The White Gallows by Rob Kitchin Page A

housekeeper, to look round the house with George and Chloe; see if anything’s missing. She’s up there now.’
    ‘Good idea, though I’ve been warned about Roza. James Kinneally has her down as a gold-digger. He reckons that she gave Koch extra special care in the hope of a payoff when he dies.’
    ‘You think Roza is a suspect?’ Joyce said doubtfully.
    ‘I think everyone is a suspect until proven otherwise.’ McEvoy turned, sensing a presence behind him. ‘The silent one has arrived,’ he said to Jim Whelan.
    ‘Horse shit,’ Whelan replied.
    ‘That’s no way to describe Kelly’s perfume,’ McEvoy said, instantly regretting it.
    ‘I, er…’ Stringer stammered.
    ‘Chanel 5,’ Whelan said.
    Stringer nodded her head, amazed that Whelan recognised it.
    ‘I take it that’s better than horseshit?’ McEvoy asked.
    ‘No contest,’ Whelan replied.
    ‘Fair enough. Did you bring a photo of the victim?’
    Whelan nodded his head.
    Stringer’s mobile phone rang and she stepped to one side.
    ‘Show it to Koch’s farm manager, around Ostara’s factories, and the town,’ McEvoy instructed. ‘If he’s from around here, someone will recognise him.’
    Whelan nodded again.
    ‘Call me the minute you get a positive ID. I’ll get Tom McManus, the local sergeant, to give you a hand. Any joy tracking down the couple asking questions?’ McEvoy asked Joyce, waving his hand at the whiteboard.
    ‘Not yet. We’re ringing round the local hotels and B&Bs.’
    ‘Sir,’ Stringer interrupted, her finger placed over the mouthpiece on the phone.
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘It’s George Carter. The housekeeper says that the only thing that seems to be missing is a handgun that Koch had hidden in the back of his wardrobe.’
    ‘A handgun?’ McEvoy repeated.
    * * *
     
    He carefully opened the small door at the back of the wardrobe, admiring the craftsmanship of the clever design. ‘And he definitely kept a gun in here?’ he asked without looking over his shoulder.
    ‘Yes. A small gun,’ Roza replied. ‘Very old.’
    ‘How did you know about it?’ McEvoy pulled back out of the confined space.
    Roza Ptaszek was standing a couple of feet away, wearing a dark blue cardigan over a light blue summer dress with black leggings underneath that stopped just short of her thin ankles. She was a good foot shorter than McEvoy. Her face had regained some of its colour, though her eyes were still bloodshot, her stance wary. ‘I found it while cleaning,’ she said defensively.
    ‘He never told you about it?’
    ‘No, why should he? It was for, how do you say, protection. He was an important man.’
    ‘And it was there before he was killed?’
    ‘I don’t know. I found it and I left it there. I didn’t check on it.’
    McEvoy nodded. If Koch had heard a burglar downstairs he’d probably taken the gun with him while he investigated. After he’d been attacked the thief had probably taken it as a precaution or souvenir.
    ‘And there’s nothing else missing?’
    ‘No, I don’t think so.’
    ‘Do you have any idea what they might have been searching for?’
    ‘Money?’ Roza shrugged. ‘Dr Koch was very wealthy. Perhaps someone thought that he might have money here?’
    ‘And did he?’
    ‘No, no. He kept his money in the bank.’
    ‘And were you after his money?’ McEvoy asked.
    ‘Me?’ Roza asked, confused.
    ‘Were you hoping that Dr Koch would make you wealthy?’
    ‘Why would he do that?’
    ‘Because you were taking such good care of him.’
    ‘I was taking such good…’ Roza said uncertainly. ‘You think I was sleeping with Dr Koch?’ she said with disgust, realising McEvoy’s insinuation. ‘I look after the house and cook the meals. I am not a prostitute! I never…’
    ‘Whoa, whoa, look, I didn’t mean that,’ McEvoy said trying to defuse the situation. ‘I didn’t say you were sleeping with him. I was trying to see why you were doing the job.’
    ‘Because he offered it to me,’ she said