And now, another possible suspect for the murder of Barry Montgomery. In the hot seat in the interview room, Archibald ‘don’t call me Archie’ Marshall, the manager of the Fitzroy Hotel.
It was the first time that Isaac had seen him, not the first for Wendy. It would be the two of them sitting across from him. The opportunity to bring in a lawyer of his choice had been offered to Marshall; he had declined, and it had been duly noted.
Wendy could see tension in the man, not sure what was coming. He must have realised something was amiss when Wendy had stopped him outside the hotel as he walked outside to light a cigarette. Her request, she realised on reflection, had not been made with the delicacy that it should have been. She did not like the man, a predator who had preyed on a vulnerable woman, although a woman who was not blameless in herself, a woman who would need to explain her actions in detail and to tell her husband more than she wanted to.
Wendy felt sorrow for Christine Mason, not for Archibald Marshall.
‘What’s this all about?’ Marshall said. He scowled as he spoke, used to the staff at the hotel obeying his commands. It was not going to work at Challis Street.
Isaac said nothing until he had completed the procedure for the interview, informing Marshall of his rights and that ‘whatever you say may be used in evidence…’.
Marshall, his arms crossed, nodded when required, shook his head at the appropriate times. Wendy kept her eyes firmly on him.
‘Mr Marshall, we are investigating the murder of one of your guests,’ Isaac said. Wendy had forewarned Isaac of her dislike of the man, which had required him to remind her that Marshall was innocent until proven guilty. The fact that he was a lecher and that he had been taking liberties with Christine Mason did not alter the need to give the man the respect accorded him by law.
‘Colin Young. Yes, I’m aware of who you’re referring to,’ Marshall replied.
‘How did you know about this man?’ Wendy asked.
‘I came over to Christine, asked her about her responsibilities for the day, and you said clearly that she had seen a fatal accident and that she was a witness.’
‘That’s what I said, so why Colin Young?’
‘I quizzed Christine afterwards.’
‘Why?’
‘Curiosity, a concern that it may reflect on the hotel.’
‘That’s not the story that I’ve been told,’ Wendy said. Isaac looked over at her. She understood to hold back for the time being.
‘Tell us about Colin Young,’ Isaac said.
‘What’s to tell? I checked the hotel records after Christine had told me the truth. He had stayed at the hotel on a few occasions, always paid his bill, and took nothing from the minibar.’
‘Is that it?’
‘No. But I don’t want to say any more,’ Marshall said.
‘Why? It’s important that full and frank disclosure is made now.’
‘I didn’t kill the man, never met him. I may have seen him, said hello, wished him well, have a good trip, that sort of thing.’
‘You’ve seen a photo since?’
‘Yes. He seemed familiar, that’s all.’
‘Let’s come back to what else you found out,’ Wendy said. She was on edge, wanting to push him, to see what else fell out.
‘There were anomalies with the accounts,’ Marshall said.
‘Explain what you mean,’ Isaac said.
‘I keep an eye on the accounts. I’m not an expert, you understand, but I know enough to find discrepancies.’
‘Mr Marshall,’ Wendy said, ‘you’re selling yourself short. You know more about accountancy than you let on.’
‘Very well, it’s true. A hotel manager must be skilled in many areas, and with time, I picked up expertise in such matters.’
‘Have you taken money from the hotel before for your personal use?’ Wendy asked. She was treading lightly, not wanting to play her trump card yet.
‘No. Why should I?’ Marshall squirmed on his seat. ‘Has anyone been saying differently? I came here of my own free will, and I’m being subjected to the third degree. I didn’t kill Colin Young, you know that.’
‘Mr Marshall, we don’t know any such thing. You weren’t in our focus before, but we have verifiable proof of embezzlement and bribery against you. The connection to murder wouldn’t be that difficult,’ Wendy said.
‘How? Why? I know you’re friendly with Christine. Is this some kind of vendetta against me because I’m a tough boss?’
