The Cold Hand of Malice (32 page)

‘Not a man to look a gift horse in the mouth, obviously,’ Alcott observed. ‘So, are you trying to tell me that you now think it was Goodwin who did the killings and she’s setting up Chase to take the fall?’

‘All I’m saying, sir, is that this raises some questions, and I’d like to find the answers, because there could be more than one motive for murder.’

‘
Could
be,’ Alcott said dismissively, ‘but from what you’ve told me, the preponderance of evidence points to Chase. She even admits she was there at the time Starkie says Holbrook was killed, for God’s sake! I know you seem to think it’s all too pat, but there are times, Paget, when things are exactly as they seem, simple and straightforward, so let’s not make them any more complicated than they really are.’

‘A Dr Barraclough called while you were with Mr Alcott,’ Ormside said when Paget returned from lunch. ‘He said to tell you that the operation on Susan Chase’s knee has been scheduled for four o’clock this afternoon, and barring complications, she will probably be discharged tomorrow morning. He said we should check with him in the morning for the actual time.’

‘Did he say anything about her mental state?’ Paget asked. ‘Delayed shock?’

Ormside shook his head. ‘No, never mentioned it.’

‘Good,’ said Paget. ‘In that case, let’s make sure that someone is there to bring her in. Anything else?’

‘Ooohh, yes,’ Ormside said in a way that suggested he’d been saving the good news. ‘Forensic hasn’t finished with Miss Chase’s car yet, but they thought we might be interested in what they found tucked away in the bottom of the glove box, so they sent it over.’ He took a sealed polythene bag from his desk drawer. He handed the bag to Paget. ‘Laura Holbrook’s rings,’ he said. ‘They were screwed up inside that wad of tissue in there. I’ve checked them against the pictures the insurance people gave us, and they’re the ones all right, so I’m afraid that blows young Forsythe’s theory right out of the water.’

Paget held the bag up to the light. Even inside the plastic bag the stones seemed to have a fire of their own.

‘They also faxed us a list of what they’ve found so far,’ Ormside continued. ‘Dog hair all over the inside of the car, probably from Chase’s own dog, but Forensic can check that out. No sign of anything that looks like the weapon that killed Mrs Holbrook, but lots of fibres that need to be checked against the ones found in some of the houses that were burgled.

‘Lots of glass from the broken windows inside the car,’ Ormside continued, ‘but nothing to indicate why they were broken. No dents or scratches that might suggest an accident, so I suppose we’ll just have to wait for Chase to tell us what happened.’

Paget handed the bag containing the rings back to Ormside. ‘Make sure they are properly logged in,’ he told the sergeant. ‘The last thing we need is to lose the only tangible piece of evidence we have – especially something as valuable as these.’

‘I spent most of the day working for you,’ said Grace as she and Paget sat down to dinner that evening. ‘Going through Susan Chase’s flat and the shop,’ she elaborated. ‘I can’t say I found anything particularly incriminating, although there was certainly evidence that Simon Holbrook has been spending quite a bit of time there. There were jackets, trousers and shirts on hangers in one of the closets; underwear and socks in one of the drawers; shoes, aftershave, toothpaste and other things of his in the bathroom, plus a few odds and ends in the laundry basket.’

‘You’re sure they all belonged to Holbrook?’ he asked, only half facetiously.

‘They match the clothing in his house, and the aftershave is the same. Even so, I sent hair from the comb and the shower to Forensic for verification. And the reason I think the affair has been going on for some time is because I found two ticket stubs from a play at the Birmingham Repertory Theatre dated January fourteenth in one of his pockets. Don McIntyre, one of our financial analysts, has been going through Simon and Laura Holbrook’s papers – it was Don who found the email messages to Beaumont on Simon’s BlackBerry the other day – so I asked him to check Holbrook’s credit card statements for me. The February statement shows he stayed in a double room at the Crowne Plaza that night; he had a meal at Simpsons, presumably dinner for two by the size of the bill, breakfast in the hotel the following morning, and lunch on the way home on the Sunday in Tenbury Wells.

‘I asked him to check Laura’s business diary, and he told me she was away in London that weekend, so I’d say there’s a good chance that Simon’s companion in Birmingham was Susan Chase.’

‘Could have been anyone,’ Paget said, playing devil’s advocate.

