Death under the Dryer

Thirty

Maybe it was delayed shock that kept them quiet for the first half-hour of their journey back. The only one making any noise was Gulliver, who started off by panting excitedly. For him getting in the car gave the signal that he was about to be taken for a walk. But as the journey continued with no signs of stopping, he got less excited. Honestly, humans were so unreliable. The memory of the excessively long journey of the day before came back to him and he subsided into an aggrieved lump on the back seat, not even responding to friendly stroking from Nathan.

They had passed Penzance before the silence was broken. And, surprisingly, it was the boy who broke it. “I’m sorry about Flops – Mopsa. She’s…well, she’s always had problems.”

“Mental problems?”

“Yes. She’s got a twin sister called Dorcas.”

“I’ve met her,” said Carole.

“Well, Mopsa’s…Incidentally, I don’t understand how you know everything about my family.”

“Don’t worry about that for the moment,” said Jude. “Tell us about Mopsa.”

“Well, as I say, she’s a twin. Dorcas has always been the bright one…school, university, she’s done well all the way. And Mopsa could never quite hack it. In another family I think doctors or psychologists would have been consulted, but the Lockes always think they can sort everything out for themselves, so they’ve kind of protected her from the outside world.”

“As they were trying to protect you from the outside world?”

He let out a mirthless laugh. “I suppose you could say that. Anyway, there’s been a long history of Mopsa sort of dropping out of things, having breakdowns I reckon, but she’s always been at her calmest and most sane down at Treboddick.”

“That was her most sane?” Carole couldn’t help asking.

“No, obviously she lost it when she found you’d broken into the Wheal Chamber. She’s…she’s potentially quite dangerous.”

“That was the impression I got.”

“But do she and Dorcas get on?” asked Jude.

“Yes, very well. Distressingly well. Dorcas is a strong character. I think in a way with Mopsa – and indeed with the two younger sisters – Dorcas has made them what Shakespeare would have called her ‘creatures’. She kind of controls them.”

“So how long has Mopsa been down at Treboddick?”

“She’s spent an increasing amount of time down there, you know, since she dropped out of school, or since she dropped out of the last of a series of schools. And then when Uncle Rowley remarried…well, Mopsa and Bridget were never going to see eye to eye.”

Carole agreed. “No, Bridget seems quite a sensible woman.”

“Yes, she is.” He spoke with warmth.

“I gather you and she get on well.”

“Very well.”

“You both approach the whole Locke family bonding process with a degree of scepticism.”

“You could say that. As soon as I got into my teens I got rather bored with all that Wheal Quest business…little realizing that I would end up playing it for real during the last three weeks.”

“There’s something that struck me about Bridget,” said Carole. “I’ve met your father and mother, and Rowley, and Dorcas, and the younger girls and, of all of them, Bridget is the only one who seemed worried about what had happened to you, where you’d gone to.”

“Well, she would be. All of the rest of them knew exactly where I was.”

“But Rowley didn’t tell his wife?”

“Of course not. As you said, Bridget is a sensible woman. The minute she knew that I was locked up at Treboddick – particularly being guarded by Mopsa – she would have contacted the police.”

There was a silence. Then Carole said, “I think we’ll have to get in touch with the police, Nathan.”

He made no objection. Though he didn’t welcome what lay ahead, he recognized its inevitability.

“If only to clear your name.”

“Yes.”

Jude joined in. “Did Rowley – your uncle – did he say precisely why he was locking you up at Treboddick?”

“He said he’d got my best interests at heart. He was afraid of what might happen to me under police interrogation.”

“Yes, he doesn’t have a very high opinion of what he insists on calling ‘our fine boys in blue’,” Carole recalled. “So he thought they’d force a confession out of you?”

“Something along those lines, yes. Uncle Rowley said the police always liked to get a conviction, and weren’t too bothered whether or not it was the right one.”

“That sounds like one of his lines. And do you think he thought you were guilty?”

“What?” Nathan Locke’s surprise was so unfeigned that clearly the idea had never occurred to him.

“Well, if your uncle did think you’d strangled Kyra, then there’d be an even stronger reason for him to lock you away at Treboddick. To stop you from being arrested…until the family had worked out a more permanent way of keeping you from justice.”

“What kind of way?”

“I don’t know.” Carole shrugged. “Sending you abroad? Changing your identity? Maybe even plastic surgery…?”

“Oh, come on, they wouldn’t do that.”

After what they’d witnessed at Treboddick, Carole and Jude’s estimation of what the Lockes might do had expanded considerably.

