The Mills of God (26 page)

So, truth to tell, there had been no tangible clues other than for the warnings left by the murderer, which had been gone over with a fine tooth comb, revealing only the fact that he must have worn gloves when he wrote them. And Tennant had had nearly four weeks working on the case. Small wonder that he was determined to resign from it at the end of this one. With a mighty effort he put such negative thoughts from him and asked Potter, ‘Do you think it is too late to call on Mrs Culpepper?'

His sergeant looked at his watch. ‘It's ten o'clock, sir. I think perhaps we ought to make it tomorrow morning.'

‘What about Titania? Her address was given on the fax.'

‘Yes, let's do her. Showbiz people never go to bed early.'

‘Except when their boyfriends are coming,' Tennant answered, and gave a hollow laugh.

She lived in Buckfield, another village about the size of Lakehurst, but with a far more imposing High Street of ancient houses all crowded together, and a truly grand Georgian mansion standing on its own, a short distance away from them.

‘What number is it?'

‘Fifty-eight, High Street.'

‘Blimey! It looks good from the outside.'

‘I think,' said Potter, peering at the door, ‘that it is divided into flats.'

There were three bells and as Roseanna had either forgotten or not known whether it was A, B, or C, Potter was in something of a quandary.

‘Aren't there any names?' asked Tennant.

Potter shone a torch. ‘Yes, but there's no Grove.'

‘Try 'em all,' said Tennant, a note of exasperation in his voice.

There was no answer from A and from B came a voice with an old Etonian accent. ‘Hello.'

‘Hello and good evening,' said Potter in exaggerated American tones. ‘We are looking for a Miss Titania Grove. Would she be at your number by any chance?'

‘No, try C. And kindly don't ring my bell after ten.'

‘We'll ring it at midnight if necessary, sonny. Cos we're the cops, see.'

‘Potter, have you gone completely off your head? He could report us.'

‘Sorry, sir. But we could always say it was youths mucking about.' He tried ringing C and this time a beautifully modulated voice said, ‘Yes?'

‘Miss Titania Grove?'

‘Yes. Who is it?'

‘Sergeant Potter and DI Tennant from the Sussex Police.'

There was a sharp intake of breath and then the voice said, ‘Come up,' and a buzzer pressed and the front door opened.

Despite this modern entrance the house was truly ancient. A winding circular staircase with doors leading off it would prove a challenge to all but the fittest, thought Tennant, as he puffed his way up to what would once have been the attic. The door was already open and a slight figure wearing pyjamas and a silken dressing gown, stood there.

‘Come in,' she said breathlessly. ‘Has there been an accident?'

The men walked into a gorgeous little flat, complete with sloping ceilings, which she had decorated with theatrical posters, which gave it a cosy and welcoming air.

The three of them stood looking at one another. Tennant thought she was just like her name, a fairy creature, utterly petite and feminine, with a divine little smile. Titania found him extremely attractive, instantly drawn to his green eyes and rather longish hair. Potter she passed over as being like a million and one other men that she knew.

‘In answer to your question,' Tennant said quietly, ‘I have to inform you that Richard Culpepper has been placed under arrest and is currently in Lewes.'

‘Oh,' she said, and sat down rather abruptly, staring at a glass of wine which she had obviously poured out before their arrival. ‘On what charge?'

‘Murder,' answered Potter dramatically.

‘That's not possible,' she said. ‘Whatever gave you the idea that he could kill people?'

‘May we sit down, please?' said Tennant, treating her gently. ‘You see, his wife has provided us with an alibi for him. She says that sometimes he leaves the theatre, takes a late train home, then cycles to your flat and spends the night with you. Is this true?'

