‘Just about to start the morning shift, George?’ Sophie asked.
He nodded, looking a little apprehensive. ‘Yes, in a few minutes. Ma’am, I’ve called in because I’ve managed to find out a bit more about that gang you were interested in. You know, the ones I saw in Dorchester the weekend before last? You wondered why they might be there. I didn’t know whether they were still of interest.’
‘Oh, yes. Most certainly.’
‘Well, I was in the town centre last night and I asked around some more, but, you know, keeping it low key. I found out that they’d hired a back room in one of the pubs that night for some kind of meeting. The thing is, the landlord of that particular pub is a notorious racist and I got the impression that he sometimes helps out groups that share his views.’
‘Did you get the name of the pub?’
‘The Highlander. It’s an old coaching inn, just off the High Street. It used to be much larger than it is now, and straddled both sides of a carriage entry. Then one side got sold off to a hairdresser’s.’
‘That’s really helpful, George.’ She looked at Barry. ‘I wonder if we should pay a quiet visit, maybe at lunchtime today, after we’ve lifted Boulden and rescued Osman? Just for a look see?’
* * *
Luke Boulden’s arrest went without a hitch. Sophie wanted it done quietly, so the detectives timed their arrival to coincide with Boulden’s departure for work. At eight fifteen exactly, he left his front door and strolled towards his car, parked on the driveway. There, he found his path blocked by Sophie, Barry and the intimidating figure of Greg Buller, the latter dressed in his usual black combats. Boulden was whisked away in a waiting squad car and driven to the police station. As expected, he refused to talk without his lawyer being present. Even then, progress was minimal.
‘Maybe you don’t realise the fix you’re in, Mr Boulden,’ Sophie said calmly. ‘We have a murdered man, Tony Quigley, killed in his Dorchester home on Saturday, a week and a half ago.’
‘Nothing to do with me,’ Boulden said. He fixed her with a challenging stare. ‘I wasn’t there.’ He sounded confident, but his eyes were wary.
‘But you were in Dorchester earlier in the day. You’ve been positively identified by several witnesses as being in a town centre bar.’
‘I didn’t say I wasn’t in Dorchester, just that I wasn’t at that dead guy’s house, this whatshisname. Never heard of him.’ His right hand rested on the tabletop, little finger tapping the surface.
‘You were very close friends with Liam Fenners, who died at the weekend.’
‘What of it?’
‘You served in the army together. Some of your fellow servicemen said the two of you were very close. According to witnesses, you were still close friends.’
‘Yeah, we were mates, always have been. So what?’ His eyes darted around the small interview room.
‘Mr Fenners, along with his wife, was killed in a house fire that was started deliberately. We know that. Petrol was poured through their letter box and ignited. Fenners and his wife never stood a chance. How do you feel about that?’
‘What do you mean, how do I feel? I said, we were mates. I feel sick about it. But what’s it got to do with me?’ He kept looking around, angrily.
‘Where were you in the early hours of Monday morning?’
‘At home, asleep. Don’t try to fucking pin it on me, because it won’t work.’
‘Can someone vouch for that? Can anyone confirm that you were at home at the time?’
‘No. But why would I want to kill Liam? I said we were mates.’ He sounded puzzled.
‘But someone did it, Mr Boulden. Quite deliberately. Someone wanted him dead and didn’t mind who else died at the same time. His children escaped by the skin of their teeth, only just avoiding being burned alive like their parents. It takes someone very sick in the head to do that. Who do you know that’s capable of doing such a thing?’
‘Make your fucking mind up. First you say it was me, now you say it was someone I know. What’s the point of this?’
‘Because we think you’re next, Mr Boulden. Think back through the list. Can’t you see what’s happening here? People are being rubbed out. Tell me something. Has anyone else vanished during the past couple of days? If so, what does that tell you?’
The lawyer interrupted. ‘It would seem that you aren’t going to charge my client with an offence. In that case, I must ask that you let him go.’