Grace grinned. ‘I thought you might say that,’ she said, ‘and you’re right, it could have been anyone. Except Susan is a bit of a pack-rat – at least when it comes to things with a romantic attachment – and she had the programme for that performance tucked away in a drawer along with other little mementos of their time together.’

‘Good.’ Paget nodded approvingly. ‘That’s exactly the sort of hard evidence we need to show their relationship,’ he said. ‘Anything else?’

‘Nothing that ties her directly to the murder of either one of the Holbrooks. No bloodstained clothing; no weapon; nothing like that. She has some beautiful clothes, but I couldn’t find anything made of a similar material to that mentioned in Forensics’ report on the fibres found in the vandalized houses and in Laura Holbrook’s bedroom. In fact there was nothing to suggest she ever wore anything like that. There were lots of shoes, twelve pairs to be exact, but none of them were trainers, and the girls in the shop said they had never seen her wear anything but stylish shoes, even when she took the dog for a walk.’

Grace set her knife and fork down and leaned forward, elbows on the table. ‘Are you
quite
sure it was she who killed Simon?’ she asked. ‘I’ve never met the woman, but having gone through her things, and in talking to the girls in the shop downstairs, my impression of her is of a rather gentle person. She’s certainly a romantic. She has stacks of Mills & Boon and Harlequin romances in her bedroom.’

‘On the other hand,’ he countered, ‘it could be argued it’s
because
she’s a romantic, living in a dream world, that she was prepared to risk everything for her lover by getting rid of his wife so they could live happily ever after, as the fairy tales say,’ said Paget. ‘But when she realized that her lover was likely to cave in under questioning and blame her for everything, she killed him. It wouldn’t be the first time that love has turned to hate.’

Grace looked doubtful. ‘I’m not sure that would get you very far in court,’ she said. ‘But you haven’t answered my question, Neil. Are
you
convinced she killed both of them?’

‘I’m not sure I can answer the question,’ he said. ‘The evidence against her is pretty strong, but I must confess I have niggling doubts about some of it. However, with any luck at all we should be interviewing her tomorrow, so perhaps I’ll have an answer for you then.’

Twenty-Eight

Tuesday, March 24

‘Chase is to be discharged from hospital between ten and eleven this morning,’ Ormside told Paget. ‘The doctor says everything went well. Apparently it wasn’t a particularly severe fracture, but she’ll be on crutches for a while.’ Ormside consulted a slip of paper. ‘He said to tell you she’ll be experiencing some pain later on in the day when the painkillers begin to wear off, and while there is no medical reason why she can’t be questioned, she has been under considerable stress, and we should bear that in mind.’

Paget smiled. ‘Did he, now?’ he said. ‘It sounds to me as if Susan Chase has made quite an impression on Dr Barraclough. Anything else?’

‘Well, I don’t know how much this means now, considering the evidence we have against Chase,’ the sergeant said hesitantly, ‘but Forsythe has spoken to all of the people whose homes were broken into, and every one of them visited the gift shop on a Saturday when Peggy Goodwin was there. Which means we have an explanation for how Goodwin would know when the houses would be empty, but we don’t have the same for Chase. So which one do we go with?’

‘That’s what I hope to find out today,’ Paget told him. ‘But until I’ve talked to Chase, I’m keeping my options open.’

Susan Chase, looking paler than usual, appeared to be calm and composed as she faced Paget and Tregalles across the table. She sat sideways in her chair, her right leg stretched out in front of her to keep it well out of harm’s way. A uniformed WPC had helped Susan to her seat, propped her crutches against the wall, then taken her own seat by the door. The recorder was activated, and names, date and time were entered by Tregalles.

‘Before we begin,’ Susan broke in quickly as Paget started to speak, ‘I would like to say that I did
not
kill Simon, and I have no idea who did, but if I am to be charged, I will not talk to you without my solicitor present.’ There was a slight tremor in her voice, but her eyes held those of Paget as she spoke.

‘Whether or not you will be charged depends very much on you,’ Paget told her. ‘We do need to ask you some questions regarding the death of Simon and Laura Holbrook and, depending on your answers, you may be free to go or you may be charged and detained. And you are quite within your rights to have your solicitor present if you so choose.’

‘I see.’ Susan chewed on her lip as her eyes searched his face. ‘Does that mean I can call my solicitor at any time?’

