Indian Summer (20 page)

‘I'll appropriate pumpkins for the girls, and we'll
hire
costumes. I'm not having a repetition of last year, when you were striving to make three witches' outfits in the middle of an order for a wedding gown and four bridesmaids' dresses.'

‘No need for that. Gina can wear Maggie's and Beth can have Gina's from last year. They'll moan, but go off happily enough when the time comes.'

‘How about Maggie? If she has something new it'll increase the moans twofold.'

‘She's been invited to a swish party with Hans and his family. Very decorous. No witches or demons. She's going to wear the dress we bought her for her birthday.'

Tom frowned. ‘When was this agreed?'

‘On Sunday. You were involved in the murder in the water tank. Maggie was eager to go, and the Graumanns are fond of her. We know she's in safe hands when she's with them, so I said yes.'

He chewed a sandwich almost aggressively and finally had to voice his thoughts. ‘That friendship's getting too particular for my liking. She's thirteen, he's sixteen. That puts him on the threshold of manhood. I know what lads of sixteen are like, and Maggie looks at least that age when she dolls herself up.'

Nora said wearily, ‘Go on, finish the hackneyed speech.
And he's German!
Tom, I'm sick of hearing it. Maggie and Hans have an adolescent friendship. They're discovering feelings that are normal for kids of their age. That's all it is. He's a very nice lad with responsible, friendly parents. Stop behaving like a Victorian father, for Christ's sake!'

Tom was shaken. Although Nora had several times accused him of overreacting on the subject of their eldest daughter's long-standing friendship with the boy who lived across the road, she had never let fly at him like that. It revived his fear that she was holding back some alarming news regarding her health, that she was trying to handle on her own. He determined to get the facts from Clare Goodey in the morning. Meanwhile, he would ignore her strange mood.

‘If they're all going to parties on that evening, it'll give us a chance to do something ourselves,' he said, forcing a smile. ‘Dinner at the Golden Calf, perhaps?' Without waiting for a response, he added, ‘Now, how about that shower and short nap?'

She gazed across the garden. ‘If you're determined to take over the ironing, I'll stay here while you do it. We won't get many more days like this. I'll sit here and enjoy it. I haven't yet reached the age when I need an afternoon
nap
, Tom, although I might look it.'

He had been married long enough to know it was best to stay silent after comments like that. Whatever he said would be wrong. With careful tact he agreed it was too nice a day to spend indoors.

‘Soon as I've finished with the iron I'll make some tea and join you.'

Thirty minutes later, while he was collapsing the ironing board, his mobile rang. Tempted to ignore it, he saw the caller was George Maddox and felt obliged to answer.

‘Yes, George.'

‘I'm here at the padre's, with him and Cap'n Steele, sir. Mrs Walpole and her sons have just arrived from the mortuary where they arranged for Starr's body to be flown home. Now they want to collect the children and remove all their belongings from the house. We've done our best to impress upon them that they can visit the boy and the baby, but can't take them back to the UK. They're kicking up merry hell about it, and the fact that I told them the house is a suspected crime scene and out of bounds to them. The brothers are pitching up ugly, so I've called Meacher and Stubble to stand guard at the place. I tried to contact Cap'n Rydal but he's not answering. You need to get down here or I might have to arrest them all. At gunpoint, sir!' he added significantly.

‘On way,' Tom said heavily, certain Max had switched off so that he could pursue something sensitive enough to demand just one pair of feet treading very lightly on the path to the truth. Well, he had access to people who could probably assist him, but Brigadier Andrew Rydal was on honeymoon at a secret location, and Livya Cordwell was the last person a jilted lover would want to apply to for help.

Nora was awake on the lounger when he took her a cup of tea and some cake from the well-stocked tin. He explained the problem and promised to return soon. ‘Ban all talk of the puppy until I get here, and start
them
cooking the supper. Tell them I said you are to have a day off from that chore. Rest there in the sun. It'll do you good.' He kissed her swiftly. ‘I'll have to take your car. See you!'