‘You know that’s not the case.’
‘Then what is it?’
‘Christine Mason has been taking money from the hotel, giving some of it to Colin Young, some to you. Are you going to deny this?’
‘I didn’t know when she was giving it to her toy boy.’
‘Toy boy, long time since I’ve heard that term.’
‘That’s what he was. I saw him prancing around the hotel, chatting up women.’
‘Jealous because you didn’t have his charm?’
‘I manage well enough.’
‘And that you do,’ Wendy said. ‘Not only did you find out about Christine giving him money, you then forced her to give you money as well. And services rendered as an additional benefit.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘You forced her to have sex with you. Did you fancy her before Colin Young? Did you see her with him, know what was going on?’
‘Nothing can be proved.’
‘True, nothing can be proved without Christine Mason’s corroborating evidence. She’s willing to tell all, even though it’s her career and probably her marriage.’
‘I don’t believe you. And yes, we slept together, but it was by mutual consent.’
‘You’re not a Colin Young,’ Wendy said. ‘Christine was in love with him and believed it was reciprocated. And then you’re putting pressure on her.’
‘What you can do, Mr Marshall, is to tell us the truth, the same as Christine Mason. Hopefully, the judge will be lenient,’ Isaac said.
‘He won’t be.’
Which meant to the two police officers that either Marshall had an innate understanding that what he had committed against Christine Mason was wrong or he had a previous criminal conviction. Bridget had checked Marshall out, found that he had been born in London and had worked in several leading hotels, and had advanced from reception into management over the years. There were no apparent black marks against him.
‘That’s probable. Taking money is one thing, forcing a woman to prostitute herself to protect her family is not something that a jury will warm to.’
‘Christine knew the cost. And who said it was forced? It could have been consensual.’
‘We’ll deal with that in due course. It’s not necessarily a criminal matter, even if it’s distasteful, but asking her to take money for you, is. Are you willing to admit to it?’
‘To what? Yes, I knew what she was doing, and I confided to her that I was willing to let her resolve the situation. There was no pressure from me for her to do anything.’
‘It’s your word against hers,’ Isaac said. He knew Marshall was correct in what he was saying, not that it made him believe his denial. The man had a seedy look, the sort of man that would sit in the front at a strip joint stuffing pound notes into the gyrating woman’s underwear, the sort of man that would…
Isaac shuddered at the thought, having spent enough time in such places, even pretending to be an avid spectator on an undercover operation. Larry had enjoyed himself, though, and he had been free and easy with police money. The stripper that night had gone home with taxpayer money, not that it had helped her the next day when she had been arrested for dealing drugs.
‘Mr Marshall,’ Wendy said, still maintaining her cool, ‘what will the hotel say when they find out that you’ve condoned a crime, been part of it?’
‘Nothing,’ Marshall said, folding his arms and sitting back on his chair.
‘Why?’
‘I’ve already s
ent a report to head office.’
‘Why would you do that?’
‘Because I know my job. The money that Christine’s taken is not that much; a criminal case against her is bad publicity. The hotel chain’s senior management will make a decision as to what to do. And it’s not a crime if it’s not reported, is it?’
‘If the hotel doesn’t press charges, then maybe it’s not,’ Wendy conceded.
‘Okay, it’s not a crime,’ Isaac said. ‘If the senior hotel executive corroborates your story, where to from here?’
‘There’s nowhere. Christine will be removed from her position with a suitable payout, her record of employment unblemished.’
‘And you, a criminal, will walk free.’
‘Innocent until proven guilty, isn’t it? Or do you have a different view?’
‘Even though I find you repugnant,’ Wendy said, ‘there remains the issue that you used this knowledge of her wrongdoing as a lever against her. Doesn’t that concern you, don’t you have any concept that what you have done is wrong?’
‘Ask Christine again,’ Marshall said. ‘I told her when I first found out about her fiddling the books for her fancy man that I’d protect her. That’s what I’ve done.’
