The Other Woman (37 page)

‘Mrs Melissa Whitworth was murdered last night,' said Lloyd.

‘Simon Whitworth's wife?' asked Jake.

‘The very same,' said Lloyd.

‘Well,' said Jake. ‘Still waters and all that. I mean, what the hell made him do a thing like that?'

‘We don't think he did. Do you know anyone called Dennis Parry?'

‘Parry … Parry …?' Jake frowned. ‘No,' he said.

‘That's odd,' said Inspector Hill. ‘Bobbie says he works for you – on a sort of unofficial, untaxed, uninsured basis, I suppose. But he works for you, all the same.'

Jake took another drink. It wasn't a sip. More a gulp. He'd have to watch that. He smiled at her. ‘Old habits,' he said. ‘Deny everything. Yeah, all right – he works for me. What's he done?'

‘His car was outside the Whitworths' house last night,' said Lloyd.

‘Yeah? Didn't know he knew them.' Finch should get some sort of medal for sheer persistence, Jake thought, as he watched him. He felt almost sorry for him, as he worked his way through the owner's record collection. ‘You should be talking to Dennis, in that case,' he said. ‘Not me.'

‘We have. His memory seems to be as faulty as yours – he couldn't recall your name either.'

Good old Dennis. ‘So what was he doing at Whitworth's place?' asked Jake.

‘Oh, he wasn't. He was somewhere else with a dozen witnesses – almost as though he knew he might need them. And he can't think who might have borrowed his car.'

Jake smiled. ‘And how can I help?' he asked.

‘We'll come to that,' said Lloyd. ‘In the meantime, I would like to ask you some questions concerning the murder of Sharon Smith. You are not obliged to say anything, but if you do, anything you do say may be given in evidence.'

Jake smiled. ‘Do you think I had something to do with it?' he asked.

‘I think you did it, Mr Parker,' said Lloyd.

‘I was in one of your own cells when Sharon was murdered – ask him.' He pointed at Finch, who had stood up from his task, and dusted himself off.

‘Nothing, sir,' Finch said.

‘No. I thought not,' said Lloyd. ‘It was worth a try.'

‘Shall I …?' Finch nodded in the general direction of the rest of the house.

‘No,' said Lloyd. ‘I'm sure Mr Parker has destroyed anything and everything which connects him with the fraud.'

Jake was very glad to hear Lloyd's decision, but less than happy with their response to what he had just said. They couldn't go accusing him of murder, and then ignore him when he pointed out that they had been holding him at the time.

‘I said I was in your cells,' he repeated.

‘No,' said Inspector Hill. ‘You weren't.'

Jake turned to face her.

‘You were in our cells when Bobbie was raped,' she said. ‘But not when Sharon was murdered.'

He began to breathe too quickly, too shallowly, and forced himself to slow down, and think. He mustn't let what happened to Bobbie throw him. That's why she had mentioned it, to make him lose his concentration. They were trying to trick him. They had talked to Bobbie; she'd told them about Dennis. But she had no reason to think that she shouldn't tell them about Dennis. She wouldn't have told them anything else, he knew that.

He got up slowly, and poured himself another drink. Slow down. Slow down, Jake. Don't let them panic you. ‘ Your blokes carted me off in a van when the match was abandoned,' he said. ‘Sharon was still alive then. So – she died after I was released, is that it?'

Inspector Hill shook her head. ‘ She died about a quarter of an hour after she left the office,' she said. ‘She died the moment she kept her appointment with you. Because she had threatened your financial future.'

Take it easy, Jake, take it easy. Sit down. They know, but they need proof, and that they haven't got. Not now. He sat down, and took a long, calming draw on the cigarette. ‘ Even if you were right that I was involved in this fraud – which you're not – why would I kill her? It's because she's dead that you know about the fraud at all.'

‘We know about it because you told us, Mr Parker,' said Lloyd. ‘And you told us because your girlfriend was raped, and your hand was forced.'

Jake closed his eyes. He'd never forgive himself for letting Bobbie in for that. And they had no right to keep bringing it up like that.

