Episode 27 - Confrontation

Felix listened to Gary's daughter's pop music all the way back into town. He wondered, not for the first time, if he had chosen the right profession. I suppose I could still become a travel agent, he decided. Then I would not have to deal with the rats of society.

***

Back in his office, Gary had his report to write. He would leave out the obscenities and banter and record only the relevant bits of the incident with Mrs Temple. That done, he rang Cleo at her office.

"You're late calling, Gary."

"Guess where I've been."

"To arrest Mrs Temple."

"How did you know that?"

"Guesswork, Gary. I'm not a witch. I did not look into my crystal ball."

"She a witch, though. She had a go at poor Felix."

"Is that the fresher? He looks like he's just left school."

"That's him."

"What a way to initiate him into house visits."

"He'll have to cope one day if he stays the course."

"Pity. He's such a sweetie."

"We don't need sweeties in the force. We need toughies, Cleo."

"A bit of charm does no harm."

"He didn't charm Mrs Temple – I don’t think she’s charmable - but on reflection it was quite funny some of the time. The woman is sex-driven."

“She didn’t make a pass at me, if that’s what you mean, Gary. I expect she prefers men, but you didn't ring to tell me that."

“She certainly prefers men. She made obscene advances, Cleo. They even embarrassed me. Sam got out – literally of her clutches  and sat in the passenger seat of Greg’s patrol car. She also made comments about us.”

“I don’t think there’s anyone left who doesn’t suspect that we are having an affair. It’s probably better to admit it.”

“the idea of having sex with a mulattin certainly gave her a thrill,” said Gary.

“Is that how she described me?” said Cleo. “It thrills me too, Gary.”

"Touché, but I think you should come in and see what happens when Hatherton confronts May Temple. It could be quite dramatic."

"Didn’t they meet at Burton's barn?"

"We’ll find out for sure. We've got to make headway on the Burton case."

"So if you could eliminate Hatherton and Temple…"

"…it would throw the search wide open and we might never find out who did it. That’s the downside. I think it’s now a case of pot luck."

"It isn’t usually the way crimes are solved,” said Cleo.

“But sometimes it works.”

“Maybe you should interview Kelly along the same lines and see what he has to say,” said Cleo. “Do you know who the guy in a coma is, Gary?"

"No. But Kelly might. It’s a good reason to talk to him again."

"Take it one step at a time. Tell him you want to free him from any suspicion," Cleo advised.

"Do you think he'll fall for that?"

"He will if he's innocent. If he's guilty, you'd have him on a plate that way."

“When can you be at Headquarters?"

"Give me an hour."

"Make sure Temple and Hatherton don't get a glimpse of you. It’s probably better for you to be behind two-way glass. Mrs Temple wanted to know if I slept with the mulattin."

"Well…" said Cleo. “What did you tell her?”

"Enough to make her grin and squirm."

***

Cleo thought how naïve men could be. Mrs Temple would have drawn her own conclusions from Gary’s body language without asking him. The asking had just been teasing.  Cleo switched off the computer and espresso machine, phoned Robert to tell him where she was going, rang Dorothy and asked her round for supper, let herself out of the office, and sped down Thumpton Hill towards Middlethumpton. There would be just enough time to slip into Milston’s fashion store and look at the blazers. Cleo was always on the lookout for new blazers. She needed them for work and they were hard to come by for figures with broad backs and a bit of height. Why did manufacturers always think plump people were dumpy and preferred gaudy garments with large flowers and geometric patterns? Five minutes looking through the pathetic autumn collection convinced her that the internet was her only alternative.

***

Having given up her dream of finding something to wear (she had taken a quick peak at other garments, too) Cleo was at HQ in good time, went into the office next to Gary's, from where she could see and hear everything and be shielded from view by one-way glass, and called through that she was there!

