The Fifth Suspect

by Robert McNeil

  ‘Who else was involved?’ Crowe asked gently.

  There was a look of terror in Tyler’s eyes. ‘Oh, God! They’ll kill me!’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Scottie… Scottie McBain. He was driving the van. He’s the manager of a club in London, Nielson’s Cellar.’

  ‘And the other man with you at the bar? The man with blond hair and the ponytail?’

  ‘Eckhard… Paddy Eckhard. He works at Nielson’s Cellar.’

  ‘Okay, Tommy. You’ll be charged with assault and bailed to appear in court. But if Calder dies you’ll be facing a murder charge. Interview terminated at eleven-twenty.’

  Tyler’s eyes widened. ‘But… but Scottie and Paddy will kill me if they find out I shopped them.’

  ‘Don’t worry, we’ll be pulling them in as well.’

  Tyler put his head in his hands. ‘I’m a dead man.’

  65

  Fleming’s mobile phone was ringing and vibrating on the coffee table beside him. He cursed and wished DS Crowe hadn’t been so prompt in returning it. Fleming opened his bloodshot eyes and peered at the screen: Logan.

  ‘Harry?’

  ‘Hi, boss. Are you at home?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Okay for me to come round to see you after work? Say seven? I have a bit of news.’

  ‘Fine, I’ll be here. See you later.’ Fleming cut the call and went to make himself a strong coffee.

  He’d had a bad night after drinking too much whisky, then woke up with a dreadful hangover. He wasn’t sure if his mental state was due to anxiety over his future in the MCU, his past trauma, or both. Overall, things did not look too rosy.

  A couple of hours later and after several cups of coffee, Fleming’s door buzzer sounded.

  Logan frowned when he saw an unshaven bloodshot-eyed Fleming. ‘You look a bit rough, if you don’t mind me saying so, boss. I haven’t eaten since breakfast and I’ve brought some fish and chips. Got two lots, in case you hadn’t eaten either.’

  Fleming forced a smile. Good old Harry. He’d grown fond of his sergeant. Always reliable, dependable, and a damned good detective. ‘Thanks, Harry. Very thoughtful of you. I haven’t eaten. Bit too much whisky last night I’m afraid. Been on coffee all day.’

  ‘There you are then. Just what you need, a nice fish and chip supper. Not too greasy either,’ he added quickly at the grimace on Fleming’s face. ‘Plates or out of the paper?’ he asked jovially.

  ‘Plates, I think,’ Fleming said. ‘Coffee?’

  ‘Don’t suppose you have any beer in the fridge?’

  Fleming disappeared into the kitchen and came back with plates and two cans of beer. ‘Might as well join you,’ he said, passing a can to Logan.

  They ate in silence for a few minutes before Fleming asked, ‘So, what’s this news?’

  Logan swallowed a mouthful of chips and took a swig of his beer. ‘I went to see DS Crowe in Reading. He had some CCTV footage of the club where Calder was working on the night he was assaulted and guess what? Tommy Tyler, the Audi driver who works for Scottie McBain, appears large as life at the bar with another man. One of the barmen saw them buying drinks for Calder and they left the club right behind him. Crowe pulled Tyler in for questioning this morning…’

  Fleming raised an eyebrow. ‘And?’

  ‘Crowe told him that Calder had taken a turn for the worse and Tyler could be facing a murder charge. Said he could be heading for life unless he started talking. Anyway, he finally admitted that Scottie McBain and a guy called Paddy Eckhard were the other two men involved.’

  Fleming frowned. ‘Paddy Eckhard?’

  ‘Works for McBain at Nielson’s Cellar. Long blond hair… ponytail at the back.’

  Fleming nodded. ‘I’ve met him. He was at Nielson’s club when I visited. Have McBain and Eckhard been arrested?’

  ‘Warrant’s out on them. I’ll let you know.’

  Fleming saw a glimmer of hope. ‘Maybe DS Crowe will get them to say who put them up to the assault.’

  Logan forked a piece of fish into his mouth and chewed on it. He looked thoughtful. ‘What if McBain claims it was you?’

  Fleming shook his head. ‘He would have to prove it, and he can’t.’

  Logan washed the fish down with a swig of beer and nodded. ‘DS Crowe did confirm that there was nothing on your mobile or computer to incriminate you.’

