Episode 18 - Records

Friday cont.

Combing through Registry Office records was a tall order even for Colin Peck, who was in charge of records at HQ and lately helping sort records at the Town Hall. The marriage between Peel and Barclay could have taken place anywhere or not at all. 

The information at Colin’s disposal included Peel saying that she was married, but her husband was not available for questioning (which wasn’t even a lie, as it turned out), to claiming that she called herself Mrs because spinsters were not respected enough. Nigel had enough experience of how volatile the woman was. He wondered how she had managed to angle a husband. There must be a special breed of spineless men out there, he mused.

Admittedly, Colin Peck, responsible at HQ for supplying missing data when assigned to do so, had more luck, thanks to his involvement in the Town Hall archives, but he was puzzled. According to the records, Barclay had altready been married to a lady named Moira Freeman, now deceased. Her death was shrouded in mystery. Not that Barclay was a bigamist (or was he?), but he had not mourned for very long, and had indeed married someone going by the name of Peel.

“Eureka!” Gary exclaimed on hearing that news.

He was preparing for the inevitable questioning, but not looking forward to it. Peel had told a quantity of lies in the past and had probably been about to do a bunk had not Mia been quicker. How was she going to wriggle out of her marriage to Barclay? She had said he was on holiday. Did she know when she said that that he was already dead and pickled in the wine tank?

Gary discussed the situation with Mia, who was to be present and active, before ordering Peel to appear. He was acutely aware that Peel might ambush him with attempts at being charming. It had happened before. Tall, attractive guys with dark curly hair and big brown eyes were irresistable in an exotically foreign sort of way. Greg, ginger-haired and prone to freckles, with Celtic ancestry, had been asked to join them. Cleo was not present since logistics would not work for her family without a little more preparation.

“The woman is a consummate liar, Gary,” Greg remarked. “You’ll have to watch out.”

“She’ll have a problem lying herself out of those passports,” Gary replied, “and Mia is here to defend me,” saying which made everyone laugh.

Gary’s phonecall to Cleo after receiving the information from Colin Peck had provoked a “Wow” from Cleo and a repeat of her view that the woman was not to be trusted. He was on no account to conduct the interview without a chaperone.

“You don’t suppose she did away with the Freeman woman, do you?” Cleo said.

“IT’s possible, isn’t it? Maybe that’s how she got to like killing people.”

“Let’s assume that Peel was having an affair with Barclay and pressured him to get rid of his wife. She would not be the first, though most first wives escape being bumped off by walking out or even winning their spouses back.”

“Your guess is as good as mine. Peel is in trouble, as yet undefined, but the suspicious circumstances of her identity and Barcley’s death are plenty to go on with. Mia will ask some of the questions.”

“It’s always possible that Barclay knew that Peel had killed his wife and was going to tell the police, having become disenchanted with Peel. That would be a motive for her to kill him, wouldn’t it?”

“I’ll bear that in mind,” said Gary.

Cleo had advised him not to ask Peel leading questions too soon, since shock tactics would work better if she was lulled into complacency first.

***

Inspired by Cleo’s sound advice, Gary got the espresso machine going and offered the irate Mrs Barclay some aromatic coffee when she arrived at the office.

“Service with a smile, Mrs Barclay,” he said.

Peel came straight to the point, much to Gary’s surprise.

“I did not want anyone to know about my relationship,” she said. “I kept my own name professionally. Business partners prefer to deal with lone women.”

“And bosses, Mrs Peel. You were only the housekeeper then, weren’t you?” said Gary.

“Only is a joke. Clive left everything to me.”

“Everything?” said Mia.

“Keeping things running; dealing with tradesmen; that sort of thing.”

“Mr Barclay was married before you took over his lfe, wasn’t he?” said Gary, who thought gentle persuasion would not make Mrs Peel talk.

“I suppose he was. Is that relevant?”

“Wasn’t her name Moira Freeman?” Gary persisted.

“Was it? I wouldn’t know.”

“You identified her, Mrs Peel. I have the inquest report on my monitor,” said Gary.

