Guilt at the Garage

THIRTEEN

‘He’s upstairs. I’ll get him.’

As the line went quiet, Jude wondered whether Natalie Kendrick always answered the phone when it rang in Troubadours. Was she acting as some kind of gatekeeper for Tom? Then she rationalized that he probably had a mobile on which he conducted all his personal calls. But she was still intrigued by who held the power in that particular mother/son relationship.

She hadn’t completely prepared the approach she would take when he came on the phone. She certainly wouldn’t pretend her call had anything to do with healing, as Carole had suggested. When it came to her work, Jude had a strict code of ethics. Healing was not to be messed with.

‘Hi,’ Tom said languorously. ‘Changed your mind, have you? Think you can heal my non-existent ailment?’

‘No.’ She decided, as she often did, that the truth might be as good an approach as any other. ‘I wanted to talk to you about what happened with your car.’

‘Ah. The Triumph Tr6. Or, as it is better known currently around Fethering, “The Murder Weapon”.’

‘That’s the one.’

‘And why do you want to talk to me about it? Presumably because of that? Because of its role in Bill Shefford’s death?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, at least you’re honest.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘I mean lots of the Fethering gossips are muttering behind their hands about me. At least you’re coming straight out and saying that you think I had something to do with topping the poor bugger.’

‘I’m not saying that.’

‘No? Then why do you want to talk to me about it?’

‘Straightforward curiosity. A desire to find out what actually happened.’

‘Honest again. But give me one good reason why I should talk to you?’

Jude was thrown by the question and improvised madly. ‘Erm, because you are getting sick of … as you say, “lots of the Fethering gossips muttering behind their hands” about you. Because, if we found out what actually did happen that morning at the garage, they’d all get off your back.’

‘Hm. Yes, I do share your curiosity about that. Incidentally, were you the one who was in Shefford’s when it happened?’

‘No.’

‘Oh, it must’ve been your partner then. People always talk about you two together.’

Jude grinned inwardly, remembering their recent conversation. ‘It was Carole Seddon, my neighbour.’

‘Right. So, she might actually have some hard facts to contribute to the discussion?’

‘I’m sure she will have.’

‘OK then. I don’t mind seeing the two of you together.’

‘Good.’ Jude was delighted. And she knew Carole would be too. ‘Where do you want to meet? We’d be happy to come to your place.’

‘No.’

‘The Crown and Anchor?’

‘God, no. That’d be like poking a stick straight into the gossips’ wasps’ nest. No, we need to meet somewhere more private.’

Tom Kendrick’s idea of ‘somewhere more private’ was a pub in The Lanes in Brighton. Carole complained about this, because parking in the city was always difficult. But when they got there, the setting was so markedly different from anything in Fethering that they understood his logic.

One of the big differences was the average age of the clientele. Though in the tourist season the Crown and Anchor would see a good few holidaymaking families, in the winter it was mostly locals, which meant retired people. Brighton had a much younger demographic. In the pub were thin young men challenging the weather in skimpy T-shirts, young women in clashing clothes and hair colours that extended the range of nature’s palette. And nobody seemed to be untattooed.

The pub was full for early afternoon, but the clientele didn’t seem to be just relaxing. There was an air of busyness. Laptops and tablets were much in evidence. Their loud chatter and wild gesticulations had an earnestness about them. They seemed to be discussing work projects, almost definitely arts-related.

The place wasn’t ‘private’ in the sense of ‘empty’ or ‘quiet’, but the very noisiness provided its own security. Everyone there was far too interested in their own conversations to bother eavesdropping on anyone else’s. Events in Fethering felt a very long way away.

The venue made Carole acutely uncomfortable. She was sure everyone was looking at her, though in fact nobody bothered. Jude, never much concerned what other people thought of her, was completely at her ease as she pressed her way through the crowd to greet Tom.

He had taken off his hoodie, revealing long arms which had their own share of tattoos. He was in conversation with a couple of other T-shirted young men, one with blond dreadlocks, but they scuttled away at his visitors’ arrival.

