THE KINGS COPSE KILLER an enthralling murder mystery with a twist (Detective Inspector Jack Dawes Mystery Book 10) Read online

  ‘So we have to assume that either Brian or Allegra let the killer in,’ said Bugsy.

  ‘Did we find any tyre tracks?’ asked Jack. ‘The killer must have come in some sort of vehicle. Oak Lodge is right out in the country. He would hardly have risked walking through Richington Mallet carrying a shotgun, then walking back covered in blood.’

  ‘’Fraid not, guv,’ said Bugsy. ‘There was a heavy downpour of rain during the night. Uniform taped off the drive but by then, Zizi Starr’s Mini had driven over anything that might have been useful and traffic was still churning up the mud down the lane.’

  ‘Well, she wasn’t to know she was about to walk in and find two dead bodies,’ mused Jack.

  ‘How about this for a motive?’ offered Aled. ‘Hubby — that’s Brian — comes home and finds his wife, Allegra, having it away with another bloke. We don’t know who he is but we could maybe find out. Mad with jealousy, Brian fetches his shotgun, meaning to dispatch both of them. Boyfriend legs it, so hubby shoots wife, who’s running away up the stairs. Then, filled with remorse, he sticks the gun in his mouth and blows his head off. It’s well documented in crimes of passion that suicide often follows a murder.’

  The team looked at him in wonder for several moments.

  ‘Just one or two flaws in your argument, Aled,’ said Jack. ‘Firstly, there’s no gun cabinet in the house and no indication that Roberts ever applied for a gun licence, owned a shotgun or knew how to load and fire one. Secondly, if she was caught “having it away” with a boyfriend, how come she was fully clothed and running upstairs and not down?’

  ‘And we won’t go into the clichéd arguments about how he’d have needed to have arms long enough to pull the trigger with the barrel in his mouth,’ added Gemma.

  ‘OK,’ said Bugsy. ‘Let’s assume for the sake of argument that your theory is right, son. Having blown his own head off, how did Brian manage to get up, dispose of the gun, then sit back down again?’

  ‘Are you sure you’re cut out for this job, Aled?’ asked Gemma.

  Aled made a rude, one-fingered gesture at her. ‘I didn’t say it was foolproof, did I? I was just tossing around an idea, backed up by past case studies.’

  ‘Well, I’d toss that one away, if I were you,’ advised Gemma.

  ‘Maybe Zizi Whatsname took the gun away before she called us. Did we search her car?’ Aled was trying to regain some credibility. ‘She could have guessed who did it and she’s covering for him.’

  Gemma sighed, wearily. ‘Aled, she was Allegra’s closest, dearest, lifelong friend. If she’d known who killed her, she’d have ripped off his balls then shoved his shotgun where the sun don’t shine.’

  ‘Are we even sure the dead bloke was Brian Roberts?’ suggested Aled. ‘After all, his head was missing. Zizi might have just assumed it was him. Maybe it was the boyfriend and Brian is still alive.’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Gemma. ‘But DNA doesn’t assume anything. It was definitely Brian. Get a grip, Aled. You’re chasing chimeras instead of looking at the facts.’

  Jack intervened before everyone completely lost the plot. ‘Instead of speculating on a possible motive, we need lifestyle information about our victims to throw up a more probable motive. Do we know what Brian and Allegra did for a living?’

  Clive, the digital forensics specialist, or “techie geek” as he was known to the team, had done some digging. ‘Brian James Roberts, aged thirty-eight, taught music at Richington Comprehensive for the last fifteen years, sir. His only job since leaving university. No close relatives that I could find. Married Allegra Parnell shortly after they both graduated. Financially stable but not well-off. Drove an old dark blue Ford Focus, acquired second-hand. It’s still in the garage at Oak Lodge.’

  ‘Just an ordinary, OK kind of guy, then,’ commented Aled.

  ‘Yep. No form but questioned by police two years ago, along with a lot of other people, after one of his star music pupils, Kirsty Jackson, disappeared. She’s never been found and the case remains open on MISPER records for yearly review.’

  ‘So what about Allegra, Clive? What do we know about her?’