‘Sharon left the office, and walked straight up Byford Road to the football ground,' the inspector went on. ‘That would take her twenty minutes at the most – the weather was quite clear then. She went to where she had arranged to meet you. The changing rooms. You were waiting for her. You killed her, you removed her outer clothes, and you got her into a brand-new leisure suit as best you could. You left the newspaper cutting in her skirt, and the key to the changing rooms in her bag.'

Jake laughed. ‘You'd have a hell of a time taking that to court,' he said. ‘ Considering she was at the match two hours after that.'

Inspector Hill carried on. ‘Meanwhile, Bobbie Chalmers had made another appointment. To meet Mrs Whitworth. At the football ground. And just after six, she went into the superstore and bought an exactly similar leisure suit.'

He had got rid of that. Bobbie had locked it in the boot, and he had retrieved it yesterday morning, once he'd picked up her keys. It had gone straight into the Aga. It was gone. There was no evidence.

Remember that, Jake, he told himself, in the face of the inspector's brown gaze. No evidence. No proof.

No case to answer.

They had just come in and told Mac he could go. They had spent hours accusing him of murdering Melissa, and then, calm as you like, someone had come and told him he could go now. Thanked him for his cooperation.

Downstairs, his landlady was hoovering. Next, she would be washing. It was Monday. He had met Melissa on Friday night, if you didn't count the introduction at the paper, and he didn't. She hadn't even remembered meeting him.

He had found her on Friday, and lost her by Monday. But he had lost her anyway. He had never had her. He picked up the packet of cigarettes the constable had finally obtained for him – making him cough up the money for them – and shook it, but he had smoked them all.

He wondered what had happened, that they had let him go. Nothing had changed from his point of view. He was still the man who had found two bodies in four days, and instead of sympathy all he had got was suspicion and questions. And no explanation.

The paper kept ringing up, trying to speak to him, but he had told his landlady he wasn't speaking to anyone, and she was better than a pit bull terrier if you wanted to discourage someone. He wasn't going to talk to them about what had happened. He still couldn't believe it himself. Didn't want to believe it.

He needed cigarettes. He heaved himself off the bed, and pulled on his jacket. He could go to that pub across the road from the police station, he thought. That was where the court reporter hung out, because he picked up bits of information from the police who would go in there when they came off duty. He might find out what had happened. Why it had happened.

He didn't suppose he would ever know why it had happened to him.

Lloyd and Finch kept a close eye on Parker as Judy told him what they had pieced together. Lloyd was watching for his emotional reactions, in the hope of trapping him into an admission. Finch was watching for his physical reactions; Parker was handy with his fists, and Judy was likely to make him very angry.

‘Bobbie kept the appointment with Melissa Whitworth, calling herself Sharon Smith,' said Judy. ‘She said all the things that you had told her to say. That there had been a possessive boyfriend – that was to make it easier to believe that you had started a fight just because she was speaking to another man. That Whitworth sometimes hated her, so that he would be a candidate. And of course, the revelation itself would give Mrs Whitworth a motive. The more the merrier. Anything to muddy the waters.'

Parker stayed silent.

Lloyd felt less than confident of success. It was obvious that Bobbie had learned her technique from Parker, as he listened without any visible reaction to what Judy was saying. The only emotion he had shown at all was when Judy mentioned the rape, and he had got that under control. If he didn't condemn himself, they were done for.

They needed proof. So far, they hadn't even found anything to connect him to the fraud, never mind the murders. And Bobbie Chalmers would obviously go to her grave without telling anyone. She hadn't even slipped up after she had been raped; this morning she had denied it had ever happened, and would clearly continue to do so.

‘Bobbie went into the ground when the interview was finished,' Judy continued. ‘You probably gave her some sort of signal from the balcony, to get the timing right. You made sure Lionel Evans was there too, and you told him Sharon was on to you. That gave him a motive too. Then you said she was down on the terraces, but Evans didn't see Sharon – only you. And you didn't invite Evans to come with you to talk to her. You went down, and she asked Barnes if he had the right time. You started a fight in full view of the police, and you hit a policeman to make certain you were arrested.'

Parker finished his drink, and looked unconcerned.

