A Moment Of Madness

Twenty-two

Karen Meadows sat down with a bump in the chair opposite Kelly. She studied him thoughtfully for a moment or two. Her old friend was very still, his eyes met hers briefly, but his facial expression gave nothing away. There were a couple of angry red weals on his left cheek which could have been scratch marks. Karen’s heart sank even further. She studied him carefully.

‘Right then, John, you’d better tell us all about it, hadn’t you, get it on the record,’ she said eventually, and, glancing at the young detective sergeant standing alongside her, ‘I’d like DS Cooper to do the interview—’

‘No,’ Kelly interrupted sharply. ‘It’s you or nobody, Karen. I’ve already said that.’

The DCI hesitated almost imperceptibly. She could understand well enough why Kelly was so insistent on talking only to her, to someone he knew and presumably trusted, as she always had him. But she really was not sure she was the right person at all to do the job. She didn’t even want to listen to him confessing to a murder, if that really was what he was about to do, of which there seemed little doubt.

There was also the question of politics again. Media and public attention was about to be firmly focused on the activities of the Devon and Cornwall Constabulary once more, and Karen confidently expected to have the chief constable down on her like a ton of bricks at any moment.

Aloud she said, ‘Fine. Let’s do it properly then.’

She gestured to DS Cooper to switch on the double tape recorder on the table in front of Kelly.

‘OK, John, so why don’t you tell me exactly what happened?’ Karen began, after first recording the obligatory formal introduction to the interview.

‘I snapped,’ said Kelly simply. ‘I just flew at her. I hit her in the face. It was a moment of madness, I suppose. But, by God, she provoked me.’

‘Start at the beginning, please.’

Kelly’s expression changed then. His eyes darkened. Karen was unsure exactly what she could see there but she knew she didn’t like it.

‘The beginning?’ he queried. ‘You want the beginning? I wish I knew how it began, I really wish I did. I know I was obsessed with Angel. She took over my entire life. She was all I could ever think about. Most of the time I didn’t even want it to be like that, but I never seemed able to do anything about it.’

He paused. Karen thought there were tears in his eyes now.

‘I loved her, you see, like I’d never loved anyone before,’ Kelly went on. ‘She never returned that. She told me she did once, but I knew it wasn’t true. I really did love her, though. A part of me still loves her, even after... after everything...’ Tears began to run down Kelly’s face then, yet he seemed quite unaware of them. ‘She treated me like dirt half the time, and yet I couldn’t stop loving her...’ His voice tailed off. He sounded almost surprised at his own behaviour.

Karen did not speak. She did not feel she needed to. DS Cooper fidgeted slightly in his seat. He was not a man at ease with displays of emotion.

‘There was the sex, of course. It was almost as if I’d never had sex before. There weren’t any boundaries, you see. It went so far beyond anything I’d ever experienced. Yet I didn’t even like an awful lot of what we did. Not afterwards, that is.’ Kelly laughed briefly and without humour.

DS Cooper fidgeted all the more. Kelly seemed suddenly to become aware of the tears that were still running down his cheeks. He stopped talking and rubbed at his face ineffectually with the back of one hand. His fingers touched the weals on his left cheek, and he winced.

Karen thought he looked surprised, as if previously unaware even that his face had been injured. She waited for a few more seconds. It was almost as if Kelly had gone into some other world.

‘So exactly what happened last night?’ Karen asked, in an effort to bring him back into this one.

Kelly looked down at the table. ‘I’ve never hit a woman before,’ he said. ‘Even when the drink’s got to me, even when I hit rock bottom all those years ago, at least I never did that. But she just went too far. I couldn’t stop myself.’

‘Describe to me how you hit her exactly,’ Karen asked. ‘Did you punch her?’

‘No, not that really.’ Kelly leaned forward and put his head in his hands. Karen didn’t think he was avoiding the question, just trying to think, to get things clear in his mind. After a good minute or so of silence, though, she decided another prompt was in order.

‘So what did you do, John?’

