False Diamond--An Abbot Agency Mystery Page 16

  ‘All by yourself?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you make a habit of going to Kew Gardens at weekends? Are you, perhaps, a member?’

  ‘No, but I needed to be quiet and to think.’

  ‘It wasn’t a very pleasant day for wandering around. It was cold, too. How long would you say you were there?’

  ‘I don’t know. About an hour, perhaps. I did get cold, yes; but I was well wrapped up. Then I tried to get into the Maids of Honour for tea, but they were fully booked, so I hopped on a bus to the Waterman’s cinema, intending to catch a performance there. I didn’t fancy what was showing, so I took another bus and then a taxi back home.’

  ‘So from lunchtime onwards you have no one to vouch for you?’

  ‘No.’ She could see where this was leading. She had no alibi. ‘But you don’t seriously think that I … How did they die? Was it a car crash?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Of all the people I’ve ever met, I’d have said he was the last one to take his own life.’

  ‘That’s what we’ve been told by his sister, too.’

  ‘Oh, poor thing. She’s only recently moved in with him, to look after the children. She must be devastated. But the person I’m most worried about is his wife. If she’s as poorly as we thought, she might not be able to give a good account of herself, and if he’s got her sectioned, and he’s, well, not able to tell us where he’s put her … she could be locked away for months … And that’s if he hasn’t actually done away with her. Oh, and his little daughter, and her grandfather! Have the Holland family been informed? There was supposed to be some sort of family conference yesterday, but … Someone has been in touch with them, haven’t they?’

  ‘I believe someone has gone to break the news to the Holland family. In the meantime, Mrs Abbot, I must ask you to accompany me down to the station for further questioning.’

  She stared at him and through him. She could see the trap she’d walked into and sensed that someone had set her up. But with Benton dead, who could have masterminded such an intricate plan?

  ‘Do you mind if I speak to Inspector Durrell first? I gave him all the background information on this case last Friday.’

  ‘It’s my case, Mrs Abbot.’

  ‘Not if he’s been working on it already. Which I asked him to do.’

  He hesitated, and she drew the phone to her and pressed digits. Bother. Inspector Durrell was not picking up. She left a message for him to ring her, urgently.

  DI Robins smiled, thinly. ‘If you’d like to fetch a coat? It’s chilly out.’ He got out his hankie to sneeze into it, held his breath with closed eyes. Relaxed. And then it came, a monstrous sneeze. All over the place.

  Bea recoiled.

  The inspector muttered something which she could take as an apology or not. He fished a couple of tissues from Bea’s box and mopped up.

  Bea shuddered. She couldn’t possibly get into a car with this man, who was shedding his germs all over the place. And for what? She was innocent.

  She thought of defying him. She wondered what would happen if she did. Would he call for reinforcements to pick her up and carry her through the office and up the stairs into the street, and cram her into the back of a police car? How undignified.

  A stir in the outer office, and Maggie came rushing in, out of breath. She slammed her tote bag on to Bea’s desk and stood, arms akimbo, looking down on the policeman. Maggie in full fig was quite a sight.

  The inspector blinked. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘I’m Maggie. Mrs Abbot’s lodger. What’s that nasty little toad been up to now?’

  ‘Who?’

  Bea said, ‘You’ve got the wrong end of the stick, Maggie. It appears that Benton’s dead. With his boys. In a car, somewhere in the country.’

  Maggie took a step back. ‘What? What the—’

  ‘Yes, it takes some getting used to the idea. The inspector here thinks I broke into Benton’s house, drugged and abducted him and the boys, drove them out into the country in his car, and left them there to die. Have I got that right, Inspector?’

  ‘With an accomplice,’ he said, eyeing Maggie’s substantial form with interest. ‘Do you have an alibi for yesterday, Ms Maggie?’

  ‘Do I!’ A short, sharp laugh. Maggie drew up a chair, sat, put her elbows on her knees and pointed a forefinger at the inspector. ‘You listen to me, and you listen good. That slimy toad Benton thinks – no, if he’s dead I ought to say “he thought” – that knocking women about was the right way to get what he wanted. You should have seen the state his poor wife was in when we fished her out of the bath! And the bruises on his daughter’s arms and legs. Then his wife conveniently disappears from the hospital and no one knows where he’s put her. He is a nasty piece of work, full stop. I mean, was a nasty piece of work.

