Chapter Eleven
IF LOOKS could kill….
Gorland put his hands on his hips in a stance that was already becoming familiar and glared at Mike. “Keep your nose out of this, Mike. Police business, remember? None of your concern anymore.”
Mike gave as good a glare as he got. “It was just an idea, for God’s sake. All I said was that you might want to look in—”
“And I repeat—nothing to do with you anymore. Is that clear? And as ideas go, I have to say, I don’t think much of it. So leave it alone.” With one final glare, Gorland spun around and strode out of the pub.
Jonathon cleared his throat. “That went well,” he said brightly.
Mike gave him a pointed look. “Gorland can think what he likes. I’m not so sure that it was such a bad idea after all. In fact….” He fished out his phone and peered at the screen from underneath his glasses.
Jonathon waited, drumming his fingers on the bar top. “Are you going to tell me what you’re doing?”
Mike glanced up. “Looking up an ex-colleague of mine who might be able to help us.”
Jonathon’s belly did a little flip-flop. “But Gorland said—”
“Never mind what Gorland said. Besides, I’m not gonna be the one who’s doing a little digging. I’ll leave that up to Keith. That man could find your proverbial needle, I’m telling you.” He smiled sweetly. “See? All I’m doing is calling an old mate.” He went back to his scrolling.
“And I think you’re bringing this down to the level of mere semantics.” Not that Jonathon was about to stop him, especially if Mike’s hunch paid off.
THE LUNCH crowd had come and gone, Abi had already left, and still nothing from Mike’s friend Keith. Jonathon was starting to feel like they were wasting their time. It was already four o’clock, and Mike had called him at ten. Surely if there was anything to be found, it would have surfaced by now?
When Mike’s phone gave a loud ring, Jonathon almost jumped out of his skin.
“You were off in your own little world,” Mike observed, grabbing his phone from the bar. When he saw the screen, he grinned. “Aha.”
Jonathon put down the cloth with which he’d been wiping down the tables, and walked over to Mike.
“Okay, that sounds interesting. Hang on, Keith, while I put you on speaker.”
Jonathon widened his eyes. Good news? he mouthed.
Mike nodded. “’Kay, Keith? You’ve got my friend Jonathon listening in. Repeat what you just told me.”
“Hello, friend Jonathon,” Keith said quickly. “Now, Mike, as long as we’re clear about this. You did not get this information from me, all right? I know who’s on this case, okay? Word gets around fast, mate.”
“I won’t breathe a word, I promise.”
“Okay.” Keith didn’t sound too convinced. “There was one case that stood out. Dominic defended a guy charged with sexual offenses. Guy claimed he was innocent but was found guilty. Then he got pretty vociferous, blaming the verdict on Dominic, saying he didn’t do that good a job of defending him.”
“That sounds like someone who might harbor a grudge,” Jonathon acknowledged.
“Agreed, but then it gets complicated.”
“In what way?” Mike asked, frowning.
“I’m emailing you all the details now, Mike. Hope it helps.”
“Thanks, mate. I owe you one.”
Keith chuckled. “Keep your mouth shut and I’ll consider it paid. And if I’m ever down your neck of the woods, you can buy me a pint.”
“You’re on.” Mike disconnected, then peered at his phone. “Okay, I’ve got the email.” He fell silent as he read. Finally he scowled. “Now I see what he meant about complications.”
“Well, tell me, then.”
Mike rolled his eyes. “Keep yer hair on! Okay…. Aidan Prescott was released from prison about ten years ago.”
“Seems like an awful long time to bear a grudge. Is it likely that he’d wait this long before acting?”
“Not really, but that’s more to do with the fact that he’s dead.”
Jonathon stared at him in shocked silence. “Dead?”
Mike nodded. “According to Keith, Prescott had a bad time in prison. He was a broken man when he came out, and apparently he couldn’t cut it on the outside. So… he killed himself.”
“Oh my God.” Jonathon didn’t know what upset him more—the fact that Aidan Prescott had gone to prison for something he claimed he didn’t do, or the fact that they’d just hit a dead end.
“Wait a minute, wait a minute!” Mike was staring at his phone. “Says here Prescott was married, with a kid. Wife’s name was Amy, son’s name Andrew….” Slowly he lifted his gaze from the screen and locked eyes with Jonathon.
“Why do those names sound familiar?” Then icy fingers crawled over Jonathon’s skin when he realized where he’d heard them before. “That guy we met by the river? Didn’t you say his name was Andrew Prescott? And his mum is Amy….” Those icy fingers were now skating up and down Jonathon’s spine. “Do you think they know Dominic defended him? Is that why they moved to the village, for revenge? What if… what if Andrew killed him?”
“Whoa, hold on a minute.” Mike put down his phone and grasped Jonathon’s hand tightly. “Don’t go leaping into the deep end. We don’t know that’s what happened, all right? There’s this great word you might have heard of. What is it now? Oh yeah—coincidence.”
“Coincidence?” Jonathon pulled his hand free of Mike’s and lurched to his feet so fast, his stool wobbled and fell over. “Come on, Mike. Really?”
