The Fifth Suspect

by Robert McNeil

  ‘Ronnie told me that the bent cops were with the Met, but they transferred to Thames Valley Police.’

  Yapp was becoming more dubious by the minute. ‘Sounds a bit far-fetched.’

  Potts shrugged.

  ‘Have you any proof?’ Yapp pressed.

  ‘Ronnie told me one day when he’d had a few drinks that he had some cops in his pocket.’

  ‘Ronnie told you! That’s it? Just his word? You ever see him handing a package to anyone? Meeting anyone?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘For fuck’s sake, Damien, this gets thinner by the minute.’

  Potts was suddenly unsure of himself. ‘But… but Ronnie–’

  ‘Damien, there’s fuck all to go on other than your word.’ Yapp shook his head and tossed his cigarette butt into the river. ‘The police will laugh it off and say you’re a deluded, angry man who’s making this up because you think they have it in for you. You’ve got no evidence.’

  Potts shrugged again.

  Yapp was getting frustrated. ‘What are the names of these officers?’

  ‘Ronnie didn’t say.’

  Yapp drew a deep breath. ‘Damien, you’re not thinking straight. Lashing out at the police and accusing them of corruption is hardly likely to help you.’

  ‘I… I thought it might take the heat off me if the top brass were preoccupied with corruption allegations and that their officers were accused of victimising me.’

  Yapp was convinced that Potts was out of his mind. He had no evidence, and he didn’t have names. ‘I can’t do anything about your claim that the police want to set you up for Nielson’s murder.’

  ‘Fuck! I thought you could get them off my back if you ran a story on police corruption.’

  Yapp shook his head. ‘Not a chance, mate. But there’s nothing to stop me stirring things up a bit – see what comes to the surface.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I’ll get in touch with Thames Valley Police, say I’ve received allegations of corruption and ask for a statement. Best thing you can do is disappear until the dust settles.’

  37

  Watson was about to blow a gasket. He’d heard that Fleming had asked for a search of Hayden’s house and that forensics were looking for traces of Nielson’s blood on Hayden’s clothes. He was about to storm off in the direction of Fleming’s office when his phone rang. ‘Watson!’ he growled.

  ‘Is that DCI Watson of the Major Crime Unit?’ a cool voice asked.

  Watson frowned. He didn’t recognise the Scottish voice. ‘Yes,’ Watson replied guardedly. ‘Who am I speaking to?’

  ‘Chief Inspector Nichol, Lothian and Borders Police. Sorry… I should say Police Scotland. We now have a new title since all the local forces were merged a while back. Anyway, we have a bit of a problem you might be able to help us with.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yes, a guy by the name of Jimmy Calder was released on life licence from Shotts Prison a couple of weeks ago. He’s breached his licence conditions by leaving his approved address at a hostel in Leith. He’s disappeared.’

  ‘So how can I help?’

  ‘A friend of his at the hostel reckoned that Calder had a contact in Reading… an old pal from prison who was released a year ago. Calder had spoken about maybe moving there. Thought his old pal might be able to get him some work, cleaning in a club where he worked.’

  ‘You think he could be on our patch and you want us to keep an eye out for him?’

  ‘That’s about it. If you could let us know if he turns up, I’d be most grateful.’

  ‘Sure, no problem, email his details and a photograph to me and I’ll see what I can do.’

  Nichol paused for a second then cleared his throat. ‘Thing is… there’s something else you should know. It’s a bit delicate really.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘It concerns one of your colleagues, which is why I’m calling you.’

  Watson was all ears. ‘Oh?’

  ‘This chap Calder, he murdered a woman in Edinburgh twenty-three years ago. The woman’s son was twelve at the time and saw it happen. He’s now a DCI working with you. Alex Fleming–’

  ‘What!’

  ‘The thing is, I wouldn’t want a fellow detective to get into trouble.’

  ‘Why would Fleming get into trouble?’ Watson was confused, but very interested in what Nichol had to say.

  ‘I went to the hostel to question the manager and residents. It seems that Calder met a stranger in a local pub the night before he disappeared. The man warned him that Fleming was in town looking for him. Next morning, Calder was gone.’

