The Fifth Suspect

by Robert McNeil

‘Are Sergeant Logan and the pathologist here yet?’ Fleming enquired.

  ‘Yes, arrived about ten minutes ago, sir. Inspector Duggan is here as well… local CID,’ he added by way of explanation. ‘They’re on the boat.’

  Fleming nodded and climbed up onto the deck of the Done Deal as DS Harry Logan appeared from below. ‘Thought I heard your voice, boss. Bit of a mess down there.’ He pulled back the elastic hood of his overalls to sweep a hand through his thinning grey hair.

  Fleming had taken an instant liking to the ex-army burly sergeant that Superintendent Liz Temple had assigned to him. Logan had joined the Thames Valley Police Major Crime Unit, the MCU, a few weeks earlier at the same time as Fleming. Temple had told him he was a good reliable officer. Recently turned fifty, he had the wrinkled weather-beaten face of a man who had spent most of his life outdoors.

  Logan looked from Fleming’s bloodshot eyes, to the hint of dark stubble on his chin then the lack of a tie. ‘Rough night, boss?’ he enquired with a smile.

  ‘Could say that, Harry. Couldn’t sleep and had one whisky too many.’ Fleming then fell silent. Memories of the day he had to run for his life after seeing Jimmy Calder knife his mother still haunted him. He could vividly recall the horror of Calder behind him and the excruciating pain when the car hit him. His mother had died, but Fleming had been lucky. He’d only suffered a few broken bones, cuts and bruises. There was no permanent damage other than the mental scars. Calder had received a life sentence. Last night had been one of those nights when Fleming had tried to blot it all out with whisky.

  Logan seemed to note Fleming’s change in mood. ‘Oh… right.’

  ‘Where are Duggan and the pathologist?’ Fleming asked.

  ‘Down below.’

  As Logan spoke, two men emerged on deck. ‘Ah, DCI Fleming?’ Duggan said. ‘This is Dr Kumar, the Home Office registered forensic pathologist. I’m afraid it’s a bit crowded down there.’ Duggan nodded towards the cockpit door. ‘The SOCOs are all over the place.’

  Nathan Kumar smiled and shook Fleming’s hand. ‘Hello, Alex. How’s the job in the MCU?’

  ‘Just promoted. This is my first case.’

  ‘Missing the Met?’

  ‘Can’t say I am.’

  ‘You two know each other?’ Duggan enquired.

  ‘We do,’ Fleming replied. He knew Kumar from his time in the Met. Kumar was of Indian descent, a tall slim man of forty-five with dark grey hair. They’d been on first-name terms ever since they first met.

  ‘What have we got here?’ Fleming asked, looking at Duggan.

  ‘Chap called Nielson, Ronnie Nielson. Has a house nearby and moors his boat here when he’s up from London apparently. Stabbed to death. Body’s down in the galley. Local woman found him. Peggy Dobbs. His cleaner.’

  ‘She around for me to speak to?’

  ‘She was in shock. I had her seen by a doctor. One of my men took her to the station in Marlow.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Oh, and there was a jogger at the scene,’ Duggan added. ‘He found Mrs Dobbs in a bit of a state after she’d discovered the body. We’ve got his name and address if you want to speak to him as well.’

  ‘We will.’

  Fleming paused. ‘Was Nielson married?’

  ‘Cleaner reckons he was divorced last year.’

  ‘Better get someone to trace the ex-wife and any other known relatives. Make sure they’re informed.’

  Duggan nodded acknowledgement.

  Fleming looked at the cockpit door. ‘Any sign of a forced entry?’

  Duggan shook his head. ‘No, the door was open.’

  ‘Lights?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Were any lights left on, or were they switched off?’

  ‘Er… I didn’t ask the cleaner. They were off when I arrived.’

  Kumar glanced towards the cabin door. ‘I’ve been waiting for you, before I touched the body. Okay to have a look now?’ he asked Fleming.

  ‘Sure, go ahead.’

  Fleming turned to Duggan. ‘Get the house cordoned off and put an officer on duty there. And we could do with a sign on the towpath asking for anyone who uses it regularly to come forward. Someone may have seen something.’

  ‘I’ll get on to it right away, sir.’ Duggan turned to speak into his radio.