Sophie smiled thinly. ‘He’s free to leave if he wishes to. For the time being, at least.’ She turned back to Boulden. ‘But stay around, Mr Boulden. I’ll want to talk to you again. And good luck. I wish you a long and happy life.’
* * *
‘That was very clever, ma’am, feeding his fear like that. Do you think he knows about Osman?’ Barry and Sophie were walking away from the interview room.
‘Probably, though it hardly matters. If he doesn’t know by now he soon will, and it will all help to feed his unease. All he’ll find out is that Osman’s disappeared. We know Osman’s safe in Hampshire, but Boulden will think he’s been neutralised like the others. If so, he’ll be wondering why he hasn’t been told about it. Why he’s being kept in the dark. The thugs don’t dare trust each other. It’s always dog eat dog when you get to this level of criminality, the only thing holding them together is fear for their own skins. We’ll leave him to stew for a while. He’s not on a murder rap and I let him know it by switching from Quigley’s murder to Fenners. Let’s hope he’s sharp enough to take the hint, once he’s thought things through.’
Lydia Pillay had been watching the interview from the room next door. She came out to join them. ‘What’s the next move, ma’am?’
‘We’ll watch him like a hawk, obviously, if only to keep him safe. There’s also a chance he might do something rash and lead us to his masters. If not, you and Jimmy can bring him in tomorrow in exactly the same way. Question him about his army days, and start dropping hints about the smuggling operation. But don’t bring him here to Weymouth. Use Dorchester nick and pretend you’re on a completely separate inquiry. Don’t use Greg Buller as backup either, use someone else from his team. We want him to think that our right arm doesn’t know what the left is doing. Does that all sound good?’
Lydia smiled. ‘I love all this cloak and dagger stuff. Maybe I should have been a spy.’
Sophie looked at her watch. ‘So, let’s go and collect the esteemed Simon Osman from his luxury hotel room in Winchester. Do you want to come with us, Lydia?’
‘Fine. He’s in a nice hotel, is he?’
Sophie laughed. ‘He’s in a flea-ridden dump near the station. According to our Hampshire colleagues, it’s a cross between a doss-house and a knocking shop. I wonder if he’s started itching yet?’
Chapter 34: Into a Safe House
Wednesday Midday
Simon Osman’s grand plan to negotiate with the police from a position of strength was falling apart. The detectives looked around his room at the peeling paint and the grubby furnishings. The so-called en-suite facilities consisted of a tiny cubicle containing a toilet and a wash basin, both appearing to date back to the nineteen eighties, judging by the sick-green colour and the number of cracks in the porcelain.
‘Nice to find you in the lap of luxury, Mr Osman,’ Sophie said. ‘I think we should move you out, though. Even these fancy hotels can’t keep out a determined assassin, despite the huge sums they invest in security.’ She walked to the window and poked gently at the frame. A splinter of rotten wood fall to the ground. ‘I’d prefer to keep you out of Dorset for the time being, though. Luckily, I’m on good terms with the CID here in Hampshire, and they have the ideal place for you to stay and be safe. It’s a good bit further west than here, so it’s easier for us to get to you. Dorset will be paying the bills, so in return we expect your unconditional help with our investigation. I’m sure you understand the deal.’ She smiled at him breezily, ignoring his scowl. ‘Shall we go?’
; The safe house they’d been offered was in a tiny tree-lined cul-de-sac in the New Forest market town of Ringwood, almost on the border between Hampshire and Dorset. All the houses were small, with postage stamp front gardens, most of them neatly kept. Sophie guessed that most of the neighbours were elderly retired people. Inside the house, they settled down in the tiny sitting room, where Sophie introduced Lydia.
‘According to what you said to Superintendent Allen here, you were never aware of any criminal activities on the part of these people, other than the anti-immigrant drive that you were involved with. But that isn’t why I’m here, even though, as you can see, I’m from an ethnic minority. I need to get to the bottom of the other stuff, the things you say you know nothing of. My guess is that you do know some details, even if you’re not aware that you do.’
Osman shook his head. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Just listen, Mr Osman,’ Sophie said. ‘Let DS Pillay explain.’
