DCI Isaac Cook Box Set 2

by Phillip Strang

  ‘Are you certain on this?’ Goddard asked. He was in Isaac’s office.

  ‘He could have killed his son, that’s true.’

  ‘You’re not convinced?’

  ‘Not yet. We’ve not been able to connect him to the murder scene, although his alibi was weak. And then, he’s claiming that he was responsible for his daughter’s death, but why?’

  ‘His mind was disturbed.’

  ‘We can agree on that, and no doubt the trauma he had put his family through over the years rendered them all unstable, to some extent. Barry Montgomery seems to have been the sanest of the lot in that he got away from his father.’

  ‘But selling himself doesn’t seem such a great idea.’

  ‘Not in itself, although from what we’ve been told, he was a man in control of himself. Janice Montgomery, the mother, wasn’t, but then she had a weak personality, easily led.’

  ‘Or Stanley Montgomery had beaten her into submission,’ Goddard said.

  ‘We’ve no proof of violence against the man.’

  ‘Constant brow-beating, interminable criticism of whatever she did.’

  ‘There’s no crime against him for his wife’s death, but I’ll go along with your assessment. It still doesn’t explain Matilda Montgomery’s suicide though.’

  ‘It depends on your perspective.’

  Isaac had great respect for his chief superintendent, a man of experience and clear thought.

  ‘If, as you say, Matilda Montgomery committed suicide, with no other person in the house, then what was going through her mind?’ Goddard continued.

  ‘We don’t know. There was no letter from her, unusual in a suicide.’

  ‘Why didn’t she write a letter? Have you considered that?’

  ‘Statistically, she would have been expected to.’

  ‘Statistics aside, she took time arranging her death. She may have been under great strain but she was careful to be tidy, and according to Windsor’s report, she had tied the knot in the rope with care and precision.’

  ‘Cold and passionless, some would say.’

  ‘Why? I’d say that she was a highly emotional woman who had decided on a course of action, and nothing could dissuade her. You’ve said before that her life was ordered, and that there were no broken romances, no issues at work, and that she had sufficient money in her bank account.’

  ‘Where’s this going?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘You’ve interpreted a suicide letter as a possible confession.’

  ‘But we’ve not accepted it at face value. We still need to prove it one way or the other.’

  ‘Credit to you and your team for that, but it’s raised a concern. Your focus is now on Stanley Montgomery at the expense of your other suspects.’

  ‘To some degree.’

  ‘Not some, a lot. And if I was the senior investigating officer in this case, that’s the approach that I’d be taking. The others who could have done it have alibis, weak motives, or neither the strength nor the malice to commit murder.’

  ‘There wasn’t a lot of strength required, but you’re right about the malice. A discarded woman, a hotel manager who has proven himself to be a despicable character, a husband who now knows of his wife’s involvement with the murdered man, an ex-husband of the sister who felt that Christine Mason had cheated him of fatherhood. None of them shows the necessary intent to kill.’

  ‘But Stanley Montgomery does.’

  ‘An intense man, a man with deep and hidden thoughts, a dark heart.’

  ‘Yet you say that he loved his family with intense emotion.’

  ‘His family, he may have, but he had little affection for others, those that had disappointed him.’

  ‘Barry Montgomery?’

  ‘Exactly. Stanley felt anger towards him, there was the probability of violence.’

  ‘Coming back to Matilda. The woman was smart, and from what we know, she had emotional problems.’

  ‘Everyone has issues, but yes, according to Amelia Bentham, the only person who could claim to know her, Matilda could throw up a wall if anyone got too close.’

  ‘Matilda, from what she’s read about the body in Hyde Park, is certain that it’s her brother. Possible?’

  ‘That’s what we believe. In fact, we had placed a photo in the newspapers and on the television.’

  ‘But no one came forward. Why was that?’

  ‘The body didn’t look like the Barry Montgomery that Matilda would have known. He had dyed his hair, had it cut short.’

