Bricks and Mortality: Campbell & Carter 3 (29 page)

‘Hi to you,’ returned Jess. ‘I’m sorry to see you here.’

‘Better than seeing me on a trestle down at the morgue.’

‘Yes, I won’t argue with that. You sound compos mentis. Can you talk to me for a while?’

‘The dreaded police interview.’ Gervase sounded resigned.

‘It’s entirely your decision. The doctor wasn’t very happy about my talking to you. They’re concerned about concussion. He said it would be all right if you felt up to it.’

‘Oh, my mind’s all right or I think it is. My vision’s fine. I’m not seeing two of you there. I’ve got a bloody big headache, or would have, if they didn’t pump painkillers into me via that hatstand they’ve got me attached to.’ Gervase gestured weakly at the drip line hanging from the dolly. ‘That’s probably affecting anything I say. The best way to describe how I feel today is as if I have a bad hangover. I can’t turn my head because of this collar. That’s a nuisance. I wrenched my neck somehow when I twisted trying to avoid my attacker.’

‘The same doctor I spoke to on my way in,’ she told him, ‘said you’d been very lucky. Another blow would have resulted in much worse.’

‘Like Pietrangelo? I realise that.’ His fingers twitched as if he would make another hand gesture, but he decided against it. ‘I really feel bad about that poor guy. I met his girlfriend, you know.’

‘Sarah Gresham? Where? When?’ Jess was startled. ‘Last night?’

‘No, not last night.’ Gervase tried a negative movement of his head, but frowned and abandoned it. ‘I have to try and remember not to do that … I was looking round the house, a couple of days ago, and she was there, leaving flowers on the spot where his body was found. The flowers are still there. I saw them last night, all withered already. She should have put them in a jam jar of water or something. Poor kid. I was so sorry for her and felt to blame because it does seem he got killed instead of me. I should have let Reggie sell him the house.’

Gervase’s speech sounded disconnected but Jess persevered.

‘You knew Pietrangelo wanted to buy?’

Gervase waved a hand in negation. ‘Not specifically him, no. Reggie had emailed me to say
someone
had enquired. I emailed back to tell him, no chance. I really didn’t know what to say to Sarah. It was my damn fault really, that’s what I kept thinking while I was talking to her. I should have sold the house or told Reggie to tell anyone enquiring I’d be happy to sell. Perhaps I should have sold it to Serena when she was so keen to buy, or given her the damn place. Then that poor fellow wouldn’t have been creeping round on the quiet. Poor girl, she looked so wretched and I could only blather nonsense and not say a damn thing to comfort her. She kept saying she understood why I hadn’t wanted to sell, but she’d totally misunderstood. She thought I’d been attached to the place. Fortunately, Muriel turned up and saved the day for me.’

‘Miss Pickering? What was she doing there?’ asked Jess, surprised.

‘Walking her dog. She’s always had a dog. She’s a feature of the lanes around here, stumping along with mutt in tow. This one looked pretty weird, like something a mediaeval mason might have carved for a gargoyle. But she started telling me what a waste of space I was, or words to that effect, and that gave Sarah an excuse to leave us and spared me having to try to make any more conversation with her. So Muriel, ghastly old bat, did me a good turn.’ He smiled wryly.

‘Why does Miss Pickering think you a waste of space, in your words?’ Jess asked. It sounded, from Gervase’s description of Muriel, as though the opinion might be mutual.

‘She thinks that of everyone,’ Gervase said. ‘Men, in particular. She had a tyrannical father. She didn’t like my father, either, as it happened. Don’t blame her for that. Neither did I. But she did like my mother, funnily enough.’

‘I have spoken to Miss Pickering,’ Jess told him. ‘She said she had been friendly with your mother.’

‘I remember it. It was a strange sort of friendship.’ Gervase became thoughtful, his eyes unfocused and apparently looking back down the years. ‘I think my mother was sympathetic to Muriel, liked her, I suppose. On Muriel’s side I fancy it was more in the nature of a schoolgirl crush. Only neither of them was a schoolgirl, of course. I tagged along occasionally on one of their shared walks. I could see the hero-worship in Muriel’s phizzog. My mother was a good-looker. She used to go up to London sometimes, shops and theatre, that sort of thing. Then she’d tell Muriel about it all. Muriel never went anywhere; and always looked like one of her dogs. That’s unkind. I shouldn’t say that. But my mother must have seemed glamorous to her, like a film star – if Muriel had ever gone to the cinema. I suppose she had a TV.’

