One Way Ticket Page 9

  “This woman’s electric bills were really low,” Addi said, piling the bills up.

  “Yeah?” I answered, pulling out of my thoughts. “What do you think that means?”

  “That I have to tell my mother about this rate, she could save a fortune.”

  “Addi, concentrate.”

  He looked a little hurt. “It’s a good deal.”

  “This is a real person. Was a real person,” I corrected myself. “I think we should be a bit more respectful.”

  I saw him pull a face before he went back to his pile of paperwork.

  After digging through some bills and more copies of her bank statements, I found a pile of old birthday cards. “Have you spoken to the people who sent these?”

  Addi looked up from a pile of newspaper clippings. “Yes. Well, I expect so. Maybe, if they’re from the friends we interviewed. We did go through her address book, you know.”

  “Mobile phone?”

  “She didn’t have one.”

  I stopped at one of the cards. “This one is written to ‘Aunty Tina’. I didn’t know she was an aunt?”

  “Yes, her sister has a son and a married daughter.”

  “It doesn’t say that anywhere in the notes.”

  He pulled the file over and quickly scribbled something on a page. “There, it does now. It doesn’t matter anyway, they don’t inherit anything.”

  “And yet, still nice to know.” No wonder he hadn’t solved this case. “Are there any other relatives lurking around?”

  “I don’t think so. Is it important?”

  I began to despair.

  “They don’t stand to gain anything. None of them are going to inherit under her will so what’s their motive?”

  When Addi nipped off to use the toilet, I slipped some of the birthday cards into the back of my notebook. I knew someone who could help with those.

  “You said she was living off a work pension, where had she worked?” I asked on his return.

  “She’d been a receptionist back in England.”

  “What, in an office?”

  “No, in a doctor’s clinic, you call it a surgery? I don’t understand that, they don’t operate on people there, do they?”

  “No, not anymore, it’s probably an historical thing.”

  “Hysterical?”

  “I doubt it was very funny for the people involved.”

  “It’s very confusing some of the names you have for things.”

  “What about ex-patients? Would she have had access to people’s medical records? Some things people might want to kill to protect. Although I can’t really think of anything off the top of my head. Paternity tests? HIV positive?”

  “No, she couldn’t see their medical history, only their names and addresses.”

  “Huh, I’ll bet she saw some.”

  “Well, we haven’t found a connection to anyone here.”

  “Yet. Let’s go through the rest of this stuff.”

  It took us a few hours to go through the whole box of papers.

  “There wasn’t much there,” Addi said, stretching up his arms.

  “I don’t know. I think we’ve got a better picture of her now. Despite the bubbly persona, she was quite lonely at times,” I pointed to letters from a friend back in Essex telling her to cheer up. “And she was very careful when it came to money, we’ve seen her bills. She managed to live well on very little.”

  “And she had trouble with something called bunions,” Addi chipped in, waving letters from her chiropodist, “but none of this helps find her murderer.”

  “It will, I don’t know how just yet, but I’m sure it will.”

  I looked at Addi’s unconvinced face.

  “First of all, I think we should speak to the sister, see her for ourselves. We can’t just work off these reports.”

  “She was already interviewed twice by the other officers. She wasn’t involved.”

  “I know but I’d still like to see her myself. Can’t we say we’re introducing ourselves to her?”

  “We?”

  “Alright you. You’ve taken over the case, we’ll tell her it’s a courtesy call, keeping her up to date.”

  “Yes, maybe you’re right. Okay, we’ll go tomorrow.”

  “Good.”

  We piled the paperwork back into the box. Fortunately, he didn’t notice there were a few bits missing.

  He stopped me as I was leaving the room. “You must keep this between us, yes? You mustn’t talk about this with your aunt. None of the details of what we’ve read today, nothing.”

  “You wanted me to ask her for help earlier.”

  “Yes, but you can’t tell her about anything you’ve read.”

  Would I?

  11 Mrs Robinson

  I think we can establish the answer to that is, yes. It didn’t make sense if Addi wanted Aunt June to help, she’d have to know something about what was going on. I showed her the birthday cards after dinner, laying them out on the kitchen table.

  “What do you think? Do you recognise any of the names?”

  She fumbled around for her glasses. “Molly? That could be Molly Henstridge, I suppose.”

  “Hang on,” I told her as I scrabbled round for a pad and pencil.

  “Oh, there’s one from Simon.” My aunt showed me a card with a cutesy teddy bear on the front. “I recognise the handwriting.”

  “Simon?”

  “Simon Richards. Just someone I used to know,” my aunt replied, a little mysteriously if you ask me.

  “Louise?” Aunt June continued. “Don’t know who that is.”

  “Kate and Frank. I take it that’s the O’Neills. I didn’t realise they knew her that well.”

  “Yeah, I think they’ve been interviewed already. Any others?”

  “Tom? I really don’t know, Jennifer, it’s quite a common name for people my age. Could be Tom Thornton, or Tom Philpott.”

  I shoved the rest of the pile towards her. “Come on, you said you were feeling bored this week.”

