The murder, p.7
The Murder, page 7
“No problem. Just let me have a printout of that. If Mr Burnham can confirm it’s who he saw, then your bloke can have a quiet word, now we know where to find him. Not today, of course. Monday. Monday when he’s back at work.”
Sally took a copy of the still and gave it to Liz. She saw them out and did a little dance in the hall. For one moment she thought she’d be stuck with them questioning Patrick all evening.
Outside, Liz turned to Tom. “Do you want to come and see Mr Burnham with me? I’ve got nothing on until early evening when our Gemma gets home.”
“No, I promised I’d have a look at some stuff for Emily. She’s applying for a new job, better pay et cetera.” Tom found he could lie easily and wondered why he didn’t do it more often. He’d fooled the police about charging the phone, and the nod of acceptance from Liz meant he’d fooled her too. It would make his life a lot less stressful when these women were badgering him. “Anyway, don’t you have someone waiting for you at home? Husband, partner, you know?”
Liz stopped walking and took hold of his arm. Speaking quietly, she patted it as she spoke to him. “I’m single. Have you ever heard me mention I had a bloke? No. Look, Tom, that outing to the pub was to get information from Andy Knight. It wasn’t a ploy to be with you. You’re a nice-looking bloke and all that, a bit weird, in a nice sort of way, and a bit old for me, but I’m happy as I am. I don’t—”
Tom shook his arm free. “Get off me you mad woman. I was just being friendly, I’m not interested in you romantically, or any way really. You’re just my cle… housekeeper. Have I ever given you any reason to think otherwise? No. If you want to know who is interested in you it’s Andy Knight. He was questioning me about you. So, no, not interested. Now we’ve sorted that out I’ll go in. Have a nice afternoon.”
Liz clamped her teeth together and gave the oddest smile he’d ever seen. He guessed that was her showing she was embarrassed. Whatever it was, it was weird, and she’d only just thrown that little accusation at him. He shook his head and hurried up the path. Once inside, he went into the kitchen and banged about making himself a bacon sandwich. With no butter. How did he forget to put butter on his order for delivery? “Of course,” he muttered, “normal people would have just popped to the shop on the corner. But I’m not normal. I’m weird, aren’t I? Everyone clearly thinks so.” He banged around a little more. He bet even the beetroot-necked Sally thought he was weird. She was probably sitting in the hairdresser’s telling them all about him. Well, they could all stuff it in their pipes and smoke it. He was happy.
As he took the first bite of his sandwich, he realised he actually had been happy for the last few days. Being busy and getting involved with other people. Before, not so much. Being forced into this possible murder investigation had given him something to think about, other than what to have for lunch, and why a VAT return hadn’t balanced. Dry bacon sandwiches were not good for soothing one’s soul. Even with a generous dash of Daddies Sauce. Throwing half of it into the bin, he pondered going to the corner shop. “It’s like I’m trying to fool myself.” He was mumbling again as he went in search of the cake he’d yet to finish. “And now I’m talking to myself again. Weird!”
Sitting in his chair he switched the television on. Arsenal were playing Chelsea at home, it should be a good match, but his mind was still on the events of the last few days. Was it murder? He asked himself. Closing his eyes, he went back to the beginning. He was walking along the path, and he spotted Denise’s coat. He’d leaned over, put the torch on, and…
As he went back over the details of what they’d found out, he knew he was missing something. Something obvious, but crucial. It was there, dancing around in his mind, but just out of reach. Perhaps if he had a little nap it would come to him. Reclining his chair, he tried to clear his brain. The sleep technician had given several options on how to empty one’s brain. Sleep technicians! They had a name for everything these days, she’d been useless too. If she had been any good, he wouldn’t need the pills and he wouldn’t need the alcohol.
Sleep technician or not, Tom nodded off.
“Mr Large, it’s me. I’m sorry to wake you.” Liz touched his hand. “Mr Large, don’t be shocked, but I need your help.” She gave the hand a little shake. “Tom Large, wake up. Have you been… Don’t look so worried. It’s only me.”