  ‘Well, well,’ Watson muttered. He hadn’t known that Fleming had gone to Edinburgh, let alone why he would want to go there.

  ‘You can see,’ Nichol said, ‘it’s important Fleming doesn’t find out that Calder may be on your patch. He’s already up to his neck in it–’

  ‘Just because Calder disappeared when he found out that Fleming was in Edinburgh?’

  ‘It gets worse. One of the local papers ran an article about Calder’s disappearance after Fleming turned up in town… the inference being that Fleming may have been behind it. Usual press stirring things up, that’s all. But you can see it doesn’t look good.’

  Watson whistled. He’d found the skeleton in the cupboard he was looking for. He couldn’t believe his luck. ‘No, it doesn’t.’

  ‘You should also know that your boss knows about it. My boss sent her a copy of the newspaper report this morning. What she doesn’t know is that Calder may turn up in Reading. Wanted to let you know so you can watch your mate’s back.’

  ‘Yeah, sure, you can rely on me to make sure Fleming doesn’t find out. And I’ll be in touch if we find Calder.’

  Watson rang off and smiled. Getting Fleming into trouble was exactly what he wanted.

  Watson called in on Frank Jardine on his way out of the office. ‘Popping out for a while, Frank.’ Watson winked. ‘I may have found a way to get Fleming off the Nielson case. In fact, we may get lucky and get rid of him altogether. We may get you promoted into the DCI post yet.’ He left a bemused Jardine as he called over his shoulder, ‘Skeletons in the cupboard… remember?’

  Watson didn’t want to risk being seen in Long Hanborough so he drove down to Witney to find a public payphone. He dialled a number in London. The phone was picked up after a few rings. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Bill Watson here, put me on to your boss.’

  There was a few seconds’ delay before a familiar voice answered. ‘Bill, to what do I owe the pleasure?’

  ‘I need a favour…’

  ‘Sure, how can I help?’

  ‘I need to find a man by the name of Calder… Jimmy Calder. He’s on the run from Scotland and word has it that he may be heading for Reading to hook up with an old mate of his to work in a club. You’ve got contacts in the clubs around there. Any chance you could put feelers out and let me know if he turns up?’

  ‘What’s he done?’

  ‘Nothing… He’s been released from prison on a life licence and he’s disappeared from his authorised address.’

  ‘Okay, leave it to me.’

  ‘If you do find him, don’t call the office. Send me an email at home with the address. It’s important nobody else knows about this, know what I mean?’

  ‘Got you. Be in touch.’

  38

  Eric Rainer sat in interview room one with his solicitor. He watched as Logan broke the seal on a new pack of two audio cassettes and plugged them into the recorder.

  Fleming was looking through the papers on the table in front of him.

  Logan whispered, ‘All ready, boss.’

  Fleming pressed the record button and spoke. ‘This interview is being recorded. This is an interview with…’ Fleming looked at Rainer. ‘State your full name, address and date of birth please.’

  Rainer’s eyes were fixed on the table top as he answered in a quiet voice.

  Fleming continue
d, ‘I’m DCI Fleming. Also present is DS Logan and…’ He looked across the table at Rainer’s solicitor who needed no prompting.

  ‘Christopher Grimes, solicitor.’

  Fleming concluded the introductions. ‘There are no other persons present.’ He then gave the date, time the interview started, and location. He looked at Rainer and said, ‘You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’

  Before Fleming could continue, Grimes interrupted. ‘Just for the record, my client has not been arrested and is attending here voluntarily to help with your enquiries. He is therefore free to leave at any time unless you do arrest him.’

  ‘That’s correct,’ Fleming confirmed. ‘I was about to say so and thank Mr Rainer for his co-operation.’

  Rainer sat impassively, arms folded tightly across his chest.

  ‘Mr Rainer,’ Fleming began, ‘you work as a boxing instructor, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘For how long?’

  ‘Twenty-one years.’

  ‘How did you get into that?’

  ‘I boxed in the army. Saw an opportunity when I was demobbed and took it.’

