Joe glared at her, but Vera only smiled.
‘Benton wore a suit for his trip to Gilswick and it’s possible that his meeting with Randle was work-related, that he’d found his first client.’ Joe took a breath. ‘Apart from a vaguely similar family structure, the only thing Benton had in common with Randle was an interest in moths. He was a keen amateur entomologist.’
‘Uh?’ Charlie’s first contribution.
‘Someone interested in insects.’
‘Thanks, Joe.’ Vera flashed him a smile, the only praise he was likely to get for his presentation. She turned back to the map. ‘After the big house, the lane follows the valley for about a mile and a half. The next house you come to is the bungalow where Percy Douglas and his daughter Susan live. She moved back with her dad when she got divorced, and her life’s work is to keep him on the straight and narrow. She cleans both for the Carswells and for all the residents of the Valley Farm development, which is here.’ The ruler hit the map again. ‘As you see, the track peters out into a footpath after the houses and then forks – one path leads down through the trees to the burn, and the other goes onto the hill and circles back to the village. It’s a popular route for walkers, and we could do with a media release asking anyone who was there on Tuesday afternoon and early evening to come forward. We’ll get Hol to work with the press office on that, when she’s seen Alicia Randle safely onto her train.’
Vera tracked her ruler back down the map until it rested on the blocks of colour that marked the house and barn conversions at Valley Farm. ‘Yesterday I spoke to all the folk who live here. An interesting group. All recently retired and relatively well off. Too much time on their hands, and nothing to think about but good works and getting pissed. So it seemed to me. First, in the barn conversion, we have Sam and Annie Redhead. They used to own and manage the restaurant in Kimmerston, but sold up in rather interesting circumstances.’
Joe listened to the information she’d gained from Paula the night before, and thought Vera was some sort of witch. How had she learned so much from a brief chat at the end of dinner?
‘Annie told me her daughter was working away,’ Vera said. ‘But having a daughter inside is probably not something you’d boast about to a stranger.’
‘I know Crow,’ Charlie said. ‘Teflon man. Nothing sticks to him.’
‘Capable of murder, do you think?’ Vera’s eyes were bright. Joe thought she was in terrier mode, sniffing out more leads.
‘Capable of anything. He’s famous, Jay Crow, for being a cold and ruthless bastard.’ Charlie stared at her. ‘But I can’t see what the motive might be. Why kill a couple of geeks who have nothing to do with his business? Who are no threat to him.’
‘Quite. I think someone should have a chat with Lizzie Redhead, though. Joe, can you do that? She’s being kept out of harm’s way in Sittingwell Prison. Apparently she likes the men, so see if you can charm some information from her. Find out if she’s ever had any contact with our victims. I don’t quite see her as a woman with a passion for natural history, but we need to check.’
Joe nodded, but felt a sudden gloom. He disliked prison visits. It wasn’t the smells, the catcalls from the inmates or being locked up. He knew he was a daft bugger, but it was coming out at the end of the session and hearing the door shut behind him, knowing that the people he’d just interviewed were still inside. ‘It might take a while,’ he said. ‘You know what they’re like these days about visits.’
‘This is a murder inquiry.’ She shot the words back at him. ‘Tell them you need to see her today.’
Sittingwell was an open establishment. Joe had checked out Lizzie Redhead’s records with the prison department. She’d spent a month in a local dispersal prison and then been sent here. Middle-class and first-time offender, so it had been decided she posed no security risk. Once Sittingwell had been a grand house. Victorian Gothic. Then a home for ‘fallen’ women, then a sanatorium. It still had the trappings of the original grand house. There were tennis courts in the grounds, but the nets had been removed and grass was growing through the hard surface. The lawns were mowed, but most of the flowerbeds were overgrown, with occasional patches where they’d been freshly weeded. A high wall surrounded the place, but there was no razor wire, no clanging gates. In reception Joe handed over his phone and signed in, then waited in a small interview room for Lizzie Redhead to be delivered to him.
The room might once have been the hospital’s office. It had a high ceiling and a large sash window. The prison was pleasant enough in late spring, though it still had the institutional smell of disinfectant and overcooked greens. In winter Joe imagined it would be unforgiving; an easterly wind would rattle the draughty windows and the big trees would be bare and gloomy. Outside a work party was pushing bedding plants into a patch of soil close to the main door. The women seemed happy enough, chatting with the prison officer in charge, breaking out into an occasional burst of laughter, but most of them were of an age when they’d have small children and his thoughts were with the kids. Sittingwell had a mother-and-baby unit, but once the children were toddlers they were sent away to live with relatives or foster parents.
The door opened and Lizzie was brought in. Joe stood up and held out his hand. Vera had told him to charm her. Even in her uniform denim and ill-fitting jeans she was stunning to look at. Coppery hair and white, flawless skin. Not too skinny. Sal was always on a diet, though Joe had told her she looked better when she was eating properly. Lizzie took a seat at the little table and looked across at him. He felt flustered and for a moment forgot how he’d planned to start the interview. She didn’t speak and there was a silence that he found awkward, but it didn’t seem to bother her at all.
‘What am I supposed to have done now?’ she said at last, her voice amused. She leaned back in her chair. Her accent was classy and he wondered how she fitted in here. Even in an open prison, she’d be out of place.
‘There have been two murders near to your parents’ home.’
‘Well, you can’t blame those on me.’ When she smiled he saw that her teeth were small and very white, oddly sharp. A carnivore’s teeth. There was something about her that reminded him of a fox. ‘I’ve been in here for three months.’
Joe felt like a new officer. His brain had turned to sawdust and he’d lost control of the interview already. ‘Jason Crow,’ he said. ‘He doesn’t like you much. He’s not the sort to take kindly to people who steal from him.’
‘I’m sure he hates my guts.’ She paused and gave a brief smile. ‘But he wouldn’t kill two strangers just to inconvenience my parents.’
‘Were they strangers?’
‘What do you mean?’ Lizzie was playing for time. Or just playing with him.
‘Did you know either of the victims? You’ll have a telly in here. You’ll have seen the story on the news.’
‘I don’t watch television much. Most of what’s on is drivel.’ She looked up at him. ‘Remind me.’
‘Patrick Randle and Martin Benton. Patrick was a student. Not local. Martin was a teacher a while ago.’ Joe had a sudden thought. ‘Maybe he taught you?’ The timings would fit.
She paused for a moment. Thinking. Or pretending to think. ‘The names don’t ring any bells. I hated school. I’ve tried to forget all that.’
‘You didn’t come across those names when you were working for Crow?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t remember them.’
There was another silence, broken this time by Joe. ‘What’s it like in here?’
She seemed surprised by the question. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘Some of the screws are okay.’ She paused. ‘My parents sent me away to boarding school when I was thirteen. They said all I needed was a bit of discipline, and to get away from the bad crowd in Kimmerston. That was much worse than being inside. Everyone hated me. I was only there for six months. The same sentence as I got for nearly blinding a woman. Here everyone’s screwed up and I’m one of the sane ones. Almost responsible. It makes a change to be one of the good guys.’