Episode 23 - Catch as catch can

Only official persons were allowed anywhere near the security cells at HQ. New regulation had been put in place hurriedly. Middlethumpton’s chief constabulary was in danger of ridicule if any more suspects escaped.

***

The only crime that currently interested Cleo in connection with the Nortons and Bontemps, who were now incarcerated in the security cells, was Laura Finch's murder. Had Laura Finch had witnessed something she should not have seen in that garage courtyard? What was she doing there in the first place? Forensic evidence suggested that she was killed facing the way out through the tunnel exit from the yard, so she must have wanted to leave. Certainly on that score was unlikely. Was she being followed? If so, why had the killer stabbed her where she would be found very soon by anyone using that tunnel or even just passing it?

A resident in the flat built partly above the tunnel had heard a high-pitched scream, but screams were quite normal, he had said, and there was an echo in the tunnel. Noises were magnified and kids screamed all the time, sometimes just to hear that echo. Surely you shouted for help if you were in trouble. Anyway, since it proved to have been a killer at work, it was a good thing he hadn't rushed down to see what was happening. He might have been killed himself.

Gary interviewed that witness for quite a long time. He tried to find out if the woman named Laura Finch had been seen there before and shown the man photos of her, dead and alive. The witness could not confirm that, but women were often seen in the courtyard. For instance, quite splendid looking females got in and out of the white BMWs that parked there. Nice work if you could get it. Gary thought it might be worth pursuing that line since the Norton brothers had also been mixed up in prostitution. The witness said he would try to identify the women if called upon to do so.

***

Cleo sat in the office next to Gary’s. She wanted to see how Bontemps would react to questioning. The guy had always seemed like small fry with his insistence on being French and the petty way he dealt with customers at the emporium, but now he was big time in a murder case.

Mr Bontemps admitted to Gary that he had arranged to meet Laura Finch in the courtyard.

“We you in love with Laura Finch?” Gary asked

“I was fond of her,” Bontemps admitted, blushing.

“Wasn’t she too old for you?”

“Older, but not too old,” was Bontemps’ reply. “She had the gift of making people feel special, Inspector.”

“I suppose she understood you, didn’t she?”

“Oh yes. We understood one another perfectly.”

“Did you ask her out, Mr Bontemps?”

“Several times, but she refused.”

“But she must have said yes at least once, didn’t she?” said Gary, and Cleo wondered if he was going to remind Bontemps of hi letter to his mother, but he didn’t.

“Laura said she would meet me in the courtyard to look at some antiques in my car, Inspector.”

“Was she an expert?”

“I had mentioned them to her in the shop and asked her if she knew anything about old things. She said she would look at them and tell me if they were worth anything.”

“We you hoping for something more from her?” Gary asked. “Now she had accepted your invitation, I mean.”

Gary wanted to know why he hadn't suggested meeting in a café or a pub, but Mr Bontemps said Laura had insisted on discretion. In other words, thought Gary, she didn't want to be seen with him. Bontemps said nothing about telling his mother he was going to marry Mrs Finch.

Gary changed the subject.

How well do you know the Norton brothers, Mr Bontemps?”

Cleo could see that Bontemps was at pains to remain composed, but that question ruffled him.

“Hardly at all,” he fibbed.

"Come on, Bontemps. No fairy-tales please. How well do you really know them?"

"Hardly at all, I said."

"But you know them well enough to handle stolen goods, don’t you?"

Bontemps voice was getting higher in pitch and louder.

"What gave you that idea?"

"Fingerprints, Bontemps. There are items in your grocer's shop that have both your fingerprints and theirs on them."

"Oh." Mr Bontemps wriggled in his chair, cracked his fingers and lowered his voice. "Well, I was only keeping them for collection."

"Not selling them?"

"No. They weren’t mine to sell."

"Were the Norton brothers in the courtyard on the evening of the murder?"

"I don't know," said Mr Bontemps.

The direction of the questioning was starting to become clear.

"If you have a garage, why do you park your car on the street?"

"Sometimes I can't be bothered."

"And sometimes it's too full of bulky electrical goods, isn't it, Mr Bontemps? I'm surprised you've got away with it until now."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

“I expect the Norton brothers pay you rent for use of the garage as a storage depot, don’t they?”

“Sometimes an assistant pays me,” Bontemps said reluctantly and regretted it immediately.