  ‘She wasn’t what I would consider an obvious match for Brian Roberts, sir, and she rarely used his name, but then again, I’m not a relationship guru. I’ve never been able to fathom what attracts people to other people. She was a solicitor in the law firm Parnell & Parnell specializing in divorce.’

  ‘Just because she had a law degree, it doesn’t mean she was smarter than everyone else,’ observed Aled. ‘After all, Gemma has one.’ He ducked as she swiped at him with her ruler.

  ‘She practised under the name Allegra Parnell,’ continued Clive. ‘The firm was started by her father, Grafton Parnell. He made her a partner soon after she joined. He recently died of a cardiac arrest, leaving her to run the firm. It’s difficult to hack into any financial or personal information as she had it well protected, but she drove a snazzy Mazda sports car, less than a year old, and the house was in her name. No form but she was cautioned a couple of times demonstrating for various feminist issues while she was at university. No charges were brought.’

  DC “Mitch” Mitchell, one of the older members of the team, had been listening intently. He pointed at the dead couple on the board. ‘It seems to me, sir, that these two had very little in common, apart from the fact they were husband and wife.’

  There were grunts of empathy around the room. ‘Tell me about it,’ muttered someone.

  ‘Is it safe to assume that, as Big Ron said, the woman was shot first? Allegra was the target and poor old Brian was just collateral damage — wrong place, wrong time?’

  ‘You could well be right, Mitch, but we mustn’t lose sight of the possibility that it could have been the other way around. The killer came to shoot Brian but Allegra got in the way, so he had to dispatch her first.’ Jack stood up. ‘Right, folks, we need to gather some information but not tonight — it’s getting late. First thing in the morning, Gemma, go and speak to Zizi Starr again. I understand she’s back in her shop so you may be able to obtain a more coherent statement. Aled, I need you to visit Richington Comprehensive. Find out what kind of teacher Brian Roberts was and what his colleagues thought of him. DS Malone and I will interview the remaining staff at Parnell & Parnell.’

  The briefing dispersed as everyone left to go home, ready for an early start the next day.

  * * *

  Zizi Starr had spent a sleepless night. She was in two minds about whether to reopen The Galaxy Boutique. She was scared — very scared. She lived in a tiny flat above the shop. Despite alarms and CCTV all along the street outside, it wouldn’t be difficult for someone to break in and do to her what he’d done to Allegra. She had more or less decided to close up the shop and go to stay with her cousin in Cornwall when the chimes over the door, placed there to maximize the flow of chi, announced the presence of DC Fox, who produced her warrant card. ‘Can we have a chat, Ms Starr?’

  ‘Hello, Constable Fox. Yes, I remember you from . . .’ She paused, not wanting to recreate the ugly scene in her head. The trouble was that having seen it, in all its gory gruesomeness, she couldn’t now unsee it.

  ‘I’m sorry, I know this must be distressing and I’m sorry for your loss, but I need to ask you a few questions, Ms Starr.’

  ‘Can I get you some tea, officer? I have chamomile, bergamot and lavender, lemongrass, acai berry—’

  ‘No, I’m fine, thank you.’ Gemma’s cheeks puckered at the very thought. Why did people take a perfectly palatable beverage like tea and contrive to turn it into something that tasted like scented ditchwater? ‘I believe you and Ms Parnell Roberts had been friends for a number of years.’

  ‘Yes, since we were little. Hardly a day passed that we didn’t speak or message each other.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but I have to ask this — where were you between seven and midnight the day before you found her?’

  ‘I was here, doing a stocktake until late. You can’t surely believe that I killed Allegra and Brian? It’s ludicrous—’

  ‘Well, somebody did, Ms Starr, and in a very violent manner. Can you think of a reason why anyone might want to harm either of them?’

  At this point, Gemma thought she saw a flicker of apprehension cross Zizi’s face but she answered firmly. ‘No. Not at all. They were a sweet couple. Everyone adored them.’ She paused. ‘How do you know Brian didn’t shoot Allegra then turn the gun on himself?’

  Gemma wasn’t at liberty to divulge details of the missing shotgun or any other facts about the crimes. She’d been tasked with obtaining information, not providing it. ‘Why would you think that? Did Mr Roberts have a motive for killing his wife?’