‘Well,’ Kelly still seemed to be struggling with his thoughts, with his memory, ‘I suppose it was more of a slap really. I lost control. It’s hard to remember exactly what I did. I just hit out.’ He moved his hands away from his face a few inches and studied them almost with a kind of curiosity, as if amazed by what they had been responsible for. ‘I think I caught her with my palm. Her nose just seemed to explode. There was blood everywhere. She fell back against the kitchen worktop and then on to the floor.’

‘So what did you do next, John?’

‘I just took off. I was horrified by it all.’

‘You didn’t try to help her?’

‘No, I was just desperate get out, to get away.’ He paused again. ‘In any case, it seems crazy now, but I didn’t even think about helping her. I didn’t think she’d want my help, for a start. She’d just spent some time explaining to me in detail how much contempt she had for me.’

‘So you left her for dead?’

Kelly looked shocked. ‘No, not that. I didn’t think she was dead. Well, she wasn’t, not when I left. She was half lying on the floor, just staring at me. I didn’t think I’d hurt her that badly, not then. She looked, well, it sounds stupid but...’

Again a pause.

‘She looked what, John?’

‘She... she looked almost triumphant. As if she’d wanted me to hit her, as if she’d got her own way.’

‘Did you use a weapon at all?’

Kelly looked puzzled.

‘No, of course not,’ he said. ‘I just hit her.’

‘In the face?’

‘I told you so.’

‘Not on the back of the head?’

‘No, no, I don’t think so.’

‘You sound unsure.’

‘Well, it all happened so fast. I know I just lashed out. But I think only that one blow really connected. I’m just not sure, I just can’t tell you any more...’

‘You have what looks like scratch marks on your face. Did Angel do that to you? Was there a struggle?’

‘I don’t know. I think she tried to push me away. It’s so hard to remember exactly.’

‘Angel Silver suffered a wound to the back of the head, which is what we think killed her,’ Karen went on. ‘Do you think you could have been responsible for that, John?’

‘I must have been.’ Kelly put his head in his hands again.

‘But how, how could that have happened? Think, John, think.’

‘I just don’t know, I really don’t.’

‘All right.’ Karen decided to change tack. ‘There must have been something, something specific that happened that night which made you lash out like that, John.’

Kelly shrugged.

‘C’mon,’ the DCI prompted. ‘Try to put it into words.’

Kelly smiled, again without humour, his eyes still full of tears.

‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’

‘Try me.’

‘I had reason to suspect that Angel had killed her husband as well as Terry James. That the whole robbery thing was a put-up job. Good reason. I decided to confront her, to make her tell me the truth.’

‘And did she?’ Karen struggled to keep any expression out of her voice.

‘Oh yes, I’m almost sure of it. That was the worst thing of all.’

He told her, then, exactly what Angel had told him, all about Scott and his affair with Bridget Summers and how he’d been planning to leave Angel, about the pre-nuptial agreement and how Angel had plotted to make sure both that she would keep all of Scott’s wealth and never lose her man to another woman. How she had been prepared to kill her husband and another innocent man in order to do that.

‘Her motive was a mixture of greed and pride, and passion too, because she did love Scott, like I loved her, I suppose,’ said Kelly, sounding strangely detached. ‘She was passionate enough about him to kill him, yet there was no way she’d let him leave her.’

Karen had already been given cause to have grave doubts over the events at Maythorpe Manor the night Scott and James had died, but hearing the words, just like that, from the person who had probably been closest to Angel following her husband’s death, was, none the less, quite devastating. Even DS Cooper, watching her conduct the interview with her usual calm professionalism, would have had no idea of the effect Kelly’s revelations were having on the DCI. She was actually quite stunned.

‘So why did you suspect her so strongly, John?’ she asked levelly.

‘It was more than suspecting. There was evidence that pointed directly to her, only I chose to ignore it — well, as best I could...’

His voice tailed off again.

‘What evidence, John? We didn’t find anything.’

‘No.’ Again a brief humourless laugh.