He wished he had asked Max to drive him to the base to collect his car, but it might be a good thing to leave Nora without transport. If any of the girls wanted to be driven somewhere she would have the perfect excuse to deny them. He
must
get to the bottom of what was wrong. He could not let it continue. Maybe he could take her away for a short break when this case was wrapped up. That would probably solve everything. He resolutely pushed away thoughts of a debilitating illness because they were too hard to contemplate.

Paul Finch and his Scottish wife, Mairie, were a popular clerical pair. He had been a sergeant in the Royal Artillery when he had ‘got the call', so he understood soldiers well, and she had the gift of being able to find rapport with almost anyone. If they, plus George Maddox and Captain Steele could not cope with the Walpoles, they must be formidable in the extreme.

Maddox, looking formidable himself in uniform and armed, met Tom in the padre's garden. ‘They're getting real nasty in there. Putting aside the fact that they've just viewed their dead sister, the two men are spoiling for a fight with anyone who'll take them on. The mother just wants the kids, but the truckies are bent on collecting everything from the house.' He turned and pushed open the door. ‘None of them seems concerned about the murder of Keane.'

‘Hmm,' grunted Tom. ‘If Starr had survived, they'd have been concerned to the extent of how much she could claim as his widow.'

The square room seemed full to overflowing when they entered. Everyone was standing and voices were raised. A low table held a tray with a teapot, cups and saucers and a plate of biscuits. The cups were full of tea, the biscuits appeared to have been similarly ignored. So much for Mairie Finch's rapport with the Walpoles!

The woman and her two sons seemed to dwarf everyone else. Gloria Walpole was much as Tom expected from all he had heard of her. Obese with bleached hair dark at the roots, she wore white stretch trousers and a clinging blue top that outlined every roll of fat. Large gilt hoops dangled from her ears and each of her pudgy fingers bore a flashy ring. Yet, despite the starkly yellow hair and several wobbly chins, she had a pretty face dominated by large sparkling eyes. Right now they were sparkling with anger.

The brothers could have been twins. As tall as Tom, their girth put his in the shade. Beer bellies stretched to the fullest extent their T-shirts bearing a company logo, and three-inch wide leather belts supported their trousers below the swelling paunches. In their teens they had probably been nice-looking lads, but the years and their aggressive personalities had coarsened any inherited attraction to leave no doubt of their present brutishness.

One of these giants caught sight of the new arrival and sneered. ‘Bringing in reinforcements? You can bring the whole effing lot but we know our rights.' He advanced on Tom menacingly. ‘I don't know who you are and I don't effing care. Another bible-thumper, as you're not in uniform and toting a gun.' His sneer grew. ‘We've just seen our girl lying there covered with a sheet. She's no concern of yours now. Nor are her kids. We're here to collect them and all their stuff from the house. As Starr's next of kin it's all ours by law. Pray to the Lord as much as you like, mate, it won't change anything.' He turned to his brother. ‘C'mon, Chas, we ain't in the Army; they can't dictate to us.'

George Maddox stood in front of the door, wearing an uncompromising expression and looking solid enough to prevent even this pair from moving him. Tom identified himself, adding that he was investigating the murder of Corporal Keane.

‘
SIB
also liaised with the German police regarding your sister's death in a road accident; we traced the children and arranged for them to be cared for by responsible people.'

All this had been imparted in a neutral tone, but Tom put more authority into his next words. ‘Let's get a few facts straight. You are presently on an army base where the responsibility for safety and public order is with the Military Police. In this instance, myself and Sar'nt Maddox. We are empowered to order you to leave if you become aggressive, abusive or truculent to an unacceptable degree. If necessary, we can arrange for you to be escorted through the gate by an armed guard. We can even have you put under arrest.'

He resumed the neutral tone. ‘Now you're aware of the score I suggest you and your mother sit down and calm down. You're the guests of the Padre and his wife, so moderate your language and attitude if you want to remain here while we discuss your requests.'

‘They're not
requests
, mate, they're lawful demands,' one of the brothers said forcefully.