  ‘Would you say you have to be an aggressive man to be a boxer?’

  ‘What’s the point of this line of questioning?’ Grimes interrupted. ‘It’s surely irrelevant to the case you’re investigating.’

  ‘Trying to establish some background about your client.’ Fleming continued, ‘You have a previous conviction for assault–’

  ‘Look here,’ Grimes objected, ‘that was twenty years ago. That has nothing to do with why he’s here today… voluntarily, I may remind you. If this ridiculous line of questioning continues I will advise my client to leave.’

  Fleming looked from Grimes to Rainer who was smirking. ‘I believe you never visited your daughter at the house when Nielson was at home. Was there a reason for that?’

  ‘We didn’t get on.’

  ‘When we last met, you described him as a bastard. You said he had it coming to him. You said you’d gladly have killed him…’

  Rainer glanced nervously at Grimes who nodded imperceptibly. ‘I was angry with him, that’s all. He bullied Sarah. He hit her if he got angry. Who wouldn’t want to see a man dead who abused his daughter? Doesn’t mean I did it.’

  ‘Can you remind me how you got the scratches on your face, Mr Rainer?’

  ‘I told you. It was from the laces of someone’s boxing glove when we were sparring.’

  ‘And you couldn’t say who?’

  Rainer shook his head. ‘How many times do I have to tell you? I was sparring with loads of the lads. I didn’t even notice until I got back into the changing room.’

  ‘You said you were at home the night Mr Nielson was murdered. Is that correct?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You absolutely sure about that?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So how can you explain the fact that a neighbour saw you leave your house at around eight p.m. and didn’t see you return?’

  Rainer shrugged. ‘They probably got the wrong date.’

  ‘There’s no question about the date. I think you’re lying, Mr Rainer.’

  ‘This is preposterous!’ Grimes exclaimed. ‘My client is here to help with your enquiries. He is not under arrest!’

  Fleming was unperturbed. ‘It would help if we knew where your client really was…’

  Grimes looked hard at Fleming. ‘I take it you have a statement from this neighbour?’

  ‘We do.’

  ‘I’d like to see it please.’

  Fleming slid a folder across the table. ‘For the purposes of the tape, I’m presenting Mr Rainer’s solicitor with document number five. This is a statement provided by a neighbour on the whereabouts of Mr Rainer on the night of Mr Nielson’s murder.’

  Grimes put on some reading glasses and read in silence. He pushed the folder back to Fleming after a few minutes.

  ‘So where were you, Mr Rainer?’ Fleming persisted.

  Rainer looked at Grimes for guidance. There was an imperceptible shake of the head.

  ‘No comment,’ Rainer said.

  ‘We’re currently checking the CCTV cameras around Bourne End. Any chance we might find your car turning up there?’ Fleming prompted.

  ‘No comment.’

  Grimes cleared his throat. ‘Are you arresting my client on suspicion of murder?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘Not at this stage. But that situation may change if we do find anything on CCTV footage to put Mr Rainer at or near to the scene of the crime.’

  Grimes gathered up his papers and stuffed them into a folder. ‘In that case we will leave.’

  Fleming nodded. ‘You are free to go.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Interview terminated at ten thirty-five.’

  Watson knocked once on Temple’s open office door and looked in. ‘Got a minute, ma’am?’

  Temple looked up from the file she was reading and took off her glasses. ‘Sure, come in, Bill.’

  Watson thought she looked tired. ‘I gather you had an email yesterday… about Alex Fleming and Jimmy Calder…’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I’ve been speaking to a DCI in Police Scotland… They’re worried Fleming might do something stupid if he finds Calder. Thought you ought to know because…’ Watson hesitated.

  ‘Yes?’ Temple prompted.

  ‘I think this business about Jimmy Calder is a distraction for Fleming. He takes off to Edinburgh in the middle of a murder investigation and could end up under suspicion if Calder isn’t found. Frank Jardine and I could take on the Nielson case.’

  ‘I hear what you say, Bill, but I don’t like changing SIOs mid-track. Let’s see what happens before we make any hasty decisions.’

