The Fifth Suspect

by Robert McNeil

  Fleming fished Nielson’s army photograph out of his pocket. ‘You’re in this photograph with him and four other men. It was taken in Afghanistan in 2002. You served there with The Royal Anglian Regiment in Kabul.’

  Trenchard hesitated before saying, ‘Yes, yes of course I did. But that was years ago. We regularly posed for photographs. I never knew half the time who the others in the photos were.’

  Fleming pointed out Nielson. ‘You didn’t know him at all?’

  ‘I’m afraid not.’

  ‘What about the others in the picture?’

  Trenchard reached across and took the photograph from Fleming. He peered at it closely for a minute before handing it back. ‘I’m afraid not. In fact, I can’t even remember that being taken… sorry.’

  ‘Two of them were killed in action later in the year. Eddie Slater and Tim Banks. Remember the names?’

  ‘Afraid not.’

  ‘Another man, Martin Cook, emigrated to Australia in 2003.’

  Trenchard shook his head. ‘Name doesn’t ring a bell.’

  ‘And this chap, Giles Bonner?’

  Trenchard took a moment then shook his head again. ‘Can’t say I remember the name, sorry.’

  Fleming slipped the photograph back into his pocket. ‘It was a long time ago. You must have come across hundreds of people in the army. You wouldn’t remember them unless they were fairly close, I suppose.’

  ‘Yes, quite. I didn’t even keep in touch with men from the same company after I left. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to help.’

  ‘You left the army soon after your tour in Afghanistan, didn’t you?’

  Trenchard frowned. ‘I did, yes. I don’t want to appear rude, but I do have some work I need to get on with, if you’ll excuse me.’ He rose to signify that the meeting was at an end. He held out his hand. ‘I’m sorry, again, I was unable to be of any help.’

  Fleming shook his hand. ‘Don’t worry. I didn’t really think you would. It was a slim chance that you might have been able to throw some light on Nielson’s army background. Sometimes the slightest clue from someone’s past is enough to steer an investigation in another direction.’

  Trenchard nodded. ‘Well, good luck.’

  On his way to see Freya, Fleming reflected on his meeting with Trenchard. He had a feeling the man was holding something back. And he seemed anxious to avoid talking about why he’d left the army.

  43

  Fleming hadn’t really expected to get much from Charles Trenchard. Following up on an old army photograph was a bit of a slim lead. Still, the meeting had been interesting. Was he imagining it, or had Trenchard been a little too quick to say he didn’t know Nielson? Was there a slight hesitation when he saw the photograph, and when he’d pointed out Giles Bonner? Fleming shook his head. Maybe my imagination is getting the better of me. He pushed the thoughts out of his mind and tried to think of what he was going to say to Freya as he pulled up outside her house.

  A few minutes later, he was seated in an easy chair in the room Freya used as her office. She sat opposite him and closed the file on her knees. ‘It’s only just over a week since I last saw you, Alex. How have you been since then?’ Her voice was soft and comforting.

  Fleming shrugged. He still didn’t know what to say. ‘Any strong coffee on the go?’ he asked, glancing towards the pot on the coffee table.

  Freya looked into Fleming’s bloodshot eyes. ‘One too many last night?’

  Fleming nodded.

  Freya took a deep breath. ‘I told you that you should only drink in moderation,’ she reminded him as she poured two cups.

  She waited until Fleming helped himself to sugar before speaking. ‘Alex, when you rang a few days ago you sounded distressed… strange. What happened?’

  ‘Jimmy Calder… he’s out of prison.’

  ‘Yes, you told me. You said you weren’t sure why you’d gone to Edinburgh. Was it to see him?’

  ‘A friend rang me to tell me that Calder was there.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I wanted to confront him…’

  ‘What happened?’

  Fleming shrugged. ‘I didn’t see him.’

  ‘So, nothing happened?’

  ‘Not directly… except…’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I think a reporter told Calder I was in Edinburgh and the next day he disappeared.’

  ‘You went to Edinburgh to confront Calder and he disappears.’ Freya hesitated before continuing. ‘This doesn’t look good, Alex, does it?’ she whispered gently. ‘You told me last time we met that it would be very satisfying to take your anger out on him. Are you sure you didn’t see him?’

