‘Forget it,’ Watson snapped. ‘It’s either Rainer or Potts. Let’s concentrate on those two.’
Temple looked at Logan and Anderson. ‘That it then?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Logan said.
Anderson nodded agreement.
‘All right, let’s try to forget about the unfortunate business with DCI Fleming and get on with wrapping up this case.’
Back in his own office, Watson put a call through to Police Scotland. ‘Chief Inspector Nichol please. DCI Watson from Thames Valley Police speaking.’
He didn’t have to wait long before Nichol picked up. ‘Chief Inspector Nichol.’
‘Hello,’ Watson said, ‘I promised to get in touch if we found Jimmy Calder for you. I’m ringing to let you know there’s been a development.’
57
Fleming had been at home for barely an hour before Crowe and Valdez arrived. They hadn’t wasted any time, he thought. He didn’t bear any grudges towards them though. They were only doing their job.
They didn’t stay long. He offered coffee, which they declined. They took his computer and left, saying he could have it back in a few days. They already had his mobile and he wondered how long it would be before they checked with BT to get a record of incoming and outgoing calls on his landline. He decided to call Gordon Aitken to warn him.
A recorded message told him he wasn’t in the office. Fleming tried his mobile.
‘DI Aitken,’ the familiar voice said after a few rings.
‘Hi, Gordon, it’s Alex. Listen, I’m afraid the shit has hit the fan over Jimmy Calder.’
‘Oh?’
‘He was found in Reading. Unfortunately, not in one piece. Three men assaulted him outside a nightclub. They told him I’d sent them.’
‘Bloody hell, Alex…’ Gordon’s voice tailed off as though he wasn’t sure what to say next. ‘You didn’t though… did you?’
Fleming knew Aitken had to ask the question. ‘Don’t worry. I had nothing to do with it.’
‘Thank God for that! But you’re in trouble, right?’
Fleming hesitated. He wasn’t sure quite how to put this to his friend. ‘That’s why I’m ringing. Reading CID are buying Calder’s story and I’ve been suspended.’
‘Fuck! This is bad, Alex… I mean really bad.’
‘The thing is they’ve taken my mobile and computer. They’ll probably get a log of all my calls on the landline as well to check who all my recent contacts were.’
‘Shit!’ Aitken exclaimed.
‘Don’t worry, I told them I found out Calder was out of prison from a newspaper article that an old school friend had sent me. If they ask me why you called me, I’ll say you wanted to find out how I was getting on in my new job. Stick to the same story if you get asked.’
‘Okay, but what about this call if they do check your landline?’
‘Say I was ringing to let you know I’d been suspended.’
Aitken let out a deep sigh. ‘Thanks for the warning, Alex.’
‘No problem, and listen… I’m sorry about all this.’
‘Don’t worry. You take care, okay? And let me know how things work out.’
‘Sure.’ Fleming rang off.
He stared at the phone for a minute, then picked it up again. Freya was at home.
‘Hello, Freya Nash.’
‘It’s me, Alex. I don’t suppose you’re free this afternoon?’
‘As it happens, I have a cancellation. I could see you at three. Is everything all right?’
‘Not really, I’ve been suspended…’
‘Oh, Alex. What’s… Never mind. Tell me when you see me.’ She rang off.
Having phoned Freya, Fleming wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to say to her. Neither was he sure how she could help him. The phone call had been a knee-jerk reaction.
He made himself a coffee and settled into a chair to reflect on matters. The Nielson case had looked all done and dusted with Rainer’s arrest, but then Fleming had decided to release him. Logan had doubted his judgement. Now he was beginning to doubt himself. Was he being too cautious? Should he have charged him and left it to the courts to decide whether he was guilty or not? But what would it look like if he failed to get a conviction on his first case for the MCU? What if he’d got it hopelessly wrong and Watson tied the whole thing up?