"But the unfortunate Laura Finch arrived early and must have seen you taking plastic bags containing something looking like salt out of the boot of a white BMW and putting them into your garage, Mr Bontemps. Laura Finch knew drugs when she saw them. Did she ask you what you were doing?"

"How do you know all that?" asked Bontemps, which in Gary's view was as good as a confession.

"Did Laura Finch run towards the exit shouting that she was going to call the police?"

"I'm not saying any more without a lawyer. Get me a lawyer."

“And did you stab Laura Finch, Bontemps,” Gary shouted.

Bontemps was shaking like a leaf. Gary realized that he had hit the nail on the head. A lawyer would advise Bontemps to admit to manslaughter since the case was hopeless and wasted their time, unless he was able to afford a criminal lawyer who could get him off. Unfortunately Bontemps was a small-time crook, dispensable and not worth defending.

***

Gary was satisfied with the way his interrogation had gone. He would leave Bontemps to get really worked up in his cell. Of course, he would have a lawyer. Someone would see that he got one. Gary knew now that Bontemps was instrumental in Mrs Finch meeting her death. But he had not disposed of the corpse on his own. Would the Norton brothers be forthcoming about that?

***

Cleo congratulated Gary through the speaker system. Gary removed the tape from the recorder and mounted a new one. That system was a backup for the digital recordings. Cleo would be recorded as witness to the proceedings.

“You are amazing, Gary,” she said. “I’m full of admiration for you.”

“He was easy going. Take a look at the Norton brothers for further entertainment, Cleo,” said Gary. “It’s a wonder that they get away with anything, but they do.”

Sam and Jam Norton were in a foul mood after being separated for several hours. Normally they conspired about everything, but this time they had been taken by surprise. Sam and Jam Norton were not used to being the underdogs and not used to being unable to discuss matters and coordinate their words and actions.

Gary admitted later that he had been perplexed by the uncanny likeness of the two.

"Which one are you?" he asked.

"Sam."

"Samuel Norton," Gary noted.

"Or Jam."

"Look here. Don't play games with me. I'll simply call you Norton. If one of you has committed a crime you will both be punished."

"Or neither,” corrected the Norton brother. “It's never come to that before."

"It's never been murder before," said Gary.

The Norton twins looked genuinely shocked, though genuine is a word that should be used carefully in their case.

"Who’s dead then? What's the charge, Gov? You can't hold us here without charging us."

"Well, how about drug-peddling, for a start? The white stuff on the floor of one of your garages was stretched cocaine. I'm sure you can explain where that came from."

"Bontemps, Gov."

"Oh really, and where did he get it?"

Now one of the Norton brothers was getting quite talkative.

"It comes with deliveries of stoned dates," he divulged. "In the boxes under the greaseproof linings."

"How do you know that?"

"He told us. He was looking for a buyer."

"I'm sure you said no, didn't you, Norton?"

"Of course, Gov. We don't want to get mixed up in any criminal activities."

Gary noted that they were answering in rotation.

“I suppose that is a valid reason for having some on the floor of your garage, is it?” said Gary.

That assertion of innocence coming from a Norton brother was really rich. Gary laughed. The Nortons sat there poker-faced. It flashed through Gary's mind that he might not be able to crack this case by normal means.

"Don't run away," he told the Nortons, who were handcuffed and had an escort of three police officers. "I'll be right back."

He went into the next-door office to talk to Cleo.

“You should have invited Colin. He’s be very impressed, Gary.”

"It's your intuition I need, not Colin's appetite for sensations."

"Gloria would have enjoyed Bontemps squirming around.”

“Don’t mention Gloria, Cleo.”

The case of the corpse in the changing room at Milton's fashion store had been his first experience of Cleo. She and her mother had really got the ball rolling to solve that case, since the corpse had been her neighbour, but there had been a few nasty moments and Cleo was in despair with her mother. He would never forget the apologetic look on Cleo’s face. For him it was love at first sight. For Cleo it was, in her own words, a revelation.

“I want you in the room with the Nortons, Cleo,” Gary said now.

“Fine, unless they know I turned them in.”

“That was your cousin and she’s back in the states, Cleo. So you are Candy today.”

“Candy?”

"This is my assistant, Miss Hartley," he told Norton a few minutes later.

"A coloured lady cop in Middlethumpton?" jeered Norton. “I know that lady. She turned me in.”

“Not me. My cousin. I’m just a shrink on vacation.”

"I don't need a psychiatrist."

