A Time to Kill

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A Time to Kill Page 23

by Stephen Puleston


  Drake continued. ‘And Penny Muller provided her husband with a specific alibi for the afternoon and evening that Harry Jones was killed.’ Thorsen and Price stared at Drake intently. ‘She came to the station with Nicholas Frobisher.’

  ‘Frobisher?’ Thorsen said. ‘I thought he had stopped doing run-of-the-mill police station work. I couldn’t abide the man myself.’

  Drake pressed on. ‘And we now know from CCTV coverage that Penny Muller was with Harry Jones that afternoon. And Wolfgang was parked in his Range Rover outside the supermarket watching them leave.’

  ‘I am very unhappy about that, Inspector,’ Thorsen said. ‘It will need to be clarified in due course.’

  ‘And we know Wolfgang Muller assaulted Frank Smith, breaking his arm.’ Drake paused for a moment, allowing a thought to develop in his mind. ‘Whatever Frank Smith knew cost him his life.’

  ‘I daresay you’re right, Inspector. If you can find out what he knew you’ll find the killer.’

  Price butted in. ‘That’s a useless piece of advice, Andy.’

  Thorsen read the time on his watch and closed the folder on the table in front of him. ‘I suggest you arrest Richard Perdue, get him into a cell first thing in the morning and interview him under caution. We’ll request a search warrant and a team can take his place apart. Hopefully that’ll produce some results.’

  Drake didn’t want the meeting to finish quite so quickly. ‘We still have Fiona Jones as a person of interest.’

  Thorsen rolled his eyes. Price nodded for Drake to continue.

  ‘Harry Jones was going to change his will and benefit a child he fathered with Heulwen Beard. And Fiona Jones admits going to her property on the day she was killed supposedly to try and remonstrate with her about possible publicity over the identity of the child.’

  ‘Is that a strong enough motive for murder?’ Thorsen sounded tired.

  ‘But Harry Jones was having an ongoing relationship with another woman who he kept in a house nearby.’

  Price snorted. ‘Christ Almighty, this man didn’t know how to keep his trousers on.’

  Thorsen stood up, papers in hand. ‘That’s all well and good. I suggest you focus on Richard Perdue for the time being.’ He looked over at Drake. ‘I think you have a long evening of work ahead of you.’

  Chapter 32

  By ten-thirty the following morning Drake sat drinking a double-strength instant coffee in the canteen of the police station in Caernarfon. Sara, opposite him, turned a spoon through her tea. A doughnut for each of them perched on a plate in the middle of the table. ‘I thought you might need the sugar hit,’ Sara said.

  As soon as Drake and his team had arrived, Perdue had called his lawyers. Then he had made some complimentary comments about his lawyer from Liverpool making certain the case wouldn’t get anywhere. Drake was unfazed. Lawyers could bitch and moan as much as they liked but when he interviewed a suspect he was in charge. And having taken a dislike to Richard Perdue, Drake’s mind relished the prospect of the interview.

  They had left a full search team, eagerly anticipating the task of taking apart Richard Perdue’s immaculate property. It pleased Drake to see other officers enjoying their work. Perdue had whinged and complained and threatened all sorts of severe consequences but he had piped down by the time the paperwork at the custody centre had been completed and he was sitting in a cell cradling a thin watery tea.

  Whatever happened with Richard Perdue, he would be held for the entirety of the twenty-four hours allowed by the law. More than enough for the search of his property to be completed.

  Andy Thorsen’s remarks about Frank Smith kept playing in Drake’s thoughts that morning as he had driven to the police station. Did Smith know something that had cost him his life? Drake reminded himself about the comments Richie and Connie had made. He had missed something. Something important. Something relevant.

  He trawled his memory. Dog hairs instantly came to his mind and the smell. He tugged at his nose. Connie had said Frank had done some ‘odd jobs’ and that one of his friends was called Mal.

  ‘Do you have the address for that Mal Owen the Smiths mentioned yesterday?’

  ‘Yes, boss. Gareth is tracking him down today. Why?’

  ‘I’ve missed something from our chat with the Smiths.’