“You are bluffing, Mr Hurley,” said Peel.

“Am I?” said Gary, closing up on Peel to within her comfort zone. She was breathing heavily and smelt of cigarettes.

“How could you identify someone you did not know?” Mia asked as Gary drew back, nauseated by the smell.

“I met her only once.”

“That must have been a memorable meeting, Mrs Peel. Was it your first and last?”

“I didn’t kill her, if that’s what you are getting at.”

“Was she killed, Mrs Peel?” Greg asked.

“No one suggested that, Mrs Peel, but since you mention it, did you?” said Gary.

“Did I what?”

“Kill Moira Freeman.”

“I did not share a bed with her,” said Peel. “Sie died in bed.”

“So your husband dealt with the superfluous Moira, did he?”

“She asphyxiated during the night, but he was with me when it happened.”

“Is that what you told the police, Mrs Peel?”

“It was the truth.”

“So you always tell the truth, I expect,” said Gary.

“You gave Barclay an alibi, Mrs Peel. In return for what? Sex?” said Mia.

“It’s none of your business!” snapped Peel.

“That’s where you are mistaken, Mrs Peel,” said Gary.

“When did your marriage to Barclay turn sour?” Mia asked.

“When…”

 Peel hesitated.

“Did your other two marriages also turn sour, Mrs Peel?” Greg asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Peel. “Who are you anyway?”

“This is D.I. Greg Winter, Mrs Peel. My right-hand man.”

Mia could see that Peel was about to sneer at that remark.

“Didn’t you say that Barclay was gay, Mrs Peel?” she asked quickly. “I seem to remember that from the first report. Did you convert him?”

“I didn’t have to,” said Peel.

“So that was another lie, Mrs Barclay,” said Gary.

“Sod off, Cop,” Peel reacted.

Mia stepped in.

“You were widowed three times. That takes some beating, Mrs Barclay.”

“But I expect you found investments for your legacies, didn’t you?” said Greg.

“What business is that of yours?”

“We look into cases like that, Mrs Barclay,” said Greg. “Lots of husbands die and leave their widows fortunes.”

“In fact, that’s a good reason for marrying an otherwise revolting man,” said Mia.

“Is your husband revolting then,” said Peel, who could not resist the dig.

“My husband is a cop, Mrs Barclay. He hasn’t even got life insurance.”

Mia’s marriage left much to be desired, but she was not going to say that to anyone.

“More fool you, Miss Whatsit.”

The house-phone rang. It was Colin Peck with more information.

“I can’t deal with it now, Colin.”

“This is important for the case, Gary, so listen!”

“Sorry, Colin, but I’m in a discussion.”

“With Peel? The woman you want to find out about?”

“OK. What is it, Colin?”

“Peel owns shares in Pensioner’s Paradise left to her by husband number two, Gary.”

“Sorry I was ratty. That’s extremely interesting. Thanks for phoning.”

Gary dismissed Peel with the words “That’ll be all for the moment. I hope your new cell is comfortable. Mia, Greg,  stay for a moment, please.”

Mia told the guards that she would be down directly.

Peel was led away. The security cops were to take her to one of the more permanent cells and Mia would collect anything she had left in the arrest cell later and take it to her. The arrest cells were not intended for more permanent residence and Peel was not going anywhere for the time being.

Mia and Greg were amazed at Gary’s action until they heard what Colin had reported.

“Sorry about the mystery. I had to get rid of that woman. I don’t want to give her space to concoct more outlandish stories.”

“She’s a nasty customer,” said Mia. “What did Colin say?”

“Peel owns shares in that OAP home, left to her by her second husband. I have no further information on that marriage, but I think we have a concrete motive for Mr Barclay’s murder.”

“Wow. Colin works fast,” said Greg. “And that confirms my theory.”

“Touché, Greg. You thought of it first.”

“Explain, Gary,” said Mia. “I don’t quite follow your argument. Surely she would be the target for Barclay, not the other way round.”

“Supposing Barclay only married her to get at those shares. I don’t suppose she played hard to get.”