"I'll be the judge of that," said Cleo. “I promised to help the Inspector, and I’m going to.”

“Thanks, Candy. I’d appreciate that,” said Gary.

“Now I’ve heard everything,” said one of the brothers. “Tastes good, does she?”

“Better than prison grub,” drawled Candy moving inside their comfort zone. “Want a bite?”

“Get her off us,” said one of the brothers.

“Steamy, isn’t she?” said Gary.

***

Gary waited for a moment while the Nortons looked quite embarrassed.

"So you say the cocaine is Bontemps' enterprise, do you?"

"I didn't say anything of the kind," protested one the Nortons.

“You did. You have a short memory,” said Gary.

“If it was in your garage, it was yours, Sweetheart," said Cleo, squirming around a little. "So Bontemps is in the clear."

"Bontemps is not in the clear, Candy, Sweetheart. He's a bastard and a killer," a Norton brother shouted.

"Now, now. We don't want to say anything we'll regret later, do we?" said Gary.

"I'm not going to let that little worm put the blame on us."

"Then say what happened," drawled Cleo.

"If I were to tell you that Bontemps ran after that woman and stabbed her…"

"We might believe it, or we might not,” said Cleo.

“Where's the proof?” said Gary. “And more important still, where's the knife she was stabbed with?"

"Bontemps had been using it to cut through packaging."

"What packaging, Sweetheart?"

The ice was getting thin.

The talkative Norton brother hesitated. He'd gone too far. He was implicating himself as much as Bontemps.

"I want my lawyer. You won't get anything more out of me without my lawyer."

"You've said quite enough for the time being," said Gary. "Take them back to their cells. No on second thoughts, leave me the one who has not yet said enough, Sergeant!"

“By, Sweet Candy Pie,” called the Norton who was being escorted to his cell. That cop did not deserve her.

***

Gary and Cleo withdrew to Gary’s store-room to talk quietly for a moment. Cleo thought Gary wanted some advice on strategy, but she could not resist saying

“I made a hit with that Norton guy.”

“You were vulgar and disgusting,” said Gary. “I was enchanted!”

“Thanks a bunch. Any time, Inspector.”

"We'll have Bontemps in after dealing with this guy," Gary decided.

“You didn’t know I could be as cheap and nasty as my mother, did you, Sweetheart?”

“I admit that I was taken in.”

“What? If I had to choose between the two of you it would not be that Norton guy.”

“What about choosing between me and Robert?” said Gary.

“That’s a different story,” said Cleo.

“It’s the wrong story,” said Gary, and Cleo planted a kiss from her finger onto his lips.

“It’s the story I’m telling,” she said.

***

“Bontemps is on his last legs," Gary said.

"I'll be glad when Laura's killer has confessed, whoever it turns out to be."

"We're nearly there, Cleo.”

Gary returned to his office.

“Take this guy back to the cells,” he said. “I need a break.”

When the Norton brother had been escorted away, he proposed drinking coffee and thinking about strategy for a moment.

“Are you serious?” said Cleo.

“Of course.”

“You’re taking a break, Gary. Lock the door for heaven’s sake.”

“I’ve never entertained a female here,” said Gary. “I don’t know…”

“Then find out, Sweetheart.”

“I wouldn’t have believed it, but there’s a whore in every woman.”

“Any objections?”

***

Eventually the lovers did get round to the business in hand.

“I don't think the second Norton brother will tell us anything we don't already know, even if he is on his own,” Cleo said.

“I agree, but I'd like a nice clean confession from Bontemps."

"Will you need me now it’s pretty clear what happened?

"I will always need you, Cleo, you know that.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I still have to clear a few things up with pathology before I interrogate Bontemps again."

"Don't leave it too long," said Cleo. "I'm afraid Bontemps will go right over the top if you do."

“I’ll drive you home,” said Gary.  “I need some fresh air.”

***

Gary had  plenty to think about on the drive back to HQ. When he finally talked to the second Norton brother, the guy said nothing at all. Gary decided he'd had enough for that day and would leave Bontemps till the morning. That would give him time to get even more nervous. He phoned Cleo to tell her.

"I’m not sure it’s such a good idea leaving his questioning till tomorrow, Gary.”

“Why?”

“Just a hunch,” said Cleo.

“What hunch?”

“The problem is that anyone can murder if the situation makes it necessary in their eyes, so if everything the Norton brothers have said is true, they can only be charged with disposing of the corpse, but not with murder. You can throw the book at Bontemps, Gary. Maybe you should do that right now."

