Never Return

by Stephen Barnes

  “Wherever it came from, there may be a connection between Simeon’s money and his murder. Are you sure all his cash came from legitimate trading?”

  “He just said it was from buying and selling.”

  “Was Michael involved with Simeon in any of his trading activities?”

  “Not as far as I know.”

  Evans got up from his chair and walked to the door, beckoning Marsh to follow him. They both left the room.

  “Get hold of Fuller and Garton,” Evans said as they stood in the corridor. “It seems clear to me that Simeon must have been involved in something criminal and Maxine is either very naïve or was knowingly laundering the money. Take her back to the house and search the place from top to bottom. We need her books as well so we can see how much cash she was cleaning through the market stall. If she objects, we’ll get a warrant and arrange a full search team.”

  Chapter 15

  Carol was sitting at the dining table when Paul returned to the flat. There was a large cardboard box on the table. Carol was leafing through a pile of documents by the side of the open box.

  “What’s that?” Paul asked.

  “It’s from Tom Thorbury. Someone from his office delivered it. It’s full of family documents. Did you give him our address?”

  “Yes. I asked if he had anything I could borrow which might provide more detail about the history of the hall. He said he’d take a look. When did it arrive?”

  “Just before you.”

  “He wasn’t particularly keen to help. I’m surprised he’s been so quick. I only left his office a few hours ago and he said he was busy.”

  “I think he’s got an apartment in the city centre so it may not have been too much trouble. Perhaps he thought it would save him from being bothered again by the nutty academic.”

  “Very funny. What have we got?”

  “Family correspondence and other documents that go back over a hundred years, old photographs too. This stuff should be in a museum. It’s gold dust.”

  “Will it be gold dust for the ‘save the hall’ nutters?”

  “Too early to say. It’s a big box and it’s full. Feel free to dip in.”

  “You seem to be on a roll. I think I’ll leave you to it.”

  “I’m a lawyer. We love documents.”

  “Shall I ask Peter to come round? I’m sure he’d be equally exited about all this. For me, it’s too much like the day job.”

  “Give him a call. Ask him to bring his eccentric chums. We could blitz it.”

  “That’s too horrible to contemplate. I’ll ask him to come on his own. Guess I’ll have to join in the fun.”

  Paul called Peter who immediately accepted the invitation. He arrived at the flat in less than half an hour by which time Paul had joined Carol in her research fest. He was reading through a pile of old letters addressed to the first Earl. “It seems Lord Alfred had shares in the East India Company,” he said. “And knew several people who were heavily involved in the opium trade.”

  “Really?” Peter responded as if displeased by the discovery. “We need to find something more inspirational. What is there about the house itself?” he asked.

  “There isn’t much yet but there’s a lot to work on. Help yourself.” Paul gestured towards the box.

  “Any beer in the fridge?” Peter asked.

  “Yeah. Bring three bottles,” Carol said without looking up from the papers. “We’ll need food. I’ll summon up a pizza.” She picked up her mobile and ordered an extra large Margherita while Peter headed for the kitchen and returned with three open bottles of larger. They soon became absorbed in the Thorbury paperwork. When the pizza arrived, Carol took the delivery. She opened the box and slid it onto the table. “Tear and share,” she said.

  “Don’t get food on the papers,” Peter said. “They’re priceless. His Lordship won’t be impressed if we cover his heritage in cheese and tomato.”

  “He didn’t seem particularly enthusiastic about his heritage when I spoke to him,” Paul said.

  “I’m not sure I would be either after reading this stuff,” Peter remarked. “There are several references to shipments of opium from India to China.”

  Carol looked up at Paul. “Why would Tom give all this to you if there was anything to be ashamed of?” she asked.

  “Given his obvious indifference, I doubt if he’d be concerned,” Paul replied.

  “The only book I’ve ever come across about the Thorbury family makes them seem like respectable members of the establishment,” Peter said.

  “But they were,” Paul asserted. “The opium traders weren’t considered disreputable by most people at the time. Other respectable members of the establishment had people working twelve hours a day for next to nothing in their cotton mills and coal mines. By today’s standards, that was just as bad.”

  “Perhaps,” Peter replied. “But we’re becoming distracted. We should focus on Thorbury Hall. It’s going to be difficult to save the place if all we can do is tell the world it was owned by a family of drug dealers.”

  Chapter 16

  Nothing had been found at Maxine and Simeon’s house to indicate involvement in any criminal activity. Maxine had claimed her business accounting was all above board but with her consent Marsh had taken her books and documents for examination.

  With Maxine released on police bail, Evans finished for the day. He was at home in the living room playing a computer game with his youngest son when he heard his mobile ringtone. The tone grew louder as his wife, Jennifer entered the room.

  “You left it on the kitchen table,” she said, handing him the phone. Her look told him she knew it would be news of an emergency requiring his immediate personal attention.

  “Is that Inspector Evans?” a nervous voice asked after Evans took the call.

  “Yes.”

  “This is Michael Gilbert. You gave me your card.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Yes.”

