Never Return

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Never Return Page 2

by Stephen Barnes


  “Addicts soon find their bodies develop an increased tolerance to the drug which means larger and larger doses are continually required in order to achieve the desired effect.”

  By now, Paul was responding to Carol’s enthusiasm as they undressed. He glanced at the pictures being shown of the various forms in which heroin can be obtained. It was hard to ignore the distraction.

  “Oh Paul, you do want to don’t you?” Carol said as the morbid lecture continued over the pictures.

  “Heroin can be obtained in three forms; powder, tablets and ampoules of prepared solution. The tablets and ampoules are usually pure whereas the powder peddled on the streets is often adulterated with other substances. It is rare for drug abuse to begin with hard drugs. Future addicts often start by taking softer drugs such as amphetamines or marihuana before progressing to heroin.”

  Carol and Paul had succeeded in progressing. Carol was straddling him, her back to the TV but Paul could still glimpse the screen. The remote was out of reach. There was no way to turn it off.

  “Users often start by injecting small doses of heroin under the skin rather than into a vein. Progression to ‘mainlining’ invariably follows. Withdrawal symptoms come on rapidly. These include profuse sweating, aching of the body and uncontrollable twitching of the limbs.”

  Pictures were being shown of an addict in the throws of withdrawal symptoms as Paul tried to block out the unwanted words and images.

  “Heroin use suppresses the desire for sex but female addicts often turn to prostitution to finance their habit. There is, of course, a risk of pregnancy and the unborn child also becomes dependent on the drug, suffering withdrawal symptoms itself after birth.”

  The voice finally faded into the background as Paul succeeded in shutting it out. When Carol rolled back onto the sofa, Paul could see the screen again. Another presenter was describing the tell-tale signs of drug abuse.

  “That was fantastic Paul,” Carol whispered in his ear. He smiled, reached down for the remote control and pressed the stop button.

  Chapter 4

  It was now ten months since Colin Evans had commenced his diet plan reducing both his waistline and his bank balance after the re-stocking of his wardrobe. Despite his success and his unexpressed pride in the achievement, the Inspector's attitude towards the job was unchanged. On his leaner face, the solemn eyes were still his only expressive feature and no new desire had emerged to serve more than the three years needed to reach his pension. Until then, he would be called out in the early hours whenever a body rolled out of a bush and his wife and two sons would still complain about his constant involvement in the cycle of death and retribution.

  While Evans had been stuck in the same rank for fifteen years, Stephen Marsh had recently achieved his first promotion but the ‘odd couple’ partnership had survived; the sarcastic middle-aged Detective Inspector, impassive except for the occasional scowl and the university boy, still youthful and keen for further career progression.

  To Marsh, Evans had been a valuable mentor but he could never be a role model for an ambitious young officer and Marsh was aware that a prolonged association with a nonconformist superior might not be looked on favourably by promotion boards.

  Evans and Marsh were sitting in the Inspector’s office. Weekend working was the norm on a murder enquiry and although the crime had been committed just twelve hours earlier, the victim had already been identified as Simeon Gilbert, a twenty two year old banker. The young man had been missing since leaving work on Thursday evening and reports of the murder had led his partner, Maxine Biggerstaff, to fear that Simeon might be the victim. Following her call to the police, a hastily arranged identification had confirmed her fears. They even had a photo of Simeon pinned to the board in the CID office.

  “He was shot where he was found less than two hours before the doctor commenced his examination,” Evans said. “The location of the crime is puzzling. We know Simeon wasn’t a student so what was he doing there? There has to be a reason for the grounds of the hall to be the scene of the crime and the missing shoes and watch add to the puzzle.”

  “The search team are still at work. They haven’t come up with anything yet,” Marsh stated.

  “I doubt if we’ll ever find the shoes. There must be something about them which had to be concealed.”

  “Trace evidence?”

  “Yes. The removal of the shoes could be a clue in itself,” Evans reasoned. “There may be a location close to the murder scene which could be of interest to us.”

  “And the shoes may have led us there?”

  “They might have told us where Simeon had been or what he’d been doing. They were almost certainly taken by the killer but I’m sure the watch was stolen after the killer had left the scene.”

  “By Julian and James?”

  “Julian most probably.”

  “You’ve changed your mind since last night then?”

  “I just had a feeling I might be wrong. That’s why I took their statements myself. When I mentioned the watch, Julian looked surprised as if he didn’t expect me to know about it.”

  “If he took it, he must have thought it was worth the risk.”

  “Yes. And its value could make it significant to the investigation.”

  “How do we find it?”

  Evans looked at his own watch which wouldn’t have been worth stealing. “We’ll decide on what and who when our helpers arrive,” he said.

  At precisely ten o’clock, Evans, Marsh and DCs Alec Fuller and Dennis Garton, met up in the CID office. Other than uniform, forensic and office support, this was the extent of the investigative resources allocated to the case by Superintendent Hinton.

  Like Evans, Fuller and Garton were both close to completing their thirty years. Evans had used them in the past for jobs which needed an unorthodox approach. Fuller was the more overbearing of the two, a tall man whose pointed ears and bald head gave him the appearance of a giant goblin. Garton was a quiet man, a trait which encouraged the mistaken belief that he possessed a thoughtful disposition. He was the same age as Fuller but unlike his colleague, he benefitted from a full head of thick brown hair.