  ‘You heard what happened on Saturday night? Mrs A. told him to produce his wife or else, so what did he do? He lured her out of the house and, with an accomplice, followed her around on a bike, yelling her name and banging on the taxi in which she was travelling, putting the frighteners on her good and proper—’

  The inspector tried to interrupt, but Maggie rolled right over him.

  ‘So yesterday, Oliver and I thought we’d better take precautions in case he tried anything else. Oliver is Mrs A’s adopted son. Sort of. And he was here for the weekend. Anyway, Mrs A. was desperate for a bit of peace and quiet so we – that’s Oliver and Zander and Lucas and I – decided to act as her guardian angels for the day.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Bea, understanding at last. ‘The lone biker. The little family at Kew.’

  TWELVE

  ‘Explain! Who are all these people? Zander? Lucas?’ The inspector looked from one to the other. His eyes were watering, and he reached for another wodge of tissues. They waited while he sneezed and mopped up.

  Maggie didn’t want his germs either, thank you. She shoved her chair back a bit. ‘They’re friends. We, that is Oliver and I, thought that if anyone was out to get Mrs Abbot, they’d have to start from here. She was in such a tizz that she wasn’t taking care to look both ways before crossing the road, never mind watching out for baddies, so I went upstairs when she left the house and watched her until Zander – that’s my sort-of boyfriend – picked her up after breakfast in his car. As they drove off, I saw a lone biker peel away from the curb and follow them. The number plate wasn’t easy to make out because it had been splashed with mud – if the police had caught him, he’d have been in for a fine – but I thought I’d got it, and as it turned out, I had.’

  The inspector produced a painful smile. ‘A perfectly ordinary man on a bike?’

  ‘It might have been, but it wasn’t. Zander rang me as soon as he got Mrs Abbot settled in church, and I gave him what I thought was the registration number of the bike, though I wasn’t sure whether it was a five or a three in the middle. He went out to have a look and rang me back to say that a bike bearing that number – with a three, not a five – was parked outside. Zander said the biker hadn’t come into church but was sitting there, watching people go in and out. So we knew someone was on her tail again. At that point I told Oliver, and he swung into action.’

  ‘Oliver? Zander?’

  Bea explained to the inspector, ‘Oliver and Maggie both live here with me. Oliver’s at university but was home for the weekend.’

  Maggie said, ‘Oliver contacted Lucas …’

  ‘Who’s Lucas?’ The inspector was not following this very well.

  ‘He’s the taxi driver who’d saved Mrs Abbot’s life the night before when his taxi had been followed and attacked. Check with your local police station as they have a report on what happened and took his details then. Anyway, he’d told us he wasn’t working on Sunday, and when Oliver rang him, he agreed to help. To start with, we all exchanged mobile phone numbers so we’d be able to keep in contact with one another. We knew Mrs A. was planning to eat at a pub down by the river, so Oliver and I took her car and drove down there
, parked in a side street and waited for Zander to arrive and take her inside. And, sure enough, they’d been followed by a biker with a familiar registration. He parked nearby and settled down to wait. We assumed he was going to keep on following her until he found her alone and defenceless.’

  ‘Description?’

  ‘We took photos on our mobiles – which you can have – but he never removed his helmet. A man, broad-shouldered, tall, about six foot, with hefty thighs. Wearing black leathers, the usual. The bike hadn’t been personalized, which would have helped us to keep an eye on him, but there was a wing mirror on the roadside which looked as if it had taken a swipe. It wasn’t correctly aligned, and he kept fiddling with it. You may find that helpful if you can track him down. Anyway, after a few minutes of waiting outside the pub, the biker got on the phone to someone, probably reporting his movements to date. We weren’t close enough to hear what he said. We thought he must be phoning Benton. What time did the man die?’

  ‘We can’t be certain yet.’

  ‘Oh, well.’ She shrugged.

  Bea held up her hand. ‘I’m trying to remember what the biker who was chasing the taxi looked like. He sounds exactly like the person you described, above average height and weight. And yes, thick thighs. I think Benton was his passenger, as he had a slighter build.’

