The Fruit Gum Murders (3 page)

‘None at all. Nobody saw anything. Nobody knew anything. Most exasperating.'

Angel nodded. But it was no surprise to either of them.

‘How is Lady Muick after all this?' he said.

‘She'll get over it. But it's not a very nice thank-you for her letting the townspeople of Bromersley climb all over her furniture and look around her home for free.'

Angel shrugged slightly and nodded in agreement.

‘Well, thank you for your efforts, Inspector,' she said. ‘But I am certain that we could have recovered the necklace if we had closed and barred the castle doors and strip-searched everybody, like I wanted you to do in the first place.'

Angel's face muscles tightened. ‘It was not possible,' he said, ‘we didn't have enough officers on hand to implement it, and by the time we could have made the castle watertight, the necklace could have been well away from the place.'

‘That's not necessarily true, Inspector. The thief might very well still be in the castle.'

‘He or she
might
still be in the castle. But, in any case, we haven't enough officers to carry out strip searches. It's the sort of thing carried out under certain circumstances in prisons. It's a huge undertaking, ordering perfectly innocent people – many of them elderly – to take off their clothes in front of officers, and then the officers actually examining them.'

‘If people were honest, such searches would not be necessary.'

His eyes flashed. ‘I know that. You tell
them
. Ninety-nine per cent are honest. It isn't reasonable to put the ninety-nine through the indignity of a strip-search. These people have paid money to come here to enjoy themselves. It wouldn't be reasonable to put them through such an ordeal. This is not yet a police state! In any case, it is not possible to do it. We haven't the authority and even if we had, we haven't enough officers of both genders to enforce it, so forget it.'

Her face was scarlet; her eyes were popping out of their sockets. ‘You have been very vocal telling me what you can't do,' she said. ‘Can you be just as vocal telling me what you
can
do?'

‘There is still the opportunity that as people leave, they might get cold feet and discard the necklace. They might even report something they've seen or heard to an officer. We will have to see. That reminds me. The necklace could have been dropped into a lavatory cistern for later collection. I will immediately have them checked. Excuse me.'

He dashed off.

Meanwhile, the sextet played the last waltz, and many people left the Great Hall and made their way to the cloakroom. Stewart and Lydia Twelvetrees and Nadine were in the forefront of the crowd. They collected their coats and filed past the two burly policemen in their Day-Glo yellow jackets at the front door.

‘Good night, officer,' Lydia said.

‘Good night, madam,' the young policeman said with a smile. ‘Drive safely.'

Stewart Twelvetrees went for the car while Lydia and Nadine stood near the main door hugging their wraps and purses, with several others. He soon arrived.

Nadine said, ‘Come with me in the back, sis.'

‘All right,' Lydia said. ‘You don't mind, darling?'

‘No,' Stewart Twelvetrees said. ‘Be there in two minutes anyway. Are you in? Seat belts on?'

‘Yes, drive on, Jeeves.'

Stewart Twelvetrees grinned and said, ‘Yes, my lady.'

They went over the artificial moat and were on the long drive, but there were many cars ahead of them.

‘Did you enjoy it, Nadine?' Stewart said.

‘It was fabulous, thank you. It was nice to see all the dresses.'

‘You looked very nice.'

Nadine smiled.

Stewart Twelvetrees said, ‘Didn't you think so, darling?'

Lydia didn't reply. She was looking out of the window; her mind was elsewhere.

Nadine nudged her.

‘What's the matter?' Lydia said.

‘Stewart was asking you if you thought I looked nice.'

She frowned, then seemed to catch up with the thread of the conversation. ‘Oh yes, sis, of course, you look terrific.'

Nadine wasn't sure that she really meant it. She pulled a face and shrugged.

‘I did, really,' Lydia said to her. ‘Pink always suits you.'

Nadine wrinkled her nose. ‘It's blush pink,' she said. ‘It's not just
pink
.'

Lydia's lips tightened. ‘It's red, if the truth be told,' she said in a low voice.

Nadine's eyes flashed. ‘It is not red. If it had been red, I wouldn't have worn it. You know what Mam said about girls who wear red!'