“I think Uncle Rowley really was doing the best for me.” But Nathan’s insistence was wavering. “At least what he thought was the best for me.”

“Hmm.”

“Presumably…” Jude posed the question very gently “…you didn’t kill Kyra?”

“No, of course I didn’t! I loved her! You don’t kill someone you love.”

Many authorities, including Oscar Wilde, would have questioned that assertion, but Jude didn’t take issue as Nathan continued, “I can’t imagine what happened. I mean – who would do that to her? She was a sweet girl…wouldn’t hurt anyone. I can’t even think of anyone she didn’t get on with…well, except her father…”

And possibly Martin Rutherford, thought Carole as Jude asked, “Yes, we’ve heard about some difficulties between Kyra and her father. What was the problem there?”

“I think basically he’s just old–fashioned.”

“Did you meet him?”

“Just the once. K – Kyra…” He did actually manage to get the word out that time, “…she took me home to meet him, thought it’d be all right.” He sighed wearily. “It wasn’t. He virtually showed me the door.”

“What was it about you that he disapproved of?”

“In a way, I don’t think it was anything about me. Kyra said I shouldn’t take it personally and I tried not to. It was just that I was interested in his daughter. He would have been equally down on any other person of the male gender who was interested in his daughter. He thought she was too young to have a boyfriend.”

“But, she was…what?”

“Seventeen.” He gulped down the emotion that the thought prompted. “Yes, well old enough to…do anything she wanted. But that wasn’t the way old man Bartos saw things. He got furious when she had her ears pierced and…It was…I don’t know…something to do with the way he was brought up…in Czechoslovakia.”

I really would like to talk to ‘old man Bartos’, thought Jude. I’ve somehow got a feeling that he holds the key to this whole case. I wonder if Wally Grenston could set up a meeting…?

“Nathan,” said Carole, her voice only just the right side of sternness, “you did go to Connie’s Clip Joint that evening with Kyra, didn’t you?”

There was no attempt at evasion. “Yes, I did. Perhaps it was a silly thing to do, but…well, it was very difficult for us to be alone together. Her father’s attitude ruled out the possibility of meeting at her place and then my parents…”

“They wouldn’t have objected to you taking a girl back to the house. They told me as much.”

“Yes, but it would have been hideously unrelaxing – particularly for Kyra. My parents can sometimes be so ‘right-on’ that it hurts.”

“Constantly saying how broad-minded they are…how delighted that you feel sufficiently relaxed to bring your girlfriends into the house…?”

He grinned without amusement. “You’ve clearly met them, Carole.”

“Yes. Yes, I have.”

“So what happened that evening?” Jude prompted gently.

“Well, as I say, Kyra and I found it very difficult to be alone together…you know, unless we were in one of the shelters on the sea front at Fethering…or on the golf course…neither of which were particularly romantic…or relaxing…And then that day she rang me on the mobile and said that Connie had given her the keys to the salon because she wanted her to open up the next morning and…it would be our opportunity to…you know, to do what we hadn’t had a chance to do before…”

“You mean make love to each other?”

He nodded agreement to Jude’s question. His speech slowed as he clawed back the painful recollection. “Yes, it was going to be our big night. I felt bad about sort of being in Connie’s salon without her knowing, but I did want to…you know…And Kyra said if I joined her there at about ten, there’d be nobody about, and it’d all be fine. So I bought some beer and vodka and…you know, some cigarettes…because I wanted us to be relaxed about it all and…I was dead nervous. I think Kyra was too.”

“So what happened when you got there?”

“Well…I don’t know whether I should tell you this…”

“You’re going to have to tell the police,” said Carole, “so you might as well have a dry run.”

Nathan saw the logic of that. “All right. Well, it’s embarrassing, but…” He took a deep breath. “Basically, it didn’t work. Nothing worked.”

Jude’s voice was mesmerizingly soft as she asked, “You mean the sex?”

He nodded, now looking very young and confused. “Maybe I was too nervous. There’d been such a long build-up and…I don’t know…I wanted it to be a really romantic moment.”

Hence the dozen red roses, thought Carole.

“But when I actually got there…you know, in the back room of the salon…I just lost it. In a strange place, afraid we’d be interrupted at any moment…I mean, at one stage it seemed to be going all right, but then I thought I heard someone coming in…”

“You mean coming into the salon?”

“Well, I thought I heard the back gate bang, and then like footsteps…”

“Are you sure?”