"If you can believe what the Nortons said, you have to conclude that it was unfortunate for Bontemps that Laura Finch turned up before his business with the Nortons was completed."

"Not as unfortunate as it was for Laura," said Cleo. "I'd just like to know how many in my office building were witness to what went on in that courtyard."

"We'll get onto that."

"They'll come forward if you make it clear they have nothing to fear, Gary."

"That's what we usually say, but not reporting suspicious characters and actions straightaway is still breaking the law."

"I'd bettering off now. Robert is hoping for a cooked meal and so am I. It’s my turn today."

"I'll hang out here for a bit," said Gary. "I must get some of this paperwork out of the way. I don't know whose idea it was to replace the secretaries with computers. We policemen are not typists. It all takes much longer these days."

C’est la vie,” said Cleo.

“Je t’aime,” said Gary.

“Moi aussi,” said Cleo before she could stop herself.

***

On Friday morning the phone rang at Cleo's cottage just after 6 a.m.. Robert groaned, but reached over to the handset and growled into it.

"It's 6 o'clock in the morning and I'm still getting my beauty sleep."

"Sorry to disturb you, but can I speak to Cleo?"

"Oh for crying out loud, Gary. Next thing we know you'll be climbing into bed with us."

Cleo stirred.

"What's going on?"

"It's your big buddy. He wants to talk to you now this minute."

Robert handed her the phone and buried himself in his duvet.

"Gary."

"He's dead, Cleo."

"Who's dead?"

"Bontemps. Slashed his wrists."

"How careless of you to let him do that."

Robert was now sitting up in bed. Not another drama.

"We didn't let him do anything. He had a razorblade in the sole of his shoe."

"A what?"

"People on charges do not have to wear prison clothes, so they don't need to take their shoes off."

"I can't believe you're telling me this. Bontemps knew he was under suspicion and had presumably taking the precaution of bringing the razorblade along so that he didn't have to go through the humiliation of being exposed as a murderer."

"I know you're right, Cleo, but I have to play the system."

"I thought searching suspects was part of it. Who found him?"

"One of the early morning cleaners was mopping the corridor floor and noticed a trickle of blood dripping out of his cell."

"How gruesome!"

"The woman got hysterical and had to be taken away and given a sedative. A warder opened the cell door. Bontemps was almost dead. He'd lost a lot of blood. The paramedics could not save him."

"Where are you now, Gary?"

"At home in bed. I was alerted here. I'm going to headquarters as soon as I've taken a shower. Can I phone you later?"

"I have something to do here first," said Cleo.

"OK. Talk later."

Robert wanted to know why Cleo was carrying on with her intention of being an investigator.

"Because if anything has proved we are a necessity, it's been these Finch murders."

Robert gave that some thought and came to a momentous decision.

"You're right Cleo. Let's get up and I'll make us some good, strong coffee. Then you can tell me all about that phone-call if you want to."

Robert breezed off to the shop at about 8, resigned to Cleo’s determination to see the Finch case through. Cleo had a new idea on her mind when she walked down Lavender Drive about half an hour later. As she hoped, Mr Silver's car had gone from the drive of the house opposite Laura Finch’s bungalow. Cleo rang the doorbell.

Although she was ostensibly keeping her promise to take up the investigation into Mr Silver's extramarital activities, Cleo had an axe of her own to grind. The Silvers had lived diagonally opposite from the Crightons for quite a while. She would ask Mrs Silver what kind of neighbours they were. Was the odd behaviour confined to the son?

"I've asked my husband to find you a car," Mrs Silver informed her, surprised to see Cleo at such an early hour.

Cleo was equally surprised. She had already been to the car salesroom to enquire about a car she could afford that wasn't too old and preferably inconspicuous.

"I didn't tell him who the car was for, of course."

"And I didn't say who I was when I was there," said Cleo. "But I didn't need to. Everyone knows me, thanks to my dark skin. Your husband will have recognized me too, I dare say."

Mrs Silver thought there might be other reasons for recognizing Cleo Hartley, for instance, her relationship with Robert Jones, who had bought his delivery van at Silver’s.

"I've given your personal problem some thought, Mrs Silver. I don't track people, but I have two London based assistants working with me at the moment who might get some quick results here, too."

"That's marvellous."

"I'll just phone them, if I may."

