Written in Blood(74)

Post! Begging aloud, ‘Methuen, Methuen, let it be Methuen’, Sue ran into the hall. But it was only a notice of a coming sale from the shop where Brian had bought his camcorder.





By nine thirty a.m. Barnaby, having absorbed the scenes-of-crime report, was once more in the incident room passing on its disappointing conclusions to his investigative team.

‘The only prints on the murder weapon are those of the cleaner, Mrs Bundy. One quite clear, the rest smudged, presumably by whoever picked it up and used it to batter Hadleigh’s head in. They wore gloves, leather rather than a knitted fabric. SOCO can’t tell us about rogue prints yet. They’re still eliminating. We’ve now got everyone’s dabs except those of Mrs Lyddiard, who’s too cowed to defy her sister-in-law, and Honoria herself who has flatly refused.’

‘Someone should tell her just how important this is,’ said Inspector Meredith, adding, with quick prudence, ‘sir.’

‘Indeed,’ replied Barnaby, letting slip a wintry smile. ‘Perhaps, as you are in the village, that is something you could take upon yourself, inspector?’

‘I’d be glad to, chief inspector.’

‘Unfortunately,’ Barnaby, his smile now containing rather more satisfaction, returned to the matter in hand, ‘there’s no result from Hadleigh’s nails at all. Neither skin, hair, nor fibres, so it appears that at no point did he fight back. It’s difficult to believe that he deliberately chose not to, so I think we can assume that Doctor Bullard was right and that first blow which, presumably, was totally unexpected, either killed him outright or left him helpless.

‘Slightly more luck with the chest of drawers. They were lined with a waxy paper, which didn’t help matters, but there was a small amount of dust containing particles of cashmere, pale blue in colour, which seems to indicate it was used to store sweaters or cardigans. Hardly a thrilling revelation I’m afraid. The results on Jennings’ shoes are completely negative. No footprints in the garden. Even the ones we might have expected to find from Laura Hutton have been washed away, thanks to the weather.

‘No luck with the ports telex. Jennings has not left the country, either with or without his Mercedes, via any of them. At least not under that name. But we have a result on the taxi. A Mr’ - he glanced down at his notes - ‘Winston Mogani was in the rank on the evening of the sixth when, just before ten thirty, a woman got in and asked him to drive to Midsomer Worthy. She didn’t give him an address. Just told him the way as they entered the village. They didn’t talk. She made no effort; he had his two-way radio on. Asked to describe the woman, Mr Mogani said he had people in and out of his cab all day and unless they looked like Whitney Houston he gave them no mind. This woman was fair and middle-aged although, as Mr Mogani is still in his teens, that could mean anything over thirty.

‘So far we haven’t been able to trace the driver who took her back, so you’ll have to move out from Uxbridge proper and cover the villages between there and Midsomer. It’s likely that Hadleigh would have called someone nearby. Try the Yellow Pages and, on the offchance that this woman may have been a prostitute, I’d like a thorough check on and behind the streets. Clubs, massage parlours, small ads, the lot.

‘I would also like questions asked around the village to see if anyone recalls the name of the company who moved Hadleigh. It’s a long shot but you never know.’

‘Wouldn’t be local would it, chief inspector?’ asked DC Willoughby, looking even more crackly crisp than he had yesterday. Even his smile was freshly ironed. ‘More likely someone from the Kent end.’

‘As I say, constable, a long shot. I’m hoping today, if the electoral register coughs up, we shall discover exactly where he did originally live. To end on a slightly jollier note, we’ve struck lucky with the conveyancing solicitor, who does seem to have handled other business for the dead man. I shall be seeing Mr Jocelyne later this morning. He may be keeping the documents that one would normally have expected to find at Plover’s Rest and with a bit of luck these might include the marriage certificate.’

‘How do you see that as relevant, sir?’ asked WPC Brierley. ‘Do you think there might be a link between the two deaths?’

‘I have no idea at this stage,’ replied Barnaby. ‘But guessing at unknown connections and possibilities is an important part of any investigative process. Or should be.’

‘Oh absolutely, sir.’

‘And Grace’s demise can be said to have given us the opportunity to observe Hadleigh behaving in a very unusual way.’ Barnaby paused and worked his bushy eyebrows, canvassing a response.