A Forgotten Shadow, page 18
Shadow nodded; one thing he did understand was the need to be alone. “Who else knew about your affair?”
“Flynn had told Siobhan about us a few days ago, but until then just Charles and Clancy. We’d been so careful, using untraceable phones and only meeting away from the village.”
“Except when you met at Clancy’s cottage.”
“Yes, just over a week ago. It was a risk, but I’d found out I was pregnant that morning and had been trying to contact Flynn. He was at a race meeting all day, then I was meant to be attending another party, but I snuck out and met him at Clancy’s. He was so happy when I told him.” She smiled at the memory, then her smile faded. “If only we’d left Kirkdale that night, he’d still be here.”
Shadow nodded. The saddest stories were full of ‘if onlys’. Although he felt like he was intruding upon Annabel’s grief, now she was finally talking to him, he wanted to find out as much as possible.
“We found the mobile you used to call him on close to the murder scene,” he said.
Annabel turned her face towards him and placed her hands protectively across her still flat stomach.
“I didn’t call him that day. My phone was taken from me. I’d locked myself in my bathroom and turned the radio on, the day he died. My morning sickness was more like lunchtime sickness. I didn’t want anyone to hear me. When I finally came out, someone had taken the phone from my bedroom. It was stupid of me. I was usually so careful. I always deleted any messages I sent or received on that phone and keep it hidden, but it needed charging and I thought everyone was out. Now I don’t have any of his texts to me or even a recording of his voice.”
A tear rolled silently down her cheek. Shadow rummaged through his pockets until he produced a slightly crumpled handkerchief. Annabel took it with a grateful smile and dabbed at her eyes.
“Whoever took your phone, used it to call Flynn.”
Annabel stared at him in horror as she realised what he was saying. “You mean they used it to lure him to his death by pretending to be me?”
Shadow nodded.
“They called him on his main phone though, not the one he used to contact you.”
“Nobody else knew the number for his other phone. I knew it by heart, so I didn’t keep a record of it anywhere.”
“There is also the possibility somebody wanted to use your phone to implicate you. Do you have any enemies?”
Annabel gave a sharp laugh. “In Kirkdale? I think you’ll struggle to find anyone who was happy about me marrying Bertie. They were all very content with the status quo. Having Bertie behave like the naughty little boy he always was, head of the estate in name only, while Sybil and Plum plotted and planned for the day Seb will inherit.” Annabel sighed and rested her head against the back of the seat. “My husband isn’t a bad person, Chief Inspector, but he’s weak, easily led. He and I should never have married. We are too different but—” she paused “—I was tired of modelling. I’d been working since I was sixteen and I hated being constantly followed by the paparazzi, and yes, I admit I liked the idea of being a duchess and living in a castle. Sybil was still recovering, so for once Bertie didn’t have her monitoring his every move. He liked the idea of being married to a famous model, but unfortunately not the reality. As soon as we arrived in Kirkdale he changed. It was as if he regressed to being a child again. The spoilt brat as Plum calls him.”
“Did Flynn know about this scheme to switch the horses?”
“I don’t know. Nobody ever mentioned it to me. He had handed over most of the day-to-day running of the stables to Siobhan. He had told her he wanted to leave and all she’s ever cared about are her horses. She was going to buy him out. I wanted to get away as soon as possible and make a new start, but he was adamant that he wouldn’t leave without selling the stables first. He said he wanted to be able to provide for our child. His own father had died when he was a baby, and he and his mother had often needed to rely on charity and the kindness of others. I understood that. We planned to leave after the last day of the York race meeting. He said Siobhan would have the money by then.”
Shadow nodded. Now he finally had a motive for Siobhan switching the horses.
“We haven’t ruled out the possibility Siobhan had an accomplice,” he said. “Do you think your brother-in-law or husband could have shot Flynn, with the rest of the party covering for them?”
Annabel gave a firm shake of her head.
“No, Bertie can sometimes say cruel things, but he would never kill anyone. I wouldn’t put it past Piers, but Charles was with them. There’s no way he would have lied to me.”
They both turned to look at the politician who was pacing up and down at the entrance of the car park with his hands in his pockets. He appeared to be deep in thought.
“He seems very fond of you,” commented Shadow.
“He’s been very kind. He saw how things were with Bertie and let Flynn and me meet in one of his cottages. I wouldn’t have got through these last few days without him. I always joke that my knight wears a suit of navy pinstripe not shining armour,” she said with a small smile. Shadow suddenly remembered something that had been bothering since he’d interviewed everyone at the castle.
“What did you and your sister talk about on the morning of the shoot?”
“Money. Lavinia needed to borrow some, quite a lot, more than I could get hold of. I told her I would have to speak to Bertie—I know he had bailed them out in the past—but later at the party, she told me to forget about it.”
“I see, on the subject of money, did you sign a prenuptial agreement when you got married?”
Annabel shook her head.
“No, Chief Inspector, it was a bit of whirlwind wedding at Chelsea Registry Office with only Lavinia and Piers as witnesses. There wasn’t time for anything like a prenup but—” she paused and looked him in the eye “—I would never take any money from Bertie. Like I said, if it had been up to me, Flynn and I would have left the village as soon as I found out I was pregnant.”