The round blue eyes turned in his direction. ‘Yes, it is, perfectly. We met in a revival of Anouilh's
Ring Round the Moon
. Neither of us had very big parts so we spent a lot of time chatting and we fell in love. Truly, madly, deeply as they say. Anyway he told me all about Roseanna. How she had been a big star of the sixties and quite the most beautiful girl in the world and how he could never leave her. But that was OK with me. I didn't want to marry him, I just wanted to go to bed with him. He's awfully good at that, by the way. And if that sounds hard-hearted to you I think you'll find it is the coming thing. I personally think that marriage is going out of fashion.'

Tennant was so surprised that he burst out laughing and said, ‘Well, you're wonderfully frank, Miss Grove.'

She laughed prettily and he suddenly saw that this was the image she had woven. She had been given the name Titania and she had by some miracle turned herself into a little fairy. But an extremely tough little fairy for all that.

‘Would you like some wine?' she said. ‘Or I have beer if you prefer?'

Potter refused, he was driving, but Tennant accepted and joined her in a glass of excellent Merlot.

‘Tell me, how often did you see Culpepper?' he said.

‘Oh, about twice a week. The rest of the time he felt obliged to stay and take his curtain. I just want to tell you that he is a truly sweet person and I know that he couldn't hurt a fly.'

Tennant wondered what it was about Culpepper that attracted the most beautiful women to him. Admittedly he had matinee idol looks – ageing slightly, but still there. And, of course, he was terrific in bed, according to this young woman. The inspector dourly wished he had the same pulling power.

He finished his wine and said, ‘Would you be prepared to come to Lewes and make a statement regarding this?'

‘Yes. If you'll give me a few minutes I'll go and get dressed and we can go straight away. I mean there's no time like the present, is there?'

While she was out of the room he said to Potter, ‘There was nothing to stop Culpepper taking a third night off, was there. You must go to the theatre tomorrow and see the stage manager. They presumably have a log of when people miss the curtain call.'

‘I don't know the answer to that, sir, but I can easily go and find out.'

‘Please do.'

Titania came back into the room wearing a pair of shorts over bright emerald tights on the end of which were strappy shoes with six inch heels. On the top half she had a clinging white jumper cinched in by a black belt with gold studs. Now not looking quite so petite, Tennant supposed that even fairies must accept the latest fashions.

She got into the car with them and they drove to Lewes both men vastly entertained by her amusing chatter. Tennant slipped in a question or two.

‘How old are you, Miss Grove?'

‘Twenty-five. And Richard was twice that, but he was lovely. Besides, he might have been able to help my career along.'

‘And what if he is the murderer?'

‘Oh nonsense. He loves Roseanna and he loves me. What would he want to go and start murdering people for?'

As she entered the police station there was a kind of ripple of excitement. Nobody said anything but one could sense the change in atmosphere. Young constables stared, older ones looked urbane. From somewhere or other came the sound of a subdued wolf whistle. Tennant looked round but could not spot the miscreant.

They questioned her and took a written statement which she signed but there was no getting away from the fact that she swore Richard spent two or three nights a week with her. When she'd gone, driven back by an eager young officer who had a grin on his face like the proverbial Cheshire Cat, Tennant sat very quietly, then said, ‘You think she's telling the truth, Potter?'

‘I think we're going to have to prove it, sir. Ask the neighbours and so on. Get a few witnesses.'

‘Undoubtedly. But with Roseanna backing up her story it's starting to look like a cast-iron alibi.'

‘I know how you're feeling, sir. Believe me. If Richard Culpepper didn't do it – then who the hell did?'

‘Yes, who?' asked Tennant, utterly miserable.

At that moment the phone went and Potter picked it up. His face changed.

‘Hang on a minute,' he said. ‘You'd better speak, sir. It's the Vicar. He says he's found something on the Internet which he thinks could be relevant. Apparently he's got the doctor with him and they've both seen the same thing.'

‘What is it, do you know?'

‘He says he'd rather not say over the phone. He wants you to see it in person.'

‘Tell him we're on our way.'