Karen pressed the point until Kelly told her about the video film which had so clearly shown Angel killing Terry James, stabbing him repeatedly, and also all that the video had indicated to him about how Scott may also have died at her hands.

‘So where is that video now?’

‘We burned it.’

‘We?’

‘I confronted Angel with it and she asked me to destroy it. I did her bidding. I pretty darned well always did.’

Kelly was angry with himself, Karen thought. But not nearly as angry as she felt.

Karen rose from her chair.

‘Interview terminated at twelve fifty-five p.m.,’ she announced for the tape, then, without addressing Kelly further, turned on her heel and left the room, gesturing Cooper to follow her.

Once they were outside she turned to the sergeant.

‘What a fucker, Phil,’ she said. ‘So much for Angel Silver as the brave little woman who only wanted to defend her husband.’

‘She must have been a total monster, boss.’

‘Yup. A lethal one too. And when it all comes out there’s going to be hell to pay, you know that, don’t you?’

Cooper nodded. ‘They’ll be looking for scapegoats, boss, won’t they? Our brass, the press, the Home Office even. Anyone involved with the previous investigation and that apology for a trial will be heading the list.’

‘You’re not wrong about that, and no doubt I shall be right at the very top,’ said Karen resignedly as she began to walk along the corridor, Cooper, quietly thoughtful, at her side. They arrived at the door to Karen’s office at the same time as DC Burns, who came hurrying along from the direction of the incident room.

‘The Chief Constable’s Office has been on, boss,’ said Michael Burns. ‘Mr Tomlinson wants to talk to you straight away.’

‘I’ll bet he does,’ muttered Karen. ‘Who took the call?’

‘I did, boss,’ said Burns.

‘And what did you tell them?’

‘That you were interviewing the leading suspect and couldn’t be disturbed, boss,’ said Burns expressionlessly.

Karen shot him a sideways glance. Maybe there was more than there appeared to be to this big muscle-bound lad.

‘Well done, Mike,’ she said approvingly. ‘And I think that interview is going to have to go on for some time. I can’t quite face the chief constable at the moment.’

She beckoned the two detectives to follow her into her office and slumped into the chair at her desk, brushing the remains of that morning’s paperwork casually to one side. She certainly had no time for any of that.

Cooper, without waiting to be asked, sat down opposite her. Burns, still ill at ease with the more informal ways of CID, stood quite stiffly, almost to attention, by the door.

‘For God’s sake, Mike,’ said the DCI, suddenly noticing his awkward stance. ‘Sit down somewhere, will you? You look as if you’re facing a court martial.’

‘Heaven forbid, boss,’ murmured Cooper with a wry smile.

Karen managed a very small smile back. ‘Indeed,’ she said. ‘I can, however, see an internal inquiry and God knows what other shit looming unless we make a damned near miraculous recovery on this one, Phil.’

She leaned forward across her desk, fists clenched, her forehead creased into a frown of concentration.

‘Right! Let’s get at it. I know that Angel’s death at least seems cut and dried. We have a confession and all the evidence seems to back that up. But I’m just not happy, and we certainly can’t afford any more mistakes. I want a check on any other possible suspects. I’d like to talk to Bridget Summers and to Ken James.’

‘I’ll get on to it, boss.’ Phil Cooper was quite serious now.

‘Any word of Angel’s mother, by the way? Do we know if the Met have broken the news to her yet?’

‘Yes, they have, boss. I heard just before we went in to interview Kelly. Apparently she’s on her way to Torquay and she wants to see you.’

Karen nodded. ‘I want to see her too. Though God knows what light she can shed on any of it.’

‘And Rachel Hobbs is no chicken, boss. She’s bound to be in shock.’

‘No doubt,’ said Karen, thinking that Mrs Hobbs wasn’t the only one.

It was, however, Rachel Hobbs who had coached her daughter in the old showbiz maxim of never letting the act drop.

Like Kelly all those months previously, Karen Meadows was surprised by the now seventy-one-year-old woman she had expected to have to treat so carefully.

