A Forgotten Shadow, page 17
“I’ll go and see what they have to say?” said Shadow.
“Probably not much, sir. They have a guest up from London for the day. It’s the family’s solicitor. He must have been invited at the last minute because he isn’t on the guest list.”
“Just my luck,” muttered Shadow. “By the way what’s happening with—” he managed to stop himself saying Laurel and Hardy “—Ben and Ollie?”
“No luck so far, but a few minutes ago, I dropped off another glass for them to check for prints. They are in the storeroom opposite the gents’ at the far end of the corridor. They’ve locked themselves in. If you want to speak to them, knock three times.”
At that moment, the door into the kitchen opened and two waitresses came bustling out carrying champagne buckets full of ice. Shadow promptly stepped away from Tom, who nodded a quick goodbye before disappearing through the kitchen door. Then Shadow walked across the thickly carpeted corridor and knocked on the door belonging to the Duke of Kirkdale’s private box. It was opened almost immediately by a young waitress and Shadow stepped inside.
It was arranged as an elegant private dining room with a television screen showing the races and betting information, and large sliding glass doors that opened on to a balcony with a perfect view of the winning post. Annabel was standing on the balcony with her back to the room, Bertie was drinking champagne as he squinted at the screen and Lavinia was tucking into a large chocolate eclair. Huddled together in the corner, looking unusually concerned, was Sybil and a man Shadow didn’t recognise. They stopped talking when they saw him. The dowager duchess was wearing a pretty lavender lace dress with matching hat and gloves.
“Hello there, Chief Inspector,” she said, switching on her usual smile. “We wondered if we would be seeing you. Sir Charles just telephoned Bertie to let him know Siobhan has been placed under arrest. It’s taken us all rather by surprise. I think you know everyone, except for our guest up from London. May I introduce Jolyon Dalrymple.”
Shadow stepped forward and shook hands with the visitor.
“I say what’s going on, Shadow?” asked the duke, jabbing his finger towards him. “I hear you’ve arrested my trainer.”
“That’s correct. Mrs FitzAllan has been taken into custody,” replied Shadow, nodding politely to Annabel, who had now turned around and was standing in the balcony doorway.
“Well, that’s no good. I have horses down to run in the next three races. You’ll have to release her.”
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about your two horses that ran in the last race: Kirkdale Legend and Wantage Whisper,” said Shadow.
“Who the hell ordered a stewards’ inquiry anyway?” demanded the duke, ignoring the question.
“That would be the course stewards,” explained Shadow patiently as Jolyon stepped forward and handed Shadow a business card.
“My client has nothing to say on the matter, but we shall be issuing a statement on His Grace’s behalf in due course,” he said smoothly. Shadow read the card. Jolyon Dalrymple, Managing Partner, Dalrymple, Wiley and Jones, Fetter Lane, London. Unfortunately, Tom had been correct.
“Thank you. I’ll look forward to that,” he replied slipping the card into his pocket, before turning to go. There was no point staying. With a top London lawyer present nobody would say anything of use to him.
“Why have you arrested her? Is it only to do with the horses?”
Shadow looked back in surprise. It was Annabel who had spoken.
“Your Grace, please allow me to handle this on your behalf,” said the solicitor quietly, but Annabel had her eyes fixed on Shadow.
“Mrs FitzAllan has been arrested on suspicion of fraud and attempted murder,” he replied. Annabel’s expression didn’t change; she merely nodded and stepped back out on to the balcony.
Shadow left the box and plodded down the corridor, wondering if it was merely bad luck on his part that the lawyer should be the duke’s guest today, or had the family known what Siobhan was going to do with the horses and decided it would be useful to have the best legal advice close at hand? Tom had said it was a last-minute invitation. He arrived at the storeroom door and knocked three times. The door opened a couple of inches to reveal Ollie’s face peering nervously through the gap, which then broke into a grin.
“Chief, I almost didn’t recognise you. Where’s the wax jacket?”
