Never Return

by Stephen Barnes

  Marsh departed as Paul was finishing his call to Carol, oblivious to the news Evans had just received from Fuller. “There may be something which might help you,” Paul told Evans. “There’s a letter from the 1850’s which refers to an underground passageway linking the grounds of the hall to the railway station at the back of the estate. Apparently the first Earl was a rail enthusiast with significant investments in several railway companies. He had his own private entrance to the station and his own waiting room. Carol says he may even have had his own train.”

  “He had access to the station from inside the grounds via a tunnel?”

  “Yes. It must have been a private subway under the road which marked the boundary of the estate. I knew about the station. It was on a branch line. It closed about fifty years ago. There’s no trace of it now or the line. I didn’t know there was a subway. It must have been sealed up long before the university was built but it may be possible to work out where it was. I doubt if it’s been completely filled in but I’d be surprised if it’s still accessible.”

  “Is there anything else?”

  “No. Just the subway but it could be worth checking. If there’s a way in, it might serve the purpose you mentioned. There may be more about it in the box which Carol hasn’t reached yet.”

  “In that case, I’ll take up your offer. I’ve asked Marshy to attend a crime scene so unless you’ve got transport, we’re on foot.”

  “It isn’t far to walk,” Paul said. “I don’t usually drive to the campus.”

  Half way to Paul’s flat, Evans took a call from Marsh. The SOCOs had just arrived at Stoney Street and the doctor was expected soon. A passport in the handbag had confirmed Sarah as the victim. Marsh said he would call again after the initial examination.

  “What else can you tell me now?” Evans asked.

  “There’s nothing factual but it seems to me that Sarah may have known her killer.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “She was sitting in an armchair opposite the sofa. It’s likely she was shot from a sitting position. If I’m right, they may have been talking together.”

  “Interesting theory. Let’s hear what the doc says when he’s done his work.”

  “What’s happened?” Paul asked when Evans ended the call.

  “I suppose you’ll find out soon enough. It’s Sarah, Michael Gilbert’s girlfriend. She’d dead. Shot in the head.”

  “Christ Colin. What the hell’s going on?”

  Evans looked at Paul and decided to confide. “Michael and his brother were involved in drug smuggling. That information hasn’t been given to the media up to now but it won’t be long before it is. Michael confessed it to me because he was scared for his life and wanted protection. I was with him when he was shot. We believe the brothers were both killed by their own gang either because they knew too much or were trying to go it alone. Simeon’s girlfriend was laundering his illicit cash, unsuspectingly if she’s to be believed. But irrespective of that, she’s done a runner. Michael claimed Sarah didn’t know about the drugs but someone may have thought she did.”

  “And you think there might be a connection with the university because Michael was a student there and his brother was shot in the grounds of Thorbury Hall?”

  “There has to be a reason why Simeon was in the grounds. We believe the killer took his shoes to conceal trace evidence which suggests the importance of a nearby location. If the grounds of the hall had been a dump site, I wouldn’t be concerned about the university but we know that’s where he was killed.”

  They dodged the traffic on the Southern Highway and were at Paul’s flat a few minutes later. The box of Thorbury family documents was still on the table in the living room. There were several piles of paper surrounding the box.

  “There’s a hell of a lot of stuff here,” Evans said, peering into the box.

  “Yeah. Carol and Peter have started to categorise it. I’ve tried not to get too deeply involved so I’m not sure what their system is. They won’t be pleased if we mess it up.”

  “Where do we start?” Evans asked, daunted by what lay before him.

  “I think this is everything they’ve found about the house itself,” Paul said, indicating the smallest pile of documents. “This must be the letter Carol mentioned.” He picked up the document at the top of the pile and handed it to Evans.

  The letter, addressed to Alfred, Earl of Thorbury, was dated September 30th 1856. It appeared to be a ‘thank you’ note from a recent visitor to Thorbury Hall. The writer was impressed by the private facilities at the railway station. There was particular praise for the well constructed underground passageway and the comfortably furnished station waiting room.

  Evans returned the letter to the pile. “How much of this stuff have you and the others looked at?” he asked.

  “Probably less than a quarter.”

  Evans dipped his hand into the box, reached to the bottom and pulled out a large unsealed envelope. “Photographs,” he said after looking inside. He took out the pictures and shuffled through them.

  “Seems like a mixture of old and new. What do you make of this?” Evans asked, handing one of the photographs to Paul.

  “It could be a lucky choice,” Paul said after a brief glance.

  The picture was an old and faded group photograph from the early days of photography. There were a number of people sitting in a stationary horse drawn carriage and others standing around the carriage, posing for the camera. Behind the group, an arched brick structure like the mouth of a tunnel could be seen.

  “This may well be the entrance to the subway,” Paul said. “It must have been quite grand. Much taller and wider than would have been required for its purpose. Come to think of it, I’m sure I’ve seen it before. There’s certainly something familiar about it.”

  “You mean it still exists?”

  Paul was thoughtful as he stared at the photograph. “Yes,” he said, looking up at Evans. “Just the entrance. There would have been steps leading down to the tunnel. It’s the sort of thing you see without bothering to think about why it’s there.”