  Next to the victim’s photo on the board they’d pinched from the conference room was a map of the house and grounds which Marsh had drawn. He’d stuck a pin in the map where the body had been found and was standing in front of the board thinking the map didn’t look too bad. Evans was standing next to Marsh. The DCs were slouched on chairs in front of the board.

  “Superintendent Hinton is the Senior Investigating Officer on this case. I’m his deputy,” Evans told the DCs. “Mr Hinton isn’t here this morning but we’ve agreed an initial strategy for the investigation.”

  Evans glanced at the photo on the board then looked back at the two seated detectives. “Simeon Gilbert, twenty two years old. He was reported missing earlier this morning by his girlfriend, Maxine Biggerstaff. He worked for Thorbury City Bank in the Foreign Exchange department. He was shot in the back at close range.

  “The body was found in the grounds of Thorbury Hall by two students, Julian Malpas and James Court, at about ten thirty, probably less than an hour after the shooting. We don’t have any reason to suspect them of involvement in the crime. They’d been in the bar and after a few pints they thought it might be good to take a closer look at the house. It’s not my idea of fun but I’m told it doesn’t make them unique.

  “Simeon’s shoes were missing, probably taken by the killer. We can only speculate about the reason but concealment of trace evidence is a strong possibility. According to the Doctor, Simeon had been wearing a wristwatch which is also missing. Apart from the bullet that killed Simeon and the blood splatters, the SOCOs have found nothing of interest. Thorbury Hall has been derelict since it was closed four years ago but we have a team checking inside the house in case there’s a connection with the shooting.

  “Julian and James didn’t see or hear anything suspicious before they found the body and there
are no witnesses to help us determine how Simeon and his killer arrived at the scene or how the killer left it. We’ve also drawn a blank on the CCTV.

  “We have the registration numbers of the cars which were parked at the university. They’re being checked. Simeon owned a black VW Golf but that’s still on his drive. The bank has no car park and he always travelled to work by bus. There’s also no trace of his mobile phone. Maxine tried to call him several times but only got voicemail. There’s no signal from his number.”

  “Simeon came here from London about a year ago when he got the job at the bank,” Marsh added. “Officers from the Met have informed his parents. Maxine hadn’t seen him since he went to work on Thursday morning. He was at the bank all day but didn’t go home that evening. He didn’t show up for work on Friday and didn’t report sick. Maxine couldn’t suggest any reason for him being in the grounds of Thorbury Hall or why anyone might want to kill him.”

  “At present, we have no significant lines of enquiry,” Evans said. “We need to find out as much as we can about Simeon. The bank opens on Saturdays and there should be people working there today who knew him. Me and Marshy will go down there and talk to the staff.

  “I want you two to see how the search team’s getting on,” Evans told Fuller and Garton. “If they haven’t found the victim’s watch, track down James and Julian. They might have pinched it. They both have rooms at Bryant House, numbers 41a and 26b. Even if you don’t get a confession, you should be able to judge whether or not they took it. If necessary, we’ll search their rooms. Let me know how you get on.”

  Fuller and Garton disappeared quickly after receiving their instructions. Marsh walked over to his desk and picked up a paperback book which had been lying amongst the files and papers.

  “What’s that?” Evans asked.

  “It’s the story of the Thorbury family and the hall. I bought it years ago from the university bookshop. There’s a plan of the house and grounds at the back. I used it to do the map.”

  “Let’s have a look,” Evans said. He took the book from Marsh, opened it at the first page and started to read aloud.

  “The foundation stone of Thorbury Hall was laid in 1837 and three years later, Alfred, 1st Earl of Thorbury, with his entourage of family and servants, travelled from the capital to the outskirts of Thorbury village in the north of England. His fine collection of paintings and other art treasures also made the journey. The paintings included works by van Eyck and Canaletto. There were priceless Chinese vases, rococo silverware and pieces of the finest Chippendale.”

  Evans shut the book. “The finest Chippendale,” he repeated. “That could be a useful clue. I’ll run it past Chris Hinton on Monday morning. I believe he’s got an antique table in his dining room.” He returned the book to Marsh who didn’t respond to the sarcasm. The Sergeant realised he should have known better than to show the book to Evans.

  “Come on Marshy,” Evans instructed, heading for the door. “We’ve got work to do.”

  Chapter 5

  Thorbury City Bank was ten minutes walk from the police station. Simeon Gilbert’s boss, Alex Newton had told Marsh the bank would be open until midday. He would be happy to see the police at any time that morning.

  “You started out in banking didn’t you Marshy?” Evans asked as they walked through the city streets.

  “Yes. I applied to City Bank but they were too posh for me.”

  “You had to settle for one of the common banks?”

  “Yeah. I only lasted a year. Banking didn’t suit me.”

  “I’m not particularly keen on banks either,” Evans admitted.

  “Why?” Marsh asked.

  “No one with an overdraft is keen on banks Marshy.”