  ‘A sister would know, and what about Amelia Bentham? Even Christine Mason and the other women he was messing around with?’

  ‘Amelia Bentham was out of the country, and Barry and Matilda Montgomery’s parents don’t have a television, not even a radio. Stanley didn’t want the wickedness, the licentiousness of the world to enter his domain.’

  ‘Matilda’s figured out that her brother’s been murdered,’ Goddard said. ‘She doesn’t know about the other people, probably doesn’t know that he’s been prostituting himself. To her, he’s the one constant in her life, the one person who understands, the one person she truly loves. The woman is still struggling with her upbringing, still racked with emotional issues, and there’s her brother, the rock in her life, the one person she can talk to, and now he’s dead.’

  ‘Are you suggesting that she killed herself because of that?’

  ‘Why not? Her brother’s dead, and she shuts down emotionally. She doesn’t know what to do, how to react, but then she starts thinking. Remember she doesn’t know about the other people in her brother’s life, apart from Amelia.’

  ‘Matilda knew that Amelia was in love with her brother.’

  ‘So she’s not blaming her. There’s only one possibility, her father.’

  ‘That’s what he had written.’

  ‘Stanley Montgomery’s letter was succinct and to the point. Matilda’s was non-existent. Other people write pages of semi-coherent nonsense, about life and love and the problems with the world, but with her, nothing.’

  ‘If she had written anything, it would have been to say that she blamed her father and that he was the murderer.’

  ‘But she couldn’t,’ Goddard said. ‘Her father was another constant in her life, even if he had not been a constant for good, and he was a man who demanded loyalty, and Matilda had to consider her mother. If she had written that letter, it would have accused her father, and she couldn’t. Detached from reality, her suicide would have been a robotic act. She wouldn’t have felt pain or suffering, just her life slipping away.’

  ‘It doesn’t make Stanley Montgomery a murderer,’ Isaac said.

  ‘I’d agree with that hypothesis. I suggest you find out who it is before too long.’

  ***

  Nick Domett, part-time male escort – if you were desperate, Wendy thought – sat across from her and Larry. His escorting activities were not of interest, his position as the principal of Gents for Hire was.

  ‘We were fellow officers once,’ Domett said. ‘Give me a break. I’ve broken no law, and I’ve helped you where I can.’

  ‘The specials?’ Larry said. ‘We can’t find out who they are. The case has gone cold, and you’re the missing link in the chain.’

  ‘I told you before, more than once. An envelope, sometimes a parcel, money inside, and where to go. That’s all I know.’

  ‘An ex-police officer is inherently nosey; you know that as well as we do.’

  ‘So what if I was nosey? If someone wants to keep their identity confidential, who am I to worry? Good money, much better than the usual, and if their demands were perverted, what concern was it of mine?’

  ‘Perverted? How do you know this? Did Colin Young tell you this?’

  ‘Not him. He was always careful in what he said, but some of the others, they like to talk from time to time. Almost a badge of honour to some of them, what happened.’

  ‘Define perverted,’ Wendy said. The three were in Domett’s office, and for o
nce, it was clean.

  ‘Whips, bondage, submission, that sort of thing.’

  ‘Is that it?’

  ‘Polite company. Do you want me to tell you more? You’ve both been around, you both know how far people can sink.’

  ‘We do,’ Larry said. He, for one, did not want Domett to recount tales of beatings, and bodily fluids, and carnal savagery. He had come across a place once before at his previous station, in the cellar of a Victorian terrace house, implements on the walls and hanging from the ceiling.

  ‘There was none of that with Colin Young, not in a cottage or a hotel room,’ Wendy said.

  ‘He wasn’t into that, not too much of it anyway. Tying up the client and humiliating him, he would have done that. It’s some of the other men I employ who are more willing.’

  ‘The same specials as Colin Young?’

  ‘Not that I’m aware of. If you’re trying to find out who they are through me, then you’re wasting your time. I just don’t know, and that’s the truth.’

  ‘And if you did, you wouldn’t tell us.’