Shadow ignored the question. “Why are you wearing your protective suits? I thought you were meant to be undercover?” he asked as he stepped into the storeroom that his two colleagues had managed to turn into a mini lab.
“We thought they might be a good disguise. If anyone asks what we were doing, we are going to say we’re pest control, investigating reports of cockroaches. Nobody likes cockroaches so they won’t want to hang around,” explained Ollie, clearly pleased with their ingenuity.
“I see, so have you managed to find a match?” asked Shadow without much hope.
“Yes, Chief, just now a perfect match to the thumbprint we found on the phone,” replied Ben triumphantly, from his position crouched on the floor next to a laptop, several brushes, a jar of aluminium powder and various items of dirty crockery and cutlery.
“And?”
“It was on the last wine glass Tom brought us,” added Ben.
“And?”
“It’s Annabel, the duchess, Chief.”
Shadow was silent for a moment. He was genuinely stunned that this hare-brained scheme had produced a result.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, it’s definitely her glass. Tom said she is the only one there drinking mineral water and there was only one set of prints on the glass.”
“We’ve found something else weird too,” said Ollie, “Tom brought us a glass Siobhan was drinking from, and on the prints we lifted there were traces of a white substance, but we haven’t been able to identify it yet.”
“I think you’ll find it’s the stuff you use to make trainers white again.”
“You mean trainers as in running shoes, Chief?”
“Yes, it’s a long story, but she used it change the appearance of a horse. Jimmy has just arrested her for the attempted murder of O’Doyle.”
“Does that mean George is in the clear?” asked Ben eagerly, but Shadow held up his hand.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Now make yourselves scarce before someone sees you. Oh, and well done.”
With that, he left the scientists packing up their things and returned to the course, pushing his way through the crowds in search of a police car to take him back to the station.
*
When he arrived back at the old guildhall, he found the custody suite was also full of racegoers, although most of these young men with their beer-stained suits and bloodied noses were now under arrest for affray and being drunk and disorderly.
“Has Mrs FitzAllan said anything yet?” Shadow asked the custody sergeant, who shook his head.
“No, Chief, not unless you count calling me every name under the sun when I took her phones off her. We’ve already checked, and one of them is the one O’Doyle contacted before he died. Her brief’s on her way, but she’s been held up in all the race traffic. There is a young lady and gentleman waiting for you in the meeting room though, Chief.”
“Who are they?” asked Shadow in surprise.
“They wouldn’t give a name. They both seemed pretty nervous, especially when they heard Siobhan kicking off,” replied the custody sergeant.
When Shadow opened the door of the meeting room, he found a frightened-looking Clancy and Giles huddled together on the sofa holding hands.
“I understand you wanted to see me,” he said.
“I’ve come to confess,” Clancy blurted out before he’d even sat down.
“Confess to what?” he asked.
Clancy took a deep breath, then her words came tumbling out in a rush. “I lied to you. When you asked me about Flynn and the wine stain on his shirt, I lied. I know I shouldn’t have done. I repeated the story Flynn told me to tell anyone who asked. I suppose I panicked, and I still wanted to be loyal to Flynn. Do what he would want, but I know I was wrong and I’m really sorry.”
Shadow held up his hand. The poor girl was close to tears.
“Please calm down. The main thing is you’re here now. Would you like a glass of water before you continue?” Clancy shook her head.
“No thank you.”
“Then let’s start at the beginning. Where was Flynn when his shirt got covered in wine?”
“At our cottage.”
Giles groaned and put his head in his hands.
“Giles doesn’t know anything about this, Chief Inspector,” Clancy added quickly and giving her boyfriend an anxious look. “He was out in York celebrating Fred’s twenty-first that night. I only told him this morning. I’ve been so worried. I knew you’d find out I’d lied eventually.”
“If the DeVeres find out they could kick us out of the cottage and I could lose my job,” said Giles.
Shadow was starting to feel confused. “Why was Flynn at your cottage?”