  ‘No, I didn’t,’ Fleming said wearily. He knew what Freya was thinking.

  ‘Okay, Alex. You didn’t see him and he’s disappeared. Why did you ring me?’

  ‘I didn’t really know what I was going to do if I did see him. I went to stake out the hostel where he was staying. I kept watch for hours but there was no sign of him. I rang the hostel eventually and they told me he wasn’t there. I went back to my hotel. I was worried about the thoughts going through my head. I began to wonder if I would have killed him. A part of me wanted to.’

  ‘But you didn’t, Alex, did you. Sometimes we all have irrational thoughts. We say things we don’t really mean. You were angry. How many times have you heard the relatives of murder victims say they’d like to see the killer shot or hanged? Do they really mean it? It’s actually part of the human condition to act and think irrationally at times. Particularly when tired, stressed, or angry.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right. It was an irrational thing to do to go to Edinburgh in the first place.’ Fleming hesitated. ‘The thing is, the reporter I think tipped Calder off wrote an article saying he’d disappeared just after I arrived in town. A copy was sent to my boss.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘It’s a she.’

  Freya smiled. ‘Okay, what did she say?’

  ‘She wasn’t best pleased and told me she might end up having to suspend me if Calder isn’t found.’

  ‘What will you do, Alex?’

  ‘Carry on with the investigation I’m working on and see if I can find Calder to prove he’s safe.’

  ‘Is that wise? I mean… if people knew you were looking for him?’

  ‘They won’t.’

  Bill Watson had heard Fleming was out for the morning so he decided to do a bit of stirring. He sauntered along to where Logan and Anderson were sitting at their desks. He nodded at Logan. ‘Got a minute, Harry?’

  Logan was taken aback. Watson didn’t usually spend the time of day with Fleming’s team. ‘Yeah, sure.’

  Watson wandered off in the direction of the coffee machine. Logan rose from his desk to follow, shrugged and raised his eyebrows in surprise at Anderson.

  ‘How are you getting on with young Fleming?’ Watson asked when Logan had joined him.

  Logan wondered what this was about. ‘Fine… just fine.’

  ‘Keep you informed of everything going on?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Did he tell you why he went to Edinburgh?’

  ‘Some business he had to attend to… personal, he said.’

  ‘Did he tell you about his background?’

  Logan shrugged. ‘No, why should he?’

  ‘Turns out he witnessed his mother being murdered twenty-three years ago. A guy called Jimmy Calder. Did he mention him to you?’

  Logan’s eyes were wide open in surprise. ‘No.’

  ‘I had a call from Police Scotland. Calder was released on life licence a couple of weeks ago. He was staying in a hostel in Edinburgh and disappeared the day after Fleming turned up there.’

  Logan wasn’t sure what to say. ‘So why are you telling me this?’ he eventually asked.

  ‘Seems your boss doesn’t tell you everything,’ Watson said tapping the side of his nose with his forefinger.

  Logan frowned. ‘Why did Police Scotland ring you
with this information?’

  ‘They think Calder may turn up on our patch… possibly Reading. Thought you ought to know,’ Watson drawled as he walked away with a smirk.

  ‘What was all that about?’ Anderson asked when Logan returned to his desk looking serious.

  ‘Oh, nothing,’ Logan replied. ‘Just a bit of information.’

  Anderson appeared far from convinced.

  44

  Fleming tried ringing Logan and Anderson but both phones were engaged. He drove straight home from Freya’s instead of going to the office, then took a taxi to the station in Oxford.

  He tried Logan’s number again while he was waiting for his train. This time Logan picked up. ‘Major Crime Unit, Logan speaking.’

  ‘Hi, Harry. Listen, I’ve had a change of plan and won’t be in until early evening now. Can you do the briefing meeting? I’ll catch up with you when I get back.’

  ‘Sure. Where are you off to?’

  ‘Popping into London to see someone.’

  ‘This to do with the case, boss?’

  Fleming hesitated. ‘Sort of… I mean it might have a bearing on it. I’ll explain later. Might have a bit more information by then.’

