Death of a Prime Suspect

by Paul Edmund Norman

They left the station and walked through the town to the churchyard. It was quiet there.

‘If it wasn’t Clitheroe, who killed Kim?’ Vanessa said.

‘Leave it to the police, Van, we’re not detectives.’

‘And what could Mark have been looking for?’

‘The note from Alison?’

‘IO don’t think he even knew Alison. No, there has to be something else. There’s a link somewhere, and we’re all missing it. The police, as well.’

Alex sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees and supporting his chin with his hands.

‘I’m no detective, but it seems to me that everyone involved is related in some way. Except for Mark. I don’t know where he fits in.’

‘Go on.’

‘At least two of Clitheroe’s victims were relatives of his. Polly Bartram and one of the others. I forget the name. They’re all cousins or second cousins or whatever. Joanna Robertson, the woman Kim was staying with, she’s related to Clitheroe but I can’t remember how.’

Vanessa shook her head.

‘I don’t know. I thought Mark was somehow involved in the fire and was looking for something that would stop me finding out the truth about Alison and Richard. Now it seems more likely he was looking for something entirely different. Something to do with Kim.’

Alex nodded.

‘I agree. But why in the Manor House? Has anyone else been living there, I wonder?’

‘I believe Alison let some of the rooms to a solicitor for a while, while their office was being redecorated.’

‘Do you know who?’

‘Can’t remember.’

‘Is any of their stuff still in the house?’

‘Don’t know.’

‘Let’s go see. If it’s something of theirs Mark was looking for, it may still be there.’

            Ken Hargreaves stopped Keene on his way to the kitchen.

            'We've traced the knife, Gerry.'

He preferred to call the detective by his first name rather than address him as 'Sir', because they were the same rank, and Keene had not seemed to mind.

            'Ah! Whose is it, then, Ken?'

            'It belongs to a lad called Bellamy. Nasty piece of work, and the shop owner remembers him buying it a few years back. He probably wouldn't have remembered, only he threatened him with it a few days ago, started demanding money and so on, then when the owner stood up to him, he backed off and said he was joking. Nothing happened, but like I say, it stuck in his memory.'

            'Where will I find Bellamy?'

            'Great Whitham. It's about five miles south of here. There's a timber yard there. Does quite a good trade with the farmers and local builders.  Bellamy works there.'

            'On my way.'

Twenty minutes later, on his own because Moore was involved with Vanessa Farmer and Alex Hegan, Keene pulled up outside the timber yard.

            He pushed open the gate and walked in, knocked on the door of the portakabin. A man whom he assumed was either the owner or the foreman opened the door.

            'What can I do for you?'

Keene held up his warrant card.

            'Looking for a lad named Bellamy.'

            'Again? He's out the back.'

            'Again? What do you mean?'

            'One of your fellers was round here the other day. Yesterday morning, in fact. You're a bloody nuisance. I wish you'd take the little sod away and lock 'im up!'

            'Trouble, is he?'

The man nodded and fetched his donkey jacket.

            'Come on, I'll show you where he is.'

            'Do you know the name of the copper who was here yesterday?'

            'Thompson, yeah, Thompson, that was it.'

            'Right.'

            Keene reached into his inside pocket and withdrew the plastic bag containing the knife. Bellamy was standing inside the doorway of the workshed, his hands in his pockets, a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

            'Are you Mr Bellamy?'

            'Yeah?'

            'You are?'

            'I am.'

            'Is this your knife?'

The youth paled instantly he saw the knife and his hands came out of his pockets, ready to defend himself.

            'What if it is?'

            'If it is, you may be able to help with some enquiries I'm making into the murder of Donald Clitheroe on Tuesday night.'

            'Never heard of him!'

            'I have a photograph of him, here. Will you please take a look at it?'

            'It's my knife. I lost it about a month ago.'

            'The photograph?'

Bellamy took the photograph, taken by the police photographer.

            'I know him, but his name in't Clitheroe, whatever you said.'

            'Who do you think it is?'

            'Macklin. Kieron Macklin. My girlfriend's father.'

Keene shook his head.

            'I'm afraid you're wrong. This is a man called Donald Clitheroe. He was murdered Tuesday night at the ruined church at Quarles. The knife was found with him. You say you lost it a month ago?'

            'That's right. And you can't prove otherwise!'

            'I'm afraid I can, Mr Bellamy. You used the knife to threaten a shop owner a few days ago. He recognised you......'