Death of a Prime Suspect

by Paul Edmund Norman

Gerry Keene listened patiently to what Vanessa Farmer and Alex Hegan had to say about Mark Hegan being in the Manor House uninvited, and evidently looking for something that did not belong to him. He was tempted to say that it was probably not a police matter, and that the two step-brothers would be better employed settling their differences with each other rather than wasting his time. But Vanessa insisted on reporting the matter formally, and he supposed that at some stage during the day he would have to interview Hegan. He arranged for Moore to take the details while he went to get a cup of coffee.

Moore studied the handwritten note from Alison Farmer to Vanessa.

‘You’re sure this is what Mr Hegan was looking for?’

‘No, I’m not sure,’ Vanessa replied. ‘But it does seem a bit of a coincidence, doesn’t it?’

‘Well, I’m not sure,’ Moore said. ‘How would anyone have known that your sister-in-law wrote you a note? It isn’t the sort of thing you go around telling people, is it?’

‘What could he have been looking for, then?’ Alex asked.

‘I don’t know. It just doesn’t add up. Was anyone else living there after the fire? Or before it, for that matter? Anyway, didn’t Richard Farmer die abroad somewhere?’

‘Yes, Amsterdam,’ Vanessa said. ‘Alison thought he was murdered. This note suggests that he had information on some of the inhabitants of the village, and they had him killed. One of them did. Then started the fire in which Alison died.’

‘Bit far-fetched, isn’t it?’ Moore observed drily. ‘There’s absolutely nothing in the files about the people in Sharringford, except a very sketchy report from our Mr Thompson.’

‘Where is he, by the way?’

‘At home, I guess.’

‘Not on duty today, then?’ Alex Hegan asked.

‘Not on duty at all. He’s been on sick leave since Wednesday morning. Couldn’t handle the murder enquiry, apparently.That’s why they called us in. Anyway, I’d better get on. We’ll take a ride out and have a chat with your stepbrother. We’ll soon findout what he was looking for.’

‘Will you charge him?’

‘Breaking and entering? Could do, wouldn’t stick, though. He’s the estate manager. He’d find some excuse for being there.’

‘But you will tlak to him?’

‘Yes, I’ll let you know what we find out.’

Alex and Vanessa walked to the door. Alex turned, remembering something.

‘Have you caught Clitheroe yet?’

‘In a manner of speaking, yes,’ Moore said with a tasteless chuckle. He had evidently not been apprised of the possible danger to the young couple standing before him.

‘What does that mean?’ Vanessa asked, sitting down again.

‘We found his body in a ruined church out near Holkham.’

‘Quarles,’ Alex murmured.

‘Do you know who killed him?’

Moore shook his head. ‘No, we don’t know who killed the girl, either, only that it wasn’t Clitheroe.’

‘It wasn’t Donald Clitheroe?’ Alex asked, frowning.

‘Definitely not. He was dead some hours before she was killed.’

Vanessa looked anxiously at Alex. It seemed they might no longer be in danger. Not from Clitheroe, at any rate.