“Nothing would surprise me, Frank.”
Laughter circled the room.
“All right, calm down. It’s all very suspicious. Plum was a sixty-year-old bachelor. From what I’ve seen, he had an active sex life.”
“Wish I did,” shouted a voice from the back.
Gardener smiled and continued. “He had books, DVDs, and toys. What could he possibly use them for if he never came into contact with anyone?”
He suddenly thought about Olive Bradshaw.
“From the people I’ve spoken to, it would appear he and his landlady were conducting a relationship of sorts. One of her lodgers suggested as much. Olive Bradshaw claims he was often late with the rent, but she didn’t appear to have had a problem with it. Which further compounds the theory. She claims she was at the Bingo Hall on Dewsbury Road between six-thirty and ten-thirty.
“Someone check that out, please. There were lots of nods and glances to each other when we interviewed her and her sister. Told me they knew more than they were letting on. If they know more, I want to know more. I want the answers to three serious questions. Who killed Plum? Why? And with what?”
Sensing the briefing was over, the team started to leave.
Returning to the pathology report, Gardener read the list of items recovered from the crime scene, noting an entry for something called Papaverine.
“Just a minute, lads, before you go. There’s a record of something called Papaverine in the path report. Who found the pills, and where? Any idea what they’re for?”
“I did,” said Steve Fenton. “They were in a bedroom cupboard. No idea what they do, sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” replied Gardener. “I’ll ring Fitz now.”
Gardener left Reilly to deal with any queries as he went back to his office and dialled the pathologist. It rang six times before Fitz answered.
“Fitz? It’s Stewart. A small problem you might be able to help me with.”
“Go on.”
“I’m looking at an entry on the list of items recovered from the crime scene. Small bottle of pills, they’re called Papaverine. Any idea what they are?”
“I shouldn’t think you need them. You’re still a young man.”
Gardener’s interest piqued. “So, what are they?”
“A sexual stimulant. Normally supplied by doctors to help with a failing libido.”
“Thanks, Fitz. I’ll keep in touch.”
As he replaced the receiver, he sat back in his chair. The mystery deepened.
Chapter Sixteen
Gardener glanced at his watch. It was a little after eleven o’clock. He made himself a green tea before bed even though he knew it wouldn’t help. A complete jumble of thoughts stirred in his mind. Apart from last night’s gruesome discovery and the troubling encounter at the cemetery, he found himself thinking of Jacqueline Bâlcescu. He liked her; found her reassuring.
He enjoyed her company and, aside from today, their conversations never felt awkward. He could tell she was a well-educated woman with expensive tastes, who knew what she wanted out of life.
They had much in common.
He found her wide, sensuous smile inviting. He liked her chestnut-coloured hair with its healthy sheen in its short, fashionable bob. He appreciated the fact she wore little to no makeup.
He even found the chip in her tooth an attractive feature.
He saw her around the village regularly. Over the last few months when visiting Sarah’s grave, they had spent more time together. He’d begun to wonder whether or not he should move on with his life, which always brought on a sudden pang of guilt. Sarah had only been in her grave a year. During that time, he’d paid little heed to other women and the feelings they stirred in him.
Now he found himself consciously aware he had feelings for the female minister.
Those emotions confused him. He and Sarah had enjoyed an excellent rapport. They shared a fun-filled life together. Their combined tastes blended so well the relationship felt like it didn’t need to be worked at. It simply fell into place. They had frequently disagreed. What married couple hadn’t? Sarah’s impulsiveness often amused him. She often came around to his way of thinking, however. He was the level-headed one, after all. Above that, though, he felt the closeness of their relationship came down to the mutual trust and respect they had for each other.
Their bond had been so close that the two were almost one. Then the two had become three.
He took a sip of his tea, the memory replaying in his mind as clearly as if it were yesterday.
He’d planned to meet Sarah for lunch in the local park. He’d arrived later than anticipated. He caught her watching longingly as the young mothers entertained their children on the swings. She’d cried as she’d told him.
He remembered the world seemed to stand still while he considered what she’d said.
Excitement took over, and he picked her up and swung her around. The two of them giggled and whooped.
As he turned, an old couple halted in their walk to observe the young couple’s celebration. He told them his news. They congratulated each other and then swapped childhood stories. The old couple departed without him ever finding out who they were.
As he continued to reminisce, he fondly recalled how strong and independent Sarah had been. All she ever wanted out of life was to please her family. She centred her existence around their happiness. She would not want him to be unhappy or guilty or confused. Sarah had been a great believer in ‘life goes on.’ If he wanted to risk building another life for himself and their son Chris, she would have encouraged him.
It occurred to him that he could be overreacting to simple, friendly gestures. As a minister, Jacqueline’s job meant she had to be pleasant to everybody she met.