Cleo dialled Julie’s home number on her mobile and Colin answered the phone.

"I've got a job for you both," Cleo told Colin. "A client named Mrs Silver will come by the office in about an hour…" Cleo looked questioningly at Mrs Silver, who gave her the thumbs up. "She explained her problem and I told her that an assistant would deal with it. She'll tell you all the details."

Mrs Silver nodded vigorously.

Colin said he’d be there, but that Julie was out on an assignment.

“That’s great, Colin,” said Cleo.

"I’ll be there at 10, Cleo. I have a key. Send her along."

"That's settled then, Mrs Silver. You’ll meet in my office at 10, but you could do me a favour, too."

"Anything you want, Miss Hartley."

"That young man across the road…"

"Do you mean Betjeman?"

"Yes, he's the one. Do you know him?"

"Does anyone?"

"You know he's been taken into custody."

"Yes. His parents told everyone around here. They are at their wits' end, poor things."

"I expect they are, but they don’t seem to be as odd as their son, Mrs Silver."

“She’s a bit unfriendly, but he seems quite nice. Very kind in fact. He helps me with my garden now and again. One thing I don’t understand, though.”

“What?”

"They have been telling everyone Betjeman was adopted."

“Disowning him?”

“I shouldn’t wonder, Miss Hartley.”

"I expect they have also told everyone there is no insanity in their blood."

"You can't blame them, can you? They must be very disappointed in their only child. I would be. I just don't understand why that Jessica person got off with him."

The questions Cleo had planned to ask were forgotten. This new piece of information was a turn-up for the books.

“Did she now? I’d like to hear more about that, but you’ll be late at the office if you tell me now.”

***

Following on the discovery of Bontemps's suicide, Gary Hurley tried to find out who had searched Bontemps after his arrest, but met with a brick wall. The colleagues were as thick as thieves if one of them slipped up. They would not reveal who was responsible for Bontemps having a lethal weapon in his cell.

"There's no point in making prisoners eat with a spoon if you're going to let them kill themselves with razorblades as soon as your backs are turned," he screamed.

To his shame, he was looking for a scapegoat. Why hadn't he realised how volatile the situation was? Worse still, why had he ignored Cleo’s hunch? Was it that macho thing that kept coming between him and a normal attitude to a female private eye? He had to search his conscience for an answer to why he actually encouraged Cleo to investigate and even discussed cases with her and took on board at least some of her suggestions? He loved her body, her sexuality, even her brain, so why did he not listen to her warnings?

"Mr Bon-thingy left a letter addressed to a Miss Hartley," said one of the police officers involved in security but unfamiliar with French.

"Give it to me," Gary commanded.

"It isn't addressed to you," said the officer.

"I don't give a damn who it's addressed to. Just hand it over."

The officer, a young man who had not experienced Hurley's wrath before, gave it to him with a trembling hand.

"Don't worry. I won't tell on you," Gary said in a confidential tone. "I know Miss Hartley quite well. She'd want me to open it straightaway. Or do you want me to ask her first?"

"No, Sir."

"Where did Bontemps get the paper and envelope?"

"He said he wanted to write to his mother," said another inexperienced young policeman, “so he was allowed some stationery.”

"That should have rung a warning bell," said Gary. “Biros can be used as weapons, too.”

"Yes, Sir."

"He could have stabbed it into his brain or heart."

"Yes, Sir."

“You’ll remember next time, won’t you?” said Gary, wondering what kind of training these guys had had.

"Get the body taken to pathology. There'll have to be a postmortem."

“Now?”

“Yes, now. Spelt N O W.”

Two paramedics, who were already lined up ready for any action they might need to take after giving up on Bontemps, lifted the corpse onto their stretcher and wheeled it away.

"Get forensics in and then get this place cleaned up at the double!" Gary told the officers. He wanted to search Bontemps' clothing before anyone else did.

On the way to the lab he tore open the envelope and read the message inside.

"I'm sorry to do this, but I can't face the future," it said. "I didn't mean to kill Laura Finch because I loved her. She was going to tell the police about the drugs and I really only wanted to stop her. I jammed the knife into her back and she fell to the ground. I thought she was dead. I rushed back to the garages and told the Nortons what I had done. They said they would help me to dispose of her. No one would know who had done it and I should concentrate on cleaning up the garages, but I was trembling too much. They knew about the sash window in your office. One of them got foil out of his first aid kit to wrap her in and after they'd pushed her through the window they hoisted me up and I dragged the foil to behind your table and rolled Mrs Finch out onto the carpet. I'm sorry about the mess."