  “What is it?”

  “I can’t explain now. Can you meet me?”

  “Where?”

  “There’s a pub near the campus. It’s called the Royal Thorn. It’s on the main road just past the University entrance on the same side.”

  Evans looked at his watch. The traffic would still be busy. “It might take me a while to get there,” he said.

  “Please come. It’s urgent.”

  “If you’re in any sort of danger I’ll need more information,” Evans said.

  Michael Gilbert was silent for a few seconds. “There’s something I need to tell you, that’s all,” he said after the pause.

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Evans promised.

  In view of Michael’s desperation, there was no way to avoid a hurried departure. Evans made the usual plea for understanding as he grabbed his jacket and car keys. His wife moaned, his sons moaned, he told them he wouldn’t be long. It was a familiar ritual.

  The evening sky was dark and the streetlights were glaring as Evans drove to the Royal Thorn. The traffic was heavy and the journey was slow. Half and hour after his departure he passed the university and found the car park at the back of the pub which was accessed from a narrow side road.

  Evans entered the pub through the back door. It was a large, traditional public house. He walked to the front of the building and began to look for Michael Gilbert. There were several groups of young people standing in clusters or seated around tables but there were no familiar faces.

  Evans was standing at the bar when a young man appeared at his side. “Thanks for coming,” Michael Gilbert said. He was wearing red framed sport wrap sunglasses which made it hard for Evans to recognise him at first glance.

  “What’s the problem?” Evans asked.

  “Can we talk in the other bar?”

  “Let’s get a drink first. What can I get you?”

  “I’ll have a Stella please.”

  Evans bought the lager and a pint of bitter for himself. They took the
drinks to the smaller, quieter room where Michael Gilbert had been waiting.

  “I know you’re a policeman but can we talk unofficially?” Michael said after they’d found an unoccupied table where no one could overhear them.

  “That may not be possible,” Evans said, anticipating information relevant to the murder enquiry. He hoped the student wouldn’t be deterred.

  “I could go to prison,” Michael said.

  Evans picked up his glass and gulped down a mouthful of beer. He wasn’t sure how to play the situation. “I can’t overlook anything criminal,” he said. “But you’re obviously in trouble otherwise you wouldn’t have called me. Whatever it is, I think you need to come clean.”

  Michael was silent. His hand shook as he lifted his glass and slowly sipped the lager. With his free hand, he removed the sunglasses and slipped them into his pocket before looking up at the Inspector. “What’s the sentence for drug smuggling?” he asked.

  Evans was shocked by the bluntness of the question. “That depends,” he said.

  “On what?”

  “Mostly on the class of the drugs and the quantity. Your co-operation and any mitigating circumstances might be taken into account.”

  “If you say anything, I’ll deny it.”

  “Then why did you call me? It wasn’t because you felt the urge to confess to drug smuggling.”

  “They’re trying to kill me.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Is this connected to your brother’s murder?”

  “I think so.”

  “I need the full story.”

  “Okay. I’ll tell you everything. It happened in the summer. Mum had told Simeon about a weekend trip I was planning to Holland. He called me and asked if I’d bring back a package. He wouldn’t say what it was but he said I’d get a share of the profits. He said it was worth a lot of money so I assumed it was drugs. I knew it was something illegal because he said there was very little chance of getting caught as there were customs and police officers on the payroll. It was a stupid thing to do but it was too big a temptation.”

  “Who gave you the package?”

  “I wasn’t given a name. I was told where to meet him. He gave me the package and disappeared. I’d never seen him before and I haven’t seen him since.”

  “Can you describe him?” Evans asked.

  “He was just ordinary. White male, medium height, dark hair, mid-twenties or early thirties.”

  “And you just did as you were told?”

  “Yes. There wasn’t any point in asking questions. Simeon never explained anything. Money was the only thing that mattered to him. He was obsessed with it.”

  “So you brought the package back and gave it to Simeon?”

  “Yes. I only did it once. Simeon said it was all he needed.”

  “How big was the package?”

  “About the size of a shoebox.”

  “And you didn’t open it?”

  “No.”

  “How much cash did you get from Simeon?”

  “Twenty thousand.”

  “When did he give you the money?”

  “When I gave him the package.”

  “Everything points to him being part of an established gang doesn’t it?”

  “I think he was.”

  “But why would they want to kill you?”

  “I don’t know. They killed Simeon so why not me? I should have saved the money but it’s difficult to justify having so much cash. I bought the car at a knock down price from a guy who didn’t care where the money came from. I couldn’t resist the temptation. It impresses the girls but it attracts unwanted attention as well.”

  “And you think that makes you a liability?”

  “It might.”

  “You’re certain your life’s in danger?”

  “Yes. I went into town this morning with Sarah after we spoke in the kitchen. We were followed by someone in a silver car. Then this afternoon, there was a man in the car park at the halls of residence. When I left the building he started to walk towards me but someone came out behind me and he stopped. I ran to the car and drove away as quickly as I could. I know it doesn’t seem much but after what happened to Simeon, I can’t afford to take any chances.”