  ‘It’s Watson. I’m sure of it.’

  Logan chewed another mouthful of chips. ‘What did the super want you for?’ he asked eventually.

  Fleming sighed. ‘Temple isn’t a happy bunny. The chief constable’s been on her back. Charles Trenchard phoned him to complain I was harassing him.’

  ‘Oh, shit!’ Logan exclaimed, choking on a mouthful of beer.

  ‘He’s asked Temple to start misconduct proceedings against me… breach of the Standards of Professional Behaviour.’

  ‘What, because of a bloody toffee-nosed politician?’

  ‘That’s part of it. There’s also the Calder incident, ignoring an order not to speak to Trenchard again, and doing so while suspended.’

  Logan grimaced. ‘You don’t do things by half, I’ll grant you that, boss.’

  ‘Talking about Trenchard, did you manage to check with Leo Miller’s private office to see if he did have a meeting with him the night Nielson was murdered?’

  ‘Yes, I did, but there seems to be some confusion. I spoke to a civil servant who said Miller’s diary had been free that evening and there was no record of a meeting with Trenchard. The assistant thought that strange because the chancellor was always meticulous in insisting that all his engagements were in the diary.’

  ‘Now I’m even more convinced that Trenchard was lying to me.’

  ‘Could have been an informal, personal meeting,’ Logan offered.

  ‘Maybe, but it wouldn’t be wise to investigate that further at this stage bearing in mind Trenchard’s complaint about being harassed. You need to steer clear of him for now.’

  ‘Definitely.’

  ‘Any other progress on the Nielson case?’

  ‘Nope, still haven’t been able to find the murder weapon, or Potts for that matter. Rainer’s still under surveillance but it doesn’t look like he’s about to do a runner.’

  ‘Okay. Thanks for the fish and chips, Harry. Keep in touch, yeah?’

  ‘Sure thing, boss.’

  Logan’s mobile phone rang as he was getting up to leave. The incoming call was from Anderson. ‘Hello, Naomi, what’s new?’

  Logan listened intently for a few seconds and his eyes widened.

  Fleming could hear the sound of Anderson’s voice, but couldn’t make out what she was saying.

  Logan cut the call and looked at Fleming in shock.

  ‘What’s up?’ Fleming asked.

  ‘Naomi’s just taken a call from the Met. Potts is dead. A jogger found his body washed up on the shore of the Thames.’

  66

  DS Crowe had arranged with the Met for Scottie McBain and Paddy Eckhard to be held in separate interview rooms at West End Central Police Station. Logan was with him in interview room four where Crowe was questioning McBain.

  Logan stared at McBain who was looking nonchalantly up at the ceiling while drumming his fingers on the table. They were waiting for an answer.

  ‘Well?’ Crowe prompted.

  ‘No comment,’ McBain grunted.

  ‘Refusing to answer questions is not doing much for your position,’ Crowe pointed out.

  ‘Go fuck yourself,’ McBain spat, arms folded defiantly.

  ‘We have Tommy Tyler and Paddy Eckhard both on CCTV at the Lyons Den nightclub in Reading on the night Jimmy Calder was assaulted.’

  McBain said nothing.

  ‘Do you still deny being involved in the assault on Calder?’ Crowe persisted.

  McBain glared at Crowe. ‘I had nothing to do with it,’ he said, lounging back in his chair.

  ‘Tyler and Eckhard bought Calder drinks.’
<
br />   ‘Did they?’

  ‘Tyler told us you drove the van.’

  McBain shrugged. ‘He’s getting mixed up with another day.’

  ‘Paddy Eckhard confirmed you were the driver.’

  McBain leaned across the table. ‘He got the wrong day as well then, didn’t he?’

  Crowe glared at McBain. ‘I don’t think so. You, Tyler and Eckhard could be facing a murder charge. Calder’s in a bad way. Had a massive heart attack. He’s still in intensive care.’

  McBain smirked. ‘So now you want to pin someone’s heart attack on me! You’re having a laugh.’

  ‘Your mates panicked and want to do a deal. They’ll admit to the assault and plead guilty in return for leniency. We’d be prepared to consider a charge of manslaughter rather than murder if Calder dies. After all, you did take him to hospital… in a manner of speaking. Hardly the actions of someone intent on murder.’