A lucid account for someone about to take his own like, Gary thought. He believed what Bontemps had written and realized that the Norton brothers should be back on his list of suspects. If Mrs Finch had still been alive they might have finished the job off. Did they?

***

It was just as Cleo had suspected. Bontemps would have been found guilty on the evidence gathered from the courtyard and the office although his fingerprints were nowhere to be found. He had probably been wearing gloves from his business with the drugs. The Norton brothers always wore gloves. Their black kid gloves were a kind of trademark. When they were searched – and that had happened many times – the gloves were always found in their pockets unless they were wearing them.

Gary phoned Cleo and read Bontemps’ message to her.

"Gary, we must have overlooked something."

“I’m very sorry I didn’t listen to you yesterday,” he managed to say.

“I didn’t expect you to,” said Cleo. “We are in perfect harmony in bed, but that’s where your trust in me seems to end.”

“No it doesn’t, Cleo. I’d trust you with my life.”

“Then try me,” said Cleo.

“For a start, what do you think we have overlooked?”

"I’m wondering about the number of times Laura was stabbed. Bontemps mentions only one, doesn’t he, but Laura was stabbed three times. They can’t all have been done by Mr Bontemps. He thought one stab wound would stop her going to the police, but even that reaction was caused by his hysteria about something he thought she must have witnessed."

“So the Nortons stepped in,” said Gary.

“Or someone who had been waiting for Laura or following her. I think she went to the yard to meet someone.”

“It could have been Bontemps, Cleo. She wanted to look at the antiques.”

“Sure.”

“But he did not have any,” said Gary.

“He could have removed them next day.”

“Or they did not exist and he just wanted to see her alone.”

“He doesn’t say that in the letter, but the mythical antiques could surely be the reason she was there and it would explain why she turned tail when she saw what Bontemps was actually doing.

"The stab wounds were done with the same weapon. Forensics eventually found the breadknife in the bushes near the exit tunnel," said Gary.

"But Bontemps did not say he had stabbed her three times, Gary."

"He had probably forgotten."

“I don’t believe that. Bontemps was meticulously trying to clear his conscience before taking his life,” said Cleo. “Talk to the Nortons. I just hope the news of Bontemps’ suicide has not reached them.”

“I’ll have to risk that,” said Gary.

An hour or so later Gary ordered the Norton brothers to be brought to an interview room under heavy security, but together this time. Since he now had a clue to what could really have happened to Laura Finch, Gary would not fall for any ruses and he had really listened to Cleo this time. A suicide note is seldom a pack of lies, and he was sure Bontemps had wanted to relieve his conscience even though he had not put any blame for Laura’s death onto the Nortons.

The Norton brothers bluffed their way through the interrogation. Gary told them nothing about Bontemps' suicide and they said nothing, which did not mean that they did not already know. Instead, he assured them that Mr Bontemps had been very helpful. The two men exchanged meaningful glances. They had no idea what he could have revealed without implicating himself or them. A few minutes later they were escorted back to their separate cells. If they did not already know, they would soon find out about Bontemps. In the meanwhile the drug squad would deal with them. For a start they could be charged with drug offences.

Gary phoned Cleo and told her that he had not mentioned to the Nortons the likelihood of more than one person being involved in Mrs Finch’s death. The grapevine would inform them about Bontemps’s suicide if it had not already done so. They had time to ponder on whether he had confessed to anything or put the blame on them for the killing. Whatever their speculations, they would not talk about them or even ask questions.

“In other words, the interview was a damp squib,” said Cleo.

“They’re just a bit more nervous than they were before,” said Gary.

***

Cleo had phoned Mrs Silver and learnt that Jessica had only just arrived at Laura's bungalow when she had gone next door to the Crightons and met Betjeman. Mrs Silver had not known why Jessica went next door.

Cleo refrained from asking Mrs Silver if she had been watching the houses continuously. She decided to phone her again and ask her if she remembered anything else.

Mrs Silver insisted she had no idea what kind of a person Jessica was apart from possibly being a prostitute. Cleo asked her did anything specific make her think that. Mrs Silver remembered that Jessica and Betjeman had discussed something briefly, then disappeared into the Finch bungalow, drawn the curtains in the front bedroom and presumably indulged in a fair amount of paid sex.

