“Yes, Sir. Actually I wanted to talk to you about that.” Edwards looked up quickly. “Shoot.”
“Well, it’s early days yet, but I suspect the motive may have been revenge. You see I now suspect he murdered his wife in 1992—” Bliss would have continued with his theory but Edwards’ dismissive wave made it clear that he should stop.
“Officer, let me put your mind at ease. I can assure you Betty-Ann Gordonstone’s death was definitely suicide.”
“Suicide,” echoed Bliss.
“That was the verdict. Do you have a problem with that?”
“You bet I do, Sir. It wasn’t suicide. It was murder. He killed her.”
“Inspector…” “Sir…” Bliss tried interrupting, but was silenced by the forcefulness of Edwards’ response.
“As I was saying Inspector, it was suicide. You’re not questioning my professional integrity are you?”
Now what, thought Bliss, already feeling the senior officer’s bite.
“I’m sorry…” he began. “But…”
“Before you answer, just remember, Inspector Bliss, you weren’t involved in the case. You probably haven’t even seen the file.”
“I’m aware of that…” Bliss fumbled to find conciliatory words but failed, and his voice drifted off.
“Good. I’m glad you understand.”
“But you may not know he’d already murdered his daughter, sir.”
Edwards jerked forward in mock surprise. “I understood it was an accident.”
Bliss was passionate. “Believe me, sir, Melanie’s death was no accident. It was murder. Her father drowned her.”
“Not according to the coroner.”
“The coroner was wrong.”
The superintendent’s squinted eyes pierced Bliss. “And not according to the copper who did the investigation. He had it pegged as an accident. In fact there was never any mention of foul play.”
“It was me, sir. I was the investigating officer.” Edwards pretended he hadn’t known. “So are you telling me you committed perjury? Is that what you’re saying? You stood in front of a coroner’s jury, stuck your hand on the Good Book and deliberately perverted the course of justice.”
“No. It wasn’t like that.”
“Good. Because as far as I’m concerned the case is closed. The girl died accidentally and her mum committed suicide ten years later ’cos she couldn’t stand the strain anymore.”
“But that’s not what happened.”
“It is as far as I’m concerned, and it better be as far as you’re concerned as well. Personally I don’t give a monkey’s fart whether he done her in or not, all I care about is keeping the records straight and if some prat like you starts stirring up shit from the past I shall take great delight in stomping all over you. I trust I make myself clear, Inspector Bliss.”
The onslaught forced Bliss to retreat somewhat, but he had no thought of total capitulation. “But you must admit it’s possible he killed his wife.”
Edwards slowly and deliberately pulled himself up to his full sitting height behind the oversize leather-topped desk, and fixed Bliss with a defiant stare. “I admit nothing of the sort. The case is closed, Inspector. It was suicide ten years ago and it will remain suicide today. Do I make myself clear?”
Although Bliss was nodding he couldn’t get his face to agree, so Edwards drove the point home with the hint of a threat. “Just remember, it may not be in your best interest to make waves. You need all the friends you can get at the moment.”
That went well, thought Bliss sardonically as he slunk out of the superintendent’s office and found DCI Bryan hovering in the corridor. “How are you getting on, Dave?”
“Brilliant, sir. You gave me a murder, I’ve ended up with three, and now I’ve got the superintendent on my back. Just brilliant. Thanks a lot.”
DCI Bryan tipped his head queryingly. “Three murders?”
“Gordonstone’s kid and his wife,” continued Bliss. “I’m almost sure they were murdered as well.”
“Almost, Dave?”
“Well, all right. Personally I’m sure. I can’t prove it yet, but I will.”
“So how have you upset the super?”
Bliss filled him in quickly. The chief inspector glanced up and down the corridor then caught hold of Bliss’s sleeve and dragged him toward the washroom. “In here,” he said. “I need a pee.”
As the door shut, he started. “Dave. Let’s get this straight. If the other two were murdered, who did it?”
“He did, of course — Martin Gordonstone.”
“So what’s the point in fannying around trying to prove it? It’s too late to prosecute him now and nobody’s going to thank you for dredging up old cases and proving your mates wrong.”
“You mean Edwards isn’t going to thank me.”
“Superintendent Edwards to you, Inspector, and… Yes, I do mean that.”
“Well, I don’t really care what he thinks. He’s no mate of mine. Anyway, I believe it’s important.”
“Why for Christ’s sake?”
“A motive of course. I’ve got to start somewhere and it seems to me that the family cupboard might be a good place to find a skeleton.
DCI Bryan stood at the urinal and spoke over his shoulder. “You’re looking in the wrong place, Dave. Lots of people had a motive from what I can understand.”
“Lots of people had a motive to bop him on the nose or kick him in the goolies, but if everyone who’s ever been insulted by a restaurant owner bumped them off, there’d be a huge shortage of restaurants in this country.”
“What about business partners?”
“Weren’t any, as far as I can tell. The staff say he owned the place outright.”
“Disgruntled staff then. Didn’t mean to kill him, just give him a bellyache for a few days.”
“It’s possible,” conceded Bliss grudgingly.
“Do you know how he was poisoned yet?”
“I’ve absolutely no idea — why?”
“Just a thought, Dave, but I don’t suppose Gordonstone could have been a suicide as well?”
“Not a chance.”
“Wait, Dave. Think about it. His daughter drowns —”
Bliss interrupted quickly. “Was drowned.”
The chief inspector wrenched up his fly and turned to give Bliss a hard stare. “Let me finish. His daughter drowns accidentally. Ten years later his wife commits suicide and for another ten years he’s a lonely, fat, old drunk. I’d have thought suicide was a strong possibility in such circumstances, wouldn’t you?”
Bliss opened the door to leave. “I’ll think about it, sir. But suicide would be totally out of character for Gordonstone. He was too pigheaded, too —” Bliss broke off, momentarily frozen. He stood half in and half out of the washroom, his hand seemingly glued to the brass handle on the door. There, disappearing down the corridor, was Sarah, his ex-wife. He wanted to call out,