  ‘I gave you all that I had. If you can’t find out who these men were, then either you’re not good police officers or they’ve covered their tracks well.’

  Larry did not appreciate the slur on his and Wendy’s abilities, not from a man who by his own admission had failed as a police officer, concealed the fact by pretending that a company that hired out men for sex was more profitable. And judging by the look of the office and the man, that may not have been true.

  Domett, Larry and Wendy agreed after they had left him to his phone calls and organising that night’s activities, wasn’t going to give them much more.

  ‘He’s smart enough to take his special clientele’s money, smart enough not to ask too many questions,’ Larry said.

  Wendy had to agree and nodded her head, unable to speak as she took the first bite of a McDonald’s burger. Larry knew that his wife would have a few words if she knew that he was joining his sergeant, but it did not stop him ordering one for himself.

  ***

  It wasn’t usual; in fact, Isaac couldn’t remember it happening before, but he was in a conference room at Challis Street and across from him were Gordon Windsor and Graham Picket.

  ‘I don’t appreciate your chief superintendent pulling rank,’ Picket said. ‘I’ve got an autopsy on this morning, a ninety-year-old man. You’d think they’d let him rest in peace, but his family are known tearaways, and he had plenty of money. No point opening me up when I’m gone, I can barely pay the bills as it is.’

  Isaac had never seen the man so verbose. In his office or if he was bent over a cadaver in Pathology, he said very little, only answering questions when asked.

  ‘What’s the aim of this meeting?’ Gordon Windsor asked. An agreeable and competent man, he was also a friend of Isaac’s.

  ‘We need to decide if Stanley Montgomery murdered his son, and if not, then who did.’

  ‘Agreed, but where do Picket and I come into this? We conducted our investigations, filed our reports.’

  ‘We’re not convinced that Montgomery killed his son.’

  ‘Specifics,’ Picket said. ‘The man’s confessed, so I’m told, yet you want me and Windsor to give you a hitherto hidden fact to either validate the man’s claim or to disprove it.’

  ‘In a nutshell, yes.’

  ‘Stanley Montgomery was a robust man of sixty-three. He could have killed his son. Is that what you want?’

  ‘Can we prove it wasn’t him?’

  ‘How?’ Windsor asked. ‘We submitted our reports. The rock hit the man at an oblique angle. It also leads us to believe that the person was right-handed, and that force was applied.’

  ‘Enough to kill?’

  ‘If it had hit at the right place; if the dead man hadn’t pulled away.’

  ‘Too many variables, that’s what you’re saying?’

  ‘Isaac, we’re not sure where you’re going with this. The father could have killed the son, so could any number of other people.’

  ‘Amelia Bentham?’

  ‘If this is going nowhere, I need to leave,’ Windsor said.

  ‘I’ll be right behind you,’ Picket added.

  There’s one possibility,’ Isaac said. ‘Matilda Montgomery.’

  ‘Wild speculation on your part, or is there any reason to bring her in as a possible suspect?’

  ‘She’s the one person we’ve not considered. Was she strong enough?’

  ‘She wasn’t a bodybuilder, nothing like that, but it was clear when I examined her that she was fit, as was her brother.’

  ‘She wasn’t a jogger, we know that.’

  ‘Swimming, walking, visits to the gym, that sort of thing.’

  ‘My apologies for bringing you both here today,’ Isaac said. ‘You’ve both helped a great deal.’

  ‘We said nothing new,’ Gordon Windsor said.

  ‘Neither of you did, but it helped to clarify the investigation for me.’

  ‘Matilda Montgomery?’

  ‘It’s a possibility. A tragedy if it was.’

  Chapter 31

  Amelia Bentham wasn't much help, Wendy had to admit as the two of them sat in a café not far from Pembridge Mews. It was eleven in the morning, and Amelia was anxious to get away by midday for a photo shoot. The woman’s behaviour was out of character, Wendy thought, as in the past she had always been cooperative, willing to chat, wanting to assist as best she could, but now she was holding back.