I didn’t see one, thought Jess. When I visited Muriel there was no television in that sordid sitting room.

Gervase was continuing, ‘She was upset when my mother left. Told everyone my father had murdered her and buried her in the countryside somewhere.’

‘What?’

‘He hadn’t, of course. I can tell you that as a proven fact because I met my mother again just under a year ago and had lunch with her. She still looks good. Anyway, no one but Muriel suggested it at the time. My father got on to his lawyers and I presume they told her to shut up. So she did. I have teased her occasionally by telling her I know where the body’s buried. I shouldn’t do that. I think when my mother left, Muriel felt it like a bereavement.’

‘Why did she hate your father? Just because your mother left the marriage and the area?’ Jess asked carefully.

Not, apparently, carefully enough. Gervase’s expression suddenly became unexpectedly shrewd. ‘You’ve spoken to Muriel. She probably told you. Dad used to beat my mother up. I don’t mean all day, every day. Only in the bedroom, after they’d gone to bed. I understand now it was a sex thing. He couldn’t do it, I suppose, unless he beat her up first, to get himself going.’

‘But you knew? As a child you knew that he used violence towards her?’

‘Not
why
, but that he did it, yes.’ Gervase’s eyes narrowed to slits. ‘He was clever enough not to hit her face. He just went for the rest of her. I could hear the thump of his fist landing and the muffled cries she gave, stifling her shrieks in case I heard. I heard, anyway. I used to sit on the stairs in my pyjamas, strangling my teddy bear and wishing I were brave enough to rush in and protect my mother. But I knew I couldn’t.’

‘Poor kid,’ said Jess involuntarily. ‘That was a terrible burden for you to bear all alone.’

‘Oh, I don’t think I was alone in knowing about it. Muriel knew, after all. The au pair – we always had one of them – had a flat up in the attic so she might not have heard them, but I dare say she did. Sounds, even small ones, travel in a house at night. Besides, there are other ways of knowing. People knew or suspected, but they didn’t say anything. That’s how it goes. None of our au pairs stayed very long.’

‘I have dealt with a number of domestic violence cases,’ Jess told him. ‘Often other people do suspect. But they think it’s private, between husband and wife.’

‘There you go, then. I shall always believe that old devil Stephen Layton knew because he was their doctor. But he didn’t do a damn thing. Anyhow, I have that prize bore, Roger Trenton, to thank for my not ending up stretched out dead last night, and to my great annoyance I have to be grateful to Stephen Layton, too.’

‘Layton was there last night?’

‘Came along in his car and found Trenton stooped over me, wringing his hands. Or so I gather.’

‘Tell me about it,’ Jess invited. ‘Stop if your head hurts or you feel the painkillers are making you muzzy.’ She took out her little tape recorder and placed it on the bed. ‘I’ll record if you don’t mind. Start from when I left you with your cousin.’

‘OK.’ Gervase drew a deep breath. ‘After you left I stayed chatting to Serena for a few minutes. Not longer because it had got dark and I had agreed to go back to The Royal Oak and settle my bill, move somewhere else. Only I never got back there to do that, so all my stuff is at The Royal Oak. Has anyone told them I’m in here?’

‘I’ll make sure they understand that you want to keep the room on,’ she promised. ‘I suppose you will have to, for the time being, if you’ve got your belongings there and you’re in here.’

‘Got everything including my passport there.’

‘We still suggest you move elsewhere when you leave here.’

Gervase grimaced. ‘Serena’s been on the phone insisting I move in with them. Poppy Trenton rang her last night and told her what had happened. Both of them, Serena and Poppy, are threatening to visit me.’ He closed his eyes briefly. ‘Serena says I need nourishing fare to recuperate. Hospital food not good enough. I thought I’d escaped the lamb hotpot. I think my cousin learned to cook over a campfire when she was a Girl Guide, and hasn’t progressed much since then. Don’t let her hear me say that on your tape …’ He gestured at the tape recorder and smiled weakly.

Jess smiled back and shook her head. There was a silence during which Gervase stared past her at the opposite wall. She said quietly, ‘I will go and come back later if you want.’