Thinking of Watson turned Fleming’s thoughts to his present plight. He was angry with himself for going to Edinburgh to look for Calder and couldn’t believe how stupid that had been. It had landed him in a right old mess. And was it purely a coincidence that Calder’s assault took place a few days after Watson had told Fleming where to find him? Had Watson arranged it hoping to get him suspended and off the case? Maybe I’m getting paranoid, he thought.
He tried to take his mind off things and switched on the TV. Charles Trenchard was opening a new wing for a hospital. A reporter had thrust a microphone in front of him.
‘When you were recently interviewed by Irving Baker, you were understandably evasive about whether you would stand for the leadership if the prime minister lost the confidence vote. He did, and you have now decided to stand for election. What are your chances of winning?’
‘Firstly, let me say how sorry I am that the prime minister has had to resign. But we are where we are, and I believe, as do many others, that I am the best person to take over.’
‘But do you think you will win?’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘You’ve been in politics for eight years and have held only one ministerial position. Some say you don’t have enough experience.’
‘I will have a strong team of experienced colleagues around me. What I have to offer is leadership and a vision for the future. I will be working closely with others to transform that vision into a strategy, and put in place the means and the people who can deliver that strategy.’
‘What’s the vision?’ another reporter shouted out.
Trenchard smiled. ‘A fairer, just, and affluent society. One where hard work and endeavour is rewarded, where more is spent here in the UK on rebuilding our infrastructure, and less on foreign wars and intervention abroad.’ He waved away further questions. Two aides ushered him into a waiting car and he was gone.
Fleming wondered why he didn’t trust the man. Was it because he was a politician and he generally didn’t trust what they said? Or was it because he lied about knowing Nielson?
Swirling the dregs round in his coffee cup, Fleming stared into space thinking about Trenchard. He’d told Temple he hadn’t intended seeing him again unless he didn’t have enough to charge Rainer. He hadn’t charged Rainer and would have followed up on Trenchard, but Temple had warned him not to. He couldn’t anyway now Temple had suspended him.
Fleming was sitting in Freya’s treatment room having second thoughts.
‘Tell me, Alex, what’s happened?’ Freya asked.
‘Listen, maybe I shouldn’t have come. You’re supposed be counselling me over a childhood trauma, not over work.’ Fleming made to get up from his chair.
Freya put a gentle restraining hand on his arm and smiled. ‘Please, sit down, Alex.’ She took in a deep breath. ‘What’s been happening at work is connected to the past, isn’t it? You told me last time that your boss wasn’t happy with you going to Edinburgh to find Jimmy Calder. Is that why you’ve been suspended?’
Fleming sank back into his chair. ‘There’s a bit more to it than that.’
Freya waited without saying anything.
Fleming rubbed a hand over his chin, deep in thought.
‘You carried on looking for Calder and your boss found out. Is that it?’ Freya prompted.
‘No. Someone else found him. He was assaulted and told Reading CID that I was behind it.’
‘But you weren’t?’
‘No, I wasn’t.’
‘But your boss suspended you anyway.’
‘I suppose she had no choice really. Someone makes an accusation. It has to be investigated…’
>
‘By Reading CID?’
‘That’s about it.’
‘What happens next?’
‘I could be charged with encouraging or assisting a crime if they find sufficient evidence.’
‘But they can’t if you didn’t do it, can they?’
‘Only if people lie under oath and swear I told them to do it.’
‘But the police would need to find the actual assailants first.’
‘Yes.’
‘And what sentence would you get if they, whoever they are, manage to stitch you up?’
‘Depends on what happens to Calder.’
Freya frowned. ‘Apart from your current predicament, how are you coping generally?’
‘Fine,’ Fleming lied.
‘And the nightmares?’
Fleming shrugged. ‘Get them from time to time.’
‘Still feel anger towards Calder?’
‘I’ll never forgive him, that’s for sure… and yes, I am still angry with him.’
‘I get that, but would you hurt him if you could?’
