A Time to Kill

by Stephen Puleston

  He tapped out a message to Annie – really looking forward to this evening. I might be a little late xxx.

  Before he drove away Drake solved two more squares of the Sudoku puzzle in the morning newspaper. It had the desired effect of making him feel more in charge, and when a message reached his mobile from Mike Foulds asking that he call at the CSI department he sent a reply telling the crime scene manager to expect him once he was back.

  It was a short drive and Drake listened to a few tracks from Dark Side of the Moon before parking. The forensic lab was a hive of activity – a team of white-coated investigators ploughed their way through the evidence recovered from Muller’s property. Drake hoped that Mike Foulds had made a breakthrough – something definitive to link Muller to Harry Jones’s murder.

  When Foulds saw Drake he waved him over.

  ‘I wanted to tell you as soon as I’d heard. We got a fingerprints match from the furniture you discovered at Harry Jones’s lock-up.’

  Foulds patted a stool by his side. Drake made himself comfortable. ‘Fingerprints?’ Drake wanted confirmation he understood Foulds correctly.

  Foulds sorted the paperwork in front of him as he spoke. ‘We recovered over fifty sets of prints. It’s taken us days of work. Most probably belong to the owners of the property. There were sets belonging to a couple of convicted drug users – mostly recreational stuff and several drink drivers. But it’s the last two that I thought you might be interested in.’

  Drake glanced at the clock on the wall hoping Foulds would get on with it. He hadn’t got all day.

  ‘There are fingerprints from Richard Perdue and a man called Patrick Lennon.’

  Drake’s mouth fell open. ‘Are you certain?’

  ‘I thought those names would interest you.’

  ‘And you haven’t got any evidence from yesterday’s search of Muller’s property?’

  Foulds shook his head. He pushed over the detailed results. Drake touched his parted lips with the thumb and forefinger of one hand as he read the details, blanking out the noise and activity in the forensic lab. He slid off the stool once he’d finished, thanked Foulds and left.

  Winder jumped to his feet when Drake arrived in the Incident Room. ‘I’ve just taken a statement from Frank Smith, boss.’

  Drake ignored him. From the desk nearest the board he found a sheet of paper and scribbled a name on it. He pinned the paper alongside the image of Richard Perdue before he turned to face the rest of the team. ‘All in good time, Gareth. I’ve been to see Mike Foulds and they’ve had the results of the fingerprint examination of the furniture we discovered in Harry Jones’s lock-up. And guess whose fingerprints are all over an antique table.’ He tapped a ballpoint to Richard Perdue’s face, and then on the name Patrick Lennon written in large letters.

  ‘We’ll need to speak to Richard Perdue again,’ Sara said.

  Drake checked his watch, conscious he had to give himself enough time to arrive at the supermarket on time. And conscious too that Detective Chief Superintendent Overend had warned him about the company Richard Perdue kept. ‘And Patrick Lennon in due course. Get a copy of his picture onto the board.’

  Luned got to her feet as though she were making a formal announcement. ‘There’s more, sir. When I spoke to Nancy Brown’s neighbours yesterday, one of them remembers a car with the registration letters KEV calling at the property. The result of a search of the DVLA came back this morning and Richard Perdue owns a car registered with those letters.’

  ‘Perdue knows Nancy Brown. What the bloody hell is going on?’ Drake said.

  Drake looked over at Luned. The detective constable had a natural authority. She sounded confident. It was the second big case since she had joined his team and now he felt she was slotting in, finding her feet.

  ‘And I established that Harry Jones created a trust that benefits his nephew Matthew Talbot, so, Luned, email me any background you’ve got on him.’

  Luned buried her head in a notepad, scribbling notes.

  ‘And Nancy Brown is the beneficiary of a policy worth £300,000 on Harry Jones’s life.’

  Winder whistled under his breath. ‘If Nancy Brown and Perdue are an item then that gives them both a massive motive.’

  Sara grabbed Drake’s attention. ‘I’ve been doing some digging around into Richard Perdue’s background. I made contact with the Met and eventually I tracked down some of the family history to Southend-on-Sea.’

