Written To Death (Alex Warren Murder Mysteries Book 3) Read online

  “Well, please go on,” Mary urged.

  “It's probably nothing, but if you insist, Sheila was not the most popular of people. She had a sharp tongue and a way of upsetting almost everyone she met.”

  Donny blinked a couple of times, unsure he was hearing correctly. From what he'd seen so far, he regarded Patricia Bannister as a nasty piece of work. She'd been nippy and unpleasant since they'd entered the room, only showing signs of humanity when talking about her own problems. He first thought, unsympathetically, that perhaps her unpleasant character was what chased away her family. Then considering again, it might be the trauma of losing them which made her bitter. In any event, based on what he'd seen, he wouldn't want her to teach him or anyone he knew. Here she was bad-mouthing Sheila Armstrong, talking about her being disliked, with the body not yet cold.

  “Could you please give us more details?” Mary prodded.

  “I'm not sure where to start.”

  Donny spotted a glint in her eye and reckoned she couldn't wait to dish the dirt. He also forecast they'd be in for a long session and was sorry Patricia had turned down the offer of a beverage as he was keen for one himself.

  “Let's start with yourself,” Donny said. “How long had you known Sheila and how did you meet?”

  Patricia paused to think. “We live not far from each other. We both stay in the Giffnock area. I must have seen her about over a lengthy period of time. However, I didn't meet her properly until she joined the Association. That must be about six or seven years ago. I was already a member and on the Committee at the time. She was a very competent writer, but she specialised in slushy historical romances, not my type of thing. She was elected onto the Committee after a couple of years and became Vice President not much more than a year ago.”

  “Just a second, please,” Donny interrupted. “You told us she was disliked by everyone. That being the case, how did she get elected to Vice President? Or even onto the committee for that matter?”

  Patricia hesitated for a moment. “Well, you know what it's like with voluntary groups. It's often very hard to find volunteers to do anything, and one thing I'll say for Sheila, she was a worker. She was a great organiser and coaxed and cajoled and bullied other people into doing things. She was very effective in her role.”

  “Another thing,” Donny pursued. “You said Sheila wrote historical romances but we were also told she was the author of the play you were performing. Now, from what we can gather, it's a crime drama, not a romance.”

  “You clearly weren't listening well enough,” Patricia said, transforming to school teacher mode. “What I said was 'she specialised in historical romances.' It wasn't the only thing she wrote. In fact, the whole point of this writers' group is for us to set ourselves tasks to stretch our boundaries and take us out of our comfort zone. We try different genres and it makes us better writers. When I said Sheila specialised, it was because she has a number of books published. They're all part of a series and the theme is historical romance. She's written all sorts of other things, but none of it's been published.”

  “It sounds as if she's been very successful then,” Mary commented.

  “Well, I suppose it's down to how you measure success.” Patricia sulked.

  “Have many of the group members had books published?” Mary enquired.

  “Not many.”

  “How about you?” Mary continued.

  “Well, no, not yet,” Patricia defended.

  “And how do you measure success as a writer?” Donny questioned.

  “It's hard to say, but in my opinion, it's more down to quality. I believe it's more important to be critically acclaimed than to make money. What's the point of having lots of people reading your work if it's wrong, or not good? I'm fastidious about anything I write to make sure the language and grammar are correct.”

  “And who would be the judge of something like that?” Donny enquired.

  “Well, as I said, in my opinion critical success is what's important, the national writing competitions, for instance. I've had several prizes and commendations over the years, but I'm certain Sheila has never won any.”

  “Ah, you prefer to be judged by your peers than by the general masses?” Donny goaded.

  “Exactly,” Patricia replied, either ignoring or not realising the implied barb.

  “Did she often enter competitions, or was she more interested in the commercial side?” Donny continued.

  On this occasion, Patricia did rise to the bait. “I honestly wouldn't know, or care for that matter. From anything I read, the quality of her writing wouldn't have taken her very far anyway.”

  “This doesn't quite stack up,” Donny pursued. “From what we've already been told, Sheila wrote the play you were performing here and it was chosen by the Club as its entry in a national competition. Now, here you are telling me her writing wasn't respected.”

  Patricia became quite flustered. “It was picked. But there weren't many other entries, and to be honest, it was only picked because of her status as V.P. It really isn't very good and will no doubt get thrown out at the first round.”

  “You didn't submit an entry yourself?” Donny asked.

  “Yes, well not really, not this year. Last year I did and it took second place overall. It wouldn't have been right to put in a proper entry this year,” Patricia defended.

  “But you did have an entry?”

  “Well, yes, I suppose.”

  “And you told me Sheila's work wasn't worthy of respect by other writers, but it would appear her publisher thought otherwise,” Donny concluded. “In any event, this isn't taking us very far forward. More interestingly, you were talking earlier about Sheila being disliked.”

  “She was respected for what she achieved, but she wasn't liked,” Patricia answered.

  “Can you please be more explicit?”

  “Well, she didn't take prisoners, she was quite brutal when giving critiques,” Patricia continued.

  “And this would be more aggressively critical than you think appropriate,” Donny probed.