  “So where is it?”

  “Behind the sports hall. It’s where they keep the rubbish bins. The tunnel is likely to have been at least partially in-filled. They must have laid a floor above the steps and kept the brickwork around the entrance. I don’t know what it was used for when they closed the subway, perhaps a sheltered seating area in the grounds but now, it makes a perfect bin store and it’s less of an eyesore than having the bins in open view.”

  “It must be possible to trace the course of the subway to the other end. What’s on the opposite side of the road?”

  “A small industrial estate.”

  “Perhaps you could take a look as part of your research. Just in case there’s a way in,” Evans suggested. He returned his attention to the other photographs. “Some of these are modern day. Are there any of the current Earl?”

  Paul took a handful of photos and flicked through them before handing one back to Evans. “That’s Tom in the middle,” he said. “I’d say it’s a few years old.”

  The young man Paul indicated in the centre of the picture was flanked on both sides by young people of a similar age.

  “A family group?” Evans asked.

  “I couldn’t say. It seems likely.”

  “Do you think Tom would mind if I borrowed this?” Evans asked.

  “Probably not. Is it important?”

  “It might be.” Evans slipped the picture into his jacket pocket. “Will you continue studying this stuff? I doubt if I’d be given the manpower to look at it all without a reasonable prospect of getting a lead.”

  “Carol and Peter seem to have become obsessed with it. I don’t think they’ll leave any stone unturned.”

  “Can you let me know if they find anything else which might be of interest to us?” Evans asked before handing Paul a card with his contact details.

  Chapter 21

  S
toney Street was less than a mile from Paul’s flat, an easy walk for the leaner, fitter Inspector. On the way, Evans called Marsh and asked for an update.

  “I was just about to call you,” Marsh said. “There’s nothing more I can do here. The SOCOs are in control and the Doc wants to ship the body to the mortuary. Is that okay?”

  “Is it Phil?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Single shot to the head fired from close range. They’ve mapped the path of the bullet. It confirms my guess.”

  “Time of death?”

  “Less than two hours before he arrived.”

  “They can move the body but stick around Marshy. You can talk me through your theory.”

  When Evans turned the corner onto Stoney Street, he could see the cordoned off house in the centre of a small terrace. Marsh was standing in the doorway, dressed in the mandatory crime scene clothing, talking to Amy Logan, the similarly attired Crime Scene Manager. She disappeared into the house when she saw Evans.

  “You’ll need to put this on,” Marsh said, handing Evans a scene suit. “Amy won’t let anyone in without one.”

  The Inspector’s lack of respect for procedure was well known. He ignored the provocation. “They never used to have these in my size,” he said before stepping into the suit and zipping it up with apparent ease. Marsh handed him the gloves before they both stood aside as the bagged-up body was stretchered out of the house. Evans was silent as it was carried to the ambulance. When it was gone, he redirected his sad gaze towards Marsh. “Let’s go,” he said. “Is Phil still here?”

  “No, he’s on his way to the mortuary,” Marsh said as he led the way into the house. “Sarah was from Newcastle. I’ve arranged for her parents to be informed. We’ll have to see her housemates and ask the university to fix them up with emergency accommodation. They can’t come back here tonight.”

  “Put that on your list of things to do,” Evans instructed.

  “I’ve checked the bedrooms. There was nothing of interest but this was found in Sarah’s bag,” Marsh said, handing a business card to Evans. “It may be insignificant but I thought you might want to see it.”

  Evans looked at the card. “Thorbury Recruitment, IT and Project Management Specialists,” he read. Printed beneath the company logo were office and mobile numbers and an email and website address. “She was studying Computer Science,” Evans said. “She may have been looking to arrange temporary work for the holidays or something part time.” He slipped the card into his pocket. “Were there any others?”

  “No. Just Thorbury Recruitment.”

  “Okay. Where was the body?”

  “In the front room. Through here.”

  Marsh showed Evans the armchair where Sarah had been sitting.

  “So the path of the bullet supports your theory?” Evans asked.

  “Yes. It’s consistent with a shot fired from there.” Marsh pointed at the sofa opposite the armchair.

  “Which means there was a conversation between two people who may have known each other which ended in a shooting?”

  “That’s how it looks. If they sat down to talk, it’s likely Sarah knew the visitor or was at least expecting the visit.”

  “Probably not a complete stranger,” Evans said. “Are Fuller and Garton still here?”

  “Yes. They’re sitting in the yard waiting for a lift back to base.”

  “You could send them to the university to talk to Sarah’s housemates.”

  “Are you sure you want them to do that?” Marsh asked.

  “They may be ‘old school’ but they aren’t stupid. Tell them to take a sympathetic approach. We need as much as we can get about Sarah and what her friends thought about her.”

  “Your faith in those two is touching,” Marsh said. He left the room as the Inspector’s mobile rang.

  Evans was finishing the call when Marsh returned having sent Fuller and Garton on their way, moaning about having to walk to the university.

  “We’ve got a visitor waiting for us at the station,” Evans told Marsh.

  “Who?” Marsh asked.