  Maggie was all impatience. ‘Let me tell you what happened next. While we were waiting for Mrs Abbot to finish her meal, we alerted Lucas to what was happening, and he set off for Kew in his own car with his wife and children. Meanwhile, Oliver got us three some takeaway food and we sat in Zander’s car watching the biker, who was watching Mrs Abbot, who was sitting in the window above him, quite oblivious to his presence. As soon as she left the pub the biker started towards her. Fortunately, a taxi came along and she got into it without seeing him. Zander and I shadowed her taxi at a distance, while Oliver hared back to fetch Mrs A’s car and follow on. The biker caught us up and cut in behind Mrs A’s taxi, which dropped her off at the main entrance to the Gardens. Lucas and his family were waiting by the gates and followed her in. She was so bound up in her own thoughts, she didn’t even notice them. Lucas loved the idea of taking the children to Kew while he kept an eye on Mrs Abbot because they’d never been there before. We said we’d pay their entrance fees, Mrs A. Hope that’s all right.’

  ‘Definitely,’ said Bea, trying to keep up.

  Maggie continued, ‘There’s not much parking on Kew Green, so Oliver and Zander went off to find a space while I got out to keep an eye on the biker, keeping in touch with Zander by phone all the time. And he with Oliver.’

  The inspector pointed out, ‘Someone must have had two phones.’

  ‘Zander does,’ said Maggie. ‘One for work and one for play. The biker drew up outside the main gates but couldn’t find anywhere to park, either. We could both see Mrs Abbot walking off into the distance, followed by Lucas and his family. The biker was stuck; he didn’t want to leave his bike where there was no parking, and he couldn’t take it down to the car park, or he’d be out of sight of the main gate and wouldn’t see Mrs Abbot when she came out. He made another phone call, waving his arms around, not at all happy—’ Maggie broke off to wonder, ‘Who was he phoning for instructions if it wasn’t Benton?’

  The inspector shrugged, sneezed, blew his nose. ‘How should I doh?’ His voice was thick with phlegm.

  Maggie frowned. ‘Well, I expect it was Benton, before he met his sticky end, hurray. Anyway, we did wonder at that point if the biker might give up and go away, but he didn’t. He took his bike round to the far side of the Green, squeezed in between a couple of parked cars and sat down to wait. And so did we.

  ‘You see, as long as the biker stayed outside, and Mrs Abbot was inside and being kept in sight by Lucas and his family, we knew she was safe, but we didn’t know which gate she’d leave Kew by. There’s three that I know of and maybe more. We thought she’d probably stick to her plan to have tea at the Maids of Honour on the road to Richmond. If so, she’d leave by the gate nearest to the restaurant, and not the one she’d taken to get into the Gardens.

  ‘So after Oliver found a place to park on the far side of the Green, he continued to watch the biker and the main gate, while I zipped back to rejoin Zander, and we drove round the corner to the Maids of Honour, where there is, luckily, some parking for customers. It was a long wait. Every now and then Oliver phoned to pass any news on to us. Oliver said the biker got very cold, started stamping his feet. The problem for him was the same as for us; he didn’t know which gate Mrs Abbot would leave by.

  ‘Eventually, the biker made a move. Oliver phoned us to say he’d left the Green, and in a couple of minutes he whizzed past where Zander and I were sitting outside the Maids of Honour. I think he’d lost his nerve because he disappeared down the road only to return at speed after a few minutes. We worked out that he was trying to patrol all three gates. At last Lucas reported that Mrs Abbot was also on the move, walking towards our gate. Lucas watched her leave the Gardens and then he took his family home.

  ‘Luckily, the biker wasn’t in sight when Mrs Abbot came out of the Gardens. We could see she was dismayed at finding a queue outside the Maids of Honour. She waited for a while but after a few minutes the biker came back and slowed down to scan the queue. This seemed to make Mrs Abbot uneasy, and she took the next bus going back to town. I phoned Oliver that we were on the move and we set off after the bus. The biker took no notice of us, but did a U-turn in the road and set off after her, too.

  ‘When Mrs A. got to Waterman’s, she got off the bus and walked down to the entrance. Zander and I went on into the car park, while Oliver tried to find a space further on. To our horror, the biker came into the car park after us. And then got out his phone again.’

