The Dead Call: A chilling British detective crime thriller (The Hidden Norfolk Murder Mystery Series Book 6)

by J M Dalgliesh

  "Mr Hansell? Do you have a lot of company stationery in circulation?"

  Hansell blew out his cheeks, raising his eyebrows and shaking his head. "I'd say no, not really. We use headed paper, like other businesses, and have this stuff lying around the offices. We do a bit of this type of thing… pads, branded disposable pens… lanyards and keyrings, and so on. If we ever have school trips, we'll hand out some freebies, not that we've done anything like that in a long time."

  "How long?"

  "Er… probably a year ago… but not around here. That sort of follows once a project ramps up to build community buy-in to the scheme, you know. Everyone likes free stuff, right?"

  Tom nodded solemnly. Internally, he was pleased. Hansell had just killed off a plausible explanation for Gage having one of these pads in his possession without realising it. Now there seemed only one way he could have obtained such a pad, and that was by being present in Hansell's premises. Cassie, sitting alongside Tom, stared at Hansell, her expression firm. Hansell glanced at her several times, smiling nervously, but Cassie remained unmoved.

  "Is this why I'm here? Because of stationery?"

  "Partly," Tom said. The expression on the face of the man opposite him changed from puzzled to concerned. He must be trying to work out where Tom was going with this line of questioning.

  "What on earth does a… company-branded notepad," he said, waving his hands around in front of him, "have to do with Mary Beckett's death?"

  "Oh, we're talking at cross purposes," Tom said. "I'm asking because I want to understand how one of these pads ended up in the possession of Adrian Gage."

  Hansell's lips parted, his eyes narrowing.

  "Because," Tom said, sitting forward and tapping the evidence bag for added emphasis, "by your own admission he must have been to your offices fairly recently. Do you know Adrian Gage, Mr Hansell?"

  Hansell fixed him with a stare. His lips must have run dry because he felt the need to roll them inside his mouth, his face a picture of concentration. He slowly shook his head, his eyes narrowing.

  "I recognise the name from the news. He was the local man who died, wasn't he?"

  "Yes, that's right. He was a journalist, investigating—"

  "That's it!" Hansell said, sitting upright and snapping his fingers. "Journalist. Now I remember. Yes, he came to the office once to ask about our development plans. I didn't recall his name but now you mention it, yes, I remember. Gage, you say?"

  Tom nodded. Perhaps Liam Hansell was sharper than he'd thought. Had he continued to deny ever meeting Gage, he would only draw more scrutiny upon himself. By offering a plausible reason as to how they may have met, he was putting a hole in the case against him. It was similar to a man accused of a sexual assault claiming to have been in a sexual relationship with his victim in order to explain away his DNA being present at the victim's home or on their person. To maintain a stance of complete denial would be crippling for a defence, but to offer a credible solution could do quite the opposite, and sow doubt in a juror's mind.

  "Adrian Gage specialised in uncovering shady dealings, corruption and the like," Tom said. "Why might he be interested in you?"

  Hansell shrugged, looking away from Tom's gaze and picking at an invisible speck of something on the table in front of him and casting it aside.

  "And when did this visit take place?" Cassie asked, pen poised to make a note of the answer. Hansell lifted his gaze to meet hers.

  "Months ago. I'm sorry. It was a brief visit. Maybe you should check his appointment diary."

  "So you didn't visit him on Monday last?" Tom asked.

  Hansell sighed. "No, I didn't. And, like I'm pretty sure I told you before, I was in Copenhagen at the weekend."

  Tom nodded, making an 'ahh' sound whilst flicking through his notes. "Copenhagen, yes, I remember. Remind me, you live there?"

  "That's my base, yes. My husband's office is there and I travel a lot with my work so it makes sense to have our base there."

  "That's right, you said before."

  Tom rolled his lips, staring straight ahead. Hansell displayed visible discomfort in the following period of silence.

  "Is there anything else, Inspector? Honestly, I am happy to help, but I feel we're wasting each other's time."

  "There is one more thing, Mr Hansell."

  Hansell sank back in his seat, folding his arms across his chest. ""What is it?"

