‘One murder of a minor villain, and where are we now?’ Goddard said. ‘What’s the count, if you’re including Liz Spalding?’
‘Stephen Palmer’s death is linked with the deaths of Liz Spalding and Marcus Matthews. McIntyre’s daughter, the widow of Marcus Matthews, probably killed Liz Spalding.’
‘The tie-in with Stephen Palmer?’ Goddard asked, although he had been keeping up to date with the reports that Isaac was regularly submitting.
‘Samantha Matthews was having an affair up to the disappearance and the now known murder of her lover, Stephen Palmer. At the same time, he was taking out Liz Spalding.’
‘Does the neighbourhood where Samantha Matthews lives know of her family history?’
‘According to her, nobody does, or else they’re wise enough not to deal in idle gossip. Her next-door neighbour knew, but he was sleeping with his business partner’s wife while the man was away drumming up business. The man had his own secrets, no gain in revealing someone else’s. He has no connection with any of the murdered people, other than a neighbourly friendship with Samantha, a few occasions exchanging pleasantries with her father, and he used to have the occasional drink with Marcus Matthews.’
‘Is there any way you can pin the murder of Stephen Palmer on Hamish McIntyre?’
‘He was close to where Palmer died, before and after. It’s conclusive to us, not provable in a court of law. A prosecution wouldn’t hold up, not after twenty years. Marcus Matthews was there as well. Whether he committed the act – after all, it was his wife that Palmer seduced – or whether he was just a bystander, we don’t know. The body had been too long in the warehouse; the vermin and the insects, the pigeons in the roof had destroyed any chance of forensic evidence.
‘Our first case, the death of Marcus Matthews, is still at a standstill. McIntyre did not kill him. Liz Spalding was killed by a woman, ninety-nine per cent certainty on that. We now have an added complication in that we believe Palmer’s brother, a nerdish and timid man, had also discovered where Liz Spalding lived. We’ve got our contact down in Cornwall, DI Jim Greenwood, following up for us. He’ll be talking to Palmer as soon as possible to find out why he was there, how he knew she was there, and more importantly, whether he has been stalking her all these years.’
‘Could he be her murderer?’
‘She slept with Bob Palmer that one night after the funeral. If Palmer is guilty of any crime, why hasn’t he acted before? And if he believes that Samantha Matthews’ family were guilty of crimes against his brother, then who knows what the man could be capable of.’
‘How long before a result?’ Goddard asked. ‘Questions are starting to be asked on high. Why is it, Isaac, that every time there’s a murder case, and you’re the SIO, the body count starts rising?’
‘Nothing to do with me.’
‘How’s Jenny?’ Goddard asked, aiming to change the subject. He had total confidence in his DCI. He knew the man would not give in until the case or cases were solved.
‘Jenny’s fine, life couldn’t be better.’
‘Make sure it stays that way. Keep me updated, phone at any time. Give me something to pass on. I have people to report to, the same as you.’
***
Bob Palmer woke from his sleep, splashed some water on his face, looked out of the window, not quite sure where he was. He opened the door of his room only to see a police officer sitting on a chair opposite.
‘Detective Inspector Greenwood would like to have a word with you when you’re ready,’ the young constable said.
Palmer finally realised why he was there. The sedatives had been potent, and he was sad. He closed the door, put on a shirt to go with the trousers he was already wearing and walked down the stairs to the small bar. Jim Greenwood, already alerted that Palmer was awake, was waiting for him at a small table. On it was a plate of sandwiches and two coffees.
‘I ordered for us,’ Greenwood said.
‘Why the policeman outside my door?’
‘Why are you here?’
‘I had to come.’
‘That’s as maybe, but how did you know she was here? We’re not holding you responsible for her death, not at this time, but you had a fixation about the woman, is that true?’
‘She was my brother’s girlfriend. She should have been mine.’
‘Life doesn’t always work out the way you want,’ Greenwood said. ‘I wanted to be a superintendent, not a detective inspector, but that’s how it is. Your brother died twenty years ago, yet you still pined for this woman.’
‘You wouldn’t understand it.’
‘I wouldn’t. I’m on my second marriage, and that’s not going too well either. One door closes, another one opens. That’s how I see it, but you, Mr Palmer, don’t. Now, what’s the truth? How long have you been stalking the woman?’
‘I’ve never stalked her. I’ve kept an eye on her over the years through the internet, and sometimes by sitting in a car at the end of her road. I’ve seen the men she married, the men she went out with. I’ve always regretted that it wasn’t me, but I never approached her, and I would never have harmed her.’
‘Let us come back to your brother. He died, as I understand, as a result of an affair with a married woman. Do you know this?’
‘I can’t say that I know too much, and after twenty years, the memory tends to alter the facts.’
‘It didn’t alter your fixation on the woman, did it?’ Greenwood could see that the man was still visibly upset. He called over to the bar and ordered two stiff whiskies, one for him and one for
