah, but I'm a detective, remember?” I countered.

  “That's right, so you are!”

  “And you,” I said brightly, “are a spy.”

  “What?”

  “Come on Tracy,” I chided her, “you are obviously a very bright girl; why else would Danny insinuate you on me? I never swallowed this idea of you being held ready for a position she was shortly creating in the area for a moment.” It wasn't a strictly honest statement of course; I'd fallen for it completely until Pete had sown the seeds of suspicion.

  “She said you needed help,” she said guardedly, “and couldn't afford to employ anyone?”

  “Well, the last part is true enough; you've seen for yourself that this place doesn't even warrant me, let alone you!”

  “No, I see what you mean. I guess I'm more stupid than I thought.”

  “Not in the least. If you want the truth, you are a Godsend! I've never seen this place so neat and tidy, the filing has never been so up-to-date, and much more importantly, you produce the best coffee this place has ever seen. Now, let me guess, you are probably waiting to go on to college after the summer break, and your aunt suggested to you that you could earn a bit of pin money by doing her a favour?”

  “I'm afraid you are absolutely right on all counts,” she admitted ruefully. “I suppose now that I am unmasked I shall be sent packing with a flea in my ear?”

  “Not if I have anything to do with it; I'd have to make my own coffee, and believe you me, I produce the world's worst. Now, how much do you know about the case your aunt has engaged me on?”

  “Frankly, not that much; I gather she just wants to find out just how her twin sister died?”

  “Has she mentioned her suspicions about this to you?”

  The girl shook her head.

  “Well, you are bound to find out sooner or later, but you obviously understand that anything you learn about it you must keep to yourself?”

  “Of course, it's what you call 'client confidentiality', isn't it?”

  “Exactly, and you are helping me to find out just what happened. So, how did you get on with the research I asked you to carry out?”

  “I've printed out the results, they are all here in this file on your desk,” she reported promptly.

  I reached for the file, and at that moment the telephone rang.

  “Neil,” said Danny's voice down the phone without any preamble, “Have you heard the news?”

  “Morning Danny,” I said, leaning back in my chair as Tania sat there watching me. “What news would that be?”

  “Julia's dead!”

  I was starting to lose track of the number of times that Danny succeeded in stopping me bang in my tracks.

  “What?” I echoed stupidly. “Say that again?”

  “Julia's dead!”

  “You're not serious?” I exclaimed. “She looked perfectly fit and well when I saw her last! What happened, has there been some sort of accident, and how did you find out anyway?”

  “To answer your questions in sequence, yes, I'm being deadly serious, and yes, she may have been fit and well when you saw her, but she most certainly isn't now. What happened? Well, as I understand it, it looks like suicide, and probably isn't any form of accident, and I found out about it when I started trying to contact old friends as you suggested.”

  “Suicide!” I exclaimed “Now why on Earth would she want to do a thing like that?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine. The story that reached me is that she drank a fair amount wine, climbed into her bath and cut her wrists with a 'Stanley' knife!”

  I had a sudden cold shiver, and felt slightly sick.

  “You don't think my calling on her had anything to do with it do you?” I asked.

  “That's why I'm phoning you; it seems that Julia also had a visitor last night.”

  “I don't get you,” I answered, and a cold feeling was creeping all over me; a sort of sixth sense warning that some invisible pit was about to yawn wide open in front of me.

  “It seems this that at first this man knocked on the wrong door asking for her. He announced that his name was Neil Hammond.”

  Like I said; I'm losing track of the times that Danny succeeded in stopping me in my tracks.

  “It's my guess that the police will come knocking on your door any time now,” she continued. “Luckily you have a pretty good alibi, which can be corroborated for most of the evening. If you are pressed about the time after you left the pub and the time you got home you can say we were out 'snogging' on the hill.”

  With an effort I kicked my brain into gear. “I've just had a horrible thought,” I said.

  “I've had a few myself, and not necessarily about the snogging either; mostly about the fact that now I will never get the chance to screw out of her what she did to my sister.”

  “Has it not occurred to you,” I said, doing my best not to think of the theoretical snogging I had missed, “that if somebody called on her, giving my name deliberately to a neighbour, then that person went there with the premeditated intention of disposing of her and getting me blamed for it?”

  “You mean, you really think it wasn't suicide?”