  “Alex Newton. He says he needs to speak to us. Perhaps he wants to confess.”

  After their hurried return, the Support Officer on the front desk directed Evans and Marsh to the interview room where Alex Newton had been asked to wait.

  “What do you have to tell us Alex?” Evans asked, coming straight to the point.

  “I heard on the news that Simeon’s brother had been murdered. Is there a connection with what happened to Simeon?”

  “We’re considering that possibility.”

  “There’s something you should know. It’s about how Simeon came to be employed by the bank,” Newton said.

  Evans suppressed the urge to display his pleasure. “How did it happen?” he asked.

  “The decision was based on the recommendation of a friend of mine, Tom Thorbury, the current Earl of Thorbury. Like most employers, we have recruitment policies and rules but you won’t be surprised to know that whilst we always tick the boxes, we don’t always adhere strictly to the rules.”

  “Would Simeon have got the job if you had?” Evans asked.

  “Probably not. In terms of performance, he didn’t disappoint but there had been better candidates.”

  “So why did you take him on?”

  “Because I’d known Tom since our days at Oxford and respected his judgement. I squared it with my boss before the decision was announced. He said provided Simeon met the formal requirements for the job, his appointment could be justified on the basis of Lord Thorbury’s recommendation.”

  “Why have you decided to tell us this now Alex?” Marsh asked.

  “We wouldn’t normally discuss recruitment decisions with a third party but on reflection, there may be implications for the reputation of the bank if this came to light from another source. I’m sure there’ll be a perfectly innocent explanation for Tom’s recommendation.”

  “Which he should already have provided,” Marsh said.

  “He just told me that Simeon was looking for a move from London. He had every confidence in him and would be pleased to provide a reference if there was a suitable vacancy. I said we were looking to recruit a trainee as we’d had to let someone go who wasn’t up to scratch. Tom said he was sure that Simeon would be perfect for the job.”

  “What was Tom’s relationship with Simeon?” Marsh asked.

  “He didn’t say and I didn’t ask. Tom never made much of his family background but we were all aware of it at our college and he was always treated with deference. His friends rarely questioned him. Since leaving Oxford, we’ve kept in touch and I’ve still no reason to doubt him.”

  “And senior officials at the bank were prepared to apply the same level of trust on the basis of a title?” Evans asked.

  “Yes. Not that Tom would necessarily have expected it. He doesn’t even use the title.”

  “Did you ever ask Simeon about Tom and how he came to know him?” Marsh asked.

  “Simeon said he knew Tom through a friend at South Midlands University. I didn’t press him for the details.”

  “Well thanks for the information Alex,” Evans said. “We now know Tom Thorbury had a connection with Simeon Gilbert.”

  “Did you tell Tom you were coming to see us?” Marsh asked.

  “Yes. I wouldn’t have done it behind his back. He didn’t seem at all concerned.”

  Chapter 22

  Evans and Marsh rode the lift to the third floor of Palace House and were ushered straight into Tom Thorbury’s office.

  “I was expecting a visit from the police,” Tom said to Evans after a cursory glance at the ID presented by the two detectives. “Although I didn’t think you’d be quite so quick. Take a seat.”

  Marsh beat Evans to the chairs in front of Tom Thorbury’s desk. “When did Alex Newton tell you he was intending to speak to us?” he asked.

  “Alex called earlier this morni
ng to say he’d be speaking to you and to explain why it was necessary,” Tom said. “I’ve been completely engrossed in my work and I’m afraid recent events have passed me by. Two brothers murdered in the space of three days. That’s terrible. I had no idea. I really should take more interest in the wider world.”

  Evans felt an immediate sense of unease as he looked at Tom Thorbury. Could a young, well educated businessman really be so detached from the world around him?

  “Alex Newton has told us about your recommendation of Simeon Gilbert. How did you come to know him?” Evans asked.

  “I didn’t know him at all,” Tom replied without hesitation.

  The Inspector’s unease increased and his stare intensified before he broke the brief silence with the obvious question. “Then why did you recommend him to the bank? You told Alex Newton you had every confidence in him, that you were sure he’d be perfect for the job.”

  “I have a confession to make Inspector,” Tom admitted in a light hearted tone. He held up his hands in mock submission which merely emphasised his lack of gravitas. “My single-mindedness can occasionally lead to minor dishonesty.”

  “And what does that mean?”

  “It means that when anyone threatens to divert my attention from the business, I find the quickest way to remove the nuisance and restore my focus.”

  Evans was annoyed by Tom Thorbury’s attitude. Despite the espoused lack of interest in his family background, he sensed that Tom expected people to show the deference granted to him at university by Alex Newton and the other students.

  “I’m investigating three murders Tom,” Evans said. “You provided a glowing reference for the first victim who you claim not to have known. You need to tell me why you did that and if you want to remove this particular nuisance, it would be best to explain it all in plain English. No riddles.”

  “Three murders?” Tom said.

  “Yes. Simeon Gilbert, his brother Michael and Michael’s girlfriend, Sarah. And if you want to avoid any suspicion of involvement, your explanation will need to be very convincing.”