  "If you were in Copenhagen until your return… which was?" Tom asked, holding an open palm up to encourage an answer.

  "Late Monday."

  "Late Monday," Tom repeated. "How did you have a meeting with Daniel Crowe at his house on the weekend?"

  Hansell's mouth opened, but no words came out. He stared at Tom, then glanced at Cassie, who was also watching him intensely.

  "You see, we spoke to Mr Crowe on an unrelated matter during our investigation and his wife, Elizabeth, described the two of you as being rather animated with regard to the forthcoming planning decision. We didn't realise at the time but the two of you have a great deal riding on this approval."

  "I… I…" he said, stammering in search of an answer. "It's a mistake," he whispered.

  "Another description would be that it's a lie, Mr Hansell. Because you couldn't be in two places at the same time, could you, Mr Hansell?"

  Liam Hansell bit his bottom lip, sitting forward and resting his elbows on the table and bringing his palms to his face, covering mouth and nose.

  "And on the day we first met, you seemed rather agitated when DC Collet and I sat down with you. A state that changed when we began to talk about Mary Beckett." Tom said. "You thought we were there about Adrian Gage. The relief must have been incredible for you when we asked about Mary Beckett instead. Do you recall?"

  Hansell looked at him and nodded almost imperceptibly.

  "I put it to you, Mr Hansell," Tom said, "that you were not in Denmark on Monday afternoon but, rather, you were at Adrian Gage's house in Cley. An altercation ensued, resulting in Mr Gage being mortally wounded, and you were responsible for that." Hansell looked down at the table in front of him. Tom could see him beginning to shake in an involuntary manner. "How am I doing so far?"

  Hansell shook his head again, still staring at the table. "It wasn't like that… that's not what happened."

  "You should be aware that we have sourced a search warrant for your home address here in Norfolk as well as for your offices, and the border force will be able to confirm exactly when you left the country and, more importantly, when you returned. That means we will be looking at your appointment schedule, telephone records, each and every payment made from your personal and business bank accounts," Tom said flatly, "and our Danish counterparts have agreed to do the same at their end. Now, I'm betting we will find a trail of payments to Billy Tilson's widow and when we do—"

  "Enough!" Hansell barked, slamming the flats of his hands to the table. Cassie and Tom exchanged a look. "Enough," he repeated, only quieter and more measured. He lifted his eyes to meet Tom's. They gleamed with moisture. He looked crestfallen. "Please… just stop."

  "Tell us what did happen."

  Chapter Thirty

  Hansell lifted himself upright, the palms of his hands coming together with his fingertips beneath his chin as he looked to the ceiling.

  "I went to his place—"

  "Adrian Gage's house?" Tom said, clarifying it for the recording.

  "Yes, to his house. He was intending to run a story," Hansell said, lowering his gaze to Tom. "It was a multi-angle investigation and he'd come to me for comment." He sighed. "Offering me a right of reply, isn't that what they call it?" Tom nodded. Hansell sighed. "Initially, I wasn't concerned. After all, he was only going over the same ground as countless other journalists had already done before. But then…"

  "Gage found Billy Tilson's family, didn't he?"

  Hansell silently agreed with a flick of the head, closing his eyes. "Yes. He knew. Don't ask me how," he said, shaking his head and
smiling in despair. "But he knew. He was going to run the story this week, ahead of the inspectorate's decision. He figured it would garner the maximum amount of coverage." He sat forward, fixing Tom with a stare. "I went to his place to ask him not to. I begged him not to run it this week. Even if he only shelved it for another week or so until the contracts were signed. That way, I could ride out the storm… maybe."

  "But he wouldn't agree."

  "No," Hansell said, dejected. "He wanted the exposure, hoping one of the nationals would come in for the story. He said he had a lot riding on it and my position… our contracts might be, what did he call it..." Hansell's brow furrowed, "... collateral damage. He was so blasé, so matter of fact. You know, I think he took some perverse kind of pleasure in it. I'd spoken to him before on several occasions and he always struck me as a professional, not like one of these gutter-press tabloid journalists digging up dirt, true or not. But this time… he was different. Probably something to do with the woman."