A foggy brain moved his eyes from Liz to the clock. It was only half-past three. He blinked. She was back. He tried to sit up, but realising he was reclined, his arm dropped down beneath the arm of the chair and pushed the button. Slowly he was raised to a sitting position. His eyes on Liz.
“What do you want? Why are you back?” Picking up the remote, he checked the score before switching off the television.
“I need another favour. Mr Burnham said she was aggressive or agitated, or something. I’ve been thinking about it, and I don’t really want to see her on my own. It’s getting dark. I thought you might like to come.”
“You do know I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, don’t you? Start at the beginning, who did Harry say was aggressive, and what are you trying to drag me into now?”
“Karen Parker, Denise’s sister. She went to see Mr Burnham to see if he had a key. He told her about me and took her number, saying he’d get me to call her. He said she was most put out that he didn’t have a key, because she had been told that he did. She then tried to insist he call me straight away, I don’t know how he fobbed her off, but she didn’t like it and got quite uppity with him. When she’d gone, he called me. Said he didn’t want to give my number out to strangers.”
“Uppity isn’t really aggressive, is it?” Tom stretched his arms above his head and yawned. “When are you supposed to be meeting her?”
“In about twenty minutes.”
“Give me a ring if she gets nasty. I’ll come then.”
“What use will that be? She might have overpowered me by then.”
Tom started laughing. It began as a coughed laugh of disbelief, but the more he thought about it the more it amused him. “Oh dear, dear, dear,” he managed to gasp. “I’d like to see someone try.” He dabbed at his eyes with the sleeve of his jumper and looked out at the murky grey sky. It was nearly dark. “Get my coat then.”
Grinning, Liz disappeared into the hall and minutes later Tom was winding his scarf around his neck and walking down the misty damp High Street, trying to keep up with Liz.
“Why didn’t you knock? I know I said to use the key, but that’s for when you’re due to come. Not to pop in and out at will, you know,” Tom asked, although there was no edge to his voice.
“I did knock, I also tapped on the window. You were dead to the world. You looked dead, that’s why I came in. I could see you lying there, but I couldn’t see you breathing. You wouldn’t have been the first client I found who had popped off. It wasn’t until I came into the living room I could hear the snoring.”
“Oh. But what if I wasn’t there? I might have been out, or I could have been having a nap upstairs.”
“Out? Don’t be daft. If you weren’t there, I mean if I couldn’t see you, I’d have phoned. Now stop worrying about stuff that’s not important. What do you think she wants?”
“You didn’t ask her? What if she starts going through stuff, or worse, she wants to take it away? Everything in that house belongs to whoever this Alana is.” Tom shook his head and tutted. “Is that why you asked me to come? Did you think I’d stop her?”
“I didn’t ask her why. I just wanted to try to get some information out of her. About Alana as it happens, but I never thought further than that.”
“Well, you should have. When she arrives, we need to establish what the visit is for. If necessary, we’ll have to tell her she can’t remove anything.”
“Agreed.”
As they neared Denise’s house, they caught up with Harry Burnham.
“Hello, Harry. Nice to see you again. Bit nippy isn’t it,” Tom greeted him.
“It’s not bad. At least it’s not raining. It was nice and warm in the Swan. I went up to watch the football, I haven’t got the channels to watch it at home. Three - nil. Arsenal are not on form this season. Nice crowd in though. Bit of tea now, and I’ll be ready for bed. Always am if I have a bevvy during the day. Suits me fine. Won’t have to have the heating on. Where are you two going?”
“To meet Denise’s sister. I phoned her,” Liz told him. “Now we’re worried she might want to take something.”
“She was in the pub. Take what? What would she be entitled to? I don’t know what happened there, but she disappeared completely, ages ago. Her mother hadn’t seen her for a good ten years by the time she died, and she’s been dead, what? Five years must be. So that’s fifteen years she’s not been about that I know of, could be longer. She didn’t come to the funeral. Their mother left that house to Denise. I’m sure that Denise didn’t even consider her sister. If she made a will of course.” Harry stopped walking and nodded. “Might be hers though. Deserved or not, she’s probably next of kin, what with Denise being divorced. Hope she sells it if she gets it. I didn’t like her, don’t fancy having her as a neighbour.”