‘You think that maybe I did have someone assault him… is that it?’
‘No, I’m trying to understand the depth of your anger.’
Fleming ran a hand through his hair. ‘I need to find a way to get closure on this. I want to be able to move on without this continual reminder of what Jimmy Calder did to my mother.’
Freya put a hand over Fleming’s. ‘You’ll never forget it, Alex. But you will learn to live with it.’
Fleming shrugged again. He still wasn’t sure how.
Freya withdrew her hand. ‘You said the extent of the trouble you might be in depends on what happens to Calder. What are you going to do?’
Fleming frowned. ‘I need to find out who’s behind this and prove I didn’t have anything to do with Calder’s assault. And I may know where to start.’
58
‘They’re going to The White House pub after work,’ Logan was saying to Fleming over the phone. ‘Bill Watson asked if Naomi and I wanted to join him and Frank Jardine, but we declined.’ Logan hesitated. ‘Why don’t we meet up with you somewhere for a drink? I could do with one after today, and I guess you could too.’
Fleming knew what he wanted to do when he heard where Watson would be. ‘I’ve got things to do. How about tomorrow night?’
‘Okay,’ Logan agreed. ‘I’ll give you a call.’ He rang off.
Later that evening, Fleming sat in his car in the pub car park. Watson’s car was there. Fleming fiddled with the radio controls while he waited for Watson to come out. There was what seemed to be never-ending reports on the state of play on the leadership election and Charles Trenchard’s chances of winning. The stock markets were getting jittery with the uncertainty. There were calls for a general election. Fleming found a music channel, listened for a minute, and then switched off the radio.
He was suddenly alert as the pub door opened throwing a shaft of light across the car park. A young couple came out and made their way to their car. The man seemed to whisper something in the woman’s ear and she laughed loudly.
Fleming looked at his watch. Ten o’clock. He settled back in his seat and waited.
Ten minutes later, the door opened again. Watson came out, fished in his jacket pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He lit up and stood by the door, blowing smoke up into the night air.
Fleming took a deep breath, eased himself out of his car and walked across to Watson. ‘Hello, Bill. Mind if we have a chat?’
Watson’s eyes darted back towards the door as though looking for an escape route. He threw his cigarette onto the ground by Fleming’s feet. ‘I was about to go back in for my drink. Frank’s getting them in. Care to join us?’
Fleming shook his head. ‘I only want a word.’
‘Better be quick, it’s getting a bit cool out here.’
‘I was wondering why you told me where to find Jimmy Calder.’
Watson breathed in deeply. ‘I might have guessed that’s what this is about. Listen, you didn’t find out from me, understood? You’re already in the shit. No sense in bringing me into it is there?’
‘Don’t worry, I had no intention of telling anyone you told me. I told the guys from Reading CID I had no idea where Calder was and had nothing to do with the assault.’
‘Come off it, Fleming. Why do you think I told you? We might not get on, but I wanted to give you a chance to get even with Calder. Looking after our own kind.’
‘That was very thoughtful of you, Bill,’ Fleming retorted sarcastically. ‘But your idea of looking out for me hasn’t exactly been helpful, has it?’
‘How was I to know you’d get three buffoons to do the job for you and that one of them would blab your name?’
‘You’re not listening to me. I had nothing to do with it.’
Watson grunted. ‘You finished, Fleming? My drink’s waiting for me.’
‘Actually, no, I’m not. You see, you made it clear from the start you didn’t want me in this job. You had an interest in getting me suspended. I think you told me where to find Calder and you arranged the assault, knowing that’s exactly what would happen–’
‘Fuck you, Fleming. Why would I tell you where to find him if I intended to get him done over myself?’
‘I was wondering that,’ Fleming said. ‘Maybe you thought I would actually go after him, and when I didn’t, you decided to do it for me.’
‘You’re paranoid, know that?’
Fleming raised an eyebrow. ‘It makes sense though. And, if you had to, you might even eventually own up to letting it slip where he was, to make the case against me even stronger.’