Thinking that the police car must know the direction to Lakehurst almost without a driver, Tennant closed his eyes and snoozed gently letting his right-hand man take over. He felt that he couldn't exist without Potter, that the sensible young person who would have been far better off in business than in the police, for all that had qualities which made him absolutely indispensable. For a start he knew exactly how to deal with his boss, who had tendencies to be mercurial at times. Just as Tennant could achieve moments of brilliance – though not so many on this case – Potter got results by sheer plodding hard work.

As the car turned up the road, going past the Victorian houses where Dr Rudniski lived and had his surgery, Tennant sat up and started to concentrate. They pulled up on the other side of the road leading to the vicarage. It was now nearly midnight and the village was deserted, dark and very sinister. Potter knocked at the door and as he did so the security light came on, so bright that when the door opened they could not see who stood in the shadowy hallway beyond.

‘Vicar?' said Tennant questioningly.

‘Step inside, gentlemen,' replied the voice of Michael Mauser. ‘The vicar is waiting for you within.'

TWENTY-FOUR

T
ennant stood staring for a moment then he brushed past Mauser, rather abruptly, and hastened into the vicarage's living room. The vicar and the doctor, who were sitting side-by-side in front of the computer, looked up at him in some surprise.

‘Are you all right, sir?' asked Potter.

‘Perfectly, thank you,' Nick answered. He let his gaze wander to Mauser and he added, ‘Michael called on me unexpectedly and rather late.'

‘The truth is,' said the German, ‘that I had a desperate need to talk to someone about the relationship between my wife and myself so I rang Dr Rudniski's surgery but there was no reply. So I decided to call on the vicar instead.'

‘Would you like to tell me about it?' asked Tennant.

‘First,' said Kasper, ‘I think you should take a look at this.' And he called the inspector over to the computer screen.

He and Potter stood staring in blank amazement the minute it was pointed out to them.

‘What an idiot,' exclaimed Tennant, slapping his head with his hand. ‘I've actually looked at this but never saw it.'

‘It's very easy to miss,' Nick answered modestly.

‘I don't know that I would have noticed it until it was shown to me,' Kasper added.

Tennant sat down and the vicar, without being asked, produced a drink and put it in the inspector's hand.

Potter asked. ‘Do you want me to do anything about it tonight, sir?'

Tennant shook his head. ‘No, it's too late. We'll go and ask questions in the morning. Being logical, this doesn't prove a thing though. But it's mighty suspicious.'

Mauser spoke. ‘Do you know there is an ancient proverb which I believe in very much.'

‘What is that?' said Kasper.

‘It is, “The mills of God grind slowly but they grind exceeding small.” When I think of my father – who believed in Hitler as if the man were a god – how he was ground down until eventually he was no more. It has quite convinced me that evil comes back to those who perpetrate it.'

‘So you think the key to these murders was revenge? That this –' Tennant waved at the computer – ‘proves everything?'

Mauser shook his head. ‘I think it was bloodlust on the part of a diseased mind. And, yes, this proves it to me.'

‘I believe that is what the defence will plead,' said Potter practically.

‘We've got to get the facts first,' Tennant answered gloomily.

‘That shouldn't be too difficult now you know who to question.'

Tennant turned to Mauser. ‘Changing the subject. Tell me about your late wife. I'd like to know.'

‘Despite her outward appearance and despite her continual flirtatiousness, she had the kindness of a saint. We met in England after she came to care for my aged mother, who had senile dementia and was very difficult to cope with. I had taken a job as a translator you see – nobody questioned my origins – but it was very hard to look after her and work full time. So I took on an au pair. Then I fell in love with Cheryl and we married. All was well as long as I was able to satisfy her needs.' He sighed. ‘Later on as I became older and less powerful – you understand me – she took lovers. Because she had need of them. I believe she was a nymphomaniac. But I forgave her because I loved her very much and understood. That is why I used to take those long walks alone, why I went away most weekends. To give her time and space for her own activities. But I do not want to devalue her goodness and kindness to me. I tell you all, gentlemen, she was a truly remarkable woman.'