by Gary Weston
'It was the painting Mr Bishop gave me. I must admit I was flattered. Nobody ever painted me before and it was a good painting. I have a small office of my own at home, and I hung it in there, knowing how Enrico hated it. Not hated the picture, but hated that a man liked me enough to paint me. Enrico would stare at the picture, becoming more and more obsessed with it. The accusations started, that I must be being unfaithful to him. That I was having an affair with Bishop.'
'And were you?'
Maddena looked horrified. 'How dare you ask me that. I have never been unfaithful to my husband.'
'So it was all in your husband's mind?'
'Absolutely. He had no reason to accuse me of being unfaithful to him.'
'Apart from the picture.'
'Yes. Apart from the picture.'
'Did you know your husband had a gun?'
Maddena nodded. 'Another aspect of his paranoia. Because we are wealthy, he was always worried about people breaking into the house, even though our security system was the best. He said the gun was a little extra insurance.'
From the papers, Morris picked one. 'This is a copy of the firearms certificate. He's had a gun for nearly five years.'
'That would be correct. He would use it occasionally, out in the back garden, doing target practice. He was a good shot.'
'He had a good gun. A Glock nineteen. Semi automatic, holds fifteen rounds. Can be completely taken apart into thirty five pieces without tools. If I were buying a gun for myself, it would be that one.' He sat and stared at Maddena's face. It was as impassive as it was beautiful. The only reaction he had seen in her face was when he had asked if she had been having an affair with Bishop. 'Mrs Moretti. It was about two months between you receiving the painting from Bishop and when your husband abducted him at gunpoint. Had you no idea of his intentions?'
Maddena shook her head. 'No. He made no threats to me or about Mr Bishop. He was very busy with work, spending a little time in Italy, on business.'
'I find that interesting that with all that suspicion in his mind, he would leave you at home.'
Maddena looked as if she was making up her mind to reveal something. 'He had me followed.'
'Oh?'
'Yes. Every time I left the house, I was being followed by a private detective, I think.'
'You think? Are you not sure he was a private detective?'
'I didn't approach him. At first I thought he was one of those stalkers you hear about. It happened once before to me. In Italy, when I was a model. This was before I met my husband. A young man kept following me. When I confronted him, he said he loved me and ran away like a lovesick boy. This other man was much older and more like a ...professional. But once I noticed him, I was seeing him everywhere.'
'What did you do?'
'I stayed at home. If Enrico wanted to waste time and money that way, then to hell with him. Let him.'
'And how did you feel about Enrico having you followed?'
'How do you think I felt? I was damned angry. Enrico should have trusted me.'
'Understandable. The night of the abduction. What do you remember about that?'
'Enrico had been quiet all day. He had gone out for a few hours to play golf. When he got home, he locked himself away in his office, I think to keep away from me.'
'Until what time?'
Maddena shrugged. 'I don't know. I went to bed, and he was still in his office.'
'And when you woke up?'
'Enrico wasn't around. I had no idea where he was. I tried his phone, but it was turned off. Then your policeman came for me.'
'Right. Do you know which golf course he went to?'
'Beaconsfield. He was a terrible golfer, but it relaxed him.'
Morris knew the club. To get there from the Moretti mansion, would mean driving past the construction site which was only closed off during the concrete pouring. It seemed to fit in with the story.
'Mrs Moretti. Have you any idea where your husband could be?'
'No. I do not.'
'Okay. I think that covers everything for now. You are free to go home, now. I may wish to talk to you again later. Thank you for your cooperation.'
They both stood up. 'Oh. One more thing. Do you think you are in any danger from your husband? He still has a gun. I could have a police officer stay with you until we catch him.'
'That will not be necessary, detective. I appreciate your concern, but my husband would never hurt me.'
Morris shook her hand. 'Let me know if you change your mind. Just call the station and they'll find me.'
Chapter 8
Morris was almost through eating his Subway sandwich, when his phone rang. It was a text from Crowe to tell him Bishop was in the station, ready to be interviewed. He found Crowe at his desk.
'How's Bishop, Vince?'
'Nothing permanent. How did you get on with Maddena Moretti?'
'She pretty much backs up Bishop's version of events.'
'A good looking woman.'
'Not my type, but yes. Attractive. Wealthy, too.'
'You send her home?'
'No reason not to. Come on. Let's see Bishop.'
Bishop was in interview room one. All his hair had been shaved off. The clothes he had borrowed from Crowe were much too big for him.
'I hardly recognised you,' said Morris.
'It was the best way to get the concrete out of my hair.'
'Everything else okay?'
'Apart from a few burns. They gave me stuff to put on it. Haven't you caught him yet?'
Morris shook his head. 'Not yet. It's just a matter of time. Somebody should spot his car, soon. Not many of those in the country. It's been the top news story all day. Now you've had time to think, is there anything else you can think of?'