  “Without knowing the full facts of how she died, then yes, I think it could be murder; I think this mysterious boyfriend we are looking for is still around, and has deliberately silenced her, and is hoping to pin the whole business on me.”

  “But how on earth would he know we were trying to find out what happened?”

  “Easy; either Julia saw through my subterfuge and phoned the man to warn him, or maybe he is somebody either you or I have already interviewed and guessed what we are up to, or maybe one of the interviewees has discussed us with somebody else who is, or knows, the mysterious boyfriend.”

  There was silence for a few minutes, and when she spoke again it was in a more serious tone of voice than I had heard her use before.

  “Look, Neil,” she said slowly. “When I started on this, I never imagined for a moment that things would get so serious. If you want to cry off and drop the case I shall fully understand.”

  “Like they say on 'Mastermind', I've started so I'll finish,” I responded. “I don't like what has happened any more than you do, but now it has gone so far I'd like to see it through. Unless you have had enough yourself, I only propose telling the police as much as they want to know once they catch up with me. They are also bound to find out about you, and they may ask a few awkward questions, but unless they genuinely suspect that it isn't suicide I can't see them getting nasty once they have checked out the alibi. Still, making unwarranted use of my name is getting a bit personal; I’d like to find the man who has tried to drop me in it.”

  “Ok,” she agreed, “same goes for me. If they come knocking on my door I'll answer their questions, but I'm volunteering nothing. Let me know when they have been, and I'll do likewise.”


  “That's fine by me, and let me know when you have rounded up some people who knew Julia from way back; at the moment it’s our best hope of cracking this.”

  “Will do. Bye, Neil.”

  “Bye Danny.”

  I replaced the receiver and looked across at Tracy.

  “Trouble?” she ventured.

  “Trouble,” I agreed. “Look, Tracy, this might get pretty uncomfortable at any moment now. You must have gathered from what you overheard that this isn't just another lost-cat case, this is deadly serious and potentially dangerous. If you want to opt out and vanish before the police turn up I won't breathe a word about you being here.”

  “What do you take me for?”

  “I take you for a girl who is at least as smart as her extremely clever aunt, but how do you think you parent's are going to react once they get wind of what is going on?”

  “You let me worry about that, and in case you have forgotten, you don't employ me, Danny does, and until she orders me out, here I stay!”

  “You,” I said with conviction, “are as stubborn and wilful as your aunt!”

  “True,” she agreed, “and I wouldn't miss any of this for the world.”

  “Oh, very well,” I sighed, “but do me a favour; when the police turn up, as I'm pretty sure they will, go and make yourself scarce for half an hour or so.”

  “Well, if you insist,” she agreed reluctantly. “Now, do I put the glasses back on?”

  “Not if you want to go on working for me; just vanish, get rid of all that excess padding which must make you sweat something shocking, plus the other things I mentioned and make yourself look more like a female and less like an overstuffed scarecrow.”

  “Ok, when I hear the sound of large flat feet approaching, that is what I will do.”

  She didn't have to wait long, she had only been back at her desk for a minute or so when the door opened and a rather ordinary looking sort of man in casual clothing ambled in.

  “Mr Hammond,” he enquired in a mild voice, “Mr Neil Hammond?”

  “I'm Neil Hammond,” I agreed.

  “I'm Detective Inspector Grayson,” he said, waving a warrant card in front of me. “I wonder if I might have a few words?”

  “By all means,” I agreed, gesturing for him to take the chair recently vacated by Tania. “What can I do for you; I seem to be specialising in tracing lost cats if that is of any help?”

  He smiled faintly at my poor attempt at lightening a situation I felt could do with more than just a little lightening. Tracy caught my eye.

  “If you will excuse me, Mr Hammond, I will just deliver these papers to the solicitors as you instructed.”

  “Yes, very well,” I responded. “Now, Detective Inspector, what can I do for you?”

  Up to this point I had never met a plain clothes police officer before. Over the years I had met one or two uniformed officers, and mostly they looked and sounded just about what I would have expected of them. D.I Grayson didn't fit at all. He looked to be the sort of man you would never notice in a crowd of two, and judging purely from his expression he was neither too bright not too forceful, an evaluation I instinctively dismissed; a man does not get to be a D.I unless he has what it takes.