“Don’t worry about that, Harry. Denise did leave a will, left everything to one person. Can’t say who, the police have asked us to keep quiet about it,” Tom explained.
“Who was she in the pub with? I know Andy Knight said she lived in Greater Compton, so it’s not her local, is it?” Liz joined the conversation. “Might have been waiting for us I suppose. But the football was on. Was she with anyone?”
“Yep, a young lad. A proper ginger, or it would be if he hadn’t shaved it so short. Tattoos all up his arms, He was watching the football, she was on her phone. What do you youngsters find on those things? Never out of your hands. Do you want to come in and wait?” Harry stopped at the gate.
“No thanks, she’s due in a couple of minutes. You go and get your tea.” Liz looked at Tom. “You see, Mr Burnham has tea just like me.”
“I’m saying nothing. ’Night, Harry, see you around.”
Liz snorted as Harry closed his door. “Around where? I don’t think Mr Burnham uses the library, does he? Oh, that might be her.”
A small blue car pulled up at the curb, the tyres squealed as they collided with it. A woman heaved herself out through the passenger door. “Wait here. It won’t take long.”
She walked up the path, looking them up and down. “I’m Karen Parker, you must be the cleaner. Who are you?” she demanded of Tom.
Tom sensed rather than saw Liz stiffen as he watched the woman approach. Karen Parker was on the large size. The buttons on her coat strained to stay fastened, its belt flapping on either side of her, and her ankles seemed to overlap the practical flat brogues. A ladder in her tights ran from said ankle, up her calf and disappeared into the coat.
“Tom Large, I was a friend of Denise.”
“Why are you here?”
“We’ve been out together, not that it’s any of your business.” Tom could see why Harry had taken a dislike, and although it went against the grain, he decided he could be rude too. “May I ask what your—”
“My what?”
“Your business here.”
“How dare you? This was my mother’s house. My sister has just died, and I have some stranger questioning me on the doorstep.”
“I wasn’t a stranger to Denise, and she never mentioned you. Not once. Mr Burnham has kindly explained that you were Denise’s sister, albeit her long estranged sister, so we thought it best to meet you. But we are wondering why, and whether we should allow access.”
Karen Parker’s hand flew up, and a nail bitten finger pointed at him. “None of your business, mate.” Dropping her hand to her side she looked at Liz. “Open up. This is nothing to do with him. I’m the next of kin, I want access to my mother’s house. Now.”
Liz’s mouth opened but Tom stepped forward answering on her behalf.
“I’m not sure that you are the next of kin, as I understand it from the officer investigating Denise’s murder, the will specifies only one beneficiary, and that’s not you. You might want to speak to the police. Perhaps they’ll give you access.”
“Murdered? Why did you say that? She fell over and hit her head, that’s what I heard. You’re stirring up trouble for the sake of it. Who are you again? Because it seems to me like you’re interfering in my family’s business. I don’t like that.” The nail-bitten finger was jabbing the air again. “You’d better not cross me. And you,” she looked Liz up and down, “you, have wasted my time. I don’t like that either. I won’t forget it.”
Once again, Liz opened her mouth to answer, she even took a step forward, but Tom grabbed her hand.
“You’re a very unpleasant woman, do you know that? Do you even care? You won’t be going in there tonight, but rest assured I’ll let the police know of your interest. Goodnight.” Still holding Liz’s hand, he pulled her forward, but Karen blocked their way.
“You let whoever you want know whatever it is that you’re making up in that weird little brain of yours, but I’ll tell you this. That house is mine. She was my mum, and our Denise might have wrapped her around her little finger, but she’s not here now, is she? And I’ll tell you another—”
“Everything alright, Mum? What’s happening?” The driver’s door of the car opened, and the head and shoulders of a young man appeared. He was wearing an Arsenal cap. “You having some bother?”