  Zizi backed off. ‘Not really. Allegra tended to have “liaisons”, but they never lasted long and Brian was always too busy with his music to notice. He always claimed that Allegra had been the love of his life when they were at university. I’m not so sure that was the case recently, though. I only suggested it might have been Brian because you hear of such things, don’t you?’

  The interview continued for some minutes with Gemma making copious notes but nothing of any significance emerged. When she got up to leave, Zizi said, ‘I’m thinking of taking a holiday, to help me get over this ghastly shock. I’m going to stay with my cousin in Truro.’

  ‘Erm . . . I don’t think that’s a good idea, Ms Starr. You see, at the moment, you are what we call a “person of interest” since you were first on the scene. Please don’t leave Kings Richington without notice.’

  Zizi’s face fell. ‘But I have to get away, I don’t feel safe here.’

  Gemma picked up the flicker of apprehension again. ‘Why is that? Have you any reason to believe you are in danger?’

  Zizi retracted. ‘No . . . no . . . not at all. It’s fine. I’ll stay here until you catch whoever did this awful thing.’

  After Gemma had gone, Zizi packed a bag, locked the shop, set all the alarms and got into her car. The auspices were not good. Her tarot reading had given her Death, the four of Swords, the five of Swords, and the Knight of Swords, indicating a number of diabolical situations. She wasn’t staying to be picked off at random. After all, she wasn’t under arrest. The police could think what they liked.

  * * *

  When DC Williams arrived at Richington Comprehensive, he was immediately shown into the head teacher’s study. Dr Lambrick held a PhD in divinity and a firm conviction that every student in her school was bent on committing a deadly sin, the second her back was turned. It was, she believed, her job to prevent it and save their souls. When her mild-mannered, God-fearing music teacher had been found murdered in such a dreadful fashion, it had further reinforced her lifelong belief that the devil lurks all around, lying in wait to pounce on any unwary victim.

  ‘Constable Williams, please sit down.’ She motioned him to an uncomfortable-looking chair on the opposite side of her large, ugly mahogany desk. ‘I understand you’re here about poor Mr Roberts. Do the police have any idea who did this terrible thing?’

  ‘Not yet, Doctor Lambrick. It’s early days and we’re following several lines of enquiry. I understand Mr Roberts had been teaching here for some time.’

  ‘That’s correct. He joined us as a music teacher some fifteen years ago, then became head of music ten years later. He was an accomplished pianist, a skill he passed on to several fortunate students over the years. He will be greatly missed.’

  So much for the virtual obituary, thought Aled. Nothing there to inspire murder. He needed to know something about the man’s lifestyle. ‘What about his private life, Doctor Lambrick? What can you tell me about that?’

  She visibly recoiled. ‘Nothing at all, officer. I make a point of never enquiring into the private lives of my staff. You can never tell what you might find. As long as they perform their teaching duties to the high standards this school has come to expect and don’t do anything to bring it into disrepute, what they do in their spare time is their own business.’

  Aled decided he was unlikely to gain anything useful from this paragon of virtue. She was a religious personification of the three wise monkeys. ‘Do you think I might speak with some of Mr Roberts’ colleagues?’

  ‘Certainly, although I doubt if they will be able to tell you anything further.’ She glanced at the huge clock on the wall that looked as if it had once belonged in St Pancras Station. ‘It’s breaktime, so they’ll be in the staff room. My school secretary will show you the way. Good day, Constable Williams, and may God help you find this killer before he breaks the fifth commandment yet again.’

  The other teachers were vague about Brian Roberts. He appeared to be the original invisible man, going about his job in a bland, unremarkable way. Most of them thought music was a waste of teaching time, anyway. As the maths teacher put it, ‘We’ve got our work cut out trying to teach the little buggers to read, write and count, never mind fannying about with musical instruments and rapping. They all want to be rock stars or YouTubers instead of getting a proper job. Roberts actively encouraged it.’

  ‘There was that one girl, though,’ recalled the English teacher. ‘I’ve forgotten her name. It was about two years ago.’

  ‘Kirsty Jackson,’ offered the chemistry teacher. ‘Only sixteen and already a brilliant young pianist — concert material, Brian said. She was his protégée. He’d arranged an exam that would have got her into a highly acclaimed music academy but she disappeared the night before. That was the most affected I ever saw him.’