Earlier, Gary had called Mr Hatherton and asked him to identify a corpse. Hatherton was staying at one of the town's hotels because his old pal Roger Stone had advised him to lie low for a bit, but not leave Middlethumpton for a few days. Hatherton had no option but to acquiesce, though he had better things to do than hang around Middlethumpton, he had argued.

***

Stone was uneasy with Gary's methods, especially when there was a danger that his own reputation might be sullied or his link to the Foreign Office bandied around. He was especially annoyed that Hatherton had been a suspect. Stone was a powerful administrator at Middlethumpton HQ. Hatherton wanted Gary removed from HQ and sent to some tin-pot police station at the back of beyond before he could do any more damage to his secret agent activities. ^

But Roger was not willing to make his friend Gary a scapegoat. Was there something in Gary’s theory. Why was he so persistent about Hatherton? Or was Cleo Hartley putting him up to it?

Getting Hatherton to identify a corpse was Gary's ruse to get him to HQ, but for authenticity's sake he let him view the near room-temperature remains of Mr Temple, who had been transported frozen in a helicopter. The pilot had thought that very weird. He'd never transported a deep-frozen corpse before. In the meantime the corpse, fortunately transported in a large plastic bag, was thawing out. It was high time to get identifications over. The corpse would start rotting as soon as it was warm enough.

Gary had told Mrs Temple the truth about the corpse’s discovery. The dead man had been spotted in a crevice by the helicopter rescue service on the way back from a mercy mission. Mountain rescue had been astonished that anyone without proper climbing gear would have ventured so far up the mountain. But then, they did not know what a determined woman Mrs Temple was.

"Don't know the fellow," said Hatherton.

"Are you quite sure?"

"I’ve never seen him before in my life."

That was probably true. There was no reason to think Hatherton had known Temple.

"So why did you get me here on a wild goose chase?" he said.

"I didn't know it was going to be a wild goose chase, Mr Hatherton. Come to my office. We can have a drink to make up for the nuisance."

"Alcoholic, I hope."

"Top grade Bourbon, Mr Hatherton."

Pacified by the prospect, Hatherton accompanied Gary to the office and was soon leaning back in the most comfortable chair available, sipping his Bourbon appreciatively.

“Do you set this off against expenses, Mr Hurley?”

“It all part of entertaining important guests, Mr Hatherton.”

Gary picked up his office phone and ordered the prisoner to brought to his office.

"Which one, Sir?" a bored voice whined. Another uncouth assistant prised off social benefits. No one wanted the job.

"The lady who was brought in a short time ago," Gary told the girl, avoiding Mrs Temple's name since Hatherton was listening. Gary wished he could set up an agency like Cleo's. At least she didn't have to work with such imbeciles day and night.

Cleo was watching the proceedings closely, trying to detect nervousness in Hatherton. But Hatherton was not nervous. He had come for the corpse and stayed for the Bourbon.

Mrs Temple did not walk in meekly; she marched in struggling with her handcuffs. Her curses rang out in the corridor. They were stifled by her vision of Mr Hatherton.

"You here?" they said simultaneously.

Mrs Temple had to be restrained by the two policewomen who had escorted her to the office. Mr Hatherton stood up, knocking his glass flying from the table.

"What's this all about?" they continued in a chorus.

"Sit down and I'll tell you," said Gary, a bit unnerved by the aggression. Had he been expecting an affectionate reunion?

One of the policewomen drew up a chair where Mrs Temple could sit without touching Hatherton.

"It's about the Burton murder," said Gary.

Both Temple and Hatherton looked puzzled.

"We found fingerprints belonging to both of you in Burton's barn. Were you there together?"

"Yes," said Hatherton.

"No," said Mrs Temple.

"One of you is obviously lying," said Gary.

"I was leaving as she arrived," volunteered Hatherton. "I didn't even realise who it was till I was back in my car."

"I was the love of your life once," sneered Mrs Temple, "until you walked out on me."

"I did not walk out on you. I had business to see to."