“Get in the car. We’re going,” Karen snarled, and looking back at Tom, added. “We’ll be back.” Turning, she waddled back to the car, grunting as she climbed in, before slamming the door closed. Seconds later the car screeched away.
“She trapped the belt of her coat in the door. That’ll be filthy when she gets out. Horrible woman. Shall we go?” Tom realised he was still holding Liz’s hand, and letting it go started down the path. Liz didn’t move, and he turned back. “Are you coming?”
“What just happened?” Liz’s hands were on her hips. “You went all chest beating, macho on me, and well done, by the way. Then our prime suspect got out of the car. She knows she’s not in line for that house, you could tell, and she threatened us. Aren’t we going to discuss any of this?”
“Probably, I doubt you’ll sleep on it, but I’m freezing, I’m not standing here to do it.”
“I told you she was a bad ’un.” Harry appeared on his doorstep. “I was watching. Well done, Tom. That told her. Glad he didn’t come nearer, he was mad enough in the pub. I reckon he could be trouble. Told Andy he’d lost some serious money. Fancy betting on a football game. Madness, anything could happen in a game of football. Are you off?”
“Hang on a minute. Harry, did you just say he was talking to Andy Knight?” Liz walked down the path and went to Harry’s gate.
“You called me Harry. About time. Yes, him and her were sitting at the bar, chatting to him. I was on the table next to ’em. His language was disgusting. In front of his mother too, not that I knew that’s who she was then.”
Tom joined them. “You told Liz you saw someone arguing with Denise a while back, did—”
“It was him! How did I not work that out? No wonder she didn’t leave her family anything. Rotten bunch.” Harry shivered. “I’ve got to go in. My tea’s nearly ready, and I’m freezing. See you next week, Liz, might catch you around then, Tom. Have a good night.”
They called goodnight and headed back up the High Street.
“We need to speak to the police. The question is, does it warrant ruining DC Connor’s night, not to mention Sally’s, or do we leave it until tomorrow?” Tom asked. “After all, there’s nothing they can do, other than question them. We’ve got no proof of anything, and Harry will be kept from his bed until all hours if they decide it’s worth following up. I wish we had more to go on.”
“I think you’re right. We should leave it until tomorrow. If they have done anything, or they did murder Denise in the hope of getting the house, they’re going nowhere. They don’t know we’re onto them. And, of course, being horrible isn’t grounds for arrest.” Liz stopped walking. “I need to turn off here. Got to go and get the car to pick Mum and Gemma up. Mum’s turn to do the roast tomorrow, I might pop over, but if not, I’ll see you Monday. If you’ve got time, have another look for Alana. I will too once I’ve got Gemma to bed. She’ll have been sugared up to her eyeballs. ’Night, Mr. Large.”
“’Night Liz.”
As Tom walked away, he wondered what sort of car Liz had. He didn’t even know she could drive. He missed driving, he’d got rid of his car years ago. Wasn’t worth paying the tax and insurance on as he never used it. Perhaps he’d get a new one once he sorted himself out. He was getting there, after all, here he was out for the… He realised he’d lost count of how many days he’d been out in a row. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he whistled as he continued his journey. He glanced into Giuseppe’s as he passed. The restaurant was still in semi-darkness, they hadn’t opened for the evening yet, but the light was on by the pizza oven. Two men in overalls were moving about behind the counter. No doubt preparing delicious toppings for the pizzas. His stomach rumbled at the thought. Half a dry bacon sandwich was not enough for a growing man. For the remainder of his journey, he thought only about what pizza he would order, and where he’d put the discount leaflet he’d received.
As he had napped that afternoon, despite polishing off a huge and very tasty pizza, Tom didn’t feel tired as he got himself ready for bed. He stared at the drawer in the cabinet as he pulled on his dressing gown. He had hoped to give that a miss again tonight. Snatching up his phone he went back downstairs. If Emily was going to make a video call, it would be better if he wasn’t in bed. He flipped through the channels and stopped as the face of Joan Hickson appeared in a black felt hat. He liked a good Agatha Christie, and Hickson was without doubt the best Miss Marple. He’d put it on hold when Emily called.