  Fleming looked at Logan who seemed to be studying the water over the side of the boat. ‘See anything?’

  ‘Not a thing. Water’s black as night.’

  ‘Let’s have a look down below then shall we?’

  They made their way down the steps into the saloon area. Four SOCOs were busy there. Two of them were on hands and knees carrying out an inch-by-inch examination of the floor.

  Fleming pointed to the door behind them. ‘Have a look in there while I check in here,’ he said to Logan.

  There was a large U-shaped seating area in the saloon with a table fixed to the floor in the middle. The seats and floor were smeared in blood, and some of the wood panelling on the walls bore the signs of a violent struggle.

  Opposite the seating area were some storage cupboards and shelves. Fleming walked across and scanned the shelves. There was a postcard on one of them. Fleming picked it up with his gloved hand and sniffed the card. It had the distinct smell of perfume. There was just a brief note. Looking forward to seeing you next week – need me to bring anything? Call me. It was signed, Emma.

  Fleming stuck his head round the door leading down to the galley. Kumar was kneeling over the body. He looked up at Fleming. ‘Looks like he received a severe blow to the head with a blunt instrument. The SOCOs found a large glass ashtray on the floor. Could have been the offending weapon.’

  Fleming nodded. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Two stab wounds to the front. One in the stomach and one in the chest. Two more in his back for good measure. I’d say the murder weapon was a broad-bladed knife.’

  ‘Can you give me an approximate time of death?’

  Kumar frowned. ‘I’d say he’s been dead for over ten hours. Between eight and midnight last night, I’d guess. I can fill you in with more detail once I’ve done the post-mortem.’

  Fleming stepped over the body and went into the galley. He spotted a wooden knife block on the counter that had been knocked on its side. One of the knives was missing. ‘Looks like the murderer used one of these,’ he said, over his shoulder at Kumar. ‘Does this match the width of the stab wounds?’ Fleming pointed to the empty slot in the knife block.

  Kumar rose to his feet and peered over Fleming’s shoulder. ‘Don’t miss a trick, Alex, do you?’ He squinted. ‘At first sight, yes, but hard to tell for sure until I’ve done the post-mortem.’

  Logan suddenly appeared. ‘Found a couple of things in the aft cabin. Cosy little place. Double bed, en suite toilet, shower. Either Mr Nielson liked to wear perfume, or he had female company. There’s a woman’s toilet bag and a bottle of perfume there. Calvin Klein Eternity. Can’t find any papers, documents, wallet, money, or a mobile phone anywhere. Oh, there’s what looks like a laptop case, but no sign of a laptop.’

  Fleming nodded. ‘There’s a postcard on one of the shelves in the saloon. It has a hint of scent on it. Probably the same as the perfume you found. Better put it in an evidence bag.’

  ‘Any sign of the murder weapon?’ Logan asked.

  ‘No, but I’ve a fair guess where it came from. There’s a knife missing from the galley. We’ll need to get the river dredged to see if it’s been thrown overboard.’

  Kumar had gathered up his things and made to leave. ‘I’ll let you have my report as soon as I can, Alex. Good luck with the investigation.’

  Fleming smiled. ‘Thanks. I’ll be in touch.’

  Back up on deck, Fleming noticed some dried mud on the decking. ‘Better make sure the SOCOs take a sample of that,’ he said to Logan. ‘Just in case.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Any thoughts?’ Fleming asked.

  Logan pondered for a moment. ‘Co
uld have been a random opportunistic robbery. Door was open, no wallet, money or mobile phone on the boat – possible missing laptop…’

  Fleming looked curious. ‘I’m not so sure. Seems rather violent for a chance robbery. Maybe someone wanted to make it look like that.’

  ‘Could be.’

  ‘Anyway, I’m going to the station in Marlow to speak to the cleaner. Then I want to have a look round Nielson’s house. You go and see the jogger. I’ll see you back at HQ later.’

  Fleming made his way back to his car. He felt uneasy as he drove off. The last thing he needed was a murder case where the victim had been stabbed to death.

  5

  Peggy Dobbs was sitting in the witness interview room at Marlow Police Station. Her hands shook as she reached out for the cup of tea Fleming had brought her. Her face was ashen and bloodshot eyes peered at him anxiously.