  Tom's eyes narrowed and in the corner of his eye he saw Cassie turn to look at him. He could feel her eyes upon him.

  "Woman?" Tom asked.

  Hansell screwed up his face. "Yeah. When I got to his place I sat outside for a while. I'm not sure if I was building up the courage to go in or struggling with what I was going to say. Then she came out. He followed, grabbing hold of her arm and pulling her around to face him. He was angry. She was upset."

  Tom looked at Cassie and something unsaid passed between them. "Whatever was going on, Gage wasn't happy about it. I should have abandoned the idea there and then, seeing he was in such a foul mood, but… I didn't. She left and I went in."

  "And what time was this?" Tom asked.

  "Not sure," he said, looking up and thinking hard. "Four-thirty, five o'clock maybe."

  "Go on."

  Hansell exhaled loudly, scratching at the side of his head. "Not much more to say, really. We talked, he… Gage flatly refused to alter his plans. I don't know what happened… what came over me exactly. Looking back, it was kind of like some sort of out-of-body experience. I felt the anger rising. I've heard that some people describe a red-mist effect coming down, losing control of themselves." He looked at Tom and Cassie in turn, no doubt reading the scepticism in their expressions. "I can't get behind that, I'm afraid. I was there. I was very much present, but it still doesn't feel like it was me. I'm not a violent man, Inspector. Quite the opposite."

  "But you picked up a knife," Tom said slowly. "And then you stabbed him with it."

  Hansell drew a breath and then rubbed at his mouth and the base of his nose, nodding. "Yes, I did."

  "How many times?"

  "Three."

  The answer was cold, devoid of acknowledgement of the consequences.

  "The first surprised me," Hansell said. "The knife was right there. I think he'd used it for preparing lunch as it was lying next to a chopping board. I reached for it and he turned, seeing me standing there holding the knife." His face took on a peculiar expression. Tom wondered if he was recollecting the moment in his mind's eye. "He laughed. He laughed at me… and I stabbed him. The look on his face… shock, horror… and surprise."

  "And then?"

  Hansell shook his head. "He reached for me and I stepped back. He took a step and I stabbed him again, two more times. I swear he couldn't believe it. Nor could I. Then… he sort of slumped down to the floor and fell forward, breathing out this really odd gurgling sound. I can't describe it any better than that. It was all so surreal."

  "And what did you do then?" Tom asked.

  "I left, of course. I threw the knife into the marsh before getting into my car. I was surprised how little blood there was. I thought if you stabbed someone, the blood splashes out all over you but it didn't. I mean, I had some on my hands and it took a lot of effort to get it out of the stitching of the leather wrap on my steering wheel, but… as I say, it was a surprise."

  "And what of Mary Beckett?" Cassie asked.

  Hansell's attention snapped around to her, his brow furrowing with incredulity. "What of her? She was a royal pain in the backside, but I had no reason to kill her. What possible gain would I have?"

  "The pain in your backside would be gone," Cassie said.

  Hansell laughed. "Everywhere I go in this line of work there are a hundred Mary Becketts. She wasn't any different to all the other protesters who try to block what we do. With her out of the way, it just leaves space for another… and another. Besides," he said with a dismissive flick of the hand. "She'd already succeeded in delaying the project, in having it re-examined by the planning inspectors. What else could she do? I mean really, what would I have to gain from killing her? I know it's hard for you to believe bearing in mind everything I just told you but…" He shook his head. "I didn't kill Mary Beckett. I had nothing to do with it!"

  Someone knocked on the door. Tom checked his irritation, not quite able to believe they were being interrupted at this point. He indicated towards the recorder and rose from his seat. Cassie declared DI Janssen was leaving the room along with the time. Tom slipped out into the corridor to find Eric waiting for him, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

  "Sorry, Tom, but you really need to see this."

  He thrust a sheet of paper into his hands. Tom lowered his eyes from Eric to the document. It was a list of telephone numbers. Several had repeated entries and were highlighted in different colours. One number stood out.

  "Is this what I think it is?" he asked. Eric nodded. "Well, I'll be damned."

  "I checked Hansell's contacts list. The number is there but with no name beside it. It's down as Weekend."