  “Oh yes, I try to be constructive in my comments, particularly for newer members. I'm an educator, my aim is to help and encourage, not frighten people away.”

  Donny raised his eyebrows although he managed to stop himself gaping in amazement.

  “I'm not always such a battle-axe,” Patricia explained, correctly reading his reaction. “I do set high standards for myself and everybody else, but I try to be fair and not be unkind. I'm sorry, but Sheila was always able to bring out the worst in me.”

  “I gather you disliked her,” Donny probed.

  “I wouldn't put it like that. I can't say I was close to her, but I tolerated her. Dislike is too strong a word.”

  “Did anyone give the indication of being angry with her and wanting to get their own back?” Mary asked.

  “Not that I'm aware of. Sometimes there were heated words exchanged, but it went no further. As writers, we're able to get our anger out on paper. The pen is mightier than the sword and all that.”

  “Well, in this case, it seems the knife was mightier than the pen. We have a corpse on its way to the mortuary to prove the point,” Donny exclaimed.

  Patricia's head slouched forward, unable to find an appropriate answer and unwilling to meet Donny's gaze.

  “Okay, we can't go much further right now and we've several other people to interview. I would, however, like you to provide me with a list of all the members and anyone else you're aware of who knew her. I want you to attach comments against each, of any arguments or gripes they had,” Donny requested.

  “But that will take ages,” Patricia complained.

  “As may be, but it's very important,” Donny concluded.

  Chapter 4

  “Do you have anything else to do at the murder scene?” Alex asked as he and Sanjay arrived in front of the classroom housing the other witnesses.

  “No, I finished what I was doing and the 'scene of crime' team have every
thing under control. I'll check back in with them later. Shall we take on the next interview?”

  “Yes, sure, but before we do, you didn't explain the line of command,” Alex stated.

  “It's your case, Boss. Sorry, I thought I'd said,” Sanjay replied. “That's why I called you. It wasn't only because of your connection with the school. Realising you'd be back tomorrow, I was asked to kick things off on the understanding it was being allocated to you.”

  Alex looked quizzical.

  “Yes, of course, it would be more normal for a higher ranking officer to be sent out in the first instance, but the department is short staffed. Inspector Williams is away on a training course and Cairns is off sick with a recurrence of his back problem.”

  Alex rolled his eyes but said nothing.

  “I was told to report directly to the Super if I didn't get you,” Sanjay continued.

  “Hmm, although I didn't realise it, I suppose I didn't have much of a choice,” Alex said.

  “I don't know, Boss. If you hadn't come in, they might have pulled Bill-Bill back or else seconded someone across.”

  “I guess you're right, but I wouldn't let Billy Williams find out you call him by his nickname if I were you,” Alex warned.

  “Thanks, I'll keep that in mind.”

  “Okay, who's up next?” Alex asked.

  “We've got Scott Burton,” Sanjay suggested. “If we take them alphabetically, then he's front of the queue.”

  Alex blinked a couple of times. “Are you being serious?”

  Sanjay smiled. “He is next in line as he's the only one we've not already seen who was front of stage at the time of the stabbing. It's true that, alphabetically on surname, he's first as well and you've always lectured us on being methodical.”

  “Okay, okay, let's get on with it. It's getting late and I'm tired. I had a very early start travelling down from French Catalonia to Barcelona, El Prat, in time for our flight. And you need to remember, that for me, it's an hour later too, because of the time difference.”

  “Righto, Sir. I'll go and get him and we can use the second classroom over there on the left.” Without waiting for an answer, Sanjay strode through the door to find Burton.

  A few moments later they were all sitting around a table, with the interview already commenced.

  Scott Burton lacked presence. Physically, he was the archetypal eight-stone weakling. Aged in his late thirties, he was puny in stature and softly spoken. He had a round, pudgy face and was clean shaven with almost no hair on top to compensate. The visual impression was like a child's drawing where you can turn a head through one hundred and eighty degrees and it looks the same. His speech was slow and reticent. He started by talking in a monotone, drawing out each word, even though he was using monosyllabic answers most of the time.

  “Right, Scott,” Alex proceeded. “Based on other statements, you were perfectly positioned to witness what happened.”

  “Ye, ye, yeeees.”

  “Please tell us in your own words what you saw. Don't leave anything out. I don't want opinions or theories, only a detailed account of what you saw. Can you manage that?” Alex asked.

  “Ye, yes, I understand. I'm sorry. There isn't much I can tell you. You see I hadn't been paying too much attention,” Scott said.

  “You must have seen what happened, you were standing only a few feet away,” Sanjay prodded.

  “Well, yes, but as I said, I wasn't really paying attention to what was going on. To be honest, I was a bit bored. We'd rehearsed the previous scene four times and I was expecting this one to be the same. I'd been thinking about a letter I had to write, for work, when I got home and I wasn't exactly following what was going on. My speaking part wasn't due to come until further into the scene anyway. The plot was for Sheila's character to be stabbed by Bert's and a whole commotion to start. That's exactly what happened except it wasn't acted, it was for real.”

  “What did you actually see?” Alex persisted.