'Sorry, no. I told you all I know. I want the bastard caught. Look. I need to go home and see to my dog, so if there's nothing else....?'
'No. You can go.'
'I'll run you home,' said Crowe. 'That way, I'll get my clothes back.'
'Thanks.'
Morris said, 'I offered Mrs Moretti police protection until we catch him. Do you want protection?'
'God. Do you think I need it?'
'He has a gun and he's on the loose. He might just decided to finish the job.'
Bishop thought about the offer. 'No, I'll be okay. I'll make sure everything's secure. If he comes for me, Dobbin will soon let me know. If I hear any noises, I'll call the police right away.'
'Your choice. Stay indoors. Do not leave the house.'
'What about my job?'
'My advice? Take a few days off. You've been through a lot.'
'Tell me about it.' He shook hands with Morris and Crowe took him home.
Chapter 9
'This is driving me nuts,' said Morris. 'Where the hell is Moretti?'
Crowe shared his frustration. 'Think he could have skipped the country right after the abduction, before we put out the alerts to the airports?'
'It's a possibility. No airport records show him leaving, but a man that wealthy could have good forged passport and other documents. It was all premeditated, so he'd have time to plan his escape. No, I wouldn't rule it out.'
'So where's his car? I'd have thought that would have turned up by now.'
'It could be anywhere. The bottom of a lake or hidden in some old remote barn. Any number of places. Like I said, he's had plenty of time to plan all this.'
'But what is his plan, assuming he has one. He hasn't touched his money. The bank would have notified us of that.'
'My guess he has plenty of money in an offshore account. Men like him would. All he needs to do is to lie low for a while, and assume a new identity somewhere. Yeah. The longer this goes on, the more I think that's the case. He's put the logical side of his head to the plan.' Morris went through the folder. 'What was that fraud case he got done for? Here it is. Oh. Interesting.'
'What?'
'Moretti was accused of producing forged bearer bonds. Bearer bonds ar
e the same as cash, anywhere in the world. You can even get interest on them. According to this, they were of such a high quality, the bank didn't realise they were forgeries for two years.'
'What was the monetary value?'
'Ten million, U S. That's not big in bearer bond values.'
'So, he got ten million from the bank?'
'Not according to this. What he did get, however, was close to two million in interest. Still not bad money.'
Crowe could hardly believe his ears. 'And he got away with it?'
'The bank got suspicious and examined the bonds and even experts had trouble determining their authenticity. Bearer bonds don't have to be registered anywhere, and whomever has them at the time, is deemed the owner. If you or I found one in the street, it's finders keepers.'
'I still don't see how he got away with it.'
'He simply denied forging them. Although he was the one who banked them, it wasn't proved he was the one who made them. The bank was allowed to stop further interest payments, but there wasn't enough evidence to prosecute Moretti, so he was off the hook.'
'Shit! He could have been getting nearly a million bucks a year for the rest of his life.'
'He still might be. If he conned one bank, why stop there?'
Crowe could only imagine having an income of a million, or even millions each year for life. 'So, his business might just be a cover?'
'That's a possibility. The bank never recovered the interest, so he could have started the business with a very healthy cash flow, or as you say, it is just a cover to explain his wealth.'
'Do you think his wife knows about this?'
Morris stood up. 'She might, but how the hell would we prove it? I need a word with our pet ferret.'
They found Ducket ferreting away on his computer.
'Busy?' asked Morris.
'You know, I joined the force to be a cop, not a glorified geek. Every damn detective in this place uses me for a dumping ground to do their work for them.'
'Ouch! Are you including me in that?'
Ducket sighed. 'I'm sorry, Sir. I was just blowing off steam.'
Crowe said, 'He does have a point, Stanley. It can't be fun being stuck in here all day long.'
'Yeah. It would drive me mental, too. You're just damn good at it, Ferret.'
'Look. I'm not saying I won't keep doing it, but I would like to see some action now and then, not just giving myself repetitive strain injury day in day out.'
Morris was feeling guilty. 'I never realised you felt that way. Okay. Here's what we do. You keep being the station geek, I'll get you out with us on some real police work.'
'You mean it?'
'Girl guides honour, Ferret. Now. Know anything about bearer bonds?'
'No more than anyone else, Sir. As good as cash, virtually untraceable, phased out in the States because they were used by money launderers and tax evaders. Most places in the world, like Switzerland, still use them.'
Crowe said. 'The stuff you know, Ducket, never ceases to amaze me. So if Enrico Moretti had a Swiss account that millions in interest was being salted away in, he could access that money whenever he wanted?'
'Any time he wanted,' said Ducket.
'And Mrs Moretti?' said Morris
'If it was a joint account, why not?'