  ‘Go on,’ Drake said.

  ‘The police in Southend have never been able to prosecute Perdue successfully. I spoke to one sergeant who sounded like he’d give his pension to have convicted Perdue.’

  Drake noticed Winder’s look of boyish anticipation. ‘Gareth, tell us what Smith said.’

  ‘He’ll make a great witness.’

  ‘Tell us what he told you.’

  ‘Sorry, boss. Muller broke his arm when he assaulted him. Smith told me he was in one hell of a temper.’

  It wasn’t going to be enough to prevent Muller’s release on bail. If the new leads pointing to Richard Perdue led nowhere then the Crown prosecution lawyers could decide about prosecuting Muller.

  ‘Good work everyone.’ Drake fastened his jacket. ‘I’ll inform the super and I’ll call Overend about the fingerprints.’

  Chapter 27

  Wyndham Price nodded and grunted occasionally as Drake explained the basis of his decision that Perdue had to explain himself and that he had to do so under caution in the custody suite having been arrested on suspicion of murder.

  ‘I hate these gangsters coming to North Wales thinking we’ve got straw between our ears.’ Price hesitated. Drake could see him thinking around the problem. ‘And have you spoken to DCS Overend?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  Price reached over for the telephone on his desk. He dialled a number. ‘Andy, I’ve DI Drake with me.’

  Drake recognised the Christian name of a senior Crown prosecutor.

  ‘I need to organise a meeting tomorrow for an urgent serious case review.’

  The superintendent used a fancy-looking fountain pen to jot the details on a yellow Post It note.

  ‘You’d better call Overend before our meeting,’ Price said, giving Drake a look that said he had finished.

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Drake got to his feet.

  Threading his way back to the Incident Room he wasn’t certain what Price thought. Would he support arresting Perdue? Or would he wait and see what Andy Thorsen might say? It made him uneasy. There was lot that Perdue had to explain. Drake sat at his desk, wondering if arresting Perdue was justified.

  He shook off his doubts and called Overend.

  ‘I anticipate arresting Richard Perdue on suspicion of murder,’ Drake said, hoping he sounded confident. Detective Chief Superintendent Overend, listening at the other end of the telephone line, didn’t react immediately.

  ‘Our forensics team have discovered fingerprints belonging to Perdue and Patrick Lennon on the furniture we recovered from Harry Jones’s lock-up.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘There’s a clear picture emerging that Perdue met Harry Jones and lied about it. We believe Harry was involved with Perdue and Lennon.’

  Drake sensed the exasperation from the other man down the telephone.

  ‘And there’s a lot of intelligence to suggest Perdue is more than capable of murder.’

  ‘Southend.’ Overend announced flatly.

  Drake paused, his momentum broken. ‘We shall need to interview Lennon in due course.’

  ‘Has this been authorised by your super?’

  ‘We’ve got a senior case review meeting with a Crown prosecutor tomorrow.’

  Overend said nothing for a few seconds and Drake assumed that his reference to the lawyer gave him little room to criticise the approach. Price had been right, of course, even if he was covering his tracks.

  ‘Keep me posted.’ Overend finished the call abruptly.

  Drake glanced at the time. He would have t
o leave soon to meet the shop assistant before seeing Annie later that evening. Guilt wriggled around in his mind again about the first meeting he had missed but he didn’t have time for it to develop as Winder stood in his doorway.

  ‘I’ve identified the minibus Talbot saw on the afternoon Beard was killed. I’m going over there later.’

  ‘Good.’ Drake got to his feet and followed Winder out into the Incident Room.

  ‘I’m going to see Vera Alton, the shop assistant,’ Drake said.

  ‘Do you need me to come too, sir?’ Sara said.

  ‘No, I’ve got a family commitment later.’

  He noticed Sara share a glance with Winder that he couldn’t immediately interpret. He didn’t want to explain about Annie and he had hoped that ‘family commitment’ might imply he was seeing his mother. Now he wasn’t so sure.