‘Yes.’

Susan drew in a long breath and let it out again. ‘Then let’s get on with it,’ she said tightly.

‘First, for the record,’ said Paget briskly, ‘you have only just come out of hospital after having an operation on your knee, and your doctor there has declared you fit for questioning. But tell me, Miss Chase, are you in any pain or discomfort?’

Susan grimaced. ‘Except for having to hobble around on crutches, no,’ she said, ‘but the sooner we’re finished here, the better.’

‘Duly noted,’ Paget said. ‘Now, tell me, when and where did you last see Simon Holbrook?’

Susan’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. ‘Thursday morning in his house,’ she said huskily, ‘and I told you that the other day.’ She fumbled in her handbag for a tissue and dabbed at her eyes. ‘And he was asleep when I left him.’

‘What time was that?’

‘I told you that as well. It would be about five o’clock.’

‘Did you leave the door locked or unlocked?’

‘Locked. It locks automatically. It’s a spring lock.’

‘And where did you go?’

‘Straight home.’

‘This was not the first time you had spent the night with Mr Holbrook, is it, Miss Chase? In fact I believe you have spent most nights together since the death of his wife – your sister. Is that correct?’

Her chin came up defiantly. ‘Yes.’

‘In fact you and Simon Holbrook were having an affair for some time
before
your sister was murdered. Isn’t that correct, Miss Chase?’

Susan closed her eyes and shook her head. ‘You don’t understand,’ she said. ‘You make it sound so tawdry, but it wasn’t like that. Simon was at his wits’ end. Their marriage was falling to pieces, and Laura had literally taken over his business; the business he had built up over the years. His heart and soul were in that business, and he felt as if he were on the outside looking in. He came to me for . . . for help. We’ve been friends for many years, and he thought that since Laura was my sister, perhaps I could help him.’

‘By sleeping with him?’ Tregalles put in softly.

Colour flooded into Susan’s cheeks. ‘That – that just happened,’ she said defensively. ‘We didn’t mean it to happen – it just did.’

‘You say it just happened, but isn’t it true that you have been in love with Simon Holbrook for many years? I think you hated your sister for taking him away from you, because it wasn’t the first time she’d done that to you, was it, Miss Chase? I think that you saw an opportunity to get Simon back, and you persuaded him that the only solution to his troubles, at home and at work, was to get rid of your sister. Permanently. Is that not true, Miss Chase?’

‘No, that is not true!’ she flared. ‘All right, I admit I was in love with Simon; I admit that I was hurt when he married Laura, but I knew how Laura worked, and I knew it wouldn’t last. Laura could be very charming and persuasive when she wanted something, and she wanted Simon and the challenge of the business. But she soon tired of Simon, as I knew she would, because she saw him only as a means to an end. It was the business she wanted, but Simon was genuinely in love with her – or thought he was at the time – and he couldn’t understand why Laura had changed so much. And to make things worse, while she was no longer interested in Simon as a husband, she was
very
much interested in his skills as an inventor and in the business.’

Susan sighed deeply. ‘The problem was it was no longer
Simon’s
business; it was
Laura’s
. She held the reins and wouldn’t let go, and that was when Simon came to me.’

‘When was that, exactly?’

‘Christmas – just after.’ Susan frowned and looked away. ‘Simon was desperately unhappy, and we used to talk long into the night when Laura was away on one of her overnight business trips. We didn’t mean it to happen; it just did. We fell in love all over again.’

‘But nothing could come of it while Simon was married to Laura,’ Tregalles continued. ‘If Simon tried to divorce her and she chose to fight him, it could mean the end of his company. But if she died, the business would revert to Simon; the money she had invested in the company, which I understand was considerable, would remain, and he would inherit whatever else she might have.’ Tregalles leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. ‘I think that prospect would be very tempting to anyone, very tempting indeed,’ he said. ‘You say you talked long into the night when Laura was away. Was that when you came up with the plan to kill her?’

‘No! That’s utterly absurd.’

‘Whose idea was it to break into houses in order to set a pattern of vandalism and escalating violence so that Laura’s murder would look like a burglary gone wrong? Yours or Simon’s?’ Tregalles prodded. ‘I suspect it was yours, and it was you who broke into those houses, because the hair we found in those houses came from your dog, Brandy.’