Read Online Sleeping Cruelty by Lynda La Plante - Free Book Online
Authors: Lynda La Plante
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writing.’
‘Yes, we are aware of that. But the letter was submerged in water so it’s quite difficult to ascertain for sure . . . That said, the forensic experts believe it to be Maynard’s.’
The policeman assured him that foul play was not suspected and offered William his condolences. When he was ushering them from the room, Joan Fromton asked if William would please contact them should any of Andrew Maynard’s associates approach him; they would still like to make enquiries about the drugs discovered at Maynard’s home. Then she threw William. ‘Does the name Justin Chalmers mean anything to you, Sir William?’
William knew that he had flushed but he shook his head. ‘I can’t say that it does, may I ask why?’
‘He is the main beneficiary in Andrew Maynard’s will. He had no family, but no doubt Mr Maynard’s lawyers will be able to assist us. Thank you very much for your time.’
William gave a long, weary sigh. Chalmers worried him greatly but, as the police had said, there were no criminal charges under review. But yet again, just as he went to shake the Superintendent’s hand, he felt the carpet tugged from beneath him.
‘Sir, if this case had proved to be other than suicide, and you had removed items from the deceased’s premises, it would be a criminal offence. I am sure you are aware of that. I take your word for it that you did not remove any such items such as diaries, private letters . . .’
There was cold appraisal in the balding Hudson’s hazel eyes. He knew William must have taken a diary, perhaps even letters, and he also understood why. These society types were all the same; their sole priority was saving their own backsides, and it infuriated him that he had been ordered to clear up the investigation as quickly and with as little scandal as possible. He knew that William was somehow caught up in this and given half a chance, Hudson would come down on him like the proverbial ton of bricks.
‘Thank you for your time, sir,’ the Superintendent said as he left, ushering his inspector ahead of him. He kept his head down as he walked out into the street beyond the high barred gates. The vultures hovering there with their cameras and microphones, screamed for him to stop and say a few words.
‘No comment. No comment.’
A uniformed officer stood by the plain patrol car, the door open. Joan settled in the back seat, Hudson in the front with the uniformed driver.
‘What did you think of him?’ she asked, checking over her notes.
‘Not a lot. Lying through his teeth about the “no items removed from victim’s premises”. He certainly had time enough to clean the place up. He’s probably scared his own sexual peccadilloes will get out – every politician’s hiding something or other.’
‘He’s not a politician, though. He was Maynard’s benefactor. He’s rich as Croesus.’ She paused. ‘Didn’t you think he reacted strangely to Justin Chalmers’s name? I wonder why.’
‘Justin Chalmers . . .’ the Superintendent mused. ‘You ran a check on him, right?’
‘Yes, sir, clean as a whistle. Neighbours say he keeps himself to himself – not at home much, apparently. He has a sister who visits regularly. She has some sort of psychiatric complaint. I think he looks after her pretty well. Oh, and he’s openly gay, which explains Maynard’s generous will. Probably partners.’
‘Oh, well, there you have it. That probably explains Sir William’s reaction then. Maybe he had a scene with him too and doesn’t want it to come out. Half of the society set are in the closet, not that it concerns me.’
Joan smiled. She’d liked Sir William, and felt sorry for him, but she said nothing more as they drove past the flashing photographers. She often wondered what they did with all the photographs they took, and laughed to herself.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘Oh, I just wondered if they’d caught my best side.’
He grinned. ‘Don’t let it concern you.
‘Yes, we are aware of that. But the letter was submerged in water so it’s quite difficult to ascertain for sure . . . That said, the forensic experts believe it to be Maynard’s.’
The policeman assured him that foul play was not suspected and offered William his condolences. When he was ushering them from the room, Joan Fromton asked if William would please contact them should any of Andrew Maynard’s associates approach him; they would still like to make enquiries about the drugs discovered at Maynard’s home. Then she threw William. ‘Does the name Justin Chalmers mean anything to you, Sir William?’
William knew that he had flushed but he shook his head. ‘I can’t say that it does, may I ask why?’
‘He is the main beneficiary in Andrew Maynard’s will. He had no family, but no doubt Mr Maynard’s lawyers will be able to assist us. Thank you very much for your time.’
William gave a long, weary sigh. Chalmers worried him greatly but, as the police had said, there were no criminal charges under review. But yet again, just as he went to shake the Superintendent’s hand, he felt the carpet tugged from beneath him.
‘Sir, if this case had proved to be other than suicide, and you had removed items from the deceased’s premises, it would be a criminal offence. I am sure you are aware of that. I take your word for it that you did not remove any such items such as diaries, private letters . . .’
There was cold appraisal in the balding Hudson’s hazel eyes. He knew William must have taken a diary, perhaps even letters, and he also understood why. These society types were all the same; their sole priority was saving their own backsides, and it infuriated him that he had been ordered to clear up the investigation as quickly and with as little scandal as possible. He knew that William was somehow caught up in this and given half a chance, Hudson would come down on him like the proverbial ton of bricks.
‘Thank you for your time, sir,’ the Superintendent said as he left, ushering his inspector ahead of him. He kept his head down as he walked out into the street beyond the high barred gates. The vultures hovering there with their cameras and microphones, screamed for him to stop and say a few words.
‘No comment. No comment.’
A uniformed officer stood by the plain patrol car, the door open. Joan settled in the back seat, Hudson in the front with the uniformed driver.
‘What did you think of him?’ she asked, checking over her notes.
‘Not a lot. Lying through his teeth about the “no items removed from victim’s premises”. He certainly had time enough to clean the place up. He’s probably scared his own sexual peccadilloes will get out – every politician’s hiding something or other.’
‘He’s not a politician, though. He was Maynard’s benefactor. He’s rich as Croesus.’ She paused. ‘Didn’t you think he reacted strangely to Justin Chalmers’s name? I wonder why.’
‘Justin Chalmers . . .’ the Superintendent mused. ‘You ran a check on him, right?’
‘Yes, sir, clean as a whistle. Neighbours say he keeps himself to himself – not at home much, apparently. He has a sister who visits regularly. She has some sort of psychiatric complaint. I think he looks after her pretty well. Oh, and he’s openly gay, which explains Maynard’s generous will. Probably partners.’
‘Oh, well, there you have it. That probably explains Sir William’s reaction then. Maybe he had a scene with him too and doesn’t want it to come out. Half of the society set are in the closet, not that it concerns me.’
Joan smiled. She’d liked Sir William, and felt sorry for him, but she said nothing more as they drove past the flashing photographers. She often wondered what they did with all the photographs they took, and laughed to herself.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘Oh, I just wondered if they’d caught my best side.’
He grinned. ‘Don’t let it concern you.
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