‘Think back to some of the conversations you might have overheard. Did anyone mention prisons at any time? Maybe Portland or Guys Marsh?’
Osman looked puzzled. ‘No. Why should they? We want these immigrants chucked out of the country, not put in prison. Anyway, I never really went to any social events with them. Most of the others I only saw at a distance, when I was at a rally or something. I never knew they were involved in anything else. Do you think someone in my position would get involved with anything criminal?’
‘So, you don’t think stirring up racial tension is illegal?’ Lydia fired back. ‘You don’t think issuing threats to people born and bred in this country breaks the law in any way? What kind of fantasy world do you live in, Mr Osman? Not the real one, that’s for sure. I do much more for this country than any of your racist friends. Just think about that.’ She took a breath. ‘Let’s go back to my question. Was there anything you overheard that might give a clue as to what else they were up to?’
He shook his head. ‘Not really. Once or twice I caught them chatting about money and how much some scheme was generating. And once, in the bar after the meeting, a small group of them were talking about getting hold of stuff, but they shut up when I joined them.’
Lydia leaned forward. ‘What kind of stuff were they talking about?’
Osman shook his head. ‘Mobile phones maybe? I can’t be sure though. Come to think of it, someone mentioned the word “miniature,” though I may have misheard.’
‘Was there any indication that they were involved with drugs? Even legal highs like spice?’
He ran his fingers across the bald patch on the top of his head. ‘There might have been some talk but, as I said, they shut up when I came within earshot. I never got to hear any details.’
‘Let’s go back to this chat about money you mentioned. Did it sound as though large sums were involved?’
‘I got that impression, but I don’t know for sure.’
‘So, who were these people? The ones you overheard?’
‘One was the guy who died in the fire at the weekend. Fenners? Was that his name? I just knew him as Liam. I wasn’t sure about the others. The other main one might have been called Luke, but I could have misheard.’
‘You must have been thinking things through overnight and this morning, Mr Osman. Is there anything else you can tell us about the activities of this group?’
Osman seemed to think, and then shook his head. ‘No. That’s it, from that angle. What bothers me more is what happened to Andrea.’
‘What do you mean?’ Sophie asked.
‘Look, all I know is that I was asked to check out Andrea’s whereabouts that night, which I did. I phoned with the information and was asked to get her outside. I did that too.’
‘Who did you phone?’ Sophie asked.
‘My contact, Bill. I don’t know much else about him. He asked me to do it because Andrea and he had fallen out. I introduced them a few years ago now, after which I got the cold shoulder from both of them. I’d served my purpose and wasn’t needed any more. She even went on holiday with him. Lucky bugger.’
‘To Spain?’ Sophie asked.
‘Yeah, I think so. She told me Bill owned a villa out there. After they met, I hardly ever saw either of them. Then, in the past few weeks, I kept seeing her around the town late at night, visiting some of her old haunts again, on her own. They’d obviously broken up. I chatted with her a few times, but she wasn’t interested in me. Then Bill called me. He said he needed to see her again, but she was refusing to even speak to him. He wanted me to try to talk her into meeting him. I didn’t get that far. She seemed depressed, then out of the blue she suggested we go back to my place.’ He fell silent for a while. ‘As I said, she’d never seemed particularly interested in me, so I was a bit surprised.’
‘Did you pick up on any reason for her change of mind?’
He shook his head. ‘Look, I haven’t been in a relationship since my marriage broke up years ago. And this was Andrea, suggesting she might come home with me for the night. I mean, why would I question it? Maybe I didn’t fancy her as a long-term partner, but a no-strings night of sex was on offer. If you must know, I jumped at the chance.’ He sighed. ‘And then she changed her mind, and decided to head off home. I left her outside the park.’
‘Did you see anything unusual just after you separated? Any vehicles parked in the vicinity?’
‘I think there was a white van nearby with its engine running, but I wasn’t really paying much attention. But if it was Bill’s people that grabbed her, why did they need to do it that way? Why involve me? They could have picked her up from her flat, couldn’t they?’