  Drake arrived at the supermarket half an hour before Vera Alton’s night shift started and waited in his car. Sitting watching young mothers struggling with their bags and screaming children made him think about Fiona Jones. It must have been galling for her to be subjected to the gossip from the local community about her husband’s indiscretions. Did his money and wealth buy her peace of mind? Had she become bitter and twisted enough that her love for Harry had turned into hatred, intense enough to kill him.

  Two emails arrived on his mobile. He opened the first from the adoption agency confirming Harry Jones as the father of Heulwen Beard’s daughter. Was Fiona aware Harry and Heulwen Beard had been an item and that their child had been given up for adoption? Drake found his mind joining too many dots as he contemplated the possibility that the new beneficiary Harry was planning for his trust was actually Harry’s child with Heulwen Beard. Perhaps the child had made contact with him, hoping to re-establish a relationship with her birth parents. Fiona must have found that galling too.

  Drake turned his attention to the email from Luned with the report on Glyn Talbot’s background and Harry Jones’s extended family. Matthew, Glyn’s son, lived in Bangor and worked in the property department of the university and Luned had discovered that father and son had little to do with each other, which didn’t surprise Drake from what he knew of Glyn Talbot. It intrigued him why Harry Jones would have created a trust fund for his nephew. Glyn Talbot had made no mention of his family connection to Harry Jones when he first met Drake in the army museum, nor when they questioned him about his visits to Harry Jones on the morning Harry was killed. Talbot had recently been made redundant from the slate museum but not before complaints from staff members that he had acted aggressively towards them led to disciplinary proceedings. Luned’s summary confirmed Drake’s impression that Talbot was an eccentric loner living in a small confined world of writing historical articles for a local paper that probably few people read. When Drake tried to read one of his articles he found the language obtuse and highbrow. Drake read on and noted the details about Jean Talbot’s suicide and he realised Luned had used her initiative to dig further and deeper into the family background. Something must have troubled Jean deeply, Drake thought, as he imagined the impact on Matthew and Glyn Talbot. Father and son had lost a wife and mother; as he mulled over the details of the inquiry and everything he knew about Harry, a dark scenario developed in his mind. It answered the question as to why Matthew was the beneficiary of Harry’s generosity.

  Matthew was Harry’s son and the guilt had driven Jean to suicide. Did Fiona know? Only asking her would give them the answer.

  He glanced at the clock on the dashboard and decided he couldn’t be late so he made for the entrance of the supermarket. A tall man with glasses and close-cropped hair stood by customer services scanning the shoppers as Drake entered. He gave Drake an enquiring look, searching for recognition that turned to relief when Drake approached him.

  ‘Detective Chief Inspector Drake? I’m Peter Green, the manager.’

  ‘Inspector,’ Drake replied. ‘Is Vera Alton here?’

  ‘She’s in the staff room. Follow me.’

  At the rear of the store a door by the pharmacy led to a staircase and then down a short corridor. Green pushed open a door into a large room dominated by a table and a dozen office chairs.

  Vera Alton cradled a plastic cup of a hot liquid in one hand. She had jet-black hair, a puffy complexion and far too much make-up. She made to stand up; Drake fluttered a hand telling her to sit down. Green sat on a chair at the far end of the table.

  ‘I’m investigating the death of Harry Jones. I understand that on the afternoon he was killed you served him.’ Drake recited the date and time and pushed over the table an image of Harry Jones.

  Alton stared at the photograph and then glanced up at Drake. ‘I’ve seen him a few times. He’s a regular.’

  ‘On the day of his death he bought flowers and a bottle of wine.’

  Alton nodded.

  ‘Have you served him before?’

  ‘Yes, I think so, quite often. In fact I don’t remember him buying anything else – perhaps chocolate sometimes.’

  ‘Was there anyone with him?’

  She frowned, taking time to think.

  ‘I don’t think there was anyone else with him. But I can’t be certain.’

  Drake turned to the manager. ‘Do you have CCTV?’

  ‘Yes, but it’s only of the entrance and the car park. We don’t film every checkout.’

  ‘I’ll need to see it.’

  ‘Well, it might take some time.’