“Okay, okay, I understand how it looks, but there’s only one way to find out if there’s anything to it.” Mike’s expression was grave. “I’m gonna go over there and talk to him.”
“Not without me, you’re not.” Jonathon folded his arms across his chest.
Mike gazed at him in silence, his face impassive. “Fine,” he said at last, “but you’re gonna let me do all the talking. Do you understand?”
Jonathon nodded swiftly. “I’ll be quiet.”
Mike snorted. “Yeah right. Six days I’ve known you, and even I know that’s not about to happen.” He held his hands defensively. “I’ve said my piece. Now let’s get into the car and go see Andrew.”
“And if it turns out he killed Dominic?” Jonathon shivered. “What if he turns violent?”
Mike gave him a stern glance. “When you met him for the first time, what was he doing?”
“Feeding the ducks.”
“Mm-hmm. Now, maybe I’m wrong, but feeding little ducks and being violent don’t seem to go hand in hand.”
Jonathon rolled his eyes. “I’m sure even Jack the Ripper fed ducks at least once in his life,” he muttered under his breath. That got him Mike’s eyebrows arched so high, they almost disappeared into his hairline.
Mike pointed to the door. “Car. Best behavior. Or else.”
Jonathon was pretty sure the “or else” part was a bluff, but he wasn’t willing to push it.
ANDREW PRESCOTT’S little cottage was cute, Jonathon had to admit. Tiny, but cute. The two front gardens that sat beneath window boxes were a mass of color.
“They’ve worked really hard out front,” Mike remarked as they walked up the cobbled path. “Someone has a green thumb.”
“Someone who grows lilies too,” Jonathon added, staring at a clump of tall stemmed flowers that gave off a heady perfume.
“Yeah, I noticed that. I didn’t think it would get past you.” Mike paused at the front door and gave Jonathon a hard stare. “Now, remember what I said. I’ll do all the talking.”
Jonathon rolled his eyes. “I’ll be good as gold.” Mike’s explosive snort only went to prove just how well he knew Jonathon. His hands were clammy, and he had no idea why. He reasoned that Mike had plenty of experience. If Andrew had something to do with Dominic’s death, Mike would ferret it out.
Mike rang the bell, then took a step back. The door opened, and Andrew stood there, frowning. “I thought it was you when I peeked through the curtains. What can I do for you, Mike?” He gave Jonathon a cursory glance.
“Can we come in? There’s something we need to talk about.”
Andrew arched his eyebrows. “Well, that sounds… official. Have you suddenly rejoined the police force?”
Mike laughed, but Jonathon’s stomach clenched. Maybe it was his imagination, but Andrew appeared uneasy. “Nope, still your local pub landlord, but I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”
Andrew gazed at him, his brow still furrowed. Then he seemed to relent. “Okay, come on in.” He stood aside to let them enter. “First door on the left. Mum’s in there too. Is that a problem?”
“Not at all.” Mike’s easygoing manner was spot on. Jonathon had the impression that he’d been a good copper.
They followed Andrew into a cozy little living room, where his mother sat in a high-backed armchair.
Andrew gestured toward the couch. “Please, have a seat. Would you like some tea or coffee?”
Mike waved his hand. “Nothing, thanks.”
“Then how about you tell me why you’re here?”
Mike glanced at Jonathon before speaking. “I’ve been looking into Dominic de Mountford’s death, but not in an official capacity, of course. I was doing some research into his career, looking for anyone who might have borne him a grudge. What came to light was… your father.”
“Oh?” Andrew blinked, then squared his shoulders. “I can see why you’d think he might have had something to do with Dominic’s death, but surely he can’t be of interest now. He’s dead, for one thing.”
Jonathon took a quick look at Andrew’s mother, who sat stiffly in her chair, her gaze riveted on Mike.
“Yes, I know. It just seemed highly coincidental that you and your mother came to live in Merrychurch, that’s all. I couldn’t help wondering if it was because of your father.”
“Actually, no. We had no idea that Dominic lived here. It was a total surprise.”
“I see.” Mike’s gaze met Jonathon’s, and he could almost read the thought: this is a dead end.
The sudden flash of vitriol from Andrew’s mother made Jonathon’s heartbeat speed up.
“Mum, you know you don’t mean that,” Andrew said quietly.
She glared at him. “Of course I do. He ruined both our lives. If it hadn’t been for his incompetence, your father would never have gone to prison. He was never the same after they let him out, and you know it. You promised him, Andrew! Have you forgotten?” Spit flew from her lips, her eyes wild. “We both stood by his bedside and swore to—”
“Mum!” Andrew blanched.
Jonathon’s stomach rolled over. Oh my God, we were right. He killed Dominic because of what happened to his dad. He wanted to throw up. Right after he punched Andrew’s lights out, even if Jonathon was a five-foot-six skinny nothing.
Mike regarded Andrew calmly. “Is there somewhere else we can talk?”
Andrew swallowed. “Sure. Come into the kitchen.” He addressed his mother. “I’ll make you some tea, okay, Mum?” Without waiting for her reply, he led them out of the room and along the tiny hallway. Once they were inside the small, square kitchen, Andrew closed the door softly behind them. “I’m sorry about that. Mum hasn’t been herself for a while now.” He leaned against the door.
