There's electoral mileage in the environmental vote and none at all in speculative vandalism.'
All of which, thought Charlie gloomily, was true. It was left to Cooper to bring a dose of common sense to the situation.
The following morning, after lengthy consultations with the local borough planning officer, he presented himself at Howard & Sons, building contractors of Learmouth since 1972. A middle-aged secretary, agog with curiosity at this unexpected appearance of a plainclothes policeman in their midst, ushered him with some ceremony into the office of Mr. Howard Snr.
Mr. Howard, a thickset elderly man with a scattering of grizzled grey hairs, looked up from a set of plans with a frown. 'Well, Sergeant? What can I do for you?'
'I understand your company was responsible for the Cedar Estate development in Fontwell. It was built ten years ago. Do you recall it?'
'I do,' barked the other. 'What of it? Who's complaining?'
'No one, as far as I know,' said Cooper placidly.
He waved to a chair. 'Sit down, man. You can't be too sure about anything these days. It's a dog-eat-dog world where litigation's the name of the game and the only people who get fat are the solicitors. I had a letter this morning from a tight-fisted bastard who's refusing to pay what he owes because he says we're in breach of contract by putting in one less electric socket than the plans called for. It makes you sick.' He beetled ferocious eyebrows. 'So what's your interest in Cedar Estate?'
'You bought the land for it from a Mrs. Mathilda Gillespie of Cedar House, Fontwell.'
'I did. Blood-sucking old bitch she is, too. Paid far more for it than I should have done.'
'Was,' Cooper corrected him. 'She's dead.'
Howard eyed him with sudden interest. 'Is that so? Ah, well,' he murmured without regret, 'it comes to us all in the end.'
'In her case rather prematurely. She was murdered.'
There was a short silence. 'And what does that have to do with the Cedar Estate?'
'We're having difficulty establishing a motive. One idea that suggests itself,' he declared ponderously, 'is that she was planning to continue her successful venture with you by selling off the rest of her garden for development. From consultations I've had with the planning department, I understand some sort of second phase has always been on the cards, but this would have made her very unpopular in certain quarters and might have inspired the murder.' He hadn't missed the gleam of interest in the sharp old eyes opposite. 'Have you had any recent correspondence with her on the subject, Mr. Howard?'
'Only negative.'
Cooper frowned. 'Could you explain that?'
'She approached us with a view to going forward. We made an offer. She rejected it.' He grunted with annoyance. 'Like I told you, she was a blood-sucking old bitch. Wanted far more for the land than it's worth. The building trade's been through the worst recession in its history and prices have plummeted. I wouldn't mind so much if it wasn't down to us in the first place that she was even in a position to develop the damn thing.' He glared at Cooper as if Cooper were responsible for Mathilda's rejection. 'It was us who established the sodding outline permission on her garden ten years ago which is why we left access space on the southeast boundary. First refusal on the second phase if she decided to go ahead was part of the original contract and she had the gall to turn us down.'
'When was this? Can you remember?'
'The day she turned us down? Bonfire night, November the fifth.' He chuckled suddenly. 'I told her to stick a rocket up her arse and she hung up on me. Mind, I'd said many worse things first time round-I don't mind my Ps and Qs for anyone-and she always came back.'
'You saw her in person?'
'Telephone. She meant it, though, wrote a couple of days later confirming. Claimed she was in no hurry and was prepared to wait for the prices to go back up again. It's in the file, along with a copy of our offer.' The gleam of interest was back in his eyes. 'Still, if she's dead, her heirs might be interested, eh? It's a fair offer. They won't get better from anyone else.'
'Her will's being contested,' said Cooper apologetically. 'I imagine it will be some time before ownership of the property is proved. May I see her letter?'
'Don't see why not.' He pressed the intercom and demanded the Gillespie file. 'So who killed her then?'
'No one's been charged as yet.'
'Well, they do say planning disputes bring out the worst in people. Bit extreme to murder someone over it though. Eh?'
'Any murder's extreme,' said Cooper.
'A few houses more or less. It's hardly a motive.'
'People fear the unexpected,' said Cooper phlegmatically. 'I sometimes think that's the root cause of all murders.' He looked towards the door as the secretary popped in with an orange folder. 'The boat rocks and the only solution is to kill the person who's rocking it.'
Howard opened the file and selected a sheet from the top. 'There you are.' He handed it across.
Cooper examined it carefully. It was dated Saturday. November 6th, and typed. As Howard had said, it confirmed her refusal to proceed until prices improved 'When did you say you got this?'
'Couple of days after the phone call.'
'That would have been a Sunday.'
'The Monday then, or maybe the Tuesday. We don't work weekends, not in the office at least.'