Mrs Hobbs was immaculately turned out, in her own particular style, all bouffanted platinum-blonde hair, tight tailored suit and high-heeled shoes. If she had shed any tears at all at her daughter’s death, it didn’t show. Whatever her feelings were, she was keeping them to herself. This was no broken mother, rather she was a woman on a mission.

‘My daughter was a very famous woman, the wife of a great star, and once upon a time, quite a star herself,’ Rachel Hobbs announced. ‘I need to know exactly what you think happened to her, and why. I know you’ve got John Kelly in custody, but I find it really hard to believe that he would have hurt Angel. I need to know what’s going on, because my Angel had a certain image. She was somebody. That meant a lot to her, I know, and it meant a lot to me, Detective Chief Inspector. I intend to protect that image with my last breath if I need to. One thing is certain: I will not let her name be tarnished. That’s why I am here.’

Karen listened in some amazement. This was not what she had expected at all. She studied Rachel Hobbs carefully.

Karen had, of course, absolutely no intention of revealing to her what Kelly had told her about her daughter, and how she now believed that Angel Silver had not killed an intruder in self-defence, but was, instead, a double murderer. Deep in thought, she let Mrs Hobbs’ words wash over her.

‘Have you any reason to think that Angel’s name will be tarnished?’ she asked eventually.

Rachel Hobbs looked startled. ‘No, of course not. But you never know what will come out of something like this, do you?’

‘A funeral perhaps?’ Karen hadn’t meant to be so sharp, but Rachel Hobbs had thrown her off kilter and she was always inclined to speak her mind.

Mrs Hobbs stared at her for fully half a minute before reacting, then she seemed to slump a little in her chair.

‘You think I don’t care...’ The words faded away.

‘No. I don’t think about that at all. My job is to find out what happened at Maythorpe Manor and to bring your daughter’s killer to justice.’

Karen could see Mrs Hobbs making a conscious effort to pull herself together again. ‘So, do you think you have found him? Is it really John Kelly? And if so, why? Why on earth would John Kelly harm Angel? He always adored her.’

Karen wondered if the woman had any idea that her daughter had been having a torrid affair with Kelly. She thought not.

‘I don’t know the answer to any of those questions, Mrs Hobbs,’ she said. ‘But I do intend to find out.’

During the next twenty minutes or so she gave Rachel Hobbs all the information she was prepared to about Angel’s death, which wasn’t actually that much, and also asked a few questions of her own. But it quickly became apparent that Mrs Hobbs could be of little help in the investigation.

‘I only saw Angel a couple of times after Scott was killed, and that was quite early on,’ she said. ‘We hardly talked about that night at all. Angel didn’t want to. To be honest, I didn’t think she could. She had always visited me quite often, but after Scott’s death she seemed to pull away. There were phone calls, but that’s not the same, is it? And she made it quite clear that she didn’t want me to come to Maythorpe. I was hurt, to tell the truth. I wanted to support her, and she wouldn’t let me. But that was my Angel. You could never second-guess how she would react to anything.’

That, certainly, was true enough, thought Karen. And another certainty seemed to be that Mrs Hobbs knew virtually nothing at all about anything that might have led to Angel’s death.

Karen found herself relieved when she was finally able to show the woman out of her office.

But at the door Rachel Hobbs turned round to face her again. ‘Don’t think I’m not devastated by my daughter’s death, Detective Chief Inspector,’ Mrs Hobbs announced. ‘She was my only child and I loved her to bits.’

Now, finally, Karen saw that her eyes were filled with tears and her lips trembled when she spoke.

‘I try not to think about what I’ve lost, that’s how I cope,’ she said very quietly. ‘That and by carrying on doing what I’ve always done, I suppose. Trying to fix things for Angel... trying to look after her, even though she’s not here any more...’

Mrs Hobbs abruptly swung away and hurried off down the corridor. Karen could see that her shoulders were shaking. Even the likes of Rachel Hobbs can’t always keep the act up, she thought.

