The Whitby Murders (A Yorkshire Murder Mystery) - J. Ellis (ebook reader with internet browser TXT) 📗

‘No,’ replied Oldroyd, thinking that Withington didn’t seem very devastated himself. ‘We’ve spoken to your sister and her husband.’

‘How was she?’

‘As well as to be expected in the circumstances.’

‘Good. Well, her husband’s always hated me. I don’t know what he’s been saying but I can imagine the type of thing.’

‘We know about the dispute concerning your mother’s will, but I’m more interested in your relationship with Andrea. I understand you saw quite a bit of her?’

Withington shrugged his shoulders. ‘Well, I don’t know about that. She always came to see me when she was in town and we got on well. She didn’t share her father’s attitude towards me.’

‘And how often did she come to Whitby?’

‘Every few months; she liked it here, being by the sea.’

‘Did you know her partner, Dominic Holroyd?’

‘He’s the suspect, isn’t he?

‘He was, but he was found dead in the harbour on Sunday.’

‘Good God, I hadn’t heard that! I didn’t know him well. He came into the shop with her a few times. They were based in London, weren’t they? I know she had this flat in Leeds she inherited from her aunt – that’s her father’s sister – but I don’t think the boyfriend came up with her much.’

‘Apparently they rowed a lot. Did she ever talk about that?’

‘No.’

‘Did she talk about any enemies she had? Were you aware of anyone who’d wish her any harm?’

‘No. Andrea was a nice person. I can’t see who would want to attack her. I can’t imagine why her partner would do this.’

Oldroyd took up a piece of jet jewellery from Withington’s desk: a small spider with a jet body in a delicate silver web.

‘She was fond of this Whitby jet jewellery, wasn’t she?’ Oldroyd looked at Withington directly when he said this and detected a slight flicker of alarm in his eyes.

‘Yes. She got a few pieces from me; one for a birthday present, I think, and the others at cost price. It’s a beautiful gemstone, jet, don’t you think?’

‘Yes. I notice you’ve got plenty of the goth stuff in for the festival.’

Withington was warming up as he moved onto a sales pitch. ‘Oh yes, Chief Inspector. You have to give the public what they want. But it’s not just for the festival. We sell that stuff all year round now, just as you’ll find the goth outfitters are open all the time. We’ve got a number of really talented jewellery workers making our stuff; it’s the best there is. Have a good look before you go.’ He looked at Steph. ‘I’m sure you’ll find something you like. There’s a long tradition of making it here in Whitby. It’s unique.’

Steph gave him a rather icy smile. ‘I don’t think it’s my style actually.’

‘Well, we’ve got lots of other stuff in different styles, not just goth.’

‘I may come back when I’m off duty,’ said Steph, bringing an end to his patter.

‘I understand you used to have a shop in Leeds,’ asked Oldroyd, and his keen eyes searched Withington’s face from which the smile vanished.

‘Yes I did.’ Suddenly his speech became terse.

‘And what happened to it?’

‘I saw the opportunities of getting into the Whitby jet market over here.’

‘Wasn’t that a bit of a come down? This is a little backwater in your line of business compared to Leeds I would have thought. I wonder if there were other reasons why you left.’

For the first time since they’d started questioning him, Withington became angry and defensive. ‘This is Fred again, isn’t it? I wish he’d stop spreading rumours about me. I suppose he told you I was doing dodgy stuff.’

‘Something like that.’

‘Well, it’s not true, Chief Inspector. My move here was entirely due to what I saw as a business opportunity.’

Oldroyd gave him a long stare. ‘I see. Okay, well, that’s all for now. If you remember anything you think we ought to know please contact us.’ Oldroyd gave Withington a card and prepared to leave. But then he turned back. ‘Oh, by the way, when did Andrea last visit you here?’

Withington hesitated. ‘She, she came in on Tuesday I think it was. Yes, Tuesday. It’s terrible to think I won’t see her in here again.’

Oldroyd shook his head. ‘It must be. Thank you for your cooperation.’

‘Very interesting,’ remarked Oldroyd as he and Steph walked back down Church Street. ‘You noticed how he hesitated before answering that last question?’

‘Yes, sir, it seemed to unnerve him.’

‘It did. That’s an old trick of mine, you’ve seen it before: pretend you’ve finished the interview and they lower their guard. Then you suddenly give them the rapier thrust of another unexpected question and they stumble if they’ve got something to hide. He had to make a quick decision whether to tell me or not and probably decided we’d find out anyway.’

‘What is he trying to conceal do you think, sir?’

‘I think there was something going on with this jet jewellery and Andrea. You notice he said she came in on Tuesday, but that was the day before they all gathered here for their long weekend. So why did she come up here a day early? I can’t believe it was just to see her uncle.’

‘He’s also not being straight about his Leeds shop, is he, sir?’

‘No, and we must get that investigated.’ He sighed. ‘I’ve still no idea how all this might fit together, if it does.’

They’d reached the harbour swing bridge, which had moved across to let a tall yacht through. Traffic stood by the flashing yellow lights high above the water while the tall masts and white sails moved slowly along in a ghostly manner as if by themselves and disconnected from the invisible yacht below as it made its way to the open sea. It gave Oldroyd an idea of what he and Deborah could do when she came over.

Withington went to the door of his office and watched Oldroyd and Steph leave the shop with a look of relief mingled with anxiety.