  ‘That’s right. He was quite ill for a while. He’d put a lot of work into coaching her and she had certainly seemed very dedicated. Not the type of kid to push off to a music festival without telling anyone, for example, and just not come back.’

  ‘Does anyone know what happened to her?’ asked Aled.

  ‘No. She just vanished off the face of the earth,’ continued the chemistry teacher. ‘Her parents were devastated. The police came and questioned us all, and Kirsty’s friends, but she was never found. After that, Brian just got on with the job of day-to-day teaching.’

  ‘D’you remember last year, when old Bri brought his wife to Open Day?’ Mr Knobbs, the PE teacher, was posing by the water cooler in a superstar three-stripe tracksuit and trendy limited-edition trainers. He clearly fancied himself, and expected everyone else to do the same. ‘Turned out he was married to that hot lawyer who’s hyped on Twitter under her handle @DivorceDiva. She was a real stunner. Who’d have thought it? He kept her well hidden, the crafty sod. She didn’t seem to liven him up much, though. He was always a boring bastard.’

  ‘Allegra Parnell, Brian Roberts’ wife, was killed with him,’ said Aled, solemnly. ‘The police are investigating both murders.’

  The PE teacher’s laddish comments dried up instantly. Aled knew a self-obsessed idiot when he saw one, but even Knobbs knew when to shut up. ‘Oh yeah. I remember seeing it on the news. Sorry. Bad business.’

  Aled asked if he might have a few words with Brian’s music students, with a teacher riding shotgun as a responsible adult. The kids all confirmed Mr Roberts was a really nice bloke — never shouted and was helpful if you were having problems. An ace pianist, too — he could play any tune you liked, even modern stuff. Nobody remembered Kirsty Jackson.

  Driving back to the station, Aled wondered if Roberts had had a ‘thing’ for Kirsty, perhaps got too fond of her. Maybe she had rejected his advances and in a moment of frustration, he killed her. It wouldn’t be the first time something like that had happened — an older bloke obsessed with a pretty, gifted teenager. What if, for example, the girl’s father had jumped to that conclusion and decided to punish Roberts? But he wouldn’t have left it two years, would he? Unless he’d only just found out. Maybe someone should interview the parents. He’d mention it in his report to the boss.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The law firm, Parnell & Parnell, was something of a misnomer now that both Parnells were dead. Jack and Bugsy had made an appointment to visit out of courtesy, although a police investigation into a double murder took priority over folk who were just looking to escape from a miserable marriage. The office and its staff were predictably sombre, feeling the loss of first Grafton, now Allegra. They were met by the office manager, Jane Shaw.

  ‘You’re here about Ms Parnell. What a dreadful thing to have happened. Do the police have any idea who’s responsible?’

  ‘We’re following a number of leads, madam,’ replied Malone, ‘but we’re hoping you can give us some background information concerning Ms Parnell’s clients.’

  ‘Well, she’d taken on Mr Parnell’s cases as well as her own. She was gradually getting up to speed with his workload. You do realize that I can’t allow you to look through any of our clients’ details without a warrant?’

  ‘Did she have any especially disaffected clients?’ asked Dawes.

  ‘You mean anyone pissed off enough to want her dead?’ she asked, bluntly. ‘She handled divorce cases, Inspector, and she was very good at it. By definition, it’s an emotive subject and even under the new no-fault legislation, people don’t normally go into it or come out of it feeling joyful, but I don’t think anyone had actually threatened to kill her.’

  ‘There must have been some clients who found themselves considerably worse off as a result of her representation, not to say potless,’ said Malone.

  ‘Oh yes. Allegra was very good at extracting cash out of people. She took a pride in getting a good settlement for her clients and she made sure she came out of it well herself. She didn’t undertake legal aid work. Her clients were mostly members of wealthy families.’

  ‘Did she only accept women clients?’ asked Malone.

  ‘Not at all. She handled all aspects of divorce law, particularly those involving hidden assets, valuable or complex corporate structures and unusual legal issues. She acted equally for those seeking to protect their wealth and those fighting to claim a share of it.’