“He was meeting Annabel. They usually met at a cottage on Sir Charles Richmond’s estate, but Annabel had told Flynn she needed to speak to him urgently and there was nowhere else for them to go. The yard was full of people and there was a ball or party or something going on at the castle. I knew Flynn wouldn’t have asked me unless he was desperate.”
Shadow stared at the young woman. Thanks to her and the thumbprint on the phone, suddenly it felt like things were falling into place.
“Did Flynn ever call Annabel LP as a nickname or something?”
“LP?” Clancy frowned for a second, before the answer came to her: “Oh, no that’s what Siobhan calls her. She’s always coming up with nicknames for people. It stands for Lady Penelope, you know from the old Thunderbirds TV show. Siobhan doesn’t like Annabel much.”
“Because she was having an affair with Flynn?” asked Shadow remembering from his childhood the jerky blonde puppet dressed in a pink suit she was referring to.
“No, Siobhan just generally doesn’t like many people. It wasn’t because she was jealous. Like I told you at the yard, Siobhan and Flynn’s marriage has always been more of a business arrangement than a romance. Siobhan found out about the affair a few days before Flynn died, but she didn’t care.”
“What was Annabel wearing when she met Flynn at your cottage?” Shadow asked. What Clancy was telling him sounded believable, but he needed to be sure.
“This beautiful long white evening dress,” replied Clancy immediately.
“What about the wine? I thought she didn’t drink?”
“She wasn’t that night, but she sometimes did when she was with Flynn. He brought a bottle of her favourite red with him to the cottage,” said Clancy with a smile. “Honestly, Chief Inspector, if you could have seen them together. She was like a different person with him. Relaxed, smiling all the time. I dropped him off at the cottage to meet her once and she came running out, laughing she was so pleased to see him.”
“But on that night in your cottage they argued, and she threw her glass of wine at him?”
“No, that’s the thing.” Clancy’s voice caught in her throat and Giles placed his hand on hers. “They weren’t arguing they were celebrating. Annabel was pregnant. When she told him, Flynn jumped up and threw his arms around her, he was still holding his glass of wine and they both got soaked, but they were so happy they didn’t care.” Clancy’s lip was trembling, and her eyes were brimming with tears at the memory. Shadow passed her a box of tissues that were on the table and gave a wry smile.
“I take it that’s how the carpet was stained too?”
Clancy nodded as recognition dawned on Giles’s face.
“The white wine and salt didn’t work by the way,” he replied with a slight smile as he put his arm protectively around Clancy’s shoulder. “Is she in a lot of trouble?”
“Is there anything else you haven’t told me?” asked Shadow.
Clancy shook her head firmly. “No, I swear that’s everything.”
“Then I don’t think we need to take this any further.”
*
After Shadow had reassured Clancy and Giles several times that there was no need for them to worry, and that they were both free to return home, he made his way up to his office pondering what Clancy had told him. He found Jimmy waiting for him outside his door, his left hand now wrapped in a bandage.
“What happened to you?” he asked.
“I got bitten, Chief,” explained Jimmy, raising his hand. “Sophie took me to the hospital for a tetanus shot.”
“For crying out loud,” Shadow muttered impatiently, “I told you to be careful around those horses.”
“It wasn’t a horse, Chief. It was Siobhan. She bit me after I’d arrested her and was trying to get her into the police car.”
“Oh, then you did the right thing. Human bites can be nasty,” replied Shadow, patting his sergeant on the shoulder, “and if all else fails we can charge her with assault.”
“Speaking of nasty, the chief constable is on the warpath. She’s arrived downstairs. Somebody told her we were at the races and she isn’t very happy about it,” said Jimmy, in what Shadow thought might rank as the understatement of the year. As his sergeant followed him into this office, Shadow noticed his limp was even more pronounced.
“It looks like you picked the wrong day stop wearing trainers.”
“Tell me about it, Chief, my feet are covered in blisters.” Jimmy winced as he eased off his left shoe. “I hope they don’t hurt this much for the wedding.” Shadow wrinkled his nose as the other shoe came off, worried that the socks would be next.