  “Mr Hammond,” he said, easing himself back in the chair and glancing absently round the room, “I understand that you visited a Mrs Julia Johnson at 41 Ashton Road yesterday afternoon?”

  “Yes.”

  “May I ask the purpose of your visit?”

  “Certainly, I am a Private Enquiry Agent, and I was making some private enquiries.”

  “Would you care to tell me the nature of these, ah, 'private enquiries' that you were making?”

  Although the question was posed in such a quiet way, almost as if it was just an effort at making polite conversation, I was not fooled. He had obviously spoken to the same person that Danny had, or why else would he have come to me so quickly?

  “May I in turn ask why you need this information?” I asked guardedly.

  “Well, as I expect you already know, Mrs Johnson has been found dead in, shall we say, unusual circumstances. As you seem to have been the last person we currently know of to have seen her alive, I am hoping that you will be able to assist me in throwing some light on the matter?”

  “I see.”

  “And?”

  “Yes, I did hear that she had died, I received a phone call only a short time since to advise me of the fact. Naturally I am both surprised by her sudden death and saddened by it; she seemed to be a very pleasant lady to me. To answer your question; I called by appointment to see if she could throw any light upon a case I have been contracted to look into.”

  “And what was that?”

  “Inspector, I am sure that you are well aware of the requirements of client confidentiality; I will need to seek the permission of my principle before I can discuss the details of the enquiry with you.”

  If he was at all put out by my answer he didn't show it by any change of expression.

  “How did Mrs Johnson seem to you when you had your meeting?”

  “She seemed perfectly all right as far as I recall.”

  “Not anxious or depressed?”

  “Not that I was particularly aware of. She did mention that she had been widowed. She also struck me as being a bit lonely.”

  “Oh, what led you to that conclusion?”

  “Not a conclusion, Inspector, merely a private opinion. She seemed happy to talk, and insisted on showing me all over her home.”

  “Did she make any overtures of a personal nature?”

  “Certainly not.”

  “How long have you been in practice, Mr Hammond?” he asked, glancing directly at me for the first time, leaving me with the impression that he was very much the iron fist in the velvet glove.

  “A couple of days.” I admitted rather sheepishly.

  “I see.” He said the words very politely, but I could imagine what he actually thought of me and my couple of days experience as a private eye; I suppose I should have been grateful that he didn't fall off the chair in a paroxysm of laughter!

  “Actually, I am a design engineer by profession,” I added by way of explanation, “this business was bequeathed to me out of the blue by an old school friend as a going concern.”

  “Ah, that would be Mr Lanscomb, I take it?”

  “Yes, that is correct.” The man had certainly done his homework before descending on me!

  “Tell me, why did you make a second visit to Mrs Johnson's home yesterday evening?”

  I was right; he had talked to the same person that Danny had. “I'm afraid you must be mistaken,” I answered at once. “I made no such visit.”

  “Indeed,” he said politely, “That is interesting; I have a witness who claims that you were there?”

  “Then I am afraid your witness must be mistaken. I was at the Manor House at Alrington from about eight yesterday evening, and I didn't return home until about one a.m. this morning.”

  “Can anyone vouch for this?”

  “If you really think it is necessary, I expect the landlord will remember me, or perhaps the waiter that served us?”

  “Us?”

  “I was having dinner with a client; here, I’ll write down her address and telephone number and you can check with her as well if you wish.”

  “Thank you Mr Hammond, I'll do that.”

  “May I ask a question?”

  “By all means.”

  “How did she die?”

  I thought for a moment that he wasn't going to answer. “She was found in her bath,” he said at last. “The exact cause of death will not be established until we have the results of the post-mortem.”

  “When I was there yesterday afternoon she seemed perfectly fit and well to me. How was it she was discovered dead in her bath, was somebody else in the building?”

  “There was nobody living with her, if that is what you are asking,” he answered evenly, “and as to her d
iscovery, she had left a note affixed to her front door asking for the police to be contacted. It was seen by the local postman.”

  “I see, thank you.”

  “And you are quite sure that you didn't make a second visit?”

  “I'm positive,” I assured him firmly as I picked up my pen and scribbled on a small sheet of paper for a few moments, “Now, is there anything else I can help you with?” I asked as I passed over a scrap of paper with Danny's name and address on it.