“No, I’m not sure. As I say, I was terribly nervous…and also I’d got through most of the vodka…and I was worried about what Kyra would think of me. Anyway, it didn’t work…you know, the sex,” he concluded lamely.

There was a silence before Jude asked if he and Kyra had quarrelled.

“No, not exactly. It was…just awkward. I felt kind of humiliated…She said it didn’t matter, but…I just had to get away. I feel dreadful about it now…after what happened, but I left her on her own.”

“What time was that?”

“I don’t know exactly. Half-past twelve…one o’clock…?”

“You didn’t see anyone outside?”

“What?”

“You said you’d heard the gate bang.”

“That was a lot earlier. And I could have imagined it. I don’t know.” He let out a little gasp. “I suppose, if there really was someone there, it could have been the murderer.”

Jude agreed that this was quite possible, then Carole asked, “Why didn’t Kyra go home?”

“Because she’d set up this big alibi with her dad. You know, she was supposed to be with some school friend for the night, so she couldn’t suddenly say she wasn’t. Also she’d been drinking, and if her old man had smelt that on her breath…” He didn’t need to complete the sentence.

“And what about you?” asked Carole. “Did you go straight home?”

Nathan shook his head, still traumatized by the images he had brought back to life. “No. I don’t know what I did really. I was pretty wasted, for a start. I’d drunk most of the bottle of vodka. And I felt terrible about, you know, what’d happened.” He let out a bark of pained laughter. “Or rather what hadn’t happened.”

“So where did you go?”

“I wandered along the beach. I don’t know how long I did that. Just walking back and forth, back and forth, thinking terrible thoughts. You know, I loved Kyra…” there was a naked appeal in his voice, “…but I couldn’t, you know…When it mattered, I couldn’t…”

“So when did you go home?”

“Not till the morning. I don’t remember exactly what happened, but at some point I fell asleep in the dunes…you know, about as far along Fethering Beach as you can go. I felt dreadful, but I’d slept through till after half-past ten. So I started back home.”

“I’m surprised no one saw you at that time of day,” Carole observed.

“I kept off the roads. I didn’t want to be seen. So I was on the beach and then up by the side of the Fether. There’s a way into our back garden from the tow-path. Anyway, by the time I got back to Marine Villas, Uncle Rowley was already there. Mummy had somehow heard about Kyra’s body being found…” Another triumph for the Fethering bush telegraph, thought Carole. “And Mummy had called Uncle Rowley and – ”

“What did your father do?”

“He did what he always did – waited for Uncle Rowley to come and make the decisions.” He said the words with resignation rather than contempt.

“Anyway, as soon as I saw him, Uncle Rowley said I was bound to be the police’s prime suspect because I’d been going out with Kyra and he soon got me to tell him that I had actually been to the salon to see her…”

“Did he ask you what had happened when you were there?”

“No, he’d already made his plans that I should lie low at Treboddick. As soon as I’d got my stuff together, we drove off.”

Carole and Jude exchanged looks. As alibis went, Nathan Locke’s was not of the greatest. Poor boy, he wasn’t going to have an easy time when they handed him over to the police. Neither of them believed that he had strangled Kyra Bartos, but the circumstantial evidence was against him. It had become even more imperative that they should find out who had really committed the murder.

Carole and Jude knew it would be late when they got back to West Sussex, but no one suggested breaking the journey, except for a brief stop and a taste-free Little Chef meal. Though none of the Lockes had any power to identify or stop the Renault on its way, the two women still wanted to get home as soon as possible. In both of their minds suspicions of Rowley were developing apace, though they knew they should not share such ideas with his nephew.

They outlined what they proposed to do, and Nathan was docile in his agreement to their plan. They would take him to the police station in Littlehampton, from which the investigation into Kyra Bartos’s murder was being coordinated.

Jude said he could use her mobile if he wanted to call his parents to tell them he was all right, but he declined the offer. Arnold and Eithne Locke had presumably heard by now from Mopsa about their son’s escape from the Wheal Chamber at Treboddick, and if he didn’t want to talk to them, then that was his decision. The only person who’d seemed genuinely worried about the boy was Bridget Locke, and Jude decided she’d give the woman a call first thing in the morning. For the rest of his family, the longer they stewed in their own juice the better.

Before he got out of the car in Littlehampton, they wished Nathan luck. He looked very young as they deposited him outside the police station. They watched him go inside and then drove on the few miles to Fethering. No need for them to get involved at this point. There was plenty for the detectives to ask Nathan Locke about without Carole or Jude’s names being mentioned. They thought he might need the luck they had wished him.