  McBain’s eyes narrowed and he sucked in air through his teeth.

  Crowe continued. ‘Your two mates have signed statements confirming you were in charge.’

  McBain lurched to his feet. ‘Bastards! I’ll get them for this!’

  Crowe was unruffled. ‘Please sit down, Mr McBain.’

  Logan had pushed himself up from his chair. He was ready to restrain McBain in case he tried to launch himself across the interview table at Crowe. He put a hand on McBain’s shoulder and gently pushed him back onto his seat. McBain slumped into the chair without resistance. The smug demeanour had deserted him.

  Logan wondered if McBain would say who it was who had put him up to the assault and why. Fleming was sure it was Watson. But what possible link could there be between McBain and Watson?

  Crowe must have read Logan’s thoughts. ‘You could make things easier on yourself if you co-operate, Mr McBain. Tell us who was behind this. Who asked you to assault Calder?’

  McBain said nothing.

  ‘Whoever it was must be laughing now,’ Crowe continued. ‘They got what they wanted and they’re off the hook. He’s probably thinking to himself, Scottie will take the wrap. Good man. He won’t involve me. If Calder dies, you could go down for murder. Maybe just manslaughter, if you play your cards right.’

  McBain still said nothing.

  Crowe continued. ‘So, you go down and he walks free. Must be paying you well to keep him out of it. A person who intentionally encourages an offence to be committed can get the same sentence as you. Did you know that?’

  McBain stayed silent.

  ‘You want to take the wrap and let him go free? Think he would do the same for you?’

  ‘You’re saying you could go easy on me if I tell you?’

  ‘That’s right,’ Crowe lied.

  ‘And if I give you a bit extra, how do I stand?’ McBain blurted.

  Crowe shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Like what?’

  Logan sat impassively, but he too was wondering what McBain thought he had to offer.

  McBain licked his lips. ‘I’ll need protection… a safeguard…’

  Crowe frowned. ‘It can be arranged if necessary. Go on.’

  ‘There’s this detective. A DCI. He was behind it. A guy called Watson. He used to work for the Met but he’s with Thames Valley CID now…’

  Crowe glanced at Logan, then back at McBain. ‘So why did DCI Watson ask you to assault Calder and tell him that DCI Fleming was behind it?’

  McBain shook his head. ‘No idea. We just did what he asked us to do.’

  Logan chipped in. ‘How come you and DCI Watson knew each other? Is it to do with the extra information you were talking about?’

  McBain nodded submissively. ‘When DCI Watson worked for the Met, he was on the take from Ronnie Nielson. There were three of them: DCI Watson, DCI Hayden, and DI Jardine. They kept Ronnie and the club out of trouble in return for a few favours and backhanders. When Ronnie was killed, Watson wanted to carry on the arrangement. Said he had friends in the Met and he could still look after us.’

  Crowe looked at Logan and said, ‘I think we need to take a break here. Interview terminated at eleven-thirty.’

  Logan was in shock. This had turned into something entirely more serious. No wonder Watson wanted Fleming off the Nielson case. There was always the risk he might find out that Watson, Hayden and Jardine were corrupt. Christ, what a mess! But at least Fleming was in the clear over Calder.

  On his way back to Long Hanborough, Logan wondered how they would prove what McBain had claimed. After all, they only had his word.

  Liz Temple took the call from DS Crowe just before noon. She frowned as she put the phone down. He wanted to come and see her straight away, and no, he couldn’t say over the phone what it was about. It was far too sensitive.

  67

  It was early on Saturday morning. Thunder was rumbling in the distance and the first spots of rain began to pelt against the window. Bill Watson had been about to leave the house for the office. He was in a bad mood having fallen behind with his paperwork during the week and had to go in on what should have been a day off. He cursed and was on his way to fetch his raincoat when his phone rang. Snatching it out of its cradle, he growled into the mouthpiece. ‘Watson!’

  ‘You all right, boss?’ Frank Jardine asked. ‘You sound a bit harassed.’

  ‘Too fucking right I am. Bloody weather… and I have to come in today to catch up on paperwork. Anyway, what do you want?’