  There was a long pause before Logan spoke again. ‘How did your meeting with Charles Trenchard go?’

  ‘Bit of a waste of time. Says he didn’t know Nielson at all.’

  ‘Okay. See you later, boss.’

  Fleming cut the call and was in London just over an hour later. He took the tube down to Westminster and squinted against the bright sunlight as he emerged from the underground. He waited for the traffic lights to change then strode across the road and down past the Houses of Parliament to the first entrance into Victoria Tower Gardens. Carl Yapp had agreed to meet him at three o’clock by the path that overlooked the River Thames. He’d be wearing a light grey suit.

  Fleming spotted him a few yards down the path leading towards Lambeth Bridge. He was leaning over the wall looking out at some barges moving slowly down river. Smoke from his cigarette drifted lazily over his head in the still air.

  ‘Mr Yapp?’ Fleming asked as he approached.

  Yapp turned slowly after flicking his cigarette butt into the river below. ‘Chief Inspector Fleming I presume,’ he drawled.

  Fleming noticed he didn’t offer a hand. ‘Yes, I’d like to ask you a few questions about the claim you made about police corruption.’

  ‘Hold on there, Fleming. Let’s get this straight: I didn’t claim there were bent cops. I simply told Superintendent Temple that my source had made the allegation. All I wanted was a statement.’

  ‘Fine. Who is this source?’

  Yapp looked thoughtful. He turned and leaned back over the wall as a police launch raced up river leaving a white wake behind it. ‘You could be one of three things, Fleming.’

  ‘I’m not with you.’

  ‘You could be conducting enquiries into the claim. You could be the copper who’s harassing my source over the Nielson murder. Or… you could be one of the bent cops who wants to find out who’s spilling the beans on them. Maybe even do a deal. Which are you, Fleming?’

  Fleming smiled. Yapp had narrowed down the field of possible sources. You could be the copper who’s harassing my source over the Nielson murder. Eric Rainer or Damien Potts, Fleming thought. ‘I’m just a cop doing my job, which happens to be investigating a murder.’

  ‘So why did you want to see me?’

  ‘Because you are now of interest to me–’

  ‘Really, how come?’

  ‘Because I think I know who your source is, and he happens to be a suspect.’ Fleming took a guess. ‘So how was Damien Potts when you saw him?’

  Yapp stiffened. ‘Who?’

  ‘Come on, Mr Yapp, you know full well who I’m talking about. Potts used to work for Nielson before doing a stretch for killing a guy called Joe Cobb. Potts has recently been released on parole.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Nielson was killed shortly after. Potts might have had a motive. He’s a pretty screwed-up guy with a serious chip on his shoulder. I’m pretty sure he would own up to speaking to you if I pulled him in for questioning and told him you’d pointed me in his direction.’

  Yapp lit another cigarette and took a deep drag. Smoke drifted from his mouth when he next spoke. ‘What if I did see him?’

  ‘I want to know what he told you.’

  ‘Ask him.’

  ‘I’m asking you, and you now appear to be connected to a possible suspect. You could talk to me here, or I could take you in for questioning.’

  Yapp sneered. ‘I’m not legally obliged to answer your questions.’

  ‘You are if I arrest you.’

  ‘Oh yeah? On what grounds?’

  ‘Obstructing a police officer in the course of his duty.’

  ‘How do you make that out?’

  ‘Refusing to answer my questions could be seen as hindering my investigation.’

  ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Or how about wasting police time?’

  Yapp appeared suddenly less sure of himself. ‘I’m not wasting police time. Look, all Potts said was that Ronnie Nielson had told him there were some bent cops in the Met on the take from him. Potts reckoned they were now working for Thames Valley Police. He didn’t have any names.’

  ‘And you believed all that crap? No evidence? No names? Just say so? I can’t believe you were taken in by that.’

  Yapp shrugged. ‘I thought I’d stir the pot a bit and see if anything came to the surface.’

  ‘That’s wasting police time,’ Fleming reminded him.

  ‘I was very careful not to make any claims of corruption. I simply said someone else had made the allegations and asked for a response.’

  ‘Shit stirring based on a known criminal’s word alone. Is that how you make a living, Mr Yapp?’