Alone in her office later, Karen went over in her mind for the umpteenth time the events of the last week. She had genuine doubts about Kelly’s guilt, in spite of his confession, but she needed to be able to convince herself that these had nothing to do with their shared history and her personal feelings for him. She needed to seriously think it through.

There was no doubt that Kelly had gone to Maythorpe that night and that he had physically attacked Angel, hitting her in the face and causing her nose to bleed — something which had not called for a huge blow exactly, reflected Karen. None the less, Kelly’s version of events to that extent was backed up by almost irrefutable evidence. But Kelly still denied any recollection of having used a weapon on Angel, although he was so uncertain and vague it was difficult to judge the credibility of some of his evidence, even if you accepted that he was being as honest as he could be. His return to drink and drugs might seriously have addled his brain this time, Karen feared. That and an unhealthy obsession which seemed to have totally blinded him to reality.

On an impulse she put in a call to Audley Richards, even though she suspected that the Home Office pathologist might not be overjoyed to hear from her again. And she was right about that.

‘Look, Audley, I just wanted to go over it again. Are you sure the blow to Angel’s head couldn’t have been caused by her hitting the back of her head either on the worktop or on the floor after she’d been hit in the face?’

‘Karen, this is the third time you’ve phoned on this. I can’t tell you any more than I have already. I am ninety-nine per cent certain that Angel Silver’s fatal injury was caused by a blow to the head administered by a blunt instrument. However many more times you call me, nothing will change that.’

Karen ended the call, leaned back in her chair and tried to sort it out inside her head. The logical solution was that Kelly had used some sort of weapon on Angel and had either blanked it out or was deliberately denying it, knowing that his lawyers would probably attempt to have his charge reduced to manslaughter.

Audley Richards said ninety-nine per cent. That one per cent doubt, plus no murder weapon having been found, made it likely that a manslaughter plea would be accepted. Kelly would plead guilty to that and probably end up with just a few years in a low-grade prison.

Yet there were enough unanswered questions to make the DCI feel extremely uneasy. Then, just as she was contemplating attempting another interview with Kelly, her telephone rang. It was the chief constable. She had known she could not avoid him indefinitely. The call was, however, extremely unwelcome.

Harry Tomlinson didn’t even attempt his cheerful act.

‘I have been trying to get to speak to you for almost half a day, Detective Chief Inspector. Have you been deliberately avoiding me?’

Karen took a deep breath. She knew that it was a very bad sign when the chief constable addressed you by your rank. The bloody man prided himself on his chumminess.

‘Of course not, sir. It’s been a very busy day, that’s all. I’ve been in the interview room most of the time.’

Tomlinson grunted unenthusiastically. ‘And with any constructive results, may I ask?’

‘To be perfectly honest, I’m not sure, sir—’

‘Are you not, DCI Meadows? Well, you should know I have managed to obtain reports from other officers less elusive than yourself.’ He paused to allow that one to sink in. Karen refused to let herself rise to the bait.

‘I understand that there is a clear-cut case against John Kelly, that he has confessed and that forensic and DNA evidence is likely to back up that confession. Is that not so, Detective Chief Inspector?’

‘Well, that’s one way of looking at it, sir—’

‘One way of looking at it?’ Tomlinson’s voice had risen several octaves. He was virtually shouting down the phone. ‘I’ll have you know, DCI Meadows, that it’s my way of looking at it, and I have little doubt the way of any decent police officer. I just hope you are not allowing any personal prejudices to get in the way of your judgement on Kelly.’

The chief constable had put extra emphasis on his last remark. Oh shit, thought Karen. So he too thought she’d had an affair with John Kelly. Well, there was nothing she could do about that. She certainly wasn’t going to deny something Harry Tomlinson would never dare put into words.

‘I can assure you, sir—’ she began. But Tomlinson interrupted her before she could even put a sentence together.