  She tugged at her hair. ‘So who was he ringing? It must have been Benton, because the biker was obviously told to ratchet up the tension. He abandoned the bike and strode towards the entrance, only to see Mrs Abbot turn round and join a queue of people waiting for the next bus going north. It was getting dark. He was caught by surprise, left standing there as the bus pulled away. We could see him scrambling back to his bike as we left the car park and followed the bus. We were in a bit of a state, not sure what Mrs A. intended to do. The traffic was building up … but after a while the biker was there behind us, too. Oliver had to take quite a diversion to rejoin us, but managed it eventually.

  ‘Mrs A. got off the bus at an interchange stop and stood there, waiting for another to come along. We had to overshoot. There was nowhere to park. Oliver was behind us and saw what happened next. The biker managed to park his bike by squeezing in between a couple of parked cars and was striding off towards her when a taxi came along and she took it. We followed her safely back home. Oliver got there before us. End of.’

  ‘Ridiculous!’ said the inspector, holding on to and then giving vent to another giant sneeze.

  ‘God bless!’ said Maggie, running her hands back through her hair. ‘So who was giving the orders to the biker? It must have been Benton.’

  Bea felt limp with gratitude to Maggie and Oliver, but ambivalent towards the inspector. The sooner she got rid of him, the better. ‘Inspector, don’t you think you ought to be in bed?’

  ‘Wish I could be,’ said the inspector, snuffling and mopping up. ‘Now, Ms Maggie, are you prepared to give me a statement confirming—’

  ‘I’ll do better than that.’ Maggie jumped up. ‘We took photos on our mobiles every so often, and they give the timings, don’t they? I transferred them to my computer but haven’t printed them off yet. Half a tick and I’ll get them for you.’

  ‘Did Lucas, the taxi driver, take pictures, too?’ Bea was fascinated. ‘How thorough of you.’

  ‘We didn’t know what was going to happen. We thought that even with all our precautions, the biker might still find a way to attack you, and we wanted to have him on record, just in case.’

  ‘But he didn’t get a chance,’ said Bea.
‘You are quite, quite brilliant! Inspector, what happens now?’

  But the inspector had had all the stuffing taken out of him. He’d set out to question a suspect in a murder and found she had an unbreakable alibi. His cold had got worse, and he was feeling sorry for himself. He blew his nose, noisily.

  Maggie tapped her forehead. ‘It wasn’t Benton on the bike yesterday. It was a much bigger man. So who was it?’

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Bea, ‘it was someone he’d hired to carry on frightening me even though he himself had other plans for the day?’

  ‘Such as getting himself killed? We need to know when he died, don’t we? Who else could the biker have been ringing?’

  ‘He rang his girlfriend, of course,’ Bea said, feeling that if she were not careful, she’d give way to hysteria. ‘He was ringing to say he was going to be late for supper.’

  ‘Flippancy,’ croaked the inspector, ‘is not helpful.’

  The two women looked at him with sharp eyes. ‘You really ought to be in bed,’ said Bea. ‘Why don’t you phone in sick?’

  He snuffled, took refuge in his handkerchief again. ‘Might. Gib me dose photos.’

  Maggie swept out of the office, saying she’d get them, pronto.

  There was a commotion out in the main office. Some laughter, some cheers. What was going on?

  The phone rang in Bea’s office. It wasn’t the landline. Bea fished around in her handbag and found her smartphone. ‘Yes?’

  It was Inspector Durrell. ‘What now?’ he said. ‘I told you, I’m in the middle of—’

  ‘The man I told you about has been murdered. Would you like to speak to Inspector Robins about it? He thought I’d done it, but fortunately I have an alibi.’ She held the phone out to Inspector Robins, who made signals that he didn’t want to speak to Inspector Durrell. Bea handed her phone over to him with one of her sweetest smiles. ‘I’ll leave you alone to take the call.’

  She followed Maggie out into the main office. Leon was there. Of course. With a large box of fresh doughnuts, which he was handing out to all and sundry. He held the box out to Bea. ‘I kept a chocolate one for you. Would there be a cup of coffee to go with it?’