“Why don’t you get yourself home. It’s been a long day and I doubt we’re going to get anything out of Siobhan this evening.”
“Okay, Chief. If you’re sure. Call if you need me.”
With that he slowly limped out through the door, his shoes in hand and wearing only his socks. When he’d gone, Shadow picked up the phone. He needed to apologise to Maggie for leaving her at the course so abruptly. He dialled her mobile number and waited. It rang for an awfully long time before she finally answered. She stopped him as soon as he began to tell her how sorry he was.
“It’s absolutely fine, John. I met up with some friends when you’d gone. We are on our way to get something to eat now. I’ll catch up with you later.”
Then the line went dead. Shadow winced as he replaced the receiver. Maggie’s tone had been light and breezy, but he suspected that when a woman said she was absolutely fine, she meant the opposite. He had a feeling flowers might be in order. It looked like the chief constable wasn’t the only female he needed to mend some fences with. Although somehow, he didn’t think a bunch of freesias were going to do the trick with her. He stood up with a sigh. He may as well get it over with.
A few moments later and he was downstairs. He raised his hand and was about to knock, when the door to Superintendent Branston’s old office opened and he found himself face to face with Sir Charles again.
“Ah, Shadow, there you are! Congratulations on a job well done,” said the politician shaking him warmly by the hand. “I’ve just been singing your praises to the chief constable. The way you and your sergeant apprehended Siobhan with the minimum of disruption to the meeting was very impressive.”
“Thank you very much, Sir Charles,” replied Shadow glancing through the open doorway to the chief constable who was standing behind her desk wearing a tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“I always knew Siobhan was feisty, but I never had her down as a killer,” continued Sir Charles, “but I understand her arrest also has implications for Sergeant Hedley and the case against him will no longer be pursued under the circumstances.”
Shadow felt a wave of relief wash over him. “That’s partly why this investigation has been so important to the team and perhaps why our methods have been a little unconventional,” he explained for the benefit of the still-silent chief constable as much as the politician.
“Yes, it must have been difficult to have one of your own involved,” sympathised Sir Charles. “The chief constable and I have been discussing the appointment of the new superintendent. I suggested promoting someone from within the station to avoid any more upset or upheaval. Clarkson would seem like the obvious choice. He is the most experienced of all the candidates after all.”
“An excellent idea, Sir Charles,” agreed Shadow. “Deputy Superintendent Clarkson is very well regarded by his fellow officers.” The chief constable’s smile was now so tight it was beginning to look like rigor mortis had set in.
“I wonder if you have a moment, Chief Inspector? There’s another matter I’d like to discuss with you,” asked the MP.
“Certainly, Sir Charles, unless the chief constable needs me?” replied Shadow.
His enquiry was met with nothing more than a sharp shake of the head from his boss, so he turned and followed Sir Charles down the corridor and out of the station into the car park. A Mercedes with blacked-out windows was parked in one of the visitor’s spaces. Sir Charles opened the driver’s door and motioned for Shadow to get in.
“I’ll leave you two to have a chat,” he said. Shadow slipped into the driver’s seat and found he was sitting next to Annabel DeVere.
“Did Siobhan kill Flynn?” she asked without preamble.
Shadow shook his head. “No, she was at the racecourse all that afternoon.”
“So, who did kill him?”
“We don’t know yet.” They sat in silence for a moment, until Shadow turned to her and asked, “Why didn’t you tell us about you and Flynn?”
Annabel slowly shook her head as she continued to stare straight ahead. Her beautiful face was so pale, it looked like it had been carved out of alabaster.
“I don’t know,” she said quietly. “I think I was in shock. My whole world had just come crashing down. I was scared and I just wanted to get rid of you and for Bertie’s damn party to be over, so I could be by myself. Charles said I should speak with you, but I couldn’t face it. I switched to autopilot, pretending I was on a photo shoot, playing the part of a haughty hostess, when really I felt like a wounded animal that needed to crawl into a cave and lick her wounds. I’m sorry, I know I was rude.”