Stewart Twelvetrees heard the conversation and quickly said, ‘We're nearly there, girls. And you both look like princesses.'

Nadine said, ‘If I had had my own way, I would have had that green dress. I love anything green. Green is my favourite colour.'

The rest of the journey was made in silence.

Three minutes later, the car stopped outside their house.

‘All change,' Stewart Twelvetrees said with a grin. As the sisters got out of the car he added, ‘I think I'm ready for bed.'

‘I've got my key,' Lydia said.

When the car doors were closed, he drove the car into the garage.

In the hall, Nadine said, ‘I'm going straight up.'

Lydia said, ‘Don't you want a drink or anything, sis?'

‘No,' Nadine said. ‘I must get to bed. I'm on early turn in the morning. Let's stop the fighting.'

‘Yes,' Lydia said.

They exchanged kisses on the cheek.

‘Say goodnight to Stewart for me,' Nadine said and then she went upstairs.

Lydia kicked off her shoes, went into the kitchen in her stockinged feet and put the kettle on. Then she came back into the hall as Stewart Twelvetrees came in from the garage and began to lock the front door.

She took off the plain chiffon stole and began to hang it over the newel post to take upstairs later, when something fell onto the carpet.

Both Stewart and Lydia saw it glint as it caught the light, and they saw it land on the carpet.

It was the missing emerald and diamond necklace.

Twelvetrees bent down and picked it up. ‘Where on earth did that come from?'

Lydia went scarlet, not only her face but also her chest and neck. ‘I've no idea,' she said. ‘Oh, Stewart,' she added breathlessly. ‘Oh, Stewart, darling. Let me have it. I'd like to see it up close.'

He passed it to her.

She snatched it eagerly, looked at it, checked the fastening, dashed to the mirror in the hall stand, held the necklace across her chest and said, ‘Isn't it beautiful, darling? Isn't it the most fabulous thing you have ever seen in your life?'

He frowned. He was licking his lips. He shook his head. ‘But where did it come from? I mean, who—'

‘You saw what happened. It fell out of my stole,' she said quickly, then she looked closely at the piece. ‘Look at those emeralds, such a deep, clear, green. Twelve of them,' she said as her eyes grew bigger and shone almost as much as the jewels. ‘And these diamonds are what they call old cut. Look how many there are. They must be a carat each. And there are two, three, four … times twelve is … oh my God, there must be 120 carats of diamond as well. Wow!'

Stewart Twelvetrees's jaw was set, the corners of his mouth turned downward. ‘But, Lydia,
where
did it come from? It wouldn't just fall out of the sky.'

His lack of interest in the splendour of the necklace annoyed her.

‘Somebody must have dropped it into a fold in my stole, that's all I can think of,' she snapped, then excitedly she said, ‘But look at it closely, Stew, isn't it fabulous? Green suits me. It always has. It suited my mum. Nadine could never wear anything other than pink, to give her a bit of colour. She is always pasty.'

‘Why would anybody drop it into your stole? Your stole isn't a pocket. And who would want to do that anyway?'

‘I don't know. Look how the emeralds shine, how clear they are. …'

‘I'd better report it.'

Lydia looked up at him and pouted. ‘Oh. Oh no,' she said and she gently kissed him on the cheek. ‘Not yet, darling.' She kissed him again and again. ‘Not yet. I mean, nobody knows we've got it.'

Twelvetrees said, ‘Well, we can't keep it. Obviously. You'll have to take it back.'

Lydia pressed herself very close against him, pushing the top of her leg between his thighs. She kissed him lightly many times on the nose between the words she whispered: ‘Nobody knows it's here, sweetheart. At least let me keep it until morning? Her ladyship won't want to be disturbed at this time of the night.'

He put his arms all the way round her, pulled her even closer towards him. Their lips met and they held the kiss for a little while.

‘Oh, darling,' he said.

‘Oh, I
do
love you,' she said.

They kissed again.

Then they just held each other with their eyes closed for a few seconds. Then he pulled away and, holding her by the top of her arms and looking her in the eyes, said, ‘All right, darling, but you'll have to take it back first thing in the morning.'