‘The only assurance I want from you is that you’re going to charge John Kelly with the murder of Angel Silver, and fast. We need somebody in the frame. We’ve got the man, and I don’t want him slipping through our fingers. God knows what will come out in court about the bloody mess we seem to have made of the whole Silver case so far, but we’ll just have to weather that one when it happens. I’m talking about damage limitation, DCI Meadows, and you, I may remind you, have a hell of a lot of damage to put a limit on.’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Karen.

She couldn’t think of anything else to say, but, in any case, it didn’t matter much. By the time she had muttered even those two words she was already speaking into a buzzing receiver. Harry Tomlinson had hung up.

Cooper came into Karen’s office then, just in time to see her looking quizzically at the telephone receiver in her hand. She put it down at once.

‘Yes, Phil?’

Karen did not intend to tell anyone about her conversation with the chief constable, not even Cooper. The political machinations of Harry Tomlinson were her problem.

‘The team we sent round to Bridget Summers’ place in Exeter have just reported back, boss,’ Cooper told her. ‘Apparently the house is all shut up, and the neighbours say they haven’t seen her for weeks. We’re still checking it out.’

‘And Ken James?’

‘Not around either, according to his mother, anyway. She claims he took off up north several days ago to work on some building job. That is what he does, boss. Kips in his van most of the time, I understand, and picks up a whole bundle of black money.’

Karen grunted, unconvinced. ‘And no doubt his mother has no idea of his exact whereabouts?’

‘Naturally not,’ said Cooper.

‘Keep the guys on to that, Phil.’

‘Sure, boss.’

‘They’re a vengeful lot, you know, those Jameses.’

‘I know. There’s never really been much doubt that it was Ken James who chucked that brick through Kelly’s window, has there?’

‘Nope. And then when Angel was charged with his brother’s murder Ken’s anger was redirected at her. We know well enough how he was in court and then out at the house after Angel was cleared.’

‘So perhaps young Kenny’s managed to do for both Angel and Kelly as well in a way. Is that what you’re getting at, boss?’

‘God knows, Phil. I just don’t want anything left to chance, that’s all.’

However, during the next twenty-four hours little progress was made. The team seeking Bridget Summers found out that she was in America at the Kansas headquarters of the One God, One People sect, and were able to confirm that she had been there for almost two months. That put her beyond suspicion.

Further inquiries failed to unearth Ken James, against whom there was in any case no evidence.

Meanwhile, Karen, as well as everything else under orders from her chief constable to charge Kelly, ultimately had no choice but to do so.

She didn’t like pressure from above, but even without that she knew that there really wasn’t an alternative. Logic dictated that Kelly was guilty of the murder he had indeed confessed to.

The post mortem showed almost beyond doubt that Angel had been killed by a single blow to the back of the head administered by a blunt instrument. A police search of Kelly’s home unearthed no further evidence and there was no sign of a murder weapon, but Kelly’s fingerprints were found all over Maythorpe Manor, as DS Cooper had predicted. Also particles of skin were discovered lodged behind Angel’s fingernails, which the police confidently expected DNA tests to later prove to be Kelly’s, probably gouged from his injured cheek by a frantic Angel fighting for her life. In addition, tiny drops of blood, almost certainly from Angel, and spattered when her nose had bled, were found on Kelly’s clothing.

Based on all of that, his own confession, and the evidence of the taxi driver who had driven him to Maythorpe Manor, John Kelly was duly charged with the murder of Angel Silver and remanded in custody.

The call came two days later. ‘Check out Kenny James before you make fools of yourself again,’ said a husky, slightly distorted voice.

‘Who’s that?’ the DCI asked quickly.

‘Never mind who I am. Just check James out. He wanted revenge for his brother, didn’t he? Have a look in the back of his van.’

‘Who is that?’ the DCI repeated. But the line just went dead.

Karen immediately dialled 1471 and was mildly surprised to be given a number at all. But it turned out merely to be a call box in Exeter, a result unlikely to take the inquiries any further.

Karen hated anonymous tips, but once again had little choice. She knew she must follow this one through. It was time to go heavy on the James family, she reckoned. First she obtained a search warrant and then, along with DS Cooper and a couple of uniformed boys, set off to Paignton.