  “From what I remember, Sheila gasped then fell to the floor and Patricia screamed, then everyone else gathered round. But that's exactly what was scripted to happen. Then someone, it might have been Aaron or Lionel, made a comment about wasting blood and Patricia told Sheila to stop hamming and get up. It was then we all realised Sheila hadn't moved and then Debbie screamed. A lot more realistically than Patricia's it was too. Someone shouted, 'get an ambulance,' and that was it.”

  “Up until that point, was there anyone there who wasn't part of your group?” Sanjay asked.

  “I don't think so. There were two or three of the school's staff about earlier, but none were close-by. All the pupils had been kept well away to give us privacy.”

  “How about before the rehearsals started? Was anyone close-by or talking to the group or in or around the dressing room?”

  “Nothing comes to mind. I was one of the last to arrive. I can't comment on what happened before,” Scott replied.

  “I want you to tell me about Sheila. How well did you know her? What was she like?”

  “I only knew her from the writing group,” Scott's answer was abrupt and seemed defensive.

  Alex and Sanjay looked at each other for confirmation, both having picked up on the change in attitude. They continued cautiously with their questioning, seeking more background information and putting Scott at his ease before returning to the point.

  “Besides your connection within the group, how did you get on with Sheila?” Alex resumed.

  Scott paused for a second before answering. “She could be quite flirty. With all the men, not only me,” he quickly added.

  “And what about the women, did they get on with her?” Alex questioned.

  “Not really, from what I saw, they mostly tried to keep a distance. I'm sure she wasn't liked by the other women. They might have been wary of her trying to flirt with their partners and didn't want to give her a chance.”

  “You've used the expression 'flirt' a couple of times. Will you please tell us more about what you mean?” Sanjay prompted.

  “I'm not sure how to best explain. It was mainly when there weren't other people about. Let's see, staring into your eyes when she was talking to you, leaning in close and being tactile, a bit touchy-feely. Sometimes she was a bit, how can I say, 'suggestive' in conversation.”

  “Okay,” Alex continued. “And what particular interaction did you have with her?”

  Scott's face reddened and he gulped in a large breath. “There was only one occasion. It happened a few months ago. It was as we were leaving the group and we were talking in the car park. Sheila leaned in close to me and whispered that she and her husband were going to be having a few friends over the following evening and asked me to join them. I thought she was being friendly and said I'd happily accept. I was new to the group and was pleased, taking it as an indicator of being fully accepted.

  “I turned up the following evening at eight o'clock. I took a bottle of wine. It was a good Bordeaux label, a Saint Emilion, because I didn't want to appear cheap.

  “She showed me into the lounge, poured us each a large glass and told me to sit on the couch. I asked where everyone else was and she said her husband had to attend a business meeting in Stirling so they'd postponed the party. She claimed she didn't have my number and wasn't able to tell me it had been cancelled. I thought it odd, because she could have contacted me if she'd really wanted to. She went on to say that since I was there anyway then I would be able to help her with a bit of her writing she'd been finding sticky.

  “I felt quite flattered because, as I said before, I was new to the Writers' Association and I'm not that good. I'd only joined so I'd be able to learn. By contrast, Sheila was a published author and here she was asking my opinion.”

  Alex nodded indicating for Scott to continue.

  “She left the room then returned holding a few pages she said she'd started. Then she went on to explain it was a seduction scene. She asked me if I would read it first then perhaps we could play i
t out, to give her ideas on how to take it forward.

  “I felt a bit unsure, but really couldn't say no. She handed me the papers and then sat beside me and placed her hand on my thigh.

  “I leapt out of the chair as if I'd had an electric shock. She wasn't unattractive, but I wasn't interested in having a fling. I told her I thought it best if I left.

  “I was concerned she might be angry or upset, but none of it. She squealed with laughter and said that was exactly the reaction she wanted. She said she was truly writing a seduction scene and that I'd been a great help. I wasn't certain what to think, but knew her explanation was unlikely. Perhaps it's only my vanity, but I'm pretty certain it was for real. Anyway, I left and no more was said.”

  “What can you tell me about Mr Armstrong? How well do you know him?” Alex asked.

  “Not at all. I met him a few times when he's attended our meetings as he helps out on the technical side. He seems to understand these things.”

  “What, in particular, is his expertise?” Sanjay asked.

  “I can't say for sure. I've heard it said that he was an engineer by training and he understands all about producing plays. He can set up the lights and sound. I've been told he also makes a lot of our props.”

  “Oh really. He must be good with his hands?” Alex enquired. “What sort of thing? Is it woodwork or metal?”

  “He can turn his hand to most things; wood, metal, plastic, material, even printing.”

  “Were you aware of Sheila having any fall-outs with anyone?” Alex asked, quickly switching subject.

  “There's nothing I can tell you from my own experience. As I said before, she was a bit of a flirt, but it all seemed pretty harmless. Mind you, a few of the women may have had a different opinion. Also, I've heard talk that she had a major fallout with someone in the States, someone she met on the internet through a writers' support group. From what I was told, this woman took complete exception to a review Sheila wrote about one of her books. She was really angry and made threats about what she'd do if Sheila didn't change it or remove it.”

  “And did Sheila do anything about it?” Sanjay asked.