"But you never came back."

"I couldn't."

"Why the hell not?"

Cleo wondered why they had not had this conversation at Burton's barn. Mrs Temple could have challenged him there - unless she had had a problem recognizing him.

Having been ordered to appear in Gary's office after lunch, which could have been anytime between 12 and 2, Felix had gulped down a chicken sandwich and a hot cocoa in the canteen before sidling into the room and moving to behind Hatherton.

"Ah look, there's your pet cat, again," Mrs Temple jeered.

Poor Felix blushed and Hatherton looked puzzled.

Cleo wondered what that was all about.

"He's my colleague, Mrs Temple. No call to insult him."

Mrs Temple turned to Hatherton.

"So why couldn't you come back?"

"Because….because I had a spell in prison," Hatherton admitted.

"Did you?" said Gary. He looked at his file on Hatherton. "There's no record of it here."

"There wouldn't be. It was political. In those days, if certain factions suspected you of something, they locked you up."

"So how long were you kept locked up?"

"Five years."

"On what charge?"

"There was no charge."

"How did you get out?"

"I escaped, or rather, they let me escape."

"A tall story," sneered Mrs Temple.

"But nevertheless true," said Hatherton.

"So while I was having your baby, you were locked up in a cell."

"What baby?"

"Your daughter Shirley."

Gary did not move a muscle.

"I have a daughter?” said Hatherton. “I didn't know that."

Cleo wondered how Gary would deal with that situation. Hatherton had obviously been oblivious of his father role.

"Correction," said Gary. "You had a daughter. She was murdered last week."

Hatherton sat down and covered his face with his hands. After a few minutes he looked at Mrs Temple and said he was sorry.

Mrs Temple scowled.

"I never knew her. My own little girl."

"Don't you worry! I made sure she had a father."

Cleo thought the whole situation was swinging round to tragedy. She no longer suspected Hatherton of having anything to do with Shirley's death, or any other relevant crime, for that matter. Mrs Temple was heartless and callous, though she thought some of that was bitterness at being left in the lurch all those years ago. Gary pursued his questioning. He had to. Whatever Hatherton had or not done, Mrs Temple had certainly committed two murders and hated or resented Shirley and possibly even killed her.

"Where were you last Wednesday morning, Mr Hatherton?"

"In Belgium, looking for a stone cutter named André. I stayed Tuesday night at a hotel in Brussels. Max's. I always stay there."

Gary stood up.

"How come you were able to leave the country, Mr Hatherton?"

"Nothing to stop me," said Hatherton. “I'm sticking around Middlethumpton now purely as a favour to your boss, Mr Hurley”.

"We'll check your alibi, of course," said Gary, "but you can go."

"Just one request," said Hatherton. "Can I see my daughter?"

"Yes, Mr Hatherton. That can be arranged. Felix, take Mr Hatherton down to the mortuary and get them to ring me to confirm that he has permission to see Miss Temple."

Felix looked alarmed. Was he going to have to view the corpse, too? Being Gary's prospective sidekick was not what he had in mind anymore. He was only part of this event because he had happened to be on patrol duty and was assigned to support the arrest of Mrs Temple. He led Mr Hatherton out.

"Come back later, Felix. We need to discuss your terms of employment."

"But I…"

"Later!"

***

Cleo could not help being amused by the incident. If Gary was looking for an aide to replace Shirley or help Nigel, she thought he might look for someone with a bit more character. He might be better off not letting Nigel go home to his parent’s dry cleaning business, she thought.

***

Hatherton had not looked at Mrs Temple again. Cleo thought he was preoccupied with the idea that he had become a father and lost his child all in one go.

***

"So now to you, Mrs Temple," said Gary.

The woman had been shocked by Hatherton's prison story.

"I don't suppose you want to see your daughter’s corpse, do you?"

"No."

"What were you doing at Burton's place?" Gary asked, hiding the disgust he felt about this woman. Cleo thought he was managing quite well.