"They were in there for at least an hour each time, doing….well, you know what. Early the morning after Betjeman appeared again and rang the Finch doorbell. I was getting the kids up and decided to watch out for the man since he could have tried something on with the girls, Miss Hartley.”

Had Laura Finch been alive and allowed Jessica to use the main bedroom for sex games with Betjeman Crighton? Was that so unthinkable?

Cleo now wondered how long Jessica had been in Upper Grumpsfield. She had always assumed the young woman had arrived shortly before she and Dorothy had found her in Laura’s bungalow. The bungalow had been out of bounds for Jessica after Gary and forensics arrived, so had Jessica gone there secretly that night?

The scenario was becoming complicated. Only Jessica could know the answers to questions about her activities.

If Laura had known that Jessica was staying there, the young woman had probably asked her for money and been refused. It was fair to assume that Jessica had a front door key, so she could get in and out without making much noise. It was also fair to assume that Mrs Silver had seen only a fraction of the goings on across the road.

Since Jessica had stayed at Cleo’s cottage the night she was barred from Laura’s bungalow, she must have slipped out during the night. She had refused supper and Cleo had thought she was just tired, but presumably not too tired to go back to Laura’s bungalow, possibly to search through her things, but possibly to meet Betjeman, who could have asked her for more paid sex. Jessica could have decided to earn some cash that way since her mother was not forthcoming.

Cleo wondered how long Jessica had been away that night. And where were the cops on guard? She would have to ask Gary. It would not be the first time that guards had done their own thing. Maybe they had sat on the terrace behind the bungalow. From there they would not have noticed anything going on at the front.

***

There was a slim chance that Mrs Silver was exaggerating or telling lies. She would even have a motive, judging from her opinion of Betjeman. Her kids would be safer if the guy was behind bars and that was reason enough to make trouble for him.

Cleo asked Mrs Silver if she could call in again to talk about Jessica. Mrs Silver was fortunately relieved to unburden herself on the subject of Betjeman.

"Jessica’s a tart, but Betjeman Crighton is just plain evil. The two of them are an unpretty pair,” said Mrs Silver, lighting a new cigarette from the one she was still smoking. Another thought occurred to her:

“Maybe he killed Laura Finch's son. I heard Jason screaming at him to scram."

"But that's not a motive for murder."

Were Mrs Silver's observations unreliable? Cleo said she had things to do and would have to leave. In truth, she needed to be alone to think about the loophole in the Jason case and the implications of what Mrs Silver had said about Jessica.

***

Had Betjeman been charged? She would have to find that out. But first she went back into Laura Finch's bungalow using the spare key Dorothy had given her. The silence was uncanny. If Gary had been there she would have felt better about being there herself. And no, not Robert, but Gary would have embraced her. As if a wish were about to become true, a brisk knock on the bungalow door heralded Gary’s arrival.

“I thought you would be here,” he said. “You were so cold on the phone that I needed to find out if there was any blood still coursing in your veins.”

“How did you know I would be here?”

“Logic. You said you had work to do and I remembered you telling me about a Mrs Silver, Laura Finch’s neighbour across the road.”

“I’m sorry I was sharp with you, Gary. I was so annoyed that you had left Bontemps to his own devices last night.”

“Not as annoyed as I am with myself. I’ll listen to you more carefully in future.”

“Well, now you are here, let’s embrace and smoke a peace pipe,” said Cleo.

“Nobody’s going to disturb us here,” said Gary.

“I expect we’d have Laura Finch’s blessing,” said Cleo.

“I’ve never made love in a morgue before,” said Gary.

“There’s always a first time,” said Cleo.

***

An hour or so later, Gary left. He would retrieve his car, parked two roads away, and drive back to HQ, relieved that Cleo had changed her mind about their affair. How was it possible to be so at odds with someone and love them passionately at one and the same time? It might have amused Gary to know that Cleo had exactly the same thoughts. It would all have been perfect had not the fairy tale ending ‘happily ever after’ still seemed lightyears away.

***

Still glowing inwardly from her passionate encounter at Laura’s bungalow, Cleo decided to pay Dorothy Price a visit. She would not mention that tryst in Laura’s living-room. Later she would ask Colin what he had achieved at the Silver showroom, but the sensuality of her intimate relationship with Gary would still be uppermost. She seemed to be with him even when she wasn’t with him. She wondered how Gary felt now. Could he take seriously someone who swore their affair was over and then completely contradicted herself?