“Wait a minute! I thought he was supposed to be blackmailing her,” said Mia.

“We can’t rule that out either, but what would he blackmail her with? Owning shares is not a crime, especially if she inherited them legally.”

“And if she killed to get at them?” said Greg. “She killed her husband and then finished the job by killing Barclay’s wife.”

“They could have been in it together,” said Mia.

“And that’s exactly where we stand  now. We don’t know enough.”

“How did Colin Peck find out as much as he did?” Mia asked.

“He will have combed through documents concerning Peel’s other dead spouses, I assume,” said Gary. “He’s a lawyer. He knows how to go about it.”

“OK. So one of the other husbands owned what was then a hotel,” said Mia.

“Unless it was already an OAP home,” said Gary. “We’ll have to check on that, too.”

“If Peel killed all three husbands, which is thinkable in the circumstances, she’s a serial killer, isn’t she?” said Greg.

“But would threats by Barclay be enough to make her kill him?” said Mia.

“Husbands – and wives – have been bumped off for all sorts of reasons,”said Gary. “From her point of view, defending her legacy was a priority. She will have had a share in the profits and would want to hang on to them. Barclay might have been getting at the money through blackmail.”

“I wonder who owns the rest of the shares,” said Mia. ”We’ll need to do some more homework, Gary,” said Mia. “She was throwing caution to the winds. I would have thought she was more careful.”

“If she got away with two homicides she might have been complaisant about a third,” said Greg.

“But all this is out of our range at the moment,” said Gary. “Peel was presumably cleared of anything suspicious, which would mean reopening the cases concerning the first two husbands, and that would be treading on the toes of the colleagues who investigated at the time. It’s really difficult to challenge closed cases.”

“I can see your point,” said Greg, “but surely the truth is more important.”

“We could get access to her banking business,” said Gary. “I’ll put Nigel onto that.”

“Cleo’s good at undercover stuff ,” said Greg. “You’ll have to rope her in on this.”

“I agree. She would also know how to tackle Peel about her past,” said Gary. We need to see Peel’s reaction to being found out.”

A phone-call from the cells confirmed that Mrs Peel had been taken there swearing like a trooper and generally waking the dead. Mia Curlew left immediately to deal with the situation. The guard had sounded distraught.

“That Barclay woman isn’t very nice,” he reported.

“That must be the understatement of the year,” said Gary. “Don’t go anywhere until she is safely tucked in. I‘m sending D.I. Curlew down.”

“Does she get a TV, Sir?” the guard wanted to know.

“No. Not today. She might throw it at you. Let her stew for a bit.”

***

Over cups of his famous espresso, Gary asked Greg if he had got  the chemist shooting cleared up.

”Which one, Gary?”

“Was there more than one?”

“Sorry my report is not written. Too much to do. Both cases probably involve the same dealer, but Chris will have to check on that. The one we found dead was riddled with heroin,” Greg reported. “Only 20 something and a wreck. He would have died of an overdose without being shot in the back. The chemist will get away with it. Self-defence. You can’t prove otherwise.”

But the dealer could have given himself that golden shot at that chemist’s, Greg.”

“Chris will check on that, too.”

“One dealer less to ply his trade on school playgrounds, I hope. A menace to society,”.

“We’ll get him identified by school staff,” said Greg. “Those guys are like phoenix rising. One gets caught and two days later another appears.”

“It’s still not a reason to kill one.”

“It is if your sixteen year old daughter gave him a key to get into the shop.”

“That’s a different tune.”

“The girl is in an addiction clinic – and pregnant.”

“We’ve also got a girl in hospital after being shot at. I wonder if she is involved in the other guys?” said Gary.

Gary could not help thinking of Charlie and Lottie. He would have to talk to them seriously about the dangers. In fact, he would arrange to go round the classes lecturing.

“Another reason for not pursuing a murder claim on her father,” he said. “Self-defence.”

“That’s what I think,” said Greg. “Coming to Romano’s for some lunch?”

“Why not? Cleo is dealing with Dorothy this morning. That dame is complaining that she is not being kept up to date with events.”