  ‘Okay… it was a bad idea, I know. But, for what it’s worth, Potts was adamant he didn’t kill Nielson.’

  Fleming shook his head in disbelief. ‘He was hardly likely to tell you he did, was he.’

  Yapp shrugged and tossed his cigarette butt over the wall into the river. ‘We done then?’

  ‘For now. A word of warning though, I’d think very carefully before you run any more unfounded stories.’

  ‘Are you threatening me?’

  ‘Not at all, just giving you some friendly advice.’

  Yapp waited until Fleming was out of sight and pulled out his mobile phone. He didn’t like being threatened. If nothing else, he’d drop the bastard in it. He tapped in the numbers for Superintendent Temple.

  45

  Logan was still at his desk when Fleming returned from London. It had been a long day. Anderson had gone home. The office was quiet and empty. Fleming fetched two coffees from the coffee machine and sat at Anderson’s desk opposite Logan who was tapping away on his keyboard.

  ‘Coffee, Harry?’ Fleming asked, pushing a cup across the desk.

  Logan stopped typing and reached for the drink. ‘Thanks. How was your day?’

  ‘Tiring. How about you?’

  ‘Interesting.’

  ‘So how did the briefing meeting go?’

  ‘Chief constable’s been on the warpath again. He’s worried about this corruption publicity and the fact we seem to be making slow progress on the Nielson case.’

  ‘Nothing new to report?’

  ‘Yes, but the first bit of news doesn’t help us.’

  ‘Oh?’

  Logan stretched his legs under his desk and leaned back in his chair. ‘Forensics got back to us. There was no trace of Nielson’s blood on Hayden’s clothes. So there’s no forensic evidence either on Nielson’s boat or in Hayden’s house to link him to the crime. I guess that rules him out as a suspect.’

  Fleming frowned. ‘Most likely. But we need to keep an open mind. He had a motive, and the opportunity…’ Fleming’s voice trailed off as he suddenly realised they had missed something.

&nbs
p; ‘What?’

  ‘We haven’t checked whether his car turns up anywhere near Bourne End. And we didn’t check with neighbours to see if anyone saw him leave the house on the night of the murder. How could we have overlooked that?’

  ‘Because it seemed pretty obvious he wasn’t in the frame?’ Logan offered.

  ‘There’s that, but the lack of forensic evidence isn’t entirely conclusive. Best get Naomi to check out CCTV footage and Hayden’s neighbours. In fact, we ought to have done this before. Get her to list all the car registrations picked up near Bourne End on the night of the murder. Run a check to find the owners and get them all interviewed.’

  ‘Bloody hell, boss, just when we think we can cross Hayden off the list of suspects, you think of another angle that puts him back on it. Temple and the chief constable will be ecstatic. They’re going to think you have a one-track mind and that you’re hell-bent on nailing Hayden.’

  Fleming shrugged. ‘Being thorough, that’s all.’

  ‘Oh, by the way, talking about CCTV footage, the second piece of news is a bit more encouraging. We have a result.’

  Fleming leaned across the desk. ‘And?’

  ‘Guess what? Eric Rainer’s car was spotted in a public car park in Bourne End on the night of the murder. He’s seen getting out of the car and walking off in the direction of the river.’

  ‘Time?’

  ‘Half past eight.’

  ‘Well I’ll be–’

  ‘That’s not all,’ Logan continued, ‘Naomi had a hunch and went to see Mrs Dobbs again. She wanted to check if she had seen Rainer that night. Turns out that Mrs Dobbs got into a bit of a flap. She admitted receiving a phone call from Rainer on the night of the murder. He asked her if she knew if Nielson was at home or on his boat. She hadn’t mentioned it before because she didn’t want to get Rainer into any trouble. She was sure he couldn’t have had anything to do with Nielson’s murder.’

  ‘Good for Naomi,’ Fleming whispered. ‘We’ll pull Rainer in first thing. In the meantime, get someone to keep an eye on him in case Mrs Dobbs thinks she’s doing him a favour by warning him. Looks like we could have our man. Good news for Temple and the chief constable. But still get Naomi to run the other checks, just in case.’