  “You have an overdraft?”

  “You wouldn’t be so surprised if you knew about the family finance formula.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s a complex equation which results in a negative number no matter how much you put into it. You’ll come across it soon enough now you’re engaged.”

  Marsh smiled and pointed towards the grey brick building with its classical portico directly opposite them. “Well there’s the bank. I can do this on my own if you’d rather wait here?” he offered.

  “Less of your cheek Marshy. If you ever speak to Chris Hinton like that another career change might be on the cards.”

  They waited for a break in the traffic and crossed the road. Evans was well behind the Sergeant as they entered the bank which was already busy with customers.

  Evans marched straight to the front of the queue, attracting aggressive stares. He told the cashier who he was and who he was there to see. Such was the authority he commanded, the cashier left his customer and disappeared through a door behind the counter. Marsh stood back and smiled at the Inspector’s ability to cause mayhem with the minimum of effort.

  Evans turned to the abandoned customer, a middle-aged man clutching a cheque book. “Sorry about this Sir. Urgent police business,” he said.

  “It wasn’t so urgent when I was burgled a few weeks ago,” the man complained.

  “I’m sorry to hear that Sir,” Evans said meekly before joining Marsh a safe distance from the queue.

  Alex Newton appeared quickly enough to rescue the two police officers. The cashier returned to the counter and peace was restored. Newton was youthful, tall and smartly dressed. His black, high shine hairstyle contrasted starkly with his pale complexion. He led Evans and Marsh to an office at the end of a short corridor.

  “I was really shocked to hear about Simeon,” Newton said. “He was doing well in his job. There wasn’t anything about him which seemed wrong.”

  “We’ve no reason to believe he was involved in any wrongdoing,” Evans said. “I understand he’d been here for about a year.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Did he join you straight from university?”

  “No. He’d worked for a while in London after graduating.”

  “Where did he study?”

  “South Midlands University.”

  “What sort of degree did he have?”

  “Nothing spectacular. A lower second in Economics as I recall but he interviewed well so we took a chance on him.”

  “I guess you’d be a university man as well?”

  “That’s right. I read Classics at Oxford. Graduated four years ago and was fortunate to get the chance of a career in banking. The bank even paid my MBA course fees. After that, I was pitched into the world of Foreign Exchange and now, I’m Deputy Head of Department.”

  “Nice office,” Evans said after scanning the room.

  “It’s my boss’s,” Newton admitted. “I borrow it when he isn’t in.”

  The policemen were invited to sit on the leather chairs in front of the desk. Newton sat in the high backed chair on the other side.

  “So Simeon was on your team?” Evans asked.

  “Yes but only as a trainee.”

  “How much did he earn?”

  “While he was training, his basic salary would have been about thirty thousand but he’d have made a reasonable bonus this year.”

  “How much?”

  “One or two thousand. Like I said, he was only a trainee.”

  Evans looked glum. He didn’t get a bonus but even if he did, the family finance formula would ensure that it was quickly gobbled up.

  “I thought the banks were under pressure to reduce bonuses,” Marsh said.

  “Simeon’s bonus would have been a fraction of the payments made to the more senior staff. Bonuses were reduced after the banking crisis and the debate is still raging but it won’t be long before we’re back to normal.”

  Evans decided not to pursue an argument about bonuses. “What were Simeon’s prospects at the bank?” he asked, wondering whether this might be a worthwhile career for his sons.

  “Very good. He could have doubled or even trebled his salary in a few years if he’d fulfilled his potential.”
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br />   Evans raised his usually inert eyebrows. “Did you do much recruiting last year?” he asked.

  “We did very little. In fact, we’ve had to terminate some of the senior staff. Simeon was taken on to fill an unexpected vacancy.”

  “How did he get on with his workmates?” Marsh asked as Evans pondered.

  “He got on well with everyone. What’s happened doesn’t make sense.”

  “Is there anyone here this morning who worked with him?” Evans asked.

  “There may be a couple of people.”

  “Is it normal for you to be here at the weekend?”

  “I’m usually in on Saturday morning. There’s always a lot to catch up on.”

  “I think we can relate to that,” Evans said.

  The two people at the bank that morning who’d worked with Simeon Gilbert were as nonplussed as Alex Newton appeared to be. All they could suggest was that Simeon had been a victim of circumstance.

  The Inspector’s mobile rang as they were leaving the bank. Fuller told him the search team had still not found the shoes or the watch which the students both claimed to know nothing about. No new evidence had been found at the scene and the hall itself had failed to yield anything of interest.

  “Any developments?” Marsh asked.

  “The truth is out there Marshy. Rest assured, something will come to light eventually. Are you going to football this afternoon?”

  “I was,” Marsh replied.

  “In that case, you can take the rest of the day off.”

  Marsh smiled. “Thanks Sir.”

  “I need you to go to London tomorrow. I know the Met are breaking the bad news but one of us needs to speak to Simeon’s parents, find out how much they knew about their son.”

  “I thought there’d be a catch.”

  “It’s give and take Marshy. But while you’re still below me in the pecking order, I get to do most of the taking.”

  “Sounds reasonable to me,” Marsh said.

 

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