"It's none of your business."

"Were you there to settle an account, Mrs Temple?"

"What account? I don't deal with crooks."

"Burton was not a crook, as far as we know."

"You'd better get your investigation going, then," she retorted.

"Was Burton blackmailing you, Mrs Temple?"

The woman just pursed her lips.

"Had he found out about Mr Temple's fate?"

No answer.

"Or about the girl?"

Mrs Temple was clearly not going to cooperate.

"Take her to the cells, Ladies," he told the two policewomen. "I can't take any more of this person."

***

For  while, Gary sat pondering at his desk.

His phone rang.

"I'll join you now, shall I?"

"Of, course, Cleo."

"At last there's a new slant on the Burton killing," said Cleo, sitting on the chair Mrs Temple had vacated. "Do you think Burton really knew what Mrs Temple did to her husband and the girl?"

"I've no idea, but one thing is certain. The two characters I've just interviewed did not just meet by arrangement at Burton's barn. They had different missions."

"Hatherton’s was presumably business,” said Cleo. ”I'd like to know what Mrs Temple's mission was. Where could she have met Burton in the first place?"

"That's something else we'll have to find out."

“Always supposing Mrs Temple is prepared to tell you, Gary.”

“She won’t say a syllable more that she has to, Cleo. Do you think we can link the dead girl Svetlana with Burton?"

"It's a long time ago and they are both dead, but it's worth a try,” said Cleo. “The girl might have been a hooker. Mrs Temple thought she was, albeit it a poor one."

"On the basis of it takes one to know one she was probably right, but let's order pizzas first."

"You're on. I'm starving."

While they were waiting for Romano to deliver his excellent pizzas, Gary phoned archives and asked about any documentation for up to twenty year old cases of missing female persons up to the age of about thirty and males named Temple. An assistant from the records office delivered a pile of missing person files under the initials S and T.

***

Mrs Temple's two victims had not been recorded as murder cases. There had been inquiries, but they had been closed for lack of evidence, A later inquest on Mr Temple, who had originally been reported missing by neighbours, ended in an open verdict that enabled him to be registered as dead. The girl had been registered as missing by a young woman she had befriended at a hostel and for whom she had got into a job with her own pimp. Svetlana had left without saying goodbye and the young woman had been worried about her because she dealt with some strange clients.

But looking for missing east block immigrants was not high on the police priority list. Their only evidence that she had even existed was later confirmed by neighbours of the Temples, who had seen her hanging around and then missed her. The case of a missing immigrant  named Svetlana, surname unknown, had been closed with undue haste.

"Unbelievable. But the archives produced only one case of a missing young woman," said Gary.

"Was that the unholy Sweatlana?"

"The what?"

"That's what Mrs T. called her. Added an ‘a’ and pronounced the name as sweat instead of svet. According to Mrs Temple, she stank."

"Poor Svetlana. We have one report on a woman with that name in the archives from when she arrived in Britain, apparently legally. A Russian immigrant. She was trying to get out of the prostitution scene. Worked as a waitress, but in the end solicited off her own bat, having ducked out of protection given by a thug named Oleg. He had been caught beating the living daylights out of the girl and sent to prison for that and a dozen other crimes. He later managed to escape and disappeared without trace."

"Negligence?"

"Probably not. A corrupt warder maybe. But what can you do with such characters? Extradite them?"

"I thought that’s what they did."

“They were working on it. But homelands like their nationals to serve sentences in the countries where they committed their crimes. That’s much more convenient.”

"So letting him escape was a good solution. He would not face charges in his homeland."

“Out of sight, out of mind,” chanted Gary.

"It all sounds very corrupt to me."

"It is. Small-time crooks are ten a penny. The big guys don't send young women out on the streets. They let their minions do that."

"So I suppose Mr Temple would have been a good catch for a girl free-lancing and wanting to become respectable."