‘So as far as we knew, Sharon was alive and well when you were taken away by the police, and dead before you were released. Then you set about making it look to Lionel Evans as though her death was a body blow to your financial operations. But of course, it wasn't her death that meant you had to get out, it was the fact that she had found out. You had already made certain over the previous month that as much money as possible would be available for your departure.'

Parker smiled. ‘It's a nice story,' he said. ‘Do you have any proof?'

No, thought Lloyd. But you keep talking, Jake. Then we'll get somewhere.

‘And last night,' Judy carried on, in her clear, no-nonsense voice, ‘you killed Mrs Whitworth. Who was going to be next? Barnes? He's got police protection now, Mr Parker.'

There was a silence after Judy had finished speaking, and Lloyd prayed that Finch had learned not to break it.

‘Are you serious?' Parker asked, at last.

‘Yes,' said Lloyd.

‘You're arresting me for murder on that rigmarole?'

‘We have evidence,' said Judy.

Parker shook his head, and got himself another drink. It was early to be drinking; that was good, thought Lloyd. And Judy's bald statement was bothering Parker. She wouldn't elaborate, and if he was any judge …

‘What sort of evidence?' asked Parker.

‘We can prove that Sharon Smith was never in Melissa Whitworth's car,' Judy said

‘How? The woman's dead.'

‘Cat hairs,' she said.

Parker turned, the bottle in his hand. ‘What?' he said.

Judy gave him a little smile. ‘ Cat hairs,' she repeated.

Lloyd looked relaxed, but his soul was on the edge of his seat.

‘There is no way that anyone could possibly have been sitting in the passenger seat of Melissa Whitworth's car for half an hour without getting covered in cat hairs,' Judy said. ‘She took her cat to the vet on Friday afternoon, and the seat was still thick with the things the next day. I checked the forensic report.' She shook her head. ‘ No cat hairs on the suit that Sharon was wearing. Not even one.'

Parker turned back and poured his drink. ‘ Is that right?' he said. ‘Fancy. But that only proves that it wasn't Sharon Smith who gave the interview to the paper,' he said, and picked up his drink and sat down again. ‘ Not that Bobbie or anyone else did.'

They knew that. They had rather been counting on the fact that Parker wouldn't think of it in the stress of the moment. But apart from the drinking, Parker was showing very little sign of stress.

‘No,' Judy said evenly. ‘That's true. But we have an eyewitness in Bobbie's case.'

Last ditch stuff, thought Lloyd. If the cat hairs hadn't thrown him, this wouldn't.

Parker took a sip of whisky. ‘What sort of an eye witness?' he asked. ‘Barnes? That would get thrown out at the first hearing. He saw a woman for about ten seconds in the dark, in the fog. So he says he doesn't think it was Sharon Smith – so what? All he'd have to go on would be a photograph.' He smiled. ‘And anyway, it was Sharon, as I keep telling you.'

‘Not Barnes,' said Judy.

Lloyd was as surprised as Parker.

‘We have another witness. He was arrested last night. A witness who followed Bobbie out of the ground, who saw her being picked up by Melissa Whitworth, and being driven back to where she'd come from. Who watched her get out of the car again, and start walking back down Byford Road to her own car, which I imagine was parked on the road behind the old post office. Who watched her change back into her own clothes, waited for her to close the boot and then overpowered her and raped her repeatedly. He'll want that taken into consideration, Mr Parker.'

The blood drained from Parker's face, and he took out another cigarette, reaching over for the lighter as he got himself under control again.

‘Not Bobbie,' he said, with difficulty. ‘Some other poor kid, maybe. But Bobbie wasn't there. She was in Malworth. Ask her. Ask her about any of this rubbish. She won't confirm it.'

Lloyd knew that was all too true. Judy had tried to rattle him, and had failed.

‘No,' she agreed. ‘She's saying nothing, Mr Parker. But she can be identified. And it would make a change, wouldn't it? The rapist walking down a line of women, picking out his victim? Bobbie would love that, wouldn't she?'

Parker's mouth fell open, and his eyes grew wide with horror.

‘Of course, you could save us some time, and save Bobbie the trauma.'

Parker stared at her.