‘She gave me a statement,’ Wendy said.
‘She spoke to you, but she can always rescind the statement. She’s not going to jeopardise her freedom, her marriage, her respect in the community, so that you can exact your vengeance on me.’
On the one hand, the man had saved Christine; on the other, he had forced her to sleep with him. Wendy wanted to climb across the table and scratch his eyes out, but she did nothing.
‘Will she continue to have sex with you?’ Wendy said, her voice unsteady.
‘That’s up to her. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve a busy day ahead,’ Marshall said standing up.’
‘Not so fast,’ Isaac interrupted the man leaving. ‘There is still the murdered man.’
‘What’s that to do with me?’
‘You murdered him.’
Marshall laughed, not sure whether the police officer was serious or not. ‘You’re clutching at straws,’ he said. ‘I’ve protected your sergeant’s friend, and now you want to pin a murder on me. Why would I have killed him?’
Wendy wasn’t sure of her DCI’s strategy, but she’d go along with it.
‘You’re a smart man, maybe too smart for your own good. You’d seen Christine with the man, and then you found out that she had been taking money. Naivety on her part, but then love does that to people, not that it excuses her actions.’
‘Get to the point. I don’t have time for this.’
‘Making you nervous? You realise where I’m going with this, is that it? Too close to home, too close to the truth? Archibald Marshall, or should I call you Archie, you are just a snivelling little street hustler. We’ll be watching you very closely from now on.’
‘I have my rights. You can’t speak to me like that.’
‘I can and I will. Let’s start again. You knew that Christine Mason was a vulnerable woman. You’d seen her with Colin Young. Did you have a hidden camera in his room, watching them gyrate on the bed, imagining it was you instead of the murdered man?’
‘You, Detective Chief Inspector, have a perverted mind.’
‘You became infatuated with her, wanted her for yourself, but how? It consumes you, this jealousy, the realisation that you can’t have her, so why should he? You hatch a plan. You’re a methodical man. You run the plan through in your head: the positives, the negatives, the flaws.’
‘This is errant nonsense.’
‘Is it?’
‘It took us a long time to find out who he was, but you may have succeeded before us. You knew the man is for hire, or he had been in the past. You had followed Christine Mason that day down to Hyde Park, knew why she was there, who she was waiting for. And then, the next day, you go down to Hyde Park and wait in the same place. The man comes jogging by, you move out quickly, a rock to the head, and he falls into the lake.’
‘If I had known about her taking the money, why would I have killed him?’
‘A good point,’ Isaac said. ‘There’s one component that’s missing.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Even before Colin Young, you had fancied Christine Mason. And then, there she is, madly in love with a young man, a man you could never hope to compete with.’
‘I did fancy her, even asked her out once for a meal. Harmless in itself, and she told me about her husband, and what a good man he was and how he'd be so upset.’
‘Precisely. She gives you a story. It sounds plausible and you back off. And then, she’s in one of the hotel rooms with another man, going hell for leather. How did it feel? The anger, the jealousy, the attempts at a gentle seduction, and a charmer takes her with no trouble. It must have hurt.’
‘I did fancy her, what man wouldn’t? But I never spied on her, nor did I kill her lover. After that, with him dead, and my knowledge of her embezzlement, I confronted her, told her that I knew and that I would protect her.’
‘And she flung herself at you with open arms,’ Wendy said.
‘It wasn’t as sordid as you make it out to be. I had feelings for her.’
‘Very well, Mr Marshall, we will accept your statement for now,’ Isaac said.
Marshall turned to Wendy. ‘Christine is safe as long as you leave it as it is,’ he said.
Chapter 20
Wendy wondered how Terry Hislop could have slept with one sister, married the other. But that was in the past, and no doubt he hadn’t been as fat or as slovenly back then.
It wasn’t important, but what Bridget had found out subsequently was. Terry Hislop had a history of violent and erratic behaviour.