  ‘It’s been a hard week,’ Amelia, as attractive as ever, said.

  ‘Amelia, she was your friend, and now my chief inspector’s got this bee in his bonnet that Matilda could have killed her brother.’ Wendy knew that Isaac wasn’t fixated on the woman’s guilt, had purely raised the possibility, but she wasn’t going to let Amelia know that. She wanted more from the woman, and she was sure there was more: the evasive answers, avoiding eye contact, both indicators that something was amiss.

  ‘I must go,’ Amelia insisted, rising from her chair, Wendy taking hold of her shoulder, pushing her back down again.

  ‘I’m sorry, but you’re going to tell me what you’ve been trying to avoid since we came in here.’

  ‘There’s nothing, honestly.’

  Not good enough for Wendy. She had come to like the well-balanced woman from an aristocratic family who did not use that fact for her benefit, no more than her parents. She was willing to work hard, and to make her way in the world, successfully as it turned out.

  Wendy had bought a magazine from her local newsagent two days previously, and there was Amelia on the front cover, standing on a sandy beach in a bikini. Definitely not the wear for today, as outside the café there was a steady drizzle and a cold bite in the air.

  ‘I’m not willing to let Matilda be labelled a murderer, are you?’ Wendy said, hoping to get through to the woman about the seriousness of the situation.

  ‘I’ve no more to say. I must go. I thought with her father’s death that would be the end of it.’

  ‘You thought wrong. He’s admitted that he was responsible for killing his son, also that he was guilty of his daughter’s suicide, his wife’s death. We know that two of the three are not correct, not the actual act. We’ve no proof that he was in Hyde Park either. But you, Amelia, have admitted to being in love with Barry, yet you’ve never said what Matilda thought of it.’

  ‘I’ve told you. She knew about my love for him, his neutrality towards me. Just someone to sleep with when he wasn’t whoring.’

  ‘You knew about that, didn’t you? Admit it now, or I’ll know you’re lying.’

  ‘I suspected that he was. There was a woman outside Matilda’s house once, someone I hadn’t seen before.’

  ‘New evidence? Why have you kept this secret?’

  ‘It was the day before he died. I didn’t think much of it at the time. She stayed for a few minutes and then left. It’s only with you asking questions, and then confirming that Barry was putting it ab
out, that I’ve started to think more about it.’

  ‘Yet you still never came to me with this, knowing that I wouldn’t judge you and I would have followed through on it.’

  ‘I was frightened to tell you anything.’

  ‘Describe the woman.’

  ‘Blonde, mid to late forties, attractive, starting to put on weight. I didn’t look at her for too long, but I could see that she would have been a stunner in her day.’

  ‘Tall?’

  ‘Tall enough to have been a model. That’s what they want these days, tall, skinny, androgynous if they can.’

  ‘The person I have in mind wouldn’t qualify on the androgynous. You’d better make a phone call, tell the photographer that you’ll be late. Is this the woman?’ Wendy scrolled through the photos on her smartphone and showed the selected image to Amelia.

  ‘Her hair was longer, but yes, that’s her.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. I’m sorry, you’ll have to reschedule or cancel. This is serious.’

  Amelia made a call. ‘We’ve rescheduled for tomorrow,’ she said to Wendy after she had finished the call. ‘It’s a nuisance, and the makeup artist and photographer will want extra money now.’

  ‘Your money?’

  ‘No, but that’s not the point. It’s my reputation that suffers. The models who get the work are the ones who turn up on time, healthy and able to pose.’

  ‘Some don’t?’

  ‘Some of them don’t eat, or they’ve got a love affair with recreational drugs.’

  ‘The same as you?’

  ‘A casual acquaintance, that’s all.’

  ‘We can either talk here or at your place.’

  ‘Here’s fine. The memories back there are starting to get to me. I’ve considered moving, but the price of the place will be down on account of what’s happened across the road.’

  ‘The truth, not the shortened version that you’ve been feeding me,’ Wendy said.