“One more question. It’s a little delicate, but I heard that your husband suffered from fertility problems.”
Annabel rolled her eyes. “Oh, Sybil is convinced all Bertie’s troubles go back to a bout of scarlet fever he had as a child. That’s her excuse for still treating him like a little boy. Don’t think I’m unsympathetic, Chief Inspector. I know it weakened his heart, but he refuses to follow advice; he’s still smokes and drinks too much. As to whether if affected his fertility, I can’t tell you, but the reason he and I didn’t conceive isn’t medical. Almost as soon as I moved into the castle, he barely came near me. I felt incredibly alone, then I met Flynn and as they say the rest is history.”
Chapter Ten
Across 8. You can’t hire the one to succeed you (4 letters)
Shadow watched silently as the Mercedes drove away. One part of the puzzle may had been solved but he still couldn’t be sure who was responsible for FitzAllan’s murder. There was a tap on his shoulder, and he turned to see Jimmy standing behind him.
“I thought I told you to go home.”
“I was on my way, Chief, but Siobhan’s solicitor has just turned up. Siobhan’s been pretty rude to her. It doesn’t sound like she’s in the mood to cooperate. I thought you might want me to sit in on the interview with you—you know as I was the arresting officer.” He pointed down to his feet. “I found some trainers in my locker. Oh, and the statement from the duke’s solicitors has arrived,” he said handing over a sheet of paper headed with the name and address of Dalrymple’s firm. Shadow’s eyes scanned the document picking out the relevant information from the legal jargon and elegant phrases, then sighed.
“It looks like Siobhan’s on her own. Let’s see if we can persuade her to speak.”
*
The two detectives entered the interview room. Siobhan was sitting behind the table with her arms folded and an expression on her face that could freeze water. The young woman next to her, wearing a dark grey suit, seemed a little flustered and was hurriedly flicking through the case notes in front on her. Shadow and Jimmy introduced themselves for the purpose of the recording before taking their seats.
“I have a statement from the Duke of Kirkdale’s solicitor. It says he had no idea you planned to switch the identities of his two horses in the Heart of Yorkshire Cup and you acted without his authority.”
Siobhan gave a snort louder than any of her horses. “Is that why Eastwold bet every penny he could lay his hands on?” she retorted before her solicitor could stop her.
“Are you saying they were involved? Did they ask you to alter the appearance of the horses?”
“What if they did? It’s my word against theirs. Two against one. Now that Flynn and Aidan are dead, I’m on my own.”
“So, you came up with this plan on your own. You risked the reputation of your stables because you needed the money so you could buy Flynn’s share of the stables.”
“And he could ride off into the sunset with Lady Penelope,” snapped Siobhan, as her solicitor looked between the two of them and seemed to be struggling to follow the conversation.
“But when Flynn heard what you were planning, he wanted nothing to do with it, so you threatened Annabel instead. What were you going to do? Go to the press?”
“Flynn thought he was so clever with his secret little telephones, trying to protect that spoilt madam.” Siobhan almost spat out the words.
“Why did you still go ahead with the plan when Flynn was killed? Surely the stables were all yours now.”
Siobhan tossed her head back, her nostrils flaring and her eyes blazing with fury.
“I put my heart and soul into that place. Flynn might have his fancy qualifications, but nobody understands the horses like I do, nobody. But what did faithless, feckless Flynn do? Draw up a will leaving everything he owned to precious Annabel and his unborn child. The charlatan even told me what he’d done: ‘When my father died he left me with nothing. I won’t make the same mistake, Siobhan’,” she repeated, putting on a simpering voice.
“And what about Aidan? With Flynn gone he would have nothing to do with the plan.”
“I would like a moment alone with my client,” said the solicitor quickly, but Siobhan ignored her.
“That jumped-up little traitor,” she almost shrieked. “He’d have walked over hot coals to Dublin and back for Flynn, but when he heard he was dead he wouldn’t so much as lift a finger to help me. Instead, he wanted a bribe to keep his mouth shut. Ungrateful sod.”
“I understood the charge against my client was one of fraud,” said the solicitor who was beginning to look worried.
“Fraud and the attempted murder of her employee Aidan O’Doyle,” replied Jimmy helpfully, as the solicitor started rapidly flicking through her notes. Shadow continued to focus on Siobhan.
“It sounds like you think he deserved to die,” he said. Siobhan’s eyes were flashing angrily again. If he could push her enough, they might be able to get a confession.
“You don’t need to answer that,” said her solicitor swiftly.
“Were you angry with him because with Flynn gone, he wouldn’t help you change the appearance of the two horses?”
“I didn’t need his help,” snorted Siobhan, “or Flynn’s help. That’s the problem with people: they all let you down in the end. You can’t trust them, not like you can a horse.”
The solicitor was growing paler by the second and looked very much as though she would like to gag her client.
“Parnell certainly didn’t let you down when he carried you safely to York and back, so you could attack Aidan,” said Shadow.
For a second, Siobhan’s face softened at the mention of the animal.
“Who’s Parnell?” asked the solicitor still clearly confused.