  Aunt June grasped the rest. “Alright. Don’t know that one. Don’t know. Hm. Elsie? I thought Elsie Meadows hated Tina, it can’t be her.”

  “I’ll put it down anyway, just in case.”

  “That one could be from Alan Brooks.”

  “What about this one?” I pointed out a large, brightly coloured card with a heart on the front. It was signed, ‘All my love, Paul’.

  “Paul? I don’t know anyone it could be.”

  “Are you sure? It looks like a good lead.”

  “Nope, don’t know any Pauls.”

  “What d’you reckon about her love life? Her sister said she wasn’t seeing anyone when she was killed. What have you heard?”

  “Put it this way, I doubt if there was just one.”

  “Give me some names.”

  “I don’t know, Jennifer. Why are you asking all this? Where did you get these cards?”

  “I may be helping with the police investigation.”

  “Addi’s stuck again, is he?”

  “What can you tell me about Tina Lloyd?”

  “I didn’t know her well. I can tell you she always had to be the centre of attention when any men were around.”

  “Talking of which, do you know who these guys are?” I handed her the photo of Tina at her 65th birthday party.

  Aunt June’s lips narrowed. “That’s Simon.”

  “Simon Richards?”

  “Yes. He and Tina must have gotten quite friendly.”

  Did I detect a note of jealousy there? I had another look at the photo. The grey haired man Aunt June indicated was wearing a patterned jumper the likes of which probably hadn’t been seen since the 1980s. He had a bushy moustache which made me think he could be the grandfather of one of the Village People. Was Aunt June really interested in him?

  “What about the others?” I asked.

  “Not my type.”

  “No, who are they?”

  “That’s Tom Thornton, next t
o him is Alan Brooks.”

  I wrote the names down feeling I was starting to get somewhere with this case and I’d only been on it a few hours. I noticed the time on the clock.

  “Have a think about those other cards, see if you can come up with any names while I put the telly on. There’s a programme I want to watch that might help with the case.”

  Aunt June followed me into the lounge a few minutes later. “This is what you wanted to watch? Columbo?”

  “I’ve got to get some ideas from somewhere.”

  “You could at least choose a decent police series.”

  “Cagney and Lacey isn’t on.”

  “I’ve just thought. That card from Louise, could be from Louise Allen. They might have been friends, Louise worked at the Hands charity too.”

  I reported all this back to Addi in the morning.

  “Where did you get this information?” he asked, his face dark.

  “Where do you think?” I dropped the birthday cards and photo on my desk. “Those must have fallen out of the evidence box by the way. You’ll have to slip them back in.”

  You’d have thought I’d asked for his first born by the look on his face.

  “I told you not to say anything to your aunt! And you stole this stuff from evidence!”

  He collapsed into Vara’s chair clutching his chest (luckily she wasn’t sitting in it as she’d gone to the canteen). I thought for a moment I’d actually killed him. “I’m going to be fired,” he said eventually.

  “You wanted my aunt’s help on this case.”

  “You’ve taken evidence out of the station. I’m going to be fired.”

  “By who? Stop panicking and let’s get on with the investigation. You said we were going to visit the sister today.”

  “That was before you stole evidence.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Are we going or not?”

  He looked like he wanted to say no but we both knew he needed my help.

  “I’ll get my car keys,” he answered.

  Addi didn’t seem very comfortable in the car. He kept fiddling with the heater (which in my opinion we didn’t need), and the windows.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t want to get fired. Could you imagine my mother if that happened?”

  Unfortunately, I could. “You’re not going to get fired, you haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “You’re helping me with this case. And your aunt knows about it.”

  “She’s not going to tell anyone, don’t worry. I’m going with you to interview an expatriate, that’s part of my job. There’s nothing to get into trouble about.”

  Why didn’t he look convinced?

  “How far away is this place?” I asked, deciding to change the subject.

  “About fifty minutes. A lot of expats have moved further north since Kythios has gotten more popular. It’s cheaper up there.”

  We passed by a couple of fields dotted with banana trees and I revelled in the feeling my life here was so much better than my one back home. I bet none of my friends were working on anything as important as a murder investigation either, not that I’d spoken to any of them since my arrival. It felt like the pieces of my life had finally fallen into place.

  “What are you so happy about?” Addi asked suspiciously.

  “Can’t one just enjoy life?”

  “We are investigating a murder. It may be better if you didn’t greet the victim’s sister with a smile.”

  “True.” To stop myself, I thought of my aunt’s suggestion the night before that I phone my mother. It wiped the smile off my face.

  “We need to think of some tough questions for this woman, get some new information out of her,” I said.

  “She’s already been interviewed twice.” Addi pulled a bundle of notes from his glovebox and passed them to me. “She has an alibi, it’s been checked out. And her son and daughter. And any questioning will be done by me, okay?”

  “Well, remember to ask her about someone called Paul.”

  It took a little driving around to find the right house when we reached our destination. It was a peach coloured affair, not overly big, in an estate full of identical looking streets.