‘No, no, no,' she said, pouting her lips like a difficult child. ‘I can't do that. She might think … she might ask how I came by it. You'll have to do it, sweetheart.'

He thought about it a while then said, ‘I wouldn't be able to explain why I didn't report it to the police, or ring Michael Angel. She would know or find out that I'm a solicitor and that Dad works for the CPS.'

She was looking in the mirror, moving first one way and then the other, enjoying the way the stones sparkled in the light.

There was a noise from the kitchen. She looked up. The hall was getting warmer and steamy.

‘Oh, the kettle,' she said. ‘I forgot about it. I put the kettle on for us.'

She rushed into the kitchen.

THREE

Church Street, Bromersley, South Yorkshire, 10.00 p.m., Monday, 3rd June 2013

Detective Inspector Michael Angel was quietly humming the 1812 Overture as he skipped down the steps of Bromersley Police Station, swinging three box files tied together with string. He was intent on delivering them to the Criminal Prosecution Service, only twenty metres away, two doors down Church Street. He saw the polished brass sign, walked up the path, pushed open the outside door and walked up to the tiny reception desk. He was almost at the exciting noisy part, almost at the end, where the cannons are fired, when he stopped short. His jaw dropped and his eyebrows shot up. Curiously, there was nobody behind the desk. It had usually been manned by a very plump young woman with glasses, called Tina, but this morning it was deserted. She was nowhere to be seen. He looked around. It was like the Marie Celeste.

Then he heard the hubbub of a crowd of people talking and the occasional clink of a glass. It came from the first door on his right. It sounded extraordinarily jovial and highly improbable coming from offices of the CPS in the middle of a working day. He pursed his lips, then approached the door and knocked on it. The hubbub continued unabated, and there was no reply. He knocked again, much harder. It was still ignored. He opened the door, looked into the office and saw between twenty and thirty men and women, mostly holding champagne flutes, standing around in small groups in the middle of the room, talking and laughing. The desks and chairs had been pushed to the sides of the room and were piled up to make room.

As he was taking in the scene, Mr Marcus Twelvetrees, father of Stewart, pulled him in to the room by his lapel and said, ‘Michael. Come in and join us.'

Twelvetrees turned to a young man who was passing with a tray full of glasses. He grabbed two off the tray, pushed one into Angel's hand and held the other up towards the ceiling light. ‘Cheers,' he said, and took a sip.

Angel said, ‘Cheers,' and copied him, then he said, ‘What are we celebrating?'

‘Oh? You won't have heard,' Twelvetrees said. ‘Juliet Gregg has been offered a partnership in the Osbourne chambers. She is only twenty-eight, you know.'

Angel was impressed. ‘Very good,' he said. It was all he could manage to think of to say. He knew it would have sounded rather weak.

Twelvetrees said, ‘It's fantastic! She'll be fast tracked to be a judge, if I'm not very much mistaken.'

‘Yes. I must … wish her well,' he said.

Angel knew Juliet Gregg. She was a high-flying young barrister, who was a beautiful brunette with an hour-glass figure, who didn't seem to need any make-up. Lately, she had assisted Twelvetrees in the Crown Court, prosecuting in some of Angel's cases. He thought that she was a quiet, thoughtful woman who only came alive when she was in the body of a packed courtroom. He had great respect for her apparent success at such a young age.

The string on the three files was pulling at his fingers. It reminded him of what he was doing there.

‘I've come round to bring you the case notes for the O'Riley murder,' he said, holding up the files held by the string.

Twelvetrees' face muscles tightened. ‘Not just now, Michael,' he said. ‘Not just now.'

Angel didn't reply.

‘There's some food over there,' Twelvetrees said, pointing over the heads of the throng. ‘Do help yourself.'

‘Thank you,' Angel said, but he wasn't the slightest bit interested in food.

‘Excuse me, Michael,' Twelvetrees said, then he turned away and was promptly absorbed into the homogenous gathering of heads, all simultaneously nodding, smiling and talking.

Angel wanted to leave the files he had brought with someone responsible, then get out of the building and back to his office as soon as he could. He eased his way around the chattering groups, looking for someone he knew. Then suddenly, unexpectedly, he came face to face with Juliet Gregg, the star of the show.