‘No, stay. Just don’t rush me. I left Serena’s place and set off back to Weston St Ambrose. The route took me within half a mile of Key House. Although I had things to do, I made a detour to see if everything was OK there. I didn’t expect to stay more than ten minutes. I parked up under the hedge. I turned the car lights off and perhaps should have left them on. Then I’d have seen if anyone else was out there. I walked around a bit inside the house. Made a lot of noise because of the rubbish underfoot. If anyone else followed me in I wouldn’t have heard. They would know exactly where I was from the racket I was making. I had a torch. I was shining it at the walls in what had been the kitchen. I personally don’t regret the loss of the house, but the general poor state of what’s left does have me worried. While that girl, Sarah, was there, what was left of a cupboard fell down. I was just able to pull her out of the way in time. We both fell to the ground. She screeched like a banshee. I thought it was because she believed I was the killer on the loose. But it turned out it was because she saw in me a resemblance to her boyfriend. It must have given her a heck of shock. Anyway, last night I was just thinking perhaps I ought to leave in case a chunk of stone fell down on my head …’ Gervase’s lips twisted wryly. ‘Then I realised someone else was there. I couldn’t see who it was. But I knew I wasn’t on my own.’

‘You heard someone?’

Gervase took a moment to consider his answer. ‘Not at that moment. I just – you know how it is when you feel you’re being watched? I can’t tell you exactly what alerted me, if anything did. Yes, there was breathing. Someone breathing noisily.’

‘Panting?’ Jess asked. ‘Out of breath?’

‘No, more like, well, excited. I called out. Just asked if anyone was there.’

‘No one answered?’

‘No,’ Gervase said perhaps a touch too firmly.

Jess asked quietly, ‘You have just said that at first you didn’t hear anything to alert you to another presence, other than a sound like heavy breathing. But you felt you were not alone and you called out to ask who was there. Are you quite sure no one else spoke?’

‘Quite the Sherlock Holmes, aren’t you?’ said Gervase resentfully. ‘Picking up every little word. I could be wrong about the breathing. The wind makes noises. I don’t know I did hear anything human. It was very faint. It could have been ash settling, something falling down … But the whole place is like that, crackling and rustling. It was like being stuck in a forest at night. It might have been an animal strayed in there.’

‘We know the presence was human because you were attacked.’

‘All right, all right!’ snapped Gervase and winced, putting a hand to his head. ‘You can’t expect me to have a very clear memory! Something moved – or seemed to be moving. I couldn’t see anyone, or anything, but I did believe I had company. I switched the torch off because it occurred to me it was acting like a marker buoy, guiding whoever was there towards me. I’d got my bearings by then and thought I could manage without the help of the torch. I grew up in that house, for pity’s sake! I didn’t need a map. I thought – wrongly – I’d know if someone was about to jump me and I could deal with it. But then someone whacked me over the nut. All I saw was stars. I was stunned but I wasn’t laid out. I’ve got a hard head. That’s not a joke. Doctor here told me so. Some people have quite thin skulls. Mine’s the heavy-duty sort.

‘Anyway, I managed to scrabble to my hands and knees. I was expecting to be attacked again. I had it in my mind that I must get up on my feet. I was too vulnerable on the ground. But then I certainly did hear a voice. Someone was calling outside. Calling to know what was going on, I think. It must have frightened off whoever hit me. I heard someone moving across the rubbish on the floor, away from me. I’d got to my feet and I started off towards the sound of the new voice. I nearly reached him. I couldn’t see who it was because he was shining his torch right at me. Then I passed out at his feet.’

‘But you know now it was Roger Trenton.’

‘That’s right, operating his one-man neighbourhood watch. Then, as I’ve been told, old Layton turned up coming back from somewhere, and picked up the whole scene in his headlights. He organised the ambulance and followed it here to the hospital. He waited to see what they were going to do, last night. Good of him, I suppose, or just his doctor’s training. Or his conscience. I came to in the ambulance. I saw him briefly before they wheeled me into X-ray. He said Trenton had found me.’

The door opened and a nurse came in. ‘Everything all right?’ she enquired of Gervase, and gave Jess and the tape recorder a hard look.

‘Fine,’ Gervase assured her.

‘You ought not to talk too much.’

‘I’m nearly finished,’ Jess said.

‘Five more minutes!’ warned the nurse and departed.

‘If I’ve only got five minutes, I’ve got to ask you this now,’ Jess said quickly. ‘I’ve asked before but can you think of anyone who might be a particular enemy, bear a grudge? I know you said you weren’t popular. That’s not enough to make someone attack you. Mr Crown, this is no time to keep secrets.’