  Drake gazed out through the canteen window. A light shower drenched the glass. And then Drake remembered what Richie had said. He drew himself nearer the table.

  ‘Richie said that Frank was finished with that “poaching nonsense”.’ He tapped a finger on the papers in front of him. ‘What if Frank arrived at Heulwen Beard’s property to leave salmon he had poached and he witnessed the killer and Heulwen arguing?’

  Improbability turned to possibility on Sara’s face. ‘But why would Smith have gone to the slate museum?’

  Drake leaned over the table. ‘The killer lures him there because…’ Drake took a moment. ‘Smith took the opportunity to blackmail the killer.’

  ‘We don’t have any evidence—’

  ‘Why else go there?’

  Drake continued. ‘And he tries to blackmail the killer.’

  Sara nodded. ‘And the killer finishes him off with a slate through his neck.’

  ‘Let’s ask Perdue.’

  A message reached Drake’s mobile from the custody sergeant confirming the lawyer had arrived. Drake drained the last dregs of his coffee. ‘She’s made good time.’

  Sara had finished her doughnut but Drake hadn’t taken up her suggestion he needed a sugar hit, the prospect of grains of icing sugar all over his hands too much to contemplate. Sara gave the doughnut he left a brief wistful glance before they left.

  Drake and Sara found Richard Perdue and his lawyer, Glenda Blake, sitting in one of the interview rooms.

  ‘Good morning, Mrs Blake,’ Drake said, smiling across the laminated table.

  Perdue pulled a puzzled face as though he expected Drake to be rude.

  ‘How was your journey?’

  ‘The traffic was heavy.’ She had a brittle, accent-less voice. It matched the sharp, immaculate navy jacket. Sitting down, it was difficult to make out her height but Drake’s surreptitious scan suggested she was tall but perhaps the high heels exaggerated the impression.

  He completed the formalities and turned to Perdue as the tape machine hummed into life.

  ‘I’m Detective Inspector Drake and with me is Detective Sergeant Sara Morgan. We are investigating the deaths of Harry Jones and Heulwen Beard.’

  ‘I understand you have already spoken to my client.’

  ‘Indeed, we have.’

  ‘Do you have your pocketbooks recording your notes to hand?’

  ‘We certainly do.’ Drake hadn’t expected her to be quite so aggressive so soon.

  ‘I’ll need to see them.’

  ‘All in good time.’ Drake turned back to Perdue. ‘Let’s start with your relationship with Heulwen Beard.’

  ‘Nothing to it really.’

  ‘She was your lawyer.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘She handled the planning transaction for you in relation to the piece of land you hoped to develop. Please tell us what happened.’

  ‘The planning application failed. I took a punt: it didn’t work.’

  ‘Were you happy to lose a lot of money?’

  ‘Would you be?’

  ‘I’ll ask the questions. How much did you lose?’

  ‘I can’t be certain.’

  ‘I don’t believe you, Richard. You’re a businessman; you said that yourself when we first spoke. Would it be right to say that you lost £200,000?’

  ‘Not that much.’

  ‘But you sold the land at a loss and you had all the costs involved.’

  Perdue squirmed in his seat. ‘It was about hundred grand, all right.’

  ‘You must have been annoyed losing such a large sum.’

  Perdue didn’t reply, giving a dismissive shrug.

  ‘You weren’t happy
with Heulwen Beard. We have an eyewitness that says you threatened her after you discovered the land had been sold on to Harry Jones, who subsequently made a substantial profit.’

  ‘She’s lying.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Your witness… whoever she is.’

  ‘How do you know it’s a woman?’

  ‘I don’t… I mean, it could be a bloke.’

  ‘It took place in Heulwen Beard’s office. So, you assumed it was her secretary that had given us the evidence of what you said. Losing £100,000 would make you very angry indeed. Angry enough to kill Heulwen Beard and Harry Jones.’

  ‘Don’t be daft.’

  ‘Did you know that Heulwen and Harry had been an item years before?’ Drake searched Perdue’s face for recognition, some glimmer.

  Perdue averted his eye contact, glancing at Blake. It vindicated Drake. ‘And you thought they were both in it together, didn’t you? Planning to diddle you and make a substantial profit themselves. So you killed them.’