  Tom winked at Eric who smiled, grateful to not feel the wrath of his boss for interrupting the confession. Tom returned to the interview room, Cassie stating that for the sake of the recording. He walked to the table and put the sheet of paper down, pushing it across in front of him. Hansell's eyes drifted to it, but he said nothing.

  "This is an itemised call list for your mobile phone account. This telephone number, highlighted in yellow. Whose is it?" Tom asked. Cassie glanced at him, clearly intrigued. Liam Hansell cast an eye over the document once more, sucking his lower lip beneath the upper. His eyes lifted to Tom.

  "I see no relevance—"

  "Let me be the judge of that. Whose number is it and why don't you have a name registered alongside it in the contacts book of your phone?"

  Hansell frowned. "It's… a friend. I see him occasionally."

  "A friend called Weekend?"

  Hansell sighed again, shaking his head. "Look, I work away a lot. My husband and I… we have an agreement that we can… explore other interests while we are apart. It's nothing untoward, as long as we are careful then it's okay. But I see no reason to rub his face in it." He shook his head again, splaying his hands wide. "It's a purely casual arrangement, on everyone's behalf."

  "So why no name?"

  "Because…" Hansell sat back, looking up and away from them. "Because he's married… and because I am discreet."

  "And who is it?"

  Hansell fixed his eye on Tom, clearly mulling over what to say next. "I may well have ruined my life, Inspector, but I assure you I will not ruin his." He rubbed at his face with both hands. Lowering them back to the table, he smiled weakly at Tom. "I would like to speak with a solicitor now if I may? I believe it is within my rights."

  "This is a murder investigation, Mr Hansell. You may not be doing yourself any favours by not telling us."

  Hansell sighed. "I'll take the advice of legal counsel before I say anything else."

  He folded his arms across his chest. Tom glanced at Cassie and she concluded the interview.

  With Liam Hansell safely detained in a holding cell back in the custody suite, Tom and Cassie joined Eric and Tamara in the ops room. Tom clapped Eric on the shoulder as he came alongside him. Eric grinned. "Outstanding bit of observation, young man," Tom said, looking at the information board relating to Mary Becket
t's murder and scanning the recorded details of her alleged stalker and the associated allegations of harassment. The messages sent to her from the anonymous burner phone were untraceable, with no leads as to who sent them. Until now. Now they had a lead, and whoever still had the mobile phone met infrequently with Liam Hansell. They were close. He could feel it.

  "But, if Hansell won't speak," Tamara said, "we're no closer to knowing whose number it is, are we?" Her eyes passed between them.

  "My money's on Daniel Crowe," Eric said. "There was that incident Janet Beckett relayed to you, Tom, remember?" Tamara looked at Tom inquisitively, but he was lost in thought. Eric explained. "There was an allegation that Crowe was found in a compromising position in his car with a young man. And his loathing of Mary Beckett is no secret."

  Tamara raised her eyebrows. "Any truth in that, the compromising position I mean?"

  "Yes," Eric said. "He was given a police caution for solicitation at the time. It was five years ago, but timing isn't really relevant when it comes to sexual orientation is it."

  "I guess not," Tamara said. She looked at Tom, who was still distracted. "Perhaps Hansell's solicitor will advise him to cooperate, but I'd rather we didn't have to wait to see if that happens."

  "I get that I was way off when looking at Alice," Cassie said, her eyes darting towards Tom as she spoke, who barely registered a flicker of a reaction at her admission. "But if she left as the witness and now Hansell clearly state, why did she go back later where she was seen by the manager of the holiday lets?"

  "He didn't see her though," Tamara said. "Just her car but I agree, it's odd."

  "She didn't go back," Tom said without taking his eyes from the board. "After I left her, she went to collect Saffy from her mum's place. She was also home when I got back later on. She couldn't have been in Cley."

  "Yeah, right," Cassie said, frowning. "Like I say, it's odd. I guess the witness made a mistake."

  "It happens," Tamara said. "What's on your mind, Tom?"

  He looked at her, thumb and forefinger stroking his chin, then at the other two standing either side of him. "Sorry, what did you say?"