Mike stood with his back to the kitchen sink, his arms folded. He gestured for Jonathon to sit on the stool near the table before returning his attention to Andrew. “Are you implying that we should disregard what she said? That she didn’t know what she was saying? Is that it?”
Andrew’s pallor hadn’t changed. “I….” He stared at Mike, eyes wide, but then his shoulders sagged, his chest hollowing. “I suppose I should tell you the truth.”
“That sounds like a good idea. So…?”
Andrew ran his fingers through his hair. “Okay, so I lied just now. We moved to Merrychurch deliberately. Mum made the decision, but only because Dad got her to swear to do it. When he got out of prison, he tried to find work, but he was a mess, both physically and mentally. Any job he did manage to find never lasted long, and from then on it was a downward spiral. It wasn’t long after that time that he began talking about revenge.”
“Oh God.” Jonathon gazed at Mike, his heartbeat racing.
Mike made a slight gesture with his hand, as if to calm him, before addressing Andrew. “Keep talking. Let it all out. It feels good to be able to talk about this, doesn’t it?”
Andrew nodded, the first flush of color reaching his cheeks. “God, yes. It’s such a relief.”
Warmth flooded through Jonathon on seeing Mike’s insightful manner. He’s good with people. An attribute that made him both an excellent landlord and probably a damn fine detective.
“Dad made Mum and I swear to get revenge.” Andrew’s face fell. “I think he’d already decided he was going to kill himself at that point. Neither Mum nor I knew things were that bad, of course. But he kept on at her, saying how it was all Dominic’s fault, that he had to be made to pay for his failure. I… I didn’t really pay much attention to him. I thought what he was suggesting sounded crazy. But when… when he died, Mum didn’t let it drop. Except that would be an understatement. It was all she talked about. I think that was what… unhinged her mind. She’s mentally unbalanced, Mike. And I don’t think for one moment that she was capable of killing Dominic.”
“Never mind her—what about you?” Jonathon blurted out. Mike fired him a warning glance, but he couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Where were you Thursday night?”
Andrew’s face turned ashen. “You… you think I killed him? God, no! I couldn’t do that.”
“That’s not what he asked you,” Mike said softly.
Jonathon studied Andrew, noting his hands clenched tight into fists, his aghast expression, and the first shadow of doubt crept into Jonathon’s mind. Okay, so he couldn’t read people the way Mike could, but Andrew appeared to be a gentle man.
“Thursday night? I… I was here, all night.”
“Can you prove that?” Mike spoke calmly, and Jonathon realized he was asking not because he didn’t believe Andrew, but because he wanted Andrew to prove his innocence.
“No.” Andrew’s shoulders sagged once more. “Mum fell asleep early, around six o’clock. She’d been pretty dozy all day. She’s spending… a lot of time sleeping these days.”
The doorbell rang, making them all jump.
“I’ll get that.” Andrew left them in the kitchen.
Jonathon regarded Mike keenly. “You don’t think he did it, do you?”
Mike shook his head. “My instincts say he didn’t. But he doesn’t have an alibi, so—” He broke off as voices reached them, one familiar voice in particular. “Shit. That’s Gorland.” He lurched across the room and through the door, and Jonathon followed.
In the hallway stood Gorland and Constable Billings. Gorland scowled when he saw Mike. “And what the hell are you doing here?”
“Visiting a neighbor and patron of my pub,” Mike said, his voice even. “Any law against that?”
Gorland raised his eyebrows. “I see. And the man you’re visiting just happens to have a strong motive for killing Dominic. What a coincidence.” He sneered. “What did I say about interfering in police business?”
Jonathon’s heart sank. Of course. If Mike’s friend Keith could come up with Aidan Prescott, then so could Gorland.
“Are you arresting him?” Mike demanded.
“Mr. Prescott is accompanying us to the station to answer a few questions, not that it’s anything to do with you.”
Andrew jerked his head to meet Mike’s gaze. “Mike? Can you get Mrs. Embry next door to sit with Mum? I don’t want her to be on her own.”
Mike nodded. “Sure. It’s not as if you’ll be gone all that long.” He gave Gorland a pointed stare. “Not when they realize they’ve got the wrong man.”
Gorland’s scowl was so deep, his brows knitted together, and his eyes were almost lost in darkness. “You’re not a detective anymore, Mr. Tattersall. I suggest you work hard on remembering that.” With that, he nodded to Constable Billings, who escorted Andrew out of the house. Gorland fired one last glance at Mike before following them out of the house.
Jonathon grabbed Mike’s arm. “We have to do something. I don’t think Andrew did it.”
Mike’s eyes were full of compassion. “I don’t think he did either, but he doesn’t have an alibi.”
“And is no alibi enough for them to make a case against him? Surely there has to be physical evidence to link him to the crime scene?” There had to be something they could do—something Mike could do. “Please, Mike?”
Mike sighed. “Let’s get his mother sorted, and then we’ll go back to the pub and get our thinking caps on. Okay?”
It wasn’t exactly the response Jonathon wanted, but it would have to do. For now. “Okay.”