‘Yes, we want what's ours,' cried Gloria tearfully, pushing between her sons to confront Tom. ‘I want my grandchildren. The Army has no claim on them. They're no more than
babies.
I'm not leaving without them. You can put me outside the gate, but I'll sit there – we all will – until you stop playing soldiers and hand them over. Look big, don't you, with guns in your belt, but you don't frighten us. We can splash this all over the tabloids, you know. We can mount a demonstration outside Parliament. My boys know people who can get a protest march going
any time they want
. You won't look so bloody clever then, will you?
Will you
?' she ranted, looking behind her at the uniformed captain and the Finches.

Ben Steele stepped forward, exchanging significant looks with Tom. ‘Mrs Walpole, we've
tried
to explain to you that the situation regarding Corporal and Mrs Keane's children is dictated by
civil
law. Prince and Melody are
wards of court
, so it will be the duty of a
judge
to decide their future. It's
not
a military decision. We have no say in the matter.'

‘But
you've
got them,' she yelled at him.

‘
No
, Mrs Walpole, they're presently in a care home run by civilians.' He looked exasperated. ‘The Padre, Sar'nt Maddox and I have all assured you of that, and we've said that we'll take you to visit them to see for yourself that they're being well looked after. We can't do any more than that. The matter is out of our hands.'

Suddenly, and distressingly, the defiant, bombastic woman subsided to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. Her sons just stared at her, so Mairie Finch went across, took her hands and sat on the floor beside her.

‘Best to let it come out,' she soothed.

Gloria gazed at her through the sliding tears. ‘They're all I have left of my lovely . . .
lovely
girl. She'd want her mum to have them, see them grow up,
love
them,' she moaned through her spasm of grief. ‘She'd
want
that. I can't let her down.'

Tom signalled Ben to join him and George Maddox by the door. ‘Useless to reason further with them. She'll possibly calm down after this, so I suggest we forget the formalities and rid ourselves of them pronto. George, get someone to take her and one of the sons to see the kids then return them to wherever they're staying in town. I'll take the other guy to the house and oversee the collection of clothes and any personal items that obviously connect with Starr and the kids. Everything else will have to be left until ownership can be proved. Keane's people are sure to lay claim to some of the stuff.'

‘Are they also likely to lay claim to the children?' asked Ben heavily.

Tom shook his head. ‘Doubtful, I'd say. Seems they're quite a bit older. Probably wouldn't want the responsibility, and it's unlikely they'd behave like this lot if they did.'

‘I hope you're right,' muttered Ben. ‘What a tragedy this is! Dying within a day of each other. Have you any leads on who killed Flip Keane?'

‘We're following several,' Tom lied, glancing past the young officer. ‘She's quieter now. Let's get them all moving out and on their way.'

Gloria Walpole's loss of composure had created the hiatus that facilitated fresh command of the situation. The bully boys meekly followed their mother from the house without a backward glance, leaving Ben to issue thanks and apologies to the Finches. A phone call from George brought a military police vehicle driven by a man as large and uncompromising as the Walpoles. Beside him sat a woman similarly uniformed and armed, to provide support for a bereaved woman's visit to her grandchildren. While the passengers climbed in, George had a swift word with the corporal, who nodded her understanding before they prepared to drive away.

‘The keys to the Keanes' house,' Tom reminded her sharply.

‘You already have them, sir. Phil Piercey collected them earlier.'

Her smile did nothing to soften his irritation over this evidence that Piercey was out on a limb again, which meant he could not shake off Chas Walpole until he had contacted the maverick sergeant for the key. He called Piercey's mobile, irritation mounting.

‘Yes, sir?' said the familiar Cornish voice.

‘Where are you?' Tom snapped.

‘Connaught Road. Corporal Roger Marshall's quarter. Found his boy unprotected with the front door open to the street. Mother had just had a fix. She's right out of it, at present. I got Ray Meacher to call Welfare to organize someone to keep an eye on the kid.'

‘So why are you still there?'