‘One year after divorcing from Gwen, the man took to the bottle,’ she said.
‘What did you find?’
‘A drunken brawl at a pub close to Liverpool, three men were taken to hospital, one with a broken bottle pushed into his face, another with a …’
Wendy interrupted. ‘Hislop has a scar on his left cheek,’ she said.
‘Let me finish,’ Bridget continued. ‘Another with a broken arm after he had slammed into the bar, and the third was unconscious for two days after his head had been pushed into the floor.’
‘Does that mean he’s a suspect now?’ Wendy said.
‘Once in the past is hardly the criterion of a man capable of murder,’ Larry said. ‘I used to drink in my teens, got belligerent on occasions, yet ended up here at Challis Street.’
‘You fixed yourself up,’ Wendy said. ‘Terry Hislop’s not had it so good. He told me that business was fine and he was content, but who can be sure. He’s running a panel beater’s, and now he’s got an ex-biker chick doing the accounts, sleeping with him as well if I was reading the signals correctly.’
‘Long way from Christine and her sister,’ Isaac said.
‘You’ve met them both. Attractive, educated, well-dressed. His assistant wasn’t any of those. He told me that the last time he’d been in London was five years ago. Any way of checking if that’s true?’
‘Not unless the man admits to it. Bridget said. ‘What about the woman in the office? Any chance of her talking?’
‘Unlikely. If the tattoos on the knuckles are any indication, she’s been on the wrong side of the track on more than one occasion. She was polite to me, but only because she had to be. And Hislop looks like he can’t be trusted not to do a quick respray on a stolen car.’
‘Larry, any benefit in you and Wendy going up to Liverpool, giving them both the third degree?’ Isaac asked.
‘Not for me,’ Wendy said. ‘I’ve got to meet with Christine Mason again. We need confirmation as to whether Archibald Marshall was telling us the truth or feeding us a line.’
‘What he told us will be true,’ Isaac said.
‘Why do you say that?’
‘He knows you’ll check with her. He’s played it well, de
stroyed our case against him, protected the woman. She’ll not be the same the next time you meet her.’
‘Even so, I intend to.’
***
Isaac had made the trip out to the hospital to see how Janice Montgomery, the mother of Matilda and Barry, was faring. It had been a short visit, as Stanley Montgomery had seen him arrive and had reminded him that it was a family matter, his wife was his responsibility, and that the police fishing for information about anything untoward, or an innuendo, an aside from his wife about an unrevealed truth, was not going to happen. The woman was unconscious, under medication and unlikely to see out the night.
And that was how it was: at one thirty in the morning, when the hospital was at its quietest, Janice Montgomery passed away, the only person at her side, her husband. The man had protected her all her life, or so he believed, but in the end, time and illness and heartbreak had sealed her fate.
Isaac learnt later in the day that Stanley Montgomery had wept uncontrollably at his wife’s passing. Isaac felt sorrow for the man, empathy, even though neither liked nor respected the other.
Due to the woman’s integral position in the murder investigation, she would be subjected to an autopsy.
Janice Montgomery’s death raised ethical questions about how Homicide would continue to investigate a man who had lost two children and a wife in a short space of time, yet could still be a murderer.
Isaac met up with his senior, Chief Superintendent Goddard, a man of wisdom and experience. Goddard’s office up on the top floor of the building commanded a view out over the city, whereas Homicide’s two levels below looked out on a wall across the road.
‘Could he have killed his son?’ Goddard asked, from his side of the desk.
‘Stanley Montgomery is an anachronism. He has an old-fashioned view on morality, a need to control his family, yet he protected them, and clearly loved his wife and daughter.’
‘The son?’
‘He had disappointed him.’
‘No contact?’
‘None that we know of, although our only source on that is Stanley himself. And he’s not likely to tell us, not if he’s guilty, or even if he’s innocent.’
DCI Isaac Cook Box Set 2 Page 82