  ‘Now. I need to see it now.’

  Green blinked nervously, fidgeted with his fingers. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

  Drake followed him back into the corridor and then passed other offices until he pushed open a door. Inside was a bank of monitors showing the live coverage from several cameras pointing at the main door near the till area.

  Green sat down and pulled a chair nearer the desk. ‘What were the details again?’

  Drake dictated the date and time, becomingly increasingly irritated as Green fiddled with the controls, inputting the incorrect information. Drake repeated the right data in a loud voice that earned him a sharp look from Green.

  Drake read the time again. If he was going to be delayed much longer he might be late for his date with Annie. So he would have to text again. No, call her this time; he’d love to hear her voice. Looking down at the screen Green swore under his breath and announced. ‘I don’t usually do this.’

  Drake didn’t reply; he kept staring at the monitor.

  Eventually the correct date appeared in the top right-hand corner.

  ‘It was afternoon,’ Drake dictated the exact time. ‘Go back half an hour before that.’

  Green nodded.

  ‘Is there some way to speed up the footage?’ Drake said.

  Green did as he was told and the images sped along like an old-fashioned movie.

  Drake’s adrenaline spiked when he saw Harry Jones walking into the store a few minutes before his purchase. But it was his companion that really caught Drake’s attention. Penny Muller ambled in alongside him as though they were any ordinary couple going shopping one afternoon.

  ‘Stop that.’ Drake’s shout unnerved Green who fumbled with the controls. ‘I’ll need a copy of this footage.’

  Now Drake had concrete evidence that Penny Muller had lied to him about her whereabouts that afternoon. What else had she lied about? Perhaps she and Wolfgang had conspired to kill Harry Jones?

  ‘Run the tape on in normal speed until they leave the store. And have you got any images from outside?’

  Drake folded his arms, standing over Green as he scrolled through the various cameras until he could show Penny Muller and Harry Jones leaving together and heading for the car park. The footage switched to the cameras on the exterior of the building. Drake watched as Penny and Harry Jones laughed and joked. ‘Stop, there.’

  Where were these two going? Drake allowed his gaze to scan some of the other vehicles parked nearby. One in particular caught his attention. He leaned
over Green. ‘Do you see that Range Rover Evoque? Can you zoom in onto that vehicle?’

  More fumbling with the controls ensued but Drake kept his irritation in check. The screen filled with an image of the car. It was grainy, but even so Drake recognised Wolfgang Muller.

  * * *

  Annie sat opposite Drake in a pub with a wood fire burning in an open hearth. There was an occasional hiss from a damp log. The place was busy, most of the tables occupied, a group of regular drinkers sitting on stools by the bar. Nobody paid them any attention. They looked like any other early middle-aged couple enjoying an evening out, Drake thought. He was encouraged to feel that he was becoming part of normal human activity again.

  Annie had kissed him when she arrived. Enough to acknowledge the connection he had felt from their first date and enough to encourage him to believe there might be a future to this relationship. Her blouse and trousers were a little less formal, but, like her make-up, they still made her look attractive, so attractive he found himself staring.

  ‘I’m really sorry about last weekend,’ Drake said.

  ‘Don’t worry. Your investigation must take priority. It must be so demanding having to be on call all the time.’ She smiled.

  Drake couldn’t recall if Sian had ever said anything like that in all the years of their marriage.

  ‘I heard about that dreadful case in Deiniolen.’ Annie lowered her voice. ‘Are the deaths linked?’

  Drake averted his gaze and gave their fellow diners a surreptitious scan, hoping nobody had heard her question. ‘We don’t know yet.’

  Annie spared him any further embarrassment. ‘I know you can’t talk about it. I’m sorry.’

  She took another sip of orange juice, studying the menu.

  A waitress arrived and gave them a tepid smile. Drake ordered; Annie did likewise. The conversation flowed and soon Drake felt he had known Annie forever. It was like rekindling an old friendship, stepping back into a comfortable routine and familiar reminiscence. But he knew it was more than that; he could barely take his eyes off her. Her smile was warm and uncomplicated.