  “Have you seen this man since you called me?”

  “No.”

  “Does your girlfriend know about any of this?”

  “Sarah’s very curious. It’s hard to keep secrets from her. She knows I got the money from Simeon but I didn’t tell her how he got it.”

  “Is she a student at the university?”

  “Yes. Computer Science.”

  “And what about Maxine? What does she know?”

  “I couldn’t say. I don’t know Maxine very well.”

  Evans sensed there was more to tell and that Michael’s information might be crucial to the murder investigation. “You need to come with me for a more detailed discussion about Simeon and your confession,” he said.

  “Okay,” Michael agreed.

  They left through the back door. The Inspector’s car was one of three in the small car park which was partially illuminated by a lamp on the rear wall of the pub. The car park was otherwise deserted.

  As they walked to the car, Evans noticed the half open driver’s window of the silver Astra parked a few metres away. An instant later, he glimpsed what appeared to be the barrel of a gun inside the car. There was no time to react before he heard the shot. Michael Gilbert gave out a truncated groan as he fell.

  Evans dodged back towards the doorway. The gun barrel moved in his direction as he neared the sanctuary of the shadows. He ducked down, expecting another shot but the next sound was the engine of a car entering the car park and Evans heard the screech of the Astra’s tyres as it accelerated onto the street. It was gone before he could notice more than part of the registration number.

  Rising from his cowering position near the entrance, Evans could feel his pounding heartbeat which steadied as the panic began to fade. He stepped back into the light and looked down at the stricken youth. The bullet wound in the side of Michael Gilbert’s head told Evans there was nothing he could do to save the student’s life.

  Chapter 17

  At seven thirty on the morning after the murder of Michael Gilbert, Evans was in his office re-living the incident in his mind and reassessing its implications. His logic had been sound. Michael could have opened up the investigation of Simeon’s murder but now the key was lost and Evans was left to absorb the shock of the gruesome event.

  The killers may have been concerned about what Michael knew and what he might reveal or simply keen to rid themselves of a liability. Either way, another young man was dead, the victim of an execution carried out inches from where Evans had been standing and almost certainly the work of those who had ended Simeon’s life.

  The Inspector sat back and considered the next step. The murder of two brothers in the space of three days would attract considerable media attention, generating more pressure from above to achieve a successful outcome. An action plan was needed but his attention was drawn towards the book he’d borrowed from Marsh which was perched on top of his in-tray. He picked it up and began to browse through the old photographs of Thorbury Hall and the portraits of the Lords and their Ladies. He found the point in the brief history of the Thorbury family at which he’d paused the day before and read on.

  The first Earl of Thorbury had passed away in the winter of 1871 having fathered four sons and three daughters and with no shortage of subsequent procreation, the Thorbury bloodline had flowed like a torrent into the modern day. The recent financial plight of the family was relative to the immensity of their former wealth and there had been more than enough in the coffers to meet the cost of an exclusive private education for the heir to the Earldom.

  This was the point at which the story ended and Evans was left to wonder what had become of the Thorbury family. His thoughts were interrupted when Marsh appeared thro
ugh the open office door. Evans discarded the book and looked up at the Sergeant. Marsh had attended the murder scene and was aware of Michael Gilbert’s revelations.

  “Are you still reading that?” Marsh asked, pointing at the book.

  “Yes. It doesn’t say much about what happened to the family when they quit the hall but it’s good to know there’s still an Earl of Thorbury out there. Although for all we know, he could be living on the Portside Estate without a penny to his name.”

  “I doubt if the family’s fortunes could have sunk that low,” Marsh reasoned.

  “Well in any event, it’s a story of rise and fall.”

  “The best stories often are.”

  “Similar to our tale of two brothers, both with excellent prospects thrown away for a slice of drug money which they couldn’t resist squandering on expensive luxuries. And both killed because they’d become a liability to their criminal masters.”

  “Are we taking that for granted?” Marsh asked.

  “We can’t be certain but at this stage, it would be my best guess. We know successful criminals have learnt not to draw attention to themselves. Being flash with the money is no longer tolerated but on the other hand, Michael may have been too big a risk after his brother’s murder in view of what he knew. It’s also possible the brothers were doing a bit of freelance dealing but there were no illegal substances at Simeon’s house or in Michael’s room or car when they were searched last night.”

  “Is it worth getting an intelligence update on the local drugs market?” Marsh asked.

  “That might be useful but there’s one thing we’re unlikely to get an update on.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Michael said Simeon had told him there were police officers on the payroll.”

  “Do you think anyone here is involved?” Marsh asked.

  “We can never be certain. We just have to be on the alert for anything which doesn’t seem right. If we suppose Michael and Simeon were part of a well organised set up, it wouldn’t be unthinkable for them to have people on the inside. On the other hand, it’s not unusual for gang bosses to claim they have officers on the payroll. It encourages gullible couriers to think there’s little risk of getting caught.”