"Except that no evidence for the affair was found and Mrs Temple would hardly be likely to claim any. It came out at Mr Temple's inquest that the Temples had taken a trip to Scotland, but their whereabouts could not be determined. Mrs Temple told everyone he had left her stranded in some bed and breakfast or other and not reappeared."

"And they believed her."

"Seems like it. There was no further questioning."

"And from then on there was cold war between the two women, the neighbours reported. And don't forget. Shirley didn't know Temple was not her real father."

"He might have hired Svetlana as a hooker."

"Speculation, Cleo."

"But possible. She was killed in the bathroom, Gary. May Temple was proud of what she had done.”

"What about the pimp, Oleg? Did he really leave the country?"

"Presumably, but that gets a low profile in the report. They simply lost track of him. It's in an extra note stuck over his name. What a mess this file is."

"I think Colin should take a look at Roger Stone's ambience. What if his wife is or was meeting Hatherton, for instance?"

"Can he do that today?"

“He’s busy with the Badger case, Gary. It's clear that those school kids were either not aware of what was going on, or keeping quiet about it under threat."

"Need more assistance?"

"I don’t think so. Thanks Gary.. Colin will try some undercover observation from tomorrow, hoping to win the trust of whoever is dealing. The drugs squad will take over later this week. My Agency has only set the ball rolling. Drug barons are a size too big for us."

"And murder isn't?"

“I’m getting the hang of it,” said Cleo. “I’m sorry, but I’ll have to go, Gary. Can we meet on neutral ground?”

“Is my flat neutral enough?”

“Sure. Let’s phone.”

***

Back in her office, Cleo again made a list of conclusions from the meeting with Gary. For a start, it was no longer relevant whether the girl thrown onto the landfill that night had known Burton. They had a confession from her killer and the inquest would bring in an open verdict on that basis. Scrutiny of records would determine whether a young woman’s corpse had been found at a landfill during the last ten years or so. The main interest would be in Mr Temple's death, since there was now a corpse. Mrs Temple had confirmed Temple’s identity and seemed proud of her ugly deed.

***

Shirley was a different matter. Cleo thought there was a chance that Roger Stone, who Gary at last admitted had been Shirley's new affair, was implicated in some way. But how? Might Shirley have been threatening Stone with exposure to his wife if he didn't give her the job she wanted? Who knows how many ruthless genes she had inherited from her mother? And anyway, what sort of a past did Mrs Stone have? Jay had said she was a hooker in New York. There was no reason for him to lie. A phone call to Colin started that ball rolling.

***

The school Colin was observing finished classes at four. Two of the drugs squad would move closer to the scenario later that week when Colin would, with any luck, have got some the kids talking. Barbara Badger was out of it. Her parents had sent her to a boarding school on the south coast. No prior warning had been given. Not even her best friend knew where she was.

***

Colin's enquiries about Mrs Stone had already provided him with a fair number of contacts, not least thanks to a tip-off by Delilah Browne, who identified Mrs Stone as a regular visitor after sessions at the gym. She was usually in the company of a younger man, but not always the same one. Colin confirmed that Mrs Stone was a regular at the Wellness Centre run by Pamela Norton. A funny guy named Henry had fancied him and told him things to ingratiate himself. Colin had kept up the gay act. He wondered if the Centre also provided girls (or men) for bored husbands (or wives). While he was observing the entrance from his car, Mrs Stone herself had emerged with a young man in tow. A guy like Burton might well have spotted what was going on and threatened Mrs Stone with exposure. Colin took some photos but kept out of sight. Back at reception, Henry said he knew the guy. Harmless but naïve and unfortunately not like them. Typical prey for a woman like Mrs Stone.

Colin wondered if he would count as prey by or for Henry. He would rather not pursue that idea, but something else occurred to him. He needed information urgently and Gary might be the best source.

***

"Gary, Colin Peck here. What kind of a gun was Burton shot with?"