“Hasn’t she retired?”

“Apparently not.”

“What about her sister?”

“She’s on her way to Dorothy’s cottage, I hope.”

***

Romano’s restaurant was only a brisk 5 minute walk from HQ. Greg was glad he would get to talk to Gary as a friend as well as a colleague.

“Are you really taking up Roger’s job so soon?”

“Soon? Far too late for Roger. And now he’s bored with half-retirement. He wants to quit and start having a life.”

“It’s like that, is it?”

“That and my mother. She wants to visit S.A. and find the persons who kept Joe’s existence a secret and sold him.”

“”Heavy stuff, Gary.”

“I’m not sure I’m up to the job. Rojer has asked me more than once to take his job on and up to now I’ve refused, but the villa has to be financed.”

“And you are more than up to the job, in my humble opinion.”

“Thanks for that. The other two administrators are hell-bent on keeping any available funds to themselves. New office furniture, for instance.”

“You can change that, surely. Elbow in with some new squad cars – faster than the old jalopies we’ve got now. Remember Jack Cooper?”

“Dorothy Price’s old flame?”

“His Rolls hung us up, Gary. That’s not good enough.”

“But I’m not above the glass roof to represent traffic control, Greg. That’s Gisela’s job.”

“You are if it’s to catch killers.”

“You have a point. I’ll talk to Gisela.”

“Don’t be hard on her. She’s the first woman to make it to the third floor, Gary. The traffic patrol cops call her Grizzly.”

The schadenfreunde in Greg’s voice was unmistakeable. She had been his senior until he moved to the homicide department.

“She’s from a breed of women who think you have to act like a man to do a man’s job,” said Gary. “Cleo has some nice ideas about that.”

“I can see you’ll enjoy the arguments about funds with her,” said Greg.

“I’ll make sure I’m a step ahead. Or rather, Cleo will make sure…”

“Is Roger leaving because of Gisela? Didn’t she fancy him at one time?”

“He was married to Eleanor then, Greg. Then Eleanor got sent down for murder. Roger got a divorce and fell into a hole until he met my mother. We don’t talk about Gisela. Read the reports on Eleanor. Hot stuff.”

“Can’t the move wait till next year?”

“Let me remind you that you are taking over my job from Monday.”

“My ski vacation was already booked,” said Greg miserably. “I don’t know how to explain cancelling it to Josie. She has spent a fortune on après-ski outfits!”

“You’ve left it rather late to explain. Have you cancelled?”

“No. I was going to send her on ahead and then tell her I couldn’t get away.”

“Does she know?”

“Not yet.”

“Of course, the other candidates have no detective qualifications to mention, Greg.”

“OK, OK.”

“Apart from that, I don’t think there is anyone better suited to this job, Greg, even if you take a week off before you get stuck into it. There are enough of us to cover for you, including me.”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course. Don’t disappoint Josie. It took you long enough to find a mate.”

“I’m not sure about the mate bit, but she’s very decorative, especially in her Victoria’s Secrets dessous, bought on-line, straight from the catwalk, she says. She calls them Josie’s Secrets and they cost a small fortune.”

“We solved the dessous problem straight off, Greg. We just don’t wear any unless we have to, but don’t tell Cleo I told you that.”

“Goodness. I wouldn’t go that far. I just hope I can live up to this job, if only to keep Josie in dessous.”

“You won’t have the hang-ups that I went through, Greg.”

“I haven’t got a clever partner to see me through, either. Josie is – well – only decorative. Not a great intellectual.”

“Cleo is an intellectual, but she actually caused some of the very basic problems I had in those early days. I was sure she was the right woman for me, but she was far from sure herself. An affair, yes; committal, no.”

“Be fair, Gary. She had that chump of a butcher running round her like a St Bernhard.”

“She didn’t have to marry him.”

“That’s what people do in villages, Gary.”

“I suppose you’re right. Cleo wanted security and he gave it to her. He was the only person in that damn village who was nice to her when she arrived.”