Tom had the remaining third of a pint of Guinness on the table in front of him. He agreed to Jude’s suggestion of ‘another of the same?’ Carole opted for a sparkling mineral water ‘because of the driving’.

She thought the conversation wouldn’t start until Jude returned with the drinks, but Tom Kendrick ploughed straight in. ‘You were in Shefford’s when Bill Shefford was killed?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you actually see what happened?’

‘No. I was in the reception area. He was in the workshop.’

‘Hm. You know it was my car he was working on?’

‘I didn’t realize at the time, but I know now.’

‘Which some people in Fethering seem to think makes it likely that I set up the booby-trap deliberately to kill him.’

‘I’m not one of those people.’

‘Glad to hear it.’

Carole was glad too that, at that moment, Jude rejoined them. Tom thanked her politely for the drink. His upbringing by Natalie Kendrick had taught him the basics of civilized behaviour.

He then looked shrewdly at each of them in turn. ‘OK, the reason we’re meeting is because it’s possible you two might be able to stop the gossip going around Fethering about me.’

‘The best way we can do that,’ said Jude, ‘is by finding out what actually did cause Bill Shefford’s death; whether it was just an accident or whether foul play was involved.’ She met Tom’s gaze. He looked away. ‘Can I ask why you’re so concerned about Fethering gossip?’

‘Why shouldn’t I be?’

‘It’s just, on very brief acquaintance, you don’t come across to me as the kind of person who cares much what other people think of him.’

He grinned with self-recognition. ‘You may be right. But, if the police were to get involved in investigating what happened … well, I wouldn’t be so keen on that.’

Jude didn’t ask why. She got the feeling drugs might be in the background, some possible previous charges against him, but that was his business.

His words had attracted Carole’s interest, though. ‘Have the police been involved?’ she asked. ‘Have any of them been in touch with you?’

Tom shook his head. ‘Though if Fethering gossip continues at its current rate, that situation might change. And since it was my car what dunit … well, I think I have reason to be a tad anxious.’

‘Maybe,’ said Jude.

‘Look,’ said Carole baldly, ‘there is something that’s come up which I think we can’t avoid mentioning.’

‘Oh? And what’s that?’

‘We know that you worked at Shefford’s for a while.’

‘I’m not denying it. Another of Mrs Kendrick’s attempts to make me a “useful member of society”. Another failure, needless to say.’

‘And we did hear that you had a serious falling-out with Bill Shefford.’

That caught him on the raw. ‘Who did you hear that from?’

Jude answered. Once again, she saw no reason not to tell the truth. ‘I heard it from the other healer who your mother tried to set up for you.’

‘Oh. Jeremiah.’ He drenched the word in contempt. ‘Yes, he was as useless as the rest of the profession … if “profession” isn’t too generous a term for that bunch of charlatans.’

Jude knew he was being deliberately offensive but did not rise to the insult. Nor did she look at Carole, who was quite capable of nodding agreement to the sentiment.

‘Oh yes,’ Tom went on. ‘I suppose all you lot get together, don’t you, to spread nasty stories about your patients?’

Though this insinuation offended her even more, still Jude kept her own counsel. So, it was Carole who asked, ‘But what Jeremiah said was true? You did have a falling-out with Bill Shefford?’

‘“Falling-out”?’ He grimaced as he echoed the word. ‘I think that’s putting it a bit strong. He wanted me to work hard for him in a business in which I pretty soon realized I had no interest. So, we didn’t see eye to eye. I wouldn’t put it any worse than that. Our disagreement certainly didn’t bother me enough for me to set up a booby-trap to kill the guy.’

‘But you would have had the mechanical skills to do it if you’d wanted to?’ asked Carole sharply.

‘Maybe. But as I say, I’m far too lazy to bother with an elaborate scheme like that. Sorry to disappoint you but, beneath my lackadaisical exterior, there isn’t a rampant psychopath desperate to commit further atrocities.’