  I don’t know what I was expecting Susan Robinson to look like but it wasn’t the Sunday school teacher double that opened the door. Pearl grey, neatly trimmed curls and a minimally made up face topped a twin set with complimenting chiffon scarf. She couldn’t have looked any more different to Tina if she’d tried.

  “Mrs Robinson?” Addi queried. “Police from Kythios. May we speak to you?”

  “What’s it about?”

  “Your sister’s death.”

  Her eyes brightened a little. “Have you caught them?”

  “No, not yet.”

  She looked up at the ceiling in that annoyed way usually associated with teenagers. “I’ve already told you everything I know.” The middle class, ‘butter wouldn’t melt’ façade seemed to have wavered a little.

  “I know, I’ve recently taken over the case. Can I just have a few words?”

  She hesitated for a second before letting us in.

  “It’s very unpleasant having to go over this again and again,” she said, recovering her composure, and middle class accent, as she offered us seats in her living room.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You’ve taken over now? What happened to the last man?”

  “The chief thought I may do better.”

  “Well, you probably won’t do any worse.”

  The room was very tastefully decorated in shades of beige and cream. There were a few photos on a shelf near my seat. Susan Robinson in the middle of a man and woman who looked in their thirties, presumably her son and daughter. None of Tina.

  “You said the last time you saw your sister was a couple of weeks before her death?” Addi began his questioning.

  “Yes, that’s right.” Mrs Robinson was sitting bolt upright on the edge of her chair, as if she were at a tea party in a Swiss finishing school.

  “And she didn’t mention being worried about anything or anyone at the time?”

  “No, nothing like that.”

  “And you thought she didn’t have a boyfriend when she died?”

  “No.”

  She wasn’t giving much away with her short answers. Addi kept trying. “Was that unusual?”

  “She had a lot of men friends but they often weren’t serious.”

  I opened my mouth to jump in but Addi got there before me.

  “Did you know the one called Paul?” he asked.

  “Paul? No, I don’t think so.”

  “If she had been serious about a man, would she have told you?”

  “Of course.”

  “You would describe your relationship with her as close, would you?”

  “Yes, we got on well. Why? What have people been saying?” she demanded.

  “Nothing. I just wanted to know how you would describe it. And she hadn’t had any disagreements that you knew of.”

  “No.” Susan Robinson seemed to be getting bored of the questions. I had to admit they weren’t thrilling me either, it wasn’t as much fun if I couldn’t ask the questions.

  A young man working in her garden suddenly came into view through the window. It was the man from the photograph.

  “Do your children live over here too?” I asked.

  “My son does. My daughter lives in England but she visits often.”

  As if hearing this, her son chose that moment to come to the patio doors. Up close, I could see he was very good looking, especially the golden tan. My heart surprised me by raising a beat or two. Perhaps there was life in it yet.

  “Sorry, didn’t realise you had company” the man began, his voice cultured and intelligent. “I just wanted to check where I’m moving this coriander bush to.” He gave a slow grin which captivated me completely.

  “It’s the police, dear, about Aunt Tina’s death again.” She twisted round in her seat
to ask Addi: “Have you finished?”

  “Oh, yes. Thank you, we’re finished, aren’t we?” He had to give me a nudge to break my stare at Mr Heart-throb.

  “We’d just like to check if there’s anything you could add about your aunt’s death?” I asked her son, just as an excuse to speak to him mostly.

  “No, I’m sorry. I wasn’t around at the time.” He really was very good looking. And he knew it.

  “Any men friends in particular you remember her mentioning?” I continued.

  “No, she didn’t talk to me about things like that.”

  I could see Addi shuffling his feet out of the corner of my eye and decided I’d better wrap it up. “Well, thanks for your time.” I gave him my best smile.

  Mrs Robinson jumped in. “I’ll show you out.”

  Before I knew it, we were speeding away from the most attractive man I’d seen in ages.

  “So what do you think?” Addi asked.

  “It’s my destiny to be single?”

  “Yes, I didn’t think she seemed very upset about her sister’s death either. What about the son?”

  “Hands off, I saw him first.”

  “There’s no motive for him though. There’s no motive for either of them really. No motive and no evidence.”

  “I think we should have stayed and questioned him a bit more.”

  “He’s already been interviewed. He wasn’t in the country at the time of the death, he was in England, it’s been checked out.”

  “We still could have spoken to him longer.”

  “I don’t know if that helped much. We didn’t learn anything. Except Susan Robinson wasn’t very like Tina.”

  “People like to give themselves airs and graces.”

  “Huh?”

  I tried to explain the concept of social mobility to Addi.

  “What do we do now?” he interrupted just as I’d reached WAGs.

  “Stop and have lunch somewhere?”

  “I meant about the case.”

  “There’s that list of names Aunt June gave me last night. We go through them and see who you’ve interviewed already. Hopefully, there’ll be a few names you’ve missed. It’s the men in this case that are the key, I reckon. Oooh, a kebab shop!”

  Addi looked at me.

  “It is lunchtime,” I pointed out.