"It's still not official. A small calibre. Smaller than those the police use."

"Do the top brass carry weapons?"

"They certainly possess them, even if they don't normally need to carry them. Any special reason, Colin?"

"Mrs Stone hires playmates at the Wellness Centre."

"Is that important, Colin?"

"It might be if she goes round armed."

Gary was uneasy about investigating Mrs Stone. He wanted to head Colin off that idea.

"Why should she do that?"

"Someone could have been blackmailing her."

"I doubt it."

It was obvious that Gary was blocking any investigation into the Stones.

“Could Stone possess a small calibre gun?”

“You mean, and Mrs Stone helped herself to it?” said Gary. “Look, Colin, we are talking about a Chief of Police. What you are suggesting is just not on the cards.”

 “OK. It was just an idea. Let me know if something turns up."

"Of course. I’ll look into the firearms situation."

***

Gary sat deep in thought for some time before giving instructions to Chris to call in all weapons used by anyone. He wanted to be left out of the enquiry. It was to be entirely a forensic job. Chris understood perfectly.

Now it was just a question of waiting for results, assuming the right people handed in their weapons for checking, though arms that were not declared were probably more interesting. This tactic left Gary out of it. He could not have faced a show-down with Stone. Colin's theories were speculative. He was only an amateur detective. Gary wondered about Julie’s attraction to Colin.

***

Gary went home to his bachelor flat. The house he had lived in with his wife and daughter had not belonged to him and he had moved out a few weeks previously as it became clear that his marriage was over. Sitting alone, Gary decided that he would not fight for sole custody of his daughter. His wife's new lover would be delighted to move into the house and Charlie would hate the situation, if and when they returned from Spain. He had cleared the house of all his stuff. Important Documents were deposited in his safe at the office. He had furnished the box room in his flat ready for Charlie’s return. He had even lined up her soft toys on  her bed and organized a canopy  of draped pink organza.

What he hated most was the feeling of desertion. A few more days at Dorothy’s might help. He would only come to the flat with Cleo for a week or two, he decided.

***

Gary's phone call startled Dorothy, but she was amenable.

"Are you quite, quite sure, Dorothy?"

"Of course I'm sure. You could collect a house key so that you don't have to wait for me to be at home. There’s one at Cleo's office."

"Thanks, Dorothy. You are a brick. How much shall I pay you?"

“I don’t want any rent, Gary. You can contribute to the food. That will be enough. Just one question.”

“Spit it out, Dorothy!”

“Why don’t you stay in your flat? Cleo told me you have a nice one in Middlethumpton.”

I’m lonely there, Dorothy. I need company right now.”

“I understand,” said Dorothy.

“I love you, Dorothy,” said Gary.

“That’s what friends are for,” said Dorothy.

“You’re a brick!”

***

Dorothy had never been called a brick before. She hoped it would be all right to have a young man lodging under her roof. Wouldn't people gossip?

Gary would have been amused at that idea.

"One thing, Gary," Dorothy said. "Can you be a relation of some sort? To cut out the gossip, I mean."

"Nosy neighbours, Dorothy?"

Gary stifled his amusement.

"Mrs Barker next door. She talks through her hat."

"No problem. I'll be the son of your colleague in London applying for a new job."

"That should do the trick except that some people will recognize you."

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

***

Gary rang Cleo again.

“I’d love to, Gary.”

“I haven’t asked you yet. I’ll come to the office on my way to Dorothy’s.”

“Aren’t you staying at your apartment?”

“I need company,” said Gary.

“I’ll make coffee,” said Cleo.

***

Cleo and Gary embraced with all the intensity of lovers who had been apart for a year.

“Do you know what that witch Temple said?”

“Are you going to delight me with a quote?”

“She said that she would have been surprised if I hadn’t wrapped myself round your body.”

“What a wicked woman,” said Cleo.

“Good with words, however,” said Gary. “Have you locked your office door?”