Not for the first time, Jude was struck how articulate Tom Kendrick was. He might have disappointed his father by the route he’d taken thereafter, but his public-school education had not been wasted. ‘Presumably,’ she said, ‘while you were working at Shefford’s, you did get a chance to see what was going on there?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘You would have been able to get a feeling of the kind of tensions within the business … or within the family who ran the business?’

‘Oh, I see what you’re doing.’ He let out a grunt of laughter. ‘If it’s not me in the frame, who do I think the murderer might have been?’

‘Yes, all right. If that’s the way you want to see it.’

‘And I would like to say,’ Carole pointed out, ‘that in crime books and television programmes, a time-honoured method of diverting suspicion from oneself is finding the proof of who actually did commit the murder.’

‘I get it.’ Tom took a long swallow of Guinness. ‘All right, the way I saw things, from my position as a humble and deeply unwilling apprentice, was that there was obviously tension between Bill and Billy about the way they wanted the business to develop. Billy had big plans and his old man kept dragging his feet about getting them implemented. I reckon Billy had reconciled himself to waiting till his dad retired before he could turn Shefford’s into what he wanted it to be.’

‘And did you ever hear Bill talking about retirement?’ asked Carole. ‘Did he say when it was likely to happen?’

‘He didn’t specify a date.’

‘And when was it you were working there?’

‘Last autumn. October, November, I suppose.’

‘Really? Because apparently he used never to talk about retirement.’

‘Well, he definitely did when I was there. Kept on about it, in fact.’

‘And when he did retire,’ asked Jude, ‘was he planning to stay round the Fethering area?’

‘Now that’s interesting.’ Tom took a swig of Guinness. ‘I got the impression staying local had been his intention. You know, being around Billy’s family, the grandchildren. But I think his plans may have been changing.’

‘Oh?’

‘He did more than once talk about the idea of retiring to Thailand.’

‘With Malee?’

‘Obviously.’

Carole followed the logic. ‘Which might have meant that he would sell up the premises in Fethering and take the proceeds out to Thailand …’

‘Maybe. He didn’t say that, but I guess it’s possible.’

‘Did you see much of Malee?’ asked Jude. ‘You know, while you were working there?’

‘She came in quite a bit, actually. Very interested in everything that was going on. She appeared to be intrigued by the mechanics of cars, just in the way that I wasn’t.’

‘So, she would have had the skills …?’ Carole hazarded.

‘Oh yes, she could have loosened the fixings of a gearbox, no problem.’

‘When she came into the garage, after Bill Shefford’s death, Shannon, Billy’s wife, was there. She didn’t even acknowledge Malee.’

‘That’s no surprise. Shannon took against her even more than Billy did. She was very, like, protective of him.’

‘Yes, I got that impression,’ said Jude, her mind freewheeling to questions about how far the protective instinct would extend, when her husband – and his inheritance – were under threat. Like her mother, Shannon Shefford was a very strong personality, who might be capable of anything when the security of her family was at stake.

‘Incidentally,’ asked Carole, suddenly changing the subject, ‘what happened to your car? The Triumph Tr6. I mean, presumably it’s been examined … you know, for forensic evidence?’

‘Why would it be examined if the police haven’t been involved?’

‘What?’ Carole looked curious. ‘So where is it now? Still at Shefford’s?’

‘No, it’s parked up the road here.’

‘You drove to Brighton in it?’

‘Of course I did. I haven’t got another car.’

‘So, when did you get it back?’ asked Jude.

‘Day after the accident. That’s when they said I’d get it back. Serviced, valeted, looked like new.’

‘“Valeted”?’

‘Yes, inside and out. Looks brilliant.’ Carole wondered who’d done that. From the look of the second-hand cars on its forecourt, Shefford’s did not run to a ‘spivver’.

‘And any evidence that might have shown it had been booby-trapped was effectively removed?’ she asked.

‘Guess so.’

Although she knew the answer, Carole still asked, ‘Who did the service?’

‘Obviously … Billy Shefford.’