Ken James’s mother answered the door of number 24 Fore Street none too enthusiastically and stood forbiddingly in the doorway.

‘Are you going to do this the hard way or the easy way?’ enquired Karen mildly, holding up the search warrant in one hand.

With obvious reluctance Mrs James stood aside then.

‘Why don’t you leave us alone?’ she snapped as she escorted them into her living room. ‘You’re persecuting us, that’s what you’re doing. My Terry was murdered, that’s what happened to my Terry, and you lot did nothing about that at all.’

It now seemed that Mrs James might be absolutely right, thought Karen glumly, but this was not the moment to share that with the woman.

‘I just want to talk to Ken,’ she told her instead.

‘Well, you can’t. I told you, I’ve no idea where he is.’

‘I think you have, Mrs James.’ Karen looked around the plushly appointed room. ‘And if you don’t start remembering pretty darned fast I’m going to throw the book at you.’

She turned to DS Cooper and gestured at the state-of-the-art music system in one corner. ‘Get the serial number of that and all the other electrical goods in this house,’ she ordered. ‘I have reason to believe that Mrs James is guilty of receiving stolen goods.’

The older woman paled visibly. The James family matriarch had, somehow or other, so far avoided ever being charged with a criminal offence of any kind, which was something of a miracle for anyone in that household, Karen reckoned.

‘They were all gifts,’ Mrs James blurted out. ‘I don’t know where they came from, do I?’

‘Tough,’ said Karen, and then, lowering her voice, she added, ‘You should know that this is not just a very serious murder inquiry, it’s my arse on the line. I don’t intend to stop at anything in order to get to the truth.’

Mrs James’s face puckered up into an expression of peeved resignation. She was a woman who instinctively understood how this kind of game was played.

‘Oh, all right, all right. Kenny’s holed up in our caravan on that site over by the holiday camp. When we heard that Angel Silver’d been killed I knew you lot would come looking for him, so I told him to lie low for a bit. Keep out the way.’

Karen nodded. ‘Thank you so much, Mrs James,’ she said in her most charming way.

The older woman scowled.

‘He didn’t do it, not that you lot care, and, anyway, you’ll waste your time going over there now,’ she said, sounding almost triumphant. ‘He’s gone to Birmingham for that football match tonight. God knows why he still supports Torquay after the way they’ve performed lately, but he does. He’s a loyal boy, my Kenny. All my kids are loyal.’

Yes, thought Karen, that was probably true and was also half the point. The James family did not rest easily until they had avenged any perceived grievances against members of their clan. And murder was a very big grievance indeed.

‘Has he taken his van?’

Mrs James nodded. ‘Course he has. Who can afford train fares nowadays? Even if the bloody things are running.’

They searched the house then.

Ken James’s bedroom was almost as interesting as Terry James’s room had been all that time before. The walls were pasted with newspaper cuttings of the killing of Scott Silver and Terry James at Maythorpe Manor, and of Angel’s trial for the manslaughter of Terry. There were also a selection of photographs of Angel, some with Scott, which Karen thought may have earlier adorned Terry James’s bedroom. All the pictures of Angel had something in common. They had each been grossly defaced. In some her face had merely been obliterated with what looked like marker pen in various colours, primarily black or red. Others had been drawn over obscenely, with the addition of unpleasantly distorted breasts and sexual organs. Several had ‘Die, you bitch’ written across them.

The DCI and DS Cooper exchanged glances.

‘Right,’ said Karen. ‘Let’s get on to Birmingham. We need to find Kenny James and that van of his, smartish.’

Less than a couple of hours later the West Midland Constabulary called to say that they’d found Ken James, a quicker result than anybody had realistically expected. But it seemed that his details had already been logged when the West Midlands received the call for help from Torquay.

Ken had apparently been involved in a pre-match pub brawl. His neck had been broken and he was in hospital in a coma. His van had been parked outside the pub and a preliminary search had revealed a lump hammer wrapped in a pair of bloodstained combat trousers.