  Blake interrupted. ‘Stick to one question at a time, Inspector. Otherwise you’re badgering Mr Perdue.’

  Perdue could take a lot more badgering than this, Drake thought. ‘What was the nature of your relationship with Harry?’

  ‘Like I told you before, we did some business occasionally. I got to know Harry because I collect antiques. Sometimes my mates from the smoke had a juicy deal on some furniture they picked up. Sometimes he’d buy stuff off me.’

  ‘What was the last piece of furniture you sold him?’

  ‘Jesus, you can’t expect me to remember.’

  ‘Well, try. Was it a cupboard, or table, or maybe a set of chairs?’

  ‘A cupboard, yeah. I remember now.’

  Drake found the photograph of the table from where the fingerprints of Richard Perdue and Patrick Lennon had been recovered. He pushed it at Perdue.

  ‘Do you recognise this piece of furniture?’

  Drake searched Perdue’s face for any tell-tale sign of recognition, a nervous twitch or an earlobe being pulled. Instead there was imperceptible stiffening in his body language. The casual approach soon disappeared. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘It was a simple question. Do you recognise this piece of furniture?’

  Perdue folded his arms together and drew them tightly to his chest.

  ‘Now is your chance to answer my question.’

  Drake gazed over at him, pausing for a moment.

  ‘The table was recovered from a lock-up Harry Jones used for storage. It had your fingerprints on it. The item was stolen from a stately home in Nottingham last year. Can you tell us anything about it?’

  ‘You don’t know nothing.’

  ‘Richard, your fingerprints are all over this piece of stolen furniture. We’ve already spoken to the Midlands police who are anxious to talk to you about how that might be the case. I think you were using Harry Jones to fence stolen goods. He had a lot of rich clients and he was handy for getting rid of stuff like this.’

  Perdue shook his head.

  ‘When did you last see Harry Jones?’

  ‘Come off it, Inspector; if you’ve asked him then I am entitled to see the notes.’

  Drake produced a copy of Sara’s notebook. ‘When we spoke to you initially you stated…’ He pushed the sheet over the table. ‘… you said it had been “a few months ago” when you met him.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s right.’

  ‘Perhaps you could clarify exactly what you mean. Was it in the last month?’

  ‘Nah.’

  ‘The last two months?’

  Perdue shook his head.

  ‘You’ll have to say something for the tape.’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘So it would be over two months ago. Was it over three months ago?’

  ‘Yeah, I think so.’

  Drake reached for the laptop on the table and, opening the lid, tapped the keyboard to bring the screen to life. The first of Richard Perdue’s visits to Harry Jones started playing silently. Perdue and Blake gazed on incredulously.

  ‘Do you remember this meeting?’

  Perdue glanced at Blake. Her face barely moved.

  ‘Yes. I had some business to discuss.’

  ‘It doesn’t look like a discussion to me. You threatened him, didn’t you?’

  Perdue chortled dismissively. ‘Don’t be silly; we were having a good old chinwag.’

  ‘So does this meeting take place over three months before Harry’s death?’

  ‘If you say so.’

  ‘This was recorded three weeks before his death.’

  ‘I’m not very good with dates.’ Perdue spat out the reply.

  ‘Let’s come back to that particular visit in a minute because you were a regular visitor to Harry Jones, weren’t you?’

  Drake leaned over and found the recordings of the other meetings between Perdue and Harry Jones. He glanced over at Blake and dictated the dates that matched the images on the screen. She looked embarrassed, obviously realising Perdue was lying.

  ‘So it was a lie to say it had been three months since you last saw Harry Jones. Why did you lie to us?’

  Perdue’s face contorted as though he were restraining himself from answering. ‘Like I said, I’m not much good with dates.’

  ‘Did you ever see Harry with anyone else?’

  A person with half a brain cell could see what was coming. Perdue was cocky and arrogant but he wasn’t stupid, Drake thought. Perdue narrowed his eyes at Drake. Made no reply.

  Drake kept his eye contact direct with Perdue as he announced formally. ‘Mr Perdue makes no reply for the purposes of the tape.’