Sophie looked at him. Was he really this stupid? ‘Surely you can guess why. It meant you were the last person to be seen with her. It made you the obvious suspect for her murder. If they’d left you well alone in the days after her death, their plan might have worked, but we spotted someone keeping a watch on your house, and we wondered why they would feel the need to do that.’
Again, Osman looked mystified. ‘I was always an outsider. I know now that they were using me. I suppose they were watching me to make sure I did what I was told.’
Sophie said nothing.
Finally, Osman broke the silence. ‘So what kind of deal can I get? I wasn’t involved in any of these deaths. I don’t know what they’re up to. I’ve told you all I know. So?’
Sophie looked at the man facing her — the perspiration dotting his brow, the tired, almost pleading look in his eyes — and said harshly, ‘I don’t do deals, Mr Osman. You were involved with setting a trap for Andrea Ford. You lured her out of that bar and she was shoved into a van before being killed out at sea. It was you who identified her and got her outside, so you’re an accessory to the deliberate murder of a serving police officer. It’ll all come down to the evidence and the decision of the CPS when we go through it with them. They’ll listen to my opinions.’ She leant back in her chair. ‘I still think there’s a lot you haven’t told us. Your relationship with this man, Bill, for starters. Well? I’m all ears.’
‘There’s not much to tell. I met him at a political rally opposing an Amnesty International march. We got talking and he asked me if I’d help his group. I said I was willing to do what I could, as long as it wasn’t anything illegal. We swapped phone numbers, and he said he’d be in touch. And that’s what happened. The only thing I had to do was look out for business contacts of mine who looked as if they were in tune with us and might want to help financially. Any who showed interest, I pointed in his direction.’
‘You gave them his phone number?’
‘Oh no. I’d pass their contact details on to him and he’d do the rest.’
‘And how many people do you think you recruited in this way?’
‘Probably about half a dozen or so. Look, I didn’t know about anything else going on. As far as I was concerned, that part of it was all legit. And that’s where Andrea’s information came in useful.’
�
�You’ll need to explain.’
‘She passed over some useful contacts.’
‘Did you meet regularly?’
‘Not me, but I heard that there was a group of them that met to plan marches and stuff. Bill organised that, along with a few others.’
‘When and where did they meet?’ Sophie was intrigued. Did it coincide with Andrea’s work pattern?
‘I think it was at a bar in Dorchester on Wednesday afternoons.’
Bingo. She didn’t push him for the location. An idea was already forming in her head.
‘What’s this guy Bill’s surname?’
Osman shook his head. ‘I don’t know for sure. It might be Mapps or something like that.’
‘So, the only definite things you know about him are his name, Bill, and the phone number?’
‘Even that I had to memorise. I wasn’t supposed to write it down anywhere or put it in my phone.’
‘Remember it for me now, please.’
Osman recited it.
‘Do you have a photo of him? Even at home?’
‘Why would I?’ Osman said.
‘Could you describe him for us?’
‘He’s about the same age as me, maybe a bit younger. Average height and build. Hair starting to turn grey. That’s all I can say, really.’
‘Exactly what are we meant to do with that, Mr Osman? It doesn’t tell us a thing. I’m really interested in your advice here.’
Osman looked puzzled. ‘You’re the detectives, not me. Surely you can trace him somehow? Then you can arrest him before he finds me.’
‘You’d think that might be possible, wouldn’t you? Tell you what, I’ll ponder on it. Meanwhile you stay here, safe and sound under the watchful eyes of CID. Shame we couldn’t offer the same service to Andrea, isn’t it? Did you know they crushed some of her fingers before dumping her overboard a mile or two out to sea? In January. You’ve been mixing with some dangerous people, in case you hadn’t realised.’
She got up and stalked out, followed by Barry and Lydia.
‘He’s not to be trusted,’ Sophie said once they were outside. ‘He’s still holding back, I can feel it.’ She looked at her watch. ‘I think there’s just about time to visit that pub in Dorchester on our way back. I could do with something to eat, I’m starving. Pub lunch anybody?’
SHADOW CRIMES a gripping crime thriller full of twists Page 18