‘What? And get myself into trouble?’
‘You could say you promised to let Police Scotland know if Calder turned up and that I may have overheard you talking to them.’
‘Got it all worked out, haven’t you, Fleming? Let me tell you, coincidences happen. Have you thought someone else may have it in for you? Maybe Damien Potts for instance.’
Fleming frowned. ‘How would he know about Calder and me?’
Watson shrugged. ‘You tell me. MCU leaks like a sieve at times. Logan knew, Temple knew. Maybe one of them spoke to someone else. Maybe the Scottish reporter who ran the story about Calder and you has contacts in England. Maybe even with the reporter Potts spoke to. Who knows?’
‘But even if Potts found out about Calder, how would he know where he was?’
‘Calder was working in a club. Potts worked in a club. Maybe word got out. How the fuck should I know?’ He turned to push the pub door open. ‘Think about it, Fleming,’ Watson said over his shoulder as he went back inside.
Fleming stood for a moment and did think about it before returning to his car.
On the way home, something Watson had said suddenly struck him. How did he know that it was three men who’d assaulted Calder?
59
‘What was the score on Sunday?’ Logan asked with a wicked smile.
Anderson glowered at him. ‘You’ve asked me that three times since yesterday. Memory starts to fade when you get older, I suppose.’
Logan laughed. ‘I just like to hear you reminding me that you lost by six goals. Getting my own back for you gloating about my team being relegated.’
‘I’d change allegiance if I were you,’ Anderson quipped. ‘Anyway, we may have lost by six goals, but I scored three. And it was only a friendly.’
‘No such thing as a friendly football match. Teams still want to win.’
‘You’re so cynical, Sarge.’
Fleming arrived with some drinks. ‘At it again, you two?’
‘Naomi’s a bit sensitive after losing at football over the weekend.’ He lifted his arms over his head playfully as Anderson raised a hand as though to thump him.
The banter continued for a few minutes more as they enjoyed the sun and made small talk on the terrace of The Trout Inn, the events of the previous day temporarily forgotten.
; ‘What did Temple have to say about things after I left?’ Fleming finally asked.
It was Logan who spoke. ‘Bill Watson was there–’
‘He’s a nasty piece of work!’ Anderson suddenly exclaimed. ‘He’s rude, uncouth, arrogant… He’s… he’s–’
‘A bastard?’ Logan offered.
‘Yes.’
‘The working relationship is off to a good start then,’ Fleming observed with a smile.
‘The super didn’t say much about you,’ Logan said. ‘She confirmed you’d been suspended and that we’d be working for Watson with immediate effect. He wanted to know where we were at with the investigation.’
‘And?’
‘He blew his top when I mentioned that Naomi was following up on Anthony Hayden, but calmed down when she told him there was nothing on CCTV and that none of the neighbours saw him leave his house on the night of Nielson’s murder.’
‘He told me to stop work on tracing the owners of all the cars that did turn up on CCTV at Bourne End, and all of Nielson’s business contacts. Said it was a waste of time since we’d arrested Rainer,’ Anderson added.
Logan took a swig of his beer and put his glass down carefully on the table. ‘He seems to have already decided it was a mistake to release Rainer, and Watson’s asked for the search for the murder weapon to be stepped up.’
‘And,’ Anderson added, ‘he scoffed at the idea that Nielson’s murder might have been a revenge attack related to the old drugs investigation or the murder in Reading that Potts was convicted for.’
‘He’s decided it’s either Rainer or Potts,’ Logan chipped in. ‘All other leads are on hold. Watson wants the whole investigation focused on finding the murder weapon and Potts. Speaking of which, we had no joy with Benny Madlock in Wandsworth. He’d no idea where Potts might have gone.’ Logan sniffed the air and looked enviously towards a barman bringing out a plate of fish and chips to one of the nearby tables.
The Fifth Suspect Page 21