'No way of proving any of this I suppose?' said Crowe, hopefully.
'Not a snowballs chance in hell,' said Ducket.
'That's much what I thought,' said Morris. 'Thanks for confirming it.'
Crowe said, 'All useful stuff, Stan, but what the hell do we do about any of it?'
Morris scratched his head. 'Buggered if I know, mate.'
Chapter 10
Bishop only took three days off work, even though Headmistress Shipton had argued against it.
'Those bloody reporters are still camped outside the school gates,' said Shipton. 'I find it very disruptive, Martin.'
'They'll go away eventually. I'm not letting them get to me.'
'How are the kids treating you?'
'Like kids the world over. Some see me as a celebrity because I've been on television. One or two of the older ones have given me a new nickname, concrete man. Actually, I think that's kinda cool. At least Seraphina is being kept out of it at home.'
'It's for the best for the time being. You haven't contacted her mother have you?'
'No way. I know it isn't her fault, all this, but I'm staying well away.'
'I'm glad to hear it. How are the burns?'
'Yeah, not too bad. The cream helps. Well, I had better get to work.'
Mrs Shipton said, 'Right. But if it all gets too much, take the rest of the week off.'
'Thanks, but I'll be fine.'
Bishop went to the art room, where the fifteen year old children were already at the spinning pottery wheels. On his table, he could see they had been busy. They had made a two foot model of him with a cloak and his hands on his hips, and inside a triangle on the chest were the letters, C M. Concrete man. This made him laugh.
'I'm glad you find it so amusing.'
'Just a joke, Mr Bishop,' said a boy.
'I know, Davies. Why not finish it off as a project? Get it fired off and some glaze on it.'
'Really, Sir? You won't mind us doing that?'
'You might as well get some educational value out of it. Yeah. Go for it. Just one thing, though.'
'Sir?'
'I reckon I'm much better looking than that.'
All the class laughed and set about finishing the piece. By the end of the lesson, the finished work was proudly standing in the centre of the display table.
'Well, class. I give you an A plus for such an outstanding and dare I say, handsome job.'
Chapter 11
The air hostess gave the blonde lady a set of earphones to listen to the film. Each seat in first class had its own screen.
'We should be taking off in a few minutes. Everything alright?'
'Most comfortable, thank you.'
'And your daughter?'
'I'm fine, thank you.'
There was a change in the pitch of the engines.
'I have to go while we take off. Keep your seatbelts on and I'll come and look after you once we are in the air.'
The Boeing seven four seven began to taxi towards the runway. The girl grabbed her mothers hand.
'I wish Daddy was with us, Mommy.'
'We talked about that. We'll be just fine.'
The plane moved slowly towards the edge of the runway. It was pitch black outside, apart from the runway lights.
'Ladies and gentlemen. This is your captain speaking. Due to an unexplained technical error, we are going to return to the terminal.'
'Damn.'
'What's happening, Mommy?'
'There's a problem with the plane, sweetie. Nothing to worry about.'
The plane lined up with the terminal and the door opened.
'This is your captain. Will all passengers remain in their seats, please.'
Through the door, Detective Senior Sergeant Stanley Morris, Detective Sergeant Vincent Crowe, and an excited looking Detective Constable Fred Ducket, followed by four uniformed officers, boarded the plane. After a quick word with the air hostess, they were taken to the blonde woman.
'Doesn't suit you one bit,' said Morris. 'I much preferred the brunette you.'
'How did you know we were here?' asked Maddena Moretti, removing the blonde wig.
Morris slapped Ducket on the back. 'It was this genius here that worked it out. We couldn't figure out why we hadn't found your husband. Detective Ducket suggested we couldn't find him, because he might be buried in the concrete and guess what? Surprise, surprise. He is. Your husband was right about you and Bishop having an affair. I'm pretty sure he would have gone after Bishop with the intention of killing him. I figure you got the drop on him, and with Bishop's help, you took him to the construction site. You, but more likely Bishop, knocked him out and pushed his body in the setting concrete.'
>
'That's completely ridiculous. It was Bishop stuck in the concrete.'
'Oh, he was stuck, okay. I saw that for myself, like I was supposed to. Pretty clever, really. You dispose of the body, and concoct a cast iron, or should I say a cast concrete alibi. Bishop submerged himself into the concrete, so we would think he was the victim. And now you plan to fly away and live on the money from the forged bearer bonds.'
'You'll never prove any of this.'
Crowe said, 'Our thermal imaging equipment has already located your husbands body. We'll be digging him up at first light.'
'Detective Constable Ducket,' said Morris. 'Would you go with Detective Sergeant Crowe and arrest Mr Martin Bishop? He's in economy class, seat seventeen F.'
Ducket beamed. 'My pleasure, Sir.'
'Time to go, Mrs Moretti,' said Morris.