Percy wondered if the man was about to add anti-Semitism to his other prejudices. He said hastily, ‘I believe it is, sir, yes. Brian Jacobs seems to have established an excellent reputation in financial matters. We’ve interviewed him and what emerged strongly was his almost pathological hatred of our murder victim. It is quite logical that he should dislike him, in view of what happened at Morton’s, but his bitterness goes well beyond the bounds of logic. It’s the kind of unbalanced hatred which often drives men to murder.’
‘They sound a thoroughly unsavoury pair, these two. You’re right to have them well in the frame.’
‘I shall bear in mind your informed opinion, sir. However, Mrs Parker and Mr Jacobs are not the only pair we have to consider.’
‘Really? This is getting very complicated. I expect you to be more efficient than this, you know.’
‘I do know, sir, yes.’ Percy heaved an extravagant sigh which was wasted on Tommy Bloody Tucker. He wanted to say that the number of suspects derived from the case itself, not the man investigating it, but he didn’t have that sort of time to waste on Tucker. He said dolefully, ‘We still haven’t spoken of Dominic O’Connor’s widow.’
‘Aaah!’ A long-drawn out exhalation of satisfaction from the head of Brunton CID. ‘The spouse is often the prime suspect in domestic crime, Peach. Did you know that?’
‘Yes, sir. It was pointed out to us in our first fortnight of police training. Several years before I entered CID.’
Irony was once again wasted on Thomas Bulstrode Tucker. He nodded his satisfaction and said, ‘You would do well to remember that.’ When this produced no reaction from his junior, he stared fiercely at the wall behind Peach and said resolutely, ‘Devious creatures, women. Unpredictable, in my experience.’
Percy resisted the temptation to explore the murky pool of Tucker’s experience with women. ‘This one is certainly unpredictable, I’d say. Even a little unbalanced, perhaps. But it’s difficult to say how much is genuine and how much is an act put on for us.’
‘I told you. Devious creatures.’ Tucker nodded his satisfaction at this immediate vindication of his conviction.
Percy wanted to say that humanity, or at least that section you met of it in CID work, seemed to be generally devious, that gender scarcely entered into the equation. But he hadn’t time to explore that philosophical avenue with the dense presence which was Tucker. ‘Ros O’Connor didn’t like her husband — probably with good reason, from everything we’ve heard about Dominic O’Connor from her and others.’
‘Don’t trust everything she says, Peach. She may well be devious.’
‘Thank you, sir. That possibility had occurred to us. That is why we’ve checked out her every movement around the time of her husband’s death.’
‘Good thinking, Peach.’ Tucker drummed his fingers on the desk, happy to have given a little praise where praise was due.
‘The body was discovered on Saturday afternoon by DS Northcott and myself. Because of variations in temperature from near-freezing during the night to around ninety degrees during the day, we can deduce little about the time of death from the state of the body or the progress of rigor mortis. However, the pathologist’s analysis of stomach contents tells us that O’Connor died approximately two hours after consuming a meal of sandwiches, cake and fruit. Ros O’Connor says that she left him with this meal in his study at the back of their house. His habit would be to eat it at around half past six, whilst listening to a favourite radio programme. That would mean that he was killed at some time during the evening, most probably between eight and ten o’clock.’
‘Clever chaps, these pathologists. They’re even prepared to stand up to the lawyers in court.’
This was clearly the highest proof of competence that Tucker could envisage. Percy had never seen his chief in court, but it must have happened, earlier in his chequered career. He shuddered at the thought of Tommy Bloody Tucker under cross-examination. ‘Ros O’Connor was with her sister in Settle from teatime onwards.’
‘Settle?’
Percy sighed again. ‘It’s a pleasant market town in the Yorkshire Dales, sir. About forty miles from the scene of the crime.’
‘Yes, yes, I know where Settle is, you idiot! I used to camp there as a boy scout, many years ago.’
Percy thrust away the insistent image of Tucker in khaki shorts and shirt, looking for his good deed of the day. ‘I see, sir. Part of the youthful experience which hardened you for your police career and taught you to be always so well prepared. The point of Settle for us is that it seems to give Mrs O’Connor a cast-iron alibi for the time of death.’
‘Then why on earth have you got her still in the frame? Why on earth are you wasting my time and yours by talking about her?’ Tucker thumped his desk violently to emphasise this unusual percipience on his part.
‘Because she may be an accessory to murder, sir.’
‘Ah! I told you she might well be devious, if you remember.’
‘I do remember, sir. It is one of the more consistent of your theories. Ros O’Connor has formed a serious association over the last few months with a man called John Alderson. I believe they were fellow parishioners at their local Catholic church, though Alderson seems to be rather sceptical about what he calls Holy Mother Church.’
‘They’ll be shagging each other.’ Tucker produced the crude word with relish, as if it might restore his status as a proper policeman. ‘That’s the modern way, you know. Leap into bed at the drop of a hat.’
‘Or even other, more intimate, garments, sir. I believe your surmise is correct. However, we are assured that this is not a casual affair but a more serious and long-term passion. The two seem attached to each other and make no secret of the fact that they now intend to get married, after a decent interval.’
‘Decent interval my arse!’ Tucker seemed to have acquired a sudden taste for vulgarity. ‘You grill this Alderson fellow, Peach. I’ve a feeling in my water that he might have done this. Where was he on Friday night?’
‘He claims that he was at home, sir. But he has no one who can substantiate that.’
‘There you are then! It’s almost an admission of guilt, don’t you think?’
Percy had a sudden, awful vision of Tucker as a JP, a sudden fleeting sympathy for the petty villains of the country whom he normally pursued so vigorously. ‘John Alderson lives at home. He knew that the woman who is to become his partner was away in Settle on Friday evening, sir. It means that he cannot easily establish his innocence, but not that he is indisputably guilty.’
Tucker stared at him, then nodded sadly. ‘Tricky thing, the law. Always found that. And the lawyers are a damned sight worse than tricky!’ He paused for a moment, hoping Peach would join him in the universal police whinge about lawyers. ‘I suppose we’ve got to gather more evidence before we put away this Alderson fellow.’
Percy noted the chief’s first use of the word ‘we’ but thought it no more than a rhetorical flourish as he anticipated an arrest. ‘We do know that the victim went to Alderson’s house on the morning of his death, sir.’
‘I told you! This looks to me like our man!’ Tucker was almost as pleased as if he had discovered this meeting for himself. Percy was almost reluctant to go on damning the man, but there was no alternative. ‘According to John Alderson’s account, Dominic O’Connor went there to warn him off his wife. He told him that he would make any divorce as difficult as possible, since both he and Ros were practising Catholics. He also said that he would deny Ros as much of his wealth as was humanly possible if they split up. Alderson says that he told him in effect to get knotted. He said that whatever O’Connor did wouldn’t make any difference to the way he and Ros felt about each other.’
Tucker could hardly wait for him to finish. ‘You can surely see what this means, Peach! It gives this man Alderson an even stronger motive. He got to O’Connor and killed him that very night, before he could implement any of these threats to impoverish his wife.’