  ‘Thought you ought to know… Scottie McBain, Tommy Tyler and Paddy Eckhard have been arrested for the assault on Jimmy Calder.’

  Watson drew in a sharp intake of breath. This was the last thing he needed to hear.

  ‘Boss? You still there?’

  ‘I’m still here. Listen, keep me informed. I’ve just realised something. Change of plan. I’ll not be coming into the office after all. You can sort out the overtime forms for me. I’ll be back in on Monday.’

  ‘Okay, boss. Whatever you say.’ Jardine rang off.

  Watson put the phone down slowly, deep in thought. Would McBain involve him in the Calder business, or would he stay quiet? How the fuck did they get caught anyway? More worryingly, he felt the noose tightening on the police corruption. He was within a whisker of being exposed. If McBain squeals, I’ll have to front it out, he thought. Deny it of course. Say there’s no proof.

  It was only McBain’s word about Calder. And as far as corruption was concerned, Watson could say that McBain had had it in for him ever since he was investigating Nielson’s club while with the Met. Bit thin, but that would have to do.

  There was a loud clap of thunder and the house seemed to shake. Watson went back into the living room, poured himself a whisky and slumped into his armchair. If McBain did talk, they would suspend Watson pending a full enquiry. If they found proof, Temple would reinstate Fleming and Watson would be off the force. He needed to think straight. He hadn’t known about Emma Hayden’s affair with Nielson until bloody Fleming found out. Would Nielson have told her that he, her husband and Frank Jardine were on the take? Did she know anything? Watson stared blankly at the rain running down the window. He really was in trouble if Emma knew they were bent cops. Watson made up his mind. He would pay her a visit.

  Emma’s house was on the other side of Woodstock. Watson would have taken the car even if it were two streets away due to the torrential rain. He’d phoned to make sure she was at home. He eased his car onto Emma’s driveway and parked behind her Audi. She must have heard his car arrive because she was at the front door holding it open for him, dressed casually for once in jeans and a white blouse. ‘Hello, Bill. What brings you here?’

  ‘Just a social call,’ Watson lied. ‘Bloody weather,’ he moaned as he squeezed his large frame through the front door.

  They went into the living room and Emma offered a drink. Watson took a seat and wondered how he was going to play this while Emma was in the kitchen putting the kettle on.

  She soon returned with two coffees, handing one to Watson, and settled into an armchair,
waiting for Watson to speak.

  Watson took a sip of his coffee. ‘Need a nice hot drink on a day like today. Wouldn’t think it was summer, would you?’

  Emma smiled.

  ‘So how are you doing, Emma? I mean… are you coping all right?’

  Emma sniffed and pulled a handkerchief out of her sleeve. She dabbed at her eyes theatrically. ‘I guess so. It’s… well, hard to come to terms with.’

  ‘I came to make sure you were okay,’ Watson lied again. ‘See if there was anything I could do for you.’

  ‘That’s very kind, thanks. But no, I’m fine really.’

  ‘Oh, by the way, did anyone get back to you after your house was searched? I’m afraid that was bad judgement on DCI Fleming’s part.’

  ‘No, I haven’t heard a thing.’

  Watson took another sip of his coffee. ‘You needn’t worry on that front any more. I’m in charge of the Nielson murder enquiry now and Anthony is no longer a suspect.’

  Emma sighed with relief. ‘Thank goodness for that.’ But then she frowned. ‘So how come you’re in charge of the investigation?’

  ‘Oh, Fleming’s been suspended.’

  ‘Really? Why?’

  ‘He’s been a bad boy. Out of his depth. I always knew he wasn’t the right person to fill Anthony’s shoes.’

  ‘What did he do?’

  ‘It’s a long story, but he had a skeleton in the cupboard that came back to haunt him. He arranged for someone from his past to be beaten up.’

  Emma’s eyes widened in horror.

  ‘Then he disobeyed a direct order and went to interview someone who’s in the public eye and they complained about police harassment. Very embarrassing.’

  ‘Gosh. Still… I’m glad you’re in charge.’

  Watson cleared his throat. ‘The thing is…’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I hate to bring this up… You had an affair with Ronnie, right?’

  A tear rolled down Emma’s cheek. ‘Yes, DCI Fleming found out.’ She looked anxiously at Watson. ‘This isn’t a social call is it, Bill?’