“So she was grateful, “ said Greg. “If this were a locker-room chat, I’d tell you what a load of balls that story is, seen as an afterthought.”

“You are right and I would have stepped in except that my divorce was pending and my little daughter was in Spain being neglected. I had to get my own life sorted out. Cleo actually refused to continue our affair, but in the end…”

Gary rang Cleo from Romano’s excellent Italian diner to tell her that he was now lunching with Greg. Cleo was entertaining Dorothy and Vera to the rump steaks left over from the quantity Gary had bought the previous day.

“Keep some for me,” he pleaded.

“Only if you bring some of Romano’s pasta for the kids’ supper, Sweetheart.”

“Will do. Je taime….. And Romano says he loves you too.”

“Moi aussi and Romano too if he keeps my mother happy.”

“Gloria is as gushing and loud as ever, so she must be happy.”

“For the moment. Vera thinks you are marvellous, Gary. Dorothy is not so sure.”

“Tell her I still need her. She and Vera can do a job for me.”

“You’ve made my day  - and theirs, no doubt.”

“And keep tomorrow morning free. You’ll be questioning Mrs Barclay.”

“Barclay?

“Alias Peel.”

“I will?”

“More on that later. Greg is blowing a kiss at me. I think it’s meant for you.”

“I hope it is. See you at teatime?”

“I can’t wait.”

“Neither can I.”

***

While Gary and Greg were eating, Nigel was munching bacon flavoured chips in the office and thinking about Mrs Peel’s marriages having listened in to Peel’s questioning. After consultation with Colin, Nigel thought he might start closing in himself via internet facilities, but before he could even start he needed copies of the documents Mia Curlew had picked up in Peel’s room. Colin promised to help.

Mia joined Nigel in the office. She was equally curious. She had had enough of Peel’s tantrums for one day.

“You poor thing,” Nigel had commiserated.

Peel had not been content with using one name. She had several, Peel being presumably the one she was born with. What had she been up to, they conjectured?

“At least she always called herself Agnes,” said Nigel. “We can take our pick otherwise.

“She was widowed Cornell, Fisher and Barclay  and she had passports in all those names. Quite a collection of dead spouses,” said Mia.

Mia had brought photocopies of the passports with her. She spread them out on the little conference table in the corner of Gary’s office.

“The very oldest passport with a very youthful photo of Peel shows that she was raised in Bath but left home to improve her lot,” said Nigel. “But we’ll never find anything in a place like Bath. I’ll phone Gary about it. I wish he wouldn’t take so many afternoons off.”

Gary was overjoyed to hear that Nigel was also investigating Mrs Peel’s past history and it dawned on him how he could kill two birds with one stone. If he had not known what assignment he could pass on to Vera and Dorothy when he had told Cleo to put them on hold, he knew now.

“Hold you horses, Nigel, I’ll organize something,” he said. “We don’t know for certain that Peel was born in Bath. She could have been born anywhere.”

“Or found in a field,” said Nigel. “We’ve had that, too.”

“Don’t exaggerate. I’ll get Dorothy and Vera onto Bath and you can start looking for the dead husbands.”

“Mia’s helping.”

“She has my blessing.”

“Just for the record, where are you, Gary?” said Nigel.

“At Romano’s. Going home presently, but Greg’s going back to HQ.”

“Lucky for some,” said Nigel. “I lunched on crisps.”

“You could have ordered something.”

“I didn’t think of that.”

“Greg’s off skiing all next week,” said Gary.

“Nice if you can get it,” snapped Nigel.

“Do I detect the grumps, Nigel?”

“A bit.”

“That’s a reaction to the awful Mrs Peel,” Gary diagnosed. “Do you need therapy?”

“No, but another chat with Cleo would not come amiss.”

“That is therapy, Nigel. She’ll be in to interview Peel tomorrow and you can chat then.”

***

Greg waited for Gary’s inevitable comment.

“Was Nigel being difficult?” he asked finally. “He seemed quite scared that he might be expected to confront Peel again.”

“He was. I’l leave him to deal with Gisela next week. She won’t put up with his artistic temperament. Can you hold the fort back at HQ this afternoon?”