  Fleming sat opposite her and placed his cup on the table. ‘Tea okay?’ he asked politely. ‘I’m afraid it’s just from the vending machine.’

  ‘Y… yes,’ Peggy stammered.

  ‘I know you’ve had a bit of a shock. You’re here voluntarily as a witness. You can go at any time if you don’t feel up to answering any questions. But it is important we do this as soon as we can. Memory tends to fade if we leave things too long.’

  Peggy laughed nervously. ‘Goodness, my memory isn’t brilliant at the best of times. I often wander up the stairs and then ask myself what it is I’ve come up for. But you go ahead and ask what you want.’ Peggy’s hands were still shaking when she lifted her cup to take a sip of tea and some spilled onto the table. ‘Oh dear, look what I’ve done now. I can’t stop shaking.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Fleming said gently. ‘You sure you’re all right?’

  ‘Yes… yes, of course. I’m fine.’ She blew steam from her cup and took a sip. She seemed to feel more at ease in Fleming’s presence.

  ‘Perhaps you could just talk me through what happened – what you saw. Take your time. I know it must all be distressing for you.’

  Peggy smiled weakly. ‘I set off from home to go to the boat – Mr Nielson’s boat. He wanted me to do some cleaning…’

  ‘When did he ask you?’

  ‘Oh, last night. He phoned to ask if I could come this morning before he set off for London.’

  ‘What time was that?’

  ‘Not long before six. Yes, that would be it. I was about to put my dinner on. I always have it around six.’

  ‘How did he sound? I mean – did he sound his usual self?’

  ‘I’m… I’m not sure…’

  ‘Did he sound anxious… in a hurry? Could you sense if anyone was with him? Hear any sounds in the background that might have been caused by another person?’

  ‘No, he sounded perfectly normal. I couldn’t say I heard anyone else there.’

  ‘How long had you known Mr Nielson?’ Fleming asked.

  ‘About five years. I’ve cleaned for him all that time. I do his house and the boat.’

  ‘What did he do for a living?’

  ‘He owns a club in London – Nielson’s Cellar. He took it on when his father died – it was a car accident. He told me all about it some time back.’

  ‘Did he get many regular visitors to the house or the boat that you know of?’

  ‘People came and went all the time. He had lots of parties at the house.’

  ‘Would you know any of these people?’

  ‘Oh, no. I had no idea who his social contacts were, except…’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘A couple of weeks ago there was a woman with him on the boat. Now what was it he called her…?’ Peggy’s eyes looked up at the ceiling as though for inspiration. ‘I told you my memory was bad.’ She frowned. ‘Sorry, I’m not good at remembering names.’

  ‘Was it Emma?’ Fleming prompted.

  ‘Yes! Yes, that’s it. Emma!’

  ‘Had you seen her before – at the house maybe?’

  ‘No, no I can’t say that I did.’

  ‘Can you describe her?’

  ‘Let me see now. She was probably medium height, blonde hair – about shoulder length. Attractive woman, maybe mid-forties. Seemed very classy.’

  Fleming formed a mental image in his mind. ‘Did you see anyone else on the towpath as you made your way to the boat?’

  ‘Yes. There was a jogger. Startled the life out of me as he came running up behind me.’

  ‘So, he was running towards the boat.’

  ‘Goodness. How did you know that?’

  ‘Because you were walking towards the boat and he came up behind you.’

  Peggy nodded. ‘I can see why you’re a detective, dear.’

  Fleming smiled at her naivety. ‘And he came back later – saw you just after you’d found the body?’

  ‘Yes, he stopped and asked if I was all right. It was him who phoned the police. I was in too much of a state to do anything.’

  ‘So, when you got to the boat, what did you find?’

  ‘The cabin door was open so I thought Mr Nielson was down below. But it felt strange. There was no sign of life. No music playing. Mr Nielson always had music blaring when he was on the boat. I shouted down to tell him I was there, but there was no answer. I… I went down into the saloon. There were flies everywhere. Blood all over the seats and the floor. It was awful. I pushed open the door to the galley and… and there he was…’ Peggy shivered and began to cry.

  ‘It’s okay, Mrs Dobbs. Take your time. I know this isn’t easy for you. But you’re doing fine. Can I get you some more tea?’

