‘I fancy that Mrs Brennan’s husband was immune to his charms.’
‘Oh, he was, Inspector. According to the stationmaster, Edgar Brennan was enraged when he saw the attention his wife was getting. He took Harnett aside and threatened him. I think Brennan could be our man.’
‘There’s a huge difference between “could be” and “definitely is” so we mustn’t rush to judgement. How far away is the Brennan farm?’
‘It’s less than a mile.’
‘Good,’ said Colbeck, ‘we can discuss the possibilities on the walk there.’
Edgar Brennan was a big, brawny man in his early forties with a weather-beaten face. He looked startled when the detectives arrived to speak to him. He showed his visitors into the low-ceilinged parlour with a bare floor and sparse furniture. When Colbeck explained the reason for their visit, Brennan was impassive.
‘Don’t you have a comment to make, sir?’ enquired Colbeck.
‘No,’ replied the other, gruffly.
‘Yet you knew Mr Harnett.’
‘I disliked the man.’
‘You did more than that,’ said Leeming. ‘You were heard threatening him.’
Brennan stiffened. ‘I’d every right to do so, Sergeant.’
‘When did you last see him?’
‘It was not after dark at the station, if that’s what you mean. I haven’t seen him for days so you can stop accusing me.’
‘We’re not accusing you, Mr Brennan,’ said Colbeck. ‘You happen to be an interested party, that’s all. We came to break the sad news.’
‘It’s not sad news to me, Inspector.’
‘I’m sorry you take that attitude.’ He exchanged a glance with Leeming. ‘Could we speak to your wife, please, Mr Brennan?’
‘There’s no need to talk to Rose.’
‘I’m afraid that we must insist, sir.’
The farmer was aggressive. ‘You can’t come barging in here, telling me what I can and can’t do.’
‘You’re obstructing the police in the exercise of their duties,’ said Colbeck, meaningfully. ‘That renders you liable to arrest. Why are you afraid to let us talk to Mrs Brennan?’
‘That’s none of your business.’
Leeming confronted him. ‘We are making it our business, sir.’
There was a tense moment as the farmer squared up to him, fists bunched. In the event, the argument went no further because the door opened and Rose Brennan stepped into the room. She was taken aback at the sight of the two well-dressed visitors. For his part, Colbeck was momentarily stunned. Several years younger than her husband, the wife had the kind of arresting natural beauty that was unimpaired by her tousled hair and rough working clothes. She reminded Colbeck so much of his own wife, Madeleine, that he stared in wonder at her. It was left to Leeming to introduce them and to explain why they were there.
Rose gasped. ‘Jake Harnett has been murdered?’
‘We believe that you knew him, Mrs Brennan.’
‘The man was a nuisance to my wife,’ said the farmer, curtly. ‘But Rose never really knew him.’
‘Let Mrs Brennan speak for herself,’ suggested Colbeck.
Rose glanced nervously up at her husband before shaking her head.
‘What Edgar tells you is right,’ she said, uneasily. ‘I met Jake … Mr Harnett, that is, at the station a few times but I never really got to know him.’
‘There you are, Inspector,’ said Brennan, dismissively. ‘We can’t help you. If you’re looking for people who warned Harnett, I’m not the only one, by any means. There’s Tom Gilkes, for instance.’
Colbeck’s eyebrow lifted. ‘Who is he?’
‘Tom is part of the family. His wife, Lizzie, is my sister-in-law. She had the same trouble with Harnett as Rose.’
‘Where might we find Mr Gilkes?’
‘He lives at Greenacres Farm. You came past it on your way here.’
‘Then we’ll bid you good day,’ said Colbeck, looking from one to the other.
Brennan had a smirk of satisfaction on his face but Rose was patently upset and kept biting her lip. Colbeck opened the door to leave then turned round.
‘We may be back,’ he said, quietly.
On the walk to the other farm, Leeming’s earlier prediction had hardened into fact.
‘Brennan did it,’ he said.
‘I dispute that.’
‘He’s full of anger, sir. And he’s more than strong enough to kill a man.’
‘Granted,’ said Colbeck, ‘but you have to remember how Harnett was killed. He was stabbed through the heart. That would be far too quick a death to appease Brennan. He’d have preferred to batter him to death with his fists. Then,’ he added, ‘there’s his wife to consider.’
‘She was young enough to be his daughter.’
‘What happened when she heard about the murder?’
‘She was very shocked.’
‘And what would you do if your wife had a terrible shock?’
‘I’d put my arms around Estelle to comfort her.’ Leeming realised what he was being told. ‘Brennan did nothing. He just stood there. Doesn’t he care for his wife?’
‘He cares enough to guard her jealously,’ said Colbeck, ‘and she’s obviously afraid of him. But he’s not our man. If he’d gone off somewhere last night, it would have shown in her face. Rose Brennan is not clever enough to hide her emotions. That look in her eye gave the game away.’
Leeming was confused. ‘What game is that, sir?’
‘Harnett wasn’t a nuisance to her at all. She enjoyed his interest.’
Aided by a yapping dog, Lizzie Gilkes was rounding up the cows and driving them towards the milking parlour. She carried a stick and used it viciously on the rumps of any animals who tried to stray. Lizzie was an older version of her sister. Though she lacked Rose’s beauty, she had the same shapely figure. When she saw the two men approaching her, she crossed over to them.
‘Can I help you?’ she asked, warily.
‘I believe that you can,’ said Colbeck. ‘Are you Mrs Gilkes?’
‘That’s me — Lizzie Gilkes.’
Colbeck performed the introductions then told her why they were there. News of the murder made her step back in disbelief.
‘Jake Harnett is dead?’ she gulped. ‘He can’t be.’
‘When did you last see him?’
‘It was yesterday morning when I put our churns on the milk train.’ She heaved a sigh. ‘I can’t believe it. Who would want to …?’ She broke off as a thought struck her. ‘Someone’s been gossiping, haven’t they? That’s why you’re here. Someone told you about Tom.’
‘Your husband was mentioned,’ admitted Leeming.
‘Well, he didn’t do it,’ said Lizzie with a touch of belligerence. ‘I can swear to that. Tom works all hours during the day so he needs every ounce of sleep he can get. He was snoring beside me all night.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Are you married, Sergeant?’
‘Yes, I am, as a matter of fact.’
‘You’d know if your wife wasn’t beside you in bed wouldn’t you? Tom and me are two of a pair. We work till we drop then sleep like logs. Don’t take my word for it,’ she went on. ‘Tom will say the same.’
When she hauled her husband out of the milk parlour, he ambled towards the detectives. Gilkes was a tall, rangy man in his late forties with a beard.
‘What’s this about Harnett?’ he asked. ‘Is it true?’
‘I’m afraid that it is, Mr Gilkes,’ said Colbeck.
‘Then find the killer for me. I’d like to shake his hand.’
‘Don’t speak ill of the dead, sir,’ said Leeming, reproachfully.
‘You didn’t know Harnett.’
‘Did he bother your wife?’
‘No, he didn’t,’ she said, sharply.
‘But he bothered my sister-in-law, Rose,’ said Gilkes. ‘He cornered her one day and I had to rescue her. I gave the little bastard a flea in his ear. Edgar did the same — that’s Rose’s husband.’
‘We’ve met Mr Brennan,’ explained Colbeck. ‘We had the feeling that he would not be sending a wreath to the funeral.’ Gilkes gave a harsh laugh. ‘It’s not a laughing matter, sir. You are, after all, a suspect.’