“No problem,” said Greg, who had held the fort many times since extreme fatherhood had overtaken Gary.

“I should explain” said Gary, feeling a bit guilty. “I can put the two sister sleuths onto Bath knocking at doors. Just up their street, but I’ll have to rope them in officially. They prefer the personal touch.”

“Most women do,” said Greg.”

“It’s an improvement on Coventry.”

“Coventry?”

“Dorothy swears I sent her there after she announced her impending retirement.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Of course not and she hasn’t retired either. The sisters can knock on a few doors in Bath and they may find relatives.”

***

Greg was cynical about Gary’s plan for the afternoon. He was very dutiful and Gary depended more and more on him.

“OK. Spit it out Greg. You look disgruntled.”

“No reason,” fibbed Greg.

“Nigel will have scrutinized the various passports belonging to Peel,” said Gary, who now felt the need to justify himself. “She apparently grew up in Bath. At least her first passport was issued there.”

“I thought she was a playgirl.”

“The one does not cancel out the other.”

“That’s true,” said Greg, wondering about Josie. How many other men got a glimpse of the dessous he spent half his salary on?

“If Peel got away with two murders and all but set to get away with Barclay’s, we need to close in with some substantial evidence,” said Gary.

“And you think that sending two amateur sleuths to wander round Bath on a Saturday can get it?” said Greg. “I’m surprised.”

“No. I don’t know if they’ll get any evidence, but Dorothy will stop pestering Cleo for jobs.”

“So it’s like that, is it? You are an ungrateful bastard, Gary.”

“And selfish, Greg.”

“Is this a confessional?”

“Seems like it. Sorry.”

“So what can I do?”said Greg and did not add, “while you are baby-sitting” though he would have liked to.

“You could talk to Brian Crab again. He’s still smouldering in that cell because it is not yet clear if Plimsoll really died of natural causes. What sort of guy wraps a half dead friend around a tree and leaves him there?”

“A guy who is scared, Gary. It doesn’t mean he’s a killer. He ran away.”

“He could have faced the music,” said Gary. “He didn’t though, did he? He went through Plimsoll’s pockets ,found Plimsoll’s papers and cash and scarpered. Then he had the nerve to try to extort money on Miss Plimsoll’s credit card. Fortunately he could not convince the bank that his name was Agnes and they called the police, otherwise we might never have got on to him. People can disappear too easily in this country.”

“Did you say Agnes?”

“Coincidence, of course. Trying to pass himself off as Agnes Plimsoll was Crab’s undoing.”

“I wonder how many times Crab delivered drugs to Clive Barclay orAgnes Peel. That might establish the errant couple as drug dealers. They won’t have hung on to the stuff for long,” said Greg. “Has it occurred to you that the demolition of the bistro kitchen and the drugs business at the OAP home could be connected?”

“Is that one of the Hartley Agency theories?” Greg asked.

“No, mine for a change, but it’s my guess that he’ll do anything to get out of that cell.”

“Even make things up?”

“Nigel was lucky that the bistro landlord, a guy called Josh something or other, used the same pub as Crab in Mallorca.”

“If you can call it luck. Nigel ended up smuggling, after all. I never really understood why he had to do that,” said Greg, whose meagre sympathy for Nigelhad all but gone.

“I think Nigel was open for anything and grabbed at the chance of getting evidence of some kind to bring home,” said Gary.

“He certainly did that in his own inimicable way. I don’t know why you put up with him.”

“Don’t knock him, Greg. He’ll go on being my assistant and you can get a replacement.”

“Thanks for that small mercy. Of course, Crab might see spilling the beans as his saving grace.”

“Tackle him. He’ll be clever enough to want to avoid prosecution.”

“But I’m cautious, Gary. I’ll talk to Chris first. If Chris confirms that Plimsoll was killed by the car crash and not helped to eternity by Crab, I could get him released, couldn’t I?”

“You have my blessing. Do what you think is right. It’s your job from Monday so you’ll carry the can for Crab.”

“Put like that….”

“Still want the job?”