  ‘Yes… yes, please,’ Peggy sobbed.

  Fleming put a reassuring hand on Peggy’s shoulder as he left to go to the vending machine. He returned shortly after with a fresh cup.

  ‘Thanks,’ Peggy whispered. ‘You’re very kind.’

  ‘So, after you found the body, you came straight back up on deck where the jogger saw you again?’

  ‘That’s right… and he rang for the police.’

  ‘Were there any lights on in the boat when you arrived?’

  ‘I’m not sure. It’s all such a blur. I don’t think so.’

  ‘Mrs Dobbs, you’ve been really brave and helpful. Thank you. There’s one final question. When was the last time you saw Mr Nielson alive?’

  ‘It was a couple of nights ago. I was taking a walk along the towpath and I heard music from the boat. I didn’t stay but popped my head in to say hello.’

  ‘Did he have anyone with him?’

  ‘No… he was busy at the table in the saloon working on his laptop. He looked startled when I appeared, a bit distracted. That’s why I didn’t stay.’

  ‘Thanks. There’s one more thing. We need to take your fingerprints and a DNA sample, if you don’t mind–’

  Peggy’s eyes widened in shock. ‘My goodness, why? You surely don’t think I had anything to do with it?’

  ‘No, no, of course not,’ Fleming reassured her. ‘It’s so we can eliminate them from any other samples we find at the crime scene, that’s all.’

  ‘Oh… I see.’

  ‘Once you’ve finished your tea and we get that done, someone will run you home. Would you like a WPC to stay with you tonight?’

  ‘That would be nice. If it’s not too much trouble…’

  ‘No trouble at all, Mrs Dobbs. You take care now.’

  Walking back to his car, Fleming mulled over his priorities. Number one – he needed to trace the woman called Emma.

  On her way home, Peggy Dobbs bit her bottom lip and frowned. She wondered if she had done the right thing in not mentioning the other phone call she’d received on the night of the murder…

  6

  Fleming showed his warrant card to the uniformed officer standing outside Nielson’s house. Duggan and the SOCOs were already there.

  ‘Nice house,’ Duggan observed as he appeared from the kitchen. ‘I’ve had a quick look around, but nothing seems out of the ordinary.’

  The hous
e was detached on a small plot, not far from the river. Expensive, Fleming thought.

  ‘I gather you’ve just joined the MCU?’ Duggan queried. ‘You’ll have met Bill Watson no doubt. He’s a DCI. Been there a while. I knew him vaguely, years ago, when I was with the Met. He was an inspector then. Bit of a tough cookie by all accounts – old school. Had a reputation for not always playing by the rules. Got results though.’

  Fleming did know Bill Watson, and Duggan’s description didn’t surprise him. He was a bull of a man, about six feet tall. He had close-cropped receding grey hair, a full face and body to match. He always undid his shirt top button and tie to relieve the pressure round his thick neck, and his suits looked too tight on him. He hadn’t exactly offered a welcoming hand to Fleming on his arrival in the MCU. Liz Temple had warned Fleming that Watson was not exactly the friendliest of people and that there might be some friction.

  There was. Fleming had replaced DCI Anthony Hayden who retired due to ill health. Temple had told Fleming that his appointment had not gone down well with Watson who had expected his friend, DI Frank Jardine, to fill the vacant post and that Watson had exchanged words with her over it.

  Fleming didn’t want to get into a conversation with Duggan about Watson. ‘Yes, I know him,’ he said. ‘You might as well get back to the station while I have a look around.’

  The house was in a quiet setting with private gardens. Fleming noted how tidy and clean all the rooms were. Peggy Dobbs had obviously been at work here. Fleming wandered through the house watching the SOCOs.

  There were a couple of photos on top of a bookcase in the living room. One was of a wedding. Fleming picked it up and thought of his late wife. He’d loved Trish dearly. She was pregnant four years after they had married but had caught flu before the baby was born and complications developed. She, and therefore the baby, had died from pneumonia. That was five years earlier.

  He took a deep breath and studied the photograph in his hands. There were four people on it, Nielson, his ex-wife, and a man who looked about the same age as Nielson. Maybe the best man, Fleming guessed. There was another man, much older. Nielson’s father before the car accident, or his wife’s father maybe?