  Drake paused. He reached over to the laptop and clicked open the image of Perdue and Patrick Lennon. ‘Can you identify the man with you when you visited Harry Jones?’

  Perdue shook his head slowly, then he threaded the fingers of both hands together and rested them behind the back of his head. ‘No comment.’

  ‘Let’s go back to your most recent visits to Harry Jones. It was three weeks before his death.’ Drake turned to Blake. ‘Have you made a note of the right date?’ He smiled at her. She gave him a lifeless look. Drake began to enjoy this interview.

  The previous evening the technical department of the Northern Division had blanked out the face of Carol from the coverage. Eagerness filled Drake’s mind at the prospect of how Richard Perdue might explain away Carol’s evidence.

  ‘I’m going to show you the recording for the few minutes before you arrived to see Harry Jones and threaten him.’

  ‘I did no such thing.’

  Perdue couldn’t resist the temptation of one more lie.

  Drake clicked the footage and watched as Perdue’s expression turned into a frown edged with despair as Carol disappeared into the cupboard. Only to be followed seconds later by his own presence on the screen. Once he had left Carol re-emerged.

  ‘You described your meeting with Harry as a “good old chinwag”. The witness heard everything and will testify that you threatened him. Is that true?’

  Perdue let out a long, lazy sigh. He glanced at Blake who tilted her head. Drake couldn’t read what she said to him and he didn’t care.

  ‘No comment.’ Perdue said eventually.

  ‘The evidence is clear. You threatened Heulwen Beard, threatened Harry Jones, took one of your associates to see him and you had a ready-made motive for killing both of them.’

  Irritation filled Blake’s voice. ‘Is that a question?’

  ‘Do you know Frank Smith?’

  ‘He did a couple of jobs for me.’

  ‘Frank Smith’s body was found yesterday in a building at the slate museum in Llanberis.’

  ‘What the fuck is this all about?’ Perdue gave Blake a bewildered look.

  ‘Did Frank Smith try to blackmail you when he overheard you arguing with Heulwen Beard?’

  Perdue raised his voice. ‘I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.’
/>
  ‘Frank Smith was almost decapitated when a piece of slate severed his neck. We found his body yesterday morning.’ From a file Drake slowly placed the images of Frank’s body on the table facing Perdue.

  ‘You have got to be off your fucking trolley. I knew Frank but I never killed him and I never killed Harry Jones or Heulwen Beard.’

  ‘Where were you on Tuesday evening – the night Frank Smith was killed?’

  Perdue cast a glance high into the ceiling.

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘If you have an alibi, now is the time to give us the details.’ Drake sensed that Perdue wanted to say something but he was holding back for some reason.

  ‘If you must know I was in this fancy hotel on the Wirral. They’ve got this special two-for-one night. I was there Monday and Tuesday. I didn’t get back until Wednesday lunchtime.’

  ‘We’ll need the name of the hotel.’

  Sara jotted down Perdue’s reply in her pocketbook. But until they could check the details and until the search of his property had been completed, Perdue wasn’t going anywhere.

  Once Perdue was safely back in his cell and Blake escorted out of the police station Drake and Sara returned to the canteen. Now he did feel like a sugar hit and finished off a doughnut, ignoring the insipid coffee. He used a napkin and then a hand gel to get his fingers clean before picking up his messages – the search team supervisor indicated they wouldn’t be finished until the following morning.

  ‘I’ll call the hotel,’ Sara said. ‘Even if he has an alibi for Frank Smith’s death he’s still a suspect for the other two.’

  Drake nodded. If Perdue did have an alibi his theory about all three deaths being connected didn’t make sense. A nagging doubt wiggled its way into his mind. ‘There’s nothing more we can do today.’

  He left the police station and walked out to his car. A message reached his mobile and he smiled when he recognised Annie’s number. Found something of interest about Llanberis x.

  Chapter 33

  Hearing her voice on the other end of the line cheered Drake up.

  ‘I’ve been doing interviews this afternoon with some of the old men in the villages near Llanberis. A couple of them can remember the old bomb storage facility and they had some stories about their families who worked there.’

 

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