  Watson shrugged. ‘Fine,’ he said, making to leave. ‘But I think you’re making a big mistake keeping him on the case. Thought I’d let you know that Frank and I are willing to take over.’

  ‘I’ll bear that in mind, Bill,’ Temple said, indicating for him to sit. ‘There’s something else I need to discuss with you. I’ve just had a reporter on the phone…’

  39

  It had been a hot day and Fleming fancied a drink after the trip to Maidenhead to interview Rainer. He’d surprised Logan and Anderson by suggesting they packed up for the evening and went to The Trout Inn at Wolvercote. Both had agreed with raised eyebrows. Fleming had not appeared to be much of a socialiser.

  Thirty minutes later, they were sitting outside on the pub terrace looking over the Thames. ‘Quite famous, this place,’ Anderson suddenly announced after taking a sip of her beer.

  ‘Oh… yeah, Bill Clinton came here when his daughter graduated,’ Logan said. ‘Some years ago.’ He clinked glasses with Anderson. ‘Impressed with my grasp of local general knowledge?’

  Anderson smiled. ‘I didn’t mean because of him. I was referring to something closer to our line of work.’

  Logan frowned. ‘What?’

  ‘Bit of a gap in your general knowledge, Sarge?’ Anderson teased.

  Logan glared at Anderson. ‘Go on then, enlighten us.’

  Fleming knew what Anderson was about to say but left it to her.

  ‘Colin Dexter… Inspector Morse!’

  Logan looked baffled. ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’

  Anderson was enthusiastic. ‘They say that Colin Dexter was a regular here and the pub features in some of his Inspector Morse novels.’

  Logan raised his eyebrows. ‘That a fact?’

  Anderson laughed. ‘Don’t you know anything, Sarge?’

  ‘I know who’s going to be getting the next round in,’ Logan retorted.

  Fleming shook his head. It never ceased to amaze him how quickly Logan and Anderson had warmed to one another. You would think they’d known each other for years the way they joked together with light-hearted banter. It
was good to see that they did get on together. He could hardly say the same about his relationship with Bill Watson.

  ‘You’re a bit quiet, boss. Everything okay?’ Logan asked.

  ‘Yeah, sure… fine. Just enjoying the entertainment.’

  Logan took a sip of his beer. ‘So, was Temple more upset about you going to Edinburgh than because we searched Hayden’s house?’

  Fleming shrugged. ‘About the same.’

  ‘But you wouldn’t have gone to Edinburgh if it wasn’t important, would you, sir?’ Anderson asked in defence. ‘She must have known why you went.’

  ‘She does now,’ Fleming said.

  Logan changed the subject. ‘And Hayden?’

  ‘She’ll get over it. She knows it had to be done. I told her we were still waiting for forensics to get back to us. She’s just upset because Matthew Upson is on her back.’

  ‘Anyone for another?’ Anderson queried.

  ‘Thought you’d never ask,’ Logan said, handing over his empty glass.

  Anderson pointed at Fleming’s glass. ‘Sir?’

  ‘Thanks, Naomi, don’t mind if I do.’

  Anderson disappeared inside to get the drinks and Logan took the opportunity to quiz Fleming. ‘This business about Edinburgh, boss… I take it that it’s nothing Naomi and I should know about? I mean if it’s personal… it’s personal. But it’s nothing to do with the case, is it?’

  ‘No, Harry. It’s nothing to do with the case.’

  ‘Okay, wanted to make sure, that’s all.’

  Anderson returned with a tray of drinks and some nuts. ‘Everything okay?’

  ‘Good timing,’ Fleming said. ‘About to go through our suspect list.’

  Logan grabbed a bag of nuts and opened them. ‘Well done, Naomi. I was feeling a bit peckish.’

  ‘Should have brought you a plate of chips,’ Anderson teased.

  Fleming laughed. ‘Can we discuss the case for a minute?’

  Logan shrugged and helped himself to some nuts.

  ‘It seems,’ Fleming said, ‘we have three potential suspects so far. There’s Anthony Hayden. He had a motive and was left on his own on the night of the murder so he could have gone to Bourne End to kill Nielson–’