“Mrs FitzAllan’s horse,” supplied Jimmy.
“But not one of the horses involved in the accusation of fraud?” queried the solicitor, while Siobhan’s eyes were still fixed on Shadow.
“It was quite a risk travelling all that way on a horse, with no guarantee that you wouldn’t be seen, and you very nearly weren’t. We only managed to find one photo of him.”
Shadow slid the picture Jimmy had found on social media across the table. Siobhan’s eyes rested on it for a second, but her solicitor picked it up. “This doesn’t prove my client was involved,” she said.
Shadow ignored her and continued to address Siobhan. “Perhaps we’ve got it wrong. Maybe you are right and Kirkdale and Eastwold not only knew about the switch of horses, but it was their idea. Flynn and Aidan didn’t want anything to do with it, so they had to be kept quiet.”
“Flynn was nothing to do with me—you won’t pin that on me. We washed our hands of each other long ago. As for Aidan, he deserved to have some sense knocked into that thick skull of his.”
To his left Shadow heard his sergeant’s sharp intake of breath and he allowed himself the briefest of smiles.
“We never released the details of how Mr O’Doyle was injured,” he said calmly. As he’d hoped Siobhan’s colourful use of language had given her away, just like when she’d first made him suspicious by saying Aidan was sprawled in the road. He turned to Jimmy. “As you were the arresting officer, I think you should do the honours.”
He stood up and as he left the interview room, he felt a sense of satisfaction as he heard Jimmy explain that they now believed they had enough evidence against Siobhan and would be sending the file to the Crown Prosecution Service, who would decide whether to charge her. Shadow knew he could leave his sergeant to deal with the paperwork alone and for once he was in the position to deliver some good news. He strode out of the police station and through the crowded streets. The air was still hot and muggy and the racegoers, now with ties loosened and high heels in hands rather than on feet, were thronging into the city’s many bars and pubs, celebrating or commiserating.
Twenty minutes later he was knocking on George’s front door. Carol ushered him through into the sitting room where George was still working through his old diaries. He stood up, his face a mixture of hope and apprehension. Shadow got straight to the point.
“We’ve arrested someone for the attempted murder of Aidan O’Doyle, and they have as good as confessed. The case against you is being dropped.”
There was a muffled squeal behind him from Carol, whose hands had flown up to her face. George, however, slumped forward and buried his head in his hands. His shoulders began to silently shake. To Shadow’s embarrassment he realised his old friend was sobbing.
“I’ll go,” he said quickly stepping back into the hallway.
Carol followed him to the doorway, but her eyes didn’t leave her husband. “Do you have to rush off? I feel like we should celebrate,” she whispered, her eyes glistening with tears.
Shadow gave her arm a squeeze. “There’ll be time for that later when you’ve had chance to tell your daughters. He’s been through hell; go and take care of him.”
Carol gave him a quick hug. “Thank you, John,” she said before hurrying back to George. Shadow let himself out and began the long walk back to Florence. He couldn’t face spending another evening amongst the racing crowd, so he called into Sapori on Shambles for a takeaway pizza. As he carried it home, he thought about Annabel and how he’d been wrong about her. He had thought she was cold and aloof, but really she was alone and frightened. He considered how circumstances changed people. He remembered his mother as being serious and distant, but had she always been that way? If his father had lived, might she have been more fun and carefree? Would he have been a different person if he’d never lost Luisa?
*
Back on Florence he sat outside eating his pizza and drinking wine as the voice of Frank Sinatra floated out from his ancient stereo. The geese gazed at him with their beady eyes from their position on the roof. He’d made the mistake of throwing them some of his pizza crust and now they were watching his every move.
He let his mind wander over the events of the last few days as it tried to make sense of everything. Very slowly things began to fall into place. The secret passages, Flynn’s relationship with Annabel, the missing gun and his conversations with Seb, Clancy and Bet. The more he pondered the more certain he was that he now knew the identity of the killer. However, he was also sure he didn’t have enough evidence to accuse let alone charge the person in question. There wasn’t a chance the chief constable would let him bring his suspect in for questioning. He could picture her face if he even suggested it. No, he would have to come up with an idea she would find acceptable. Ironically, she had been right to keep the two incident rooms separate. Not that he could tell her that now.
He sat sipping his wine for another hour or so until he had come up with a plan he was happy with, then he stood up with a sense of satisfaction and looked over to his winged audience half expecting applause, but they were fast asleep.
*
“I find it hard to believe you are seriously suggesting going to Kirkdale Castle after yesterday’s escapade,” exclaimed the chief constable at the other end of the phone line.
“Actually, ma’am, I thought I should go to the castle and update the family and their guests regarding our investigation. After all the inconvenience I’ve caused them, I thought it might be the polite thing to do.”
His suggestion hung in the air for a moment, as she considered it before responding.
“Very well I suppose at least I’ll know where you are today, but I don’t want you going there alone. I shall inform His Grace and meet you there myself.”
The silence at the end of the other end of the phone line told him their conversation was over. It wasn’t quite the outcome he’d planned, but if the chief constable’s presence was the price he had to pay for finding Flynn’s killer, so be it.
