by Lee Wood
“We went up to our room. It was a lovely morning so we had planned to take a walk around the botanical gardens. I was changing my shirt and there was a loud knock at the door. Peter answered it and this guy just barged in. I didn't have a clue who he was. When I asked him he said he was Peter's partner and that they had been living together for six years. I was truly shocked. He and Peter argued. He called Peter a lying cheating bastard and then started to cry and left. Peter went after him.
“My last partner cheated on me and it wasn’t a nice experience. I vowed I’d never do such a thing to anyone else. So I called down to reception and asked them to book me a taxi to the rail station. Then I packed my things and went downstairs and waited near the door until the taxi arrived. That's all I can tell you. I don't think I've left anything out.”
“Can you tell me the time of the train you caught?”
Yes. It was the one o'clock. I’ve still got the ticket if you want to see it?”
“The three paintings you mention that Peter bought. I have to ask you this, but when you left did you take one of them? We’ve found two. However, the valuable one is missing.
“No. It was still on the easel in the corner of the room. I wouldn’t do such a thing. Look around you, where would I hide it? No, I swear I didn’t take it.
“That’s okay. I believe you but I had to ask. I hope you understand? Thank you, Mr Varney, for what you have given us. I appreciate you going into so much detail. One very last thing. Can you recall anything unusual that happened? Did Peter meet anyone or did you see or hear anything suspicious? Was there anyone hanging around or acting odd apart from the man who confronted you in your room?”
“Not that I can think … wait a minute. There were three men at a nearby table in the restaurant. As I said I've worked in restaurants and you get a nose for people who aren't quite what they appear to be. I did notice one of them listening to what Peter was saying but pretending not to. Then he went outside and I think he made a phone call. Experienced waiters see and hear a lot more than people realise. We're trying to work out who will leave us a big tip if we treat them right. It could be nothing but as I said, you get a nose for those kinds of things.”
“If we showed you some photos do you think you’d recognise the man in the restaurant?”
“Yes, I’m sure of it. He was a bit rough looking. I wouldn’t want to meet him down a dark alley, if you catch my drift?”
“That's really helpful, Oliver. Well done for remembering that. It's the small things people don't think matter that can actually turn out to be the most important. If you recall anything else or you change address or your contact details please let us know. Here's my card with my direct number.”
Three hours after leaving London, Tracy and Will arrived back at Trentbridge Police Station. The DCI was waiting for them. Tracy showed him the will they had found in the victim’s desk drawer, showing Norman was in line to get everything.
Andy called out for all members of the team in the incident room to gather round. “Okay. I’ve just heard from Eden and Carla. They’re on their way back and expect to be here in about an hour. So we’ll wait for them and have a quick round up. I’m sorry it’s been such a long day for you all.”
One hour later, Eden and Carla walked into the incident room. The DCI called out for his team to gather round again.
“Great work. With what I’ve seen of the evidence, I think we’ve got this case wrapped up. Norman is the sole beneficiary of the will. As far as I’m concerned we’ve got our man. I’ve been on to the CPS and they’ve agreed to us charging Norman with the murder. “
A cheer went up from most of the team.
“There are plenty of other cases needing our attention so let’s put this to bed and move on. Well done, everyone. Good job.”
As his colleagues walked back to where they had been before to get ready to go home, Eden turned to Andy Stone. “Can I have a word with you, sir, in your office?”
Stone nodded and the pair moved to the DCI’s office.
“I’m not convinced Norman did it.”
“Look, Eden. I’m under a lot of pressure with this one. Norman had the motive and the means, and he lied about who he was. He thought Winston-Moore was about to go off with someone else, someone much younger. We have the will from just three weeks ago leaving everything to him. If Peter had decided to go off with a younger lover then Norman wouldn’t get a penny. As far as I’m concerned unless you have something positive I really don’t see the point. If he’s innocent then let the jury decide. Go home and get an early night, we’ve got a lot of cases on the books and I need you fresh to concentrate on the schoolteacher assault first thing on Monday.”
Eden Gold arrived home and couldn’t even recall the journey, having been so pre-occupied. He didn’t want to go against his boss but he couldn’t let this one go. Something just wasn’t right. All his instincts were telling him Norman wasn’t the killer. He knew the DCI had already made up his mind about Norman. He wasn’t sure why but there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t take the risk of upsetting his boss but he knew a man who could.
He picked up his mobile and dialled.
“Hello, James. It’s Eden Gold and I need your help, unofficially of course. Any chance we can meet?”
Chapter Twenty- Five
The headlines of the national press screamed out ‘Art Dealer Murdered at Hotel’, ‘Art Dealer Murdered in Million-Pound Painting Theft’ and all of them filled with details, some true and some from the imagination of journalists, too lazy or useless to get their facts right.
The hotel’s phones were red hot:
“I’d like to cancel my booking. I don’t want to get murdered in my bed.”
“I have to cancel; my er…, cat is poorly and I don’t want to leave him.”
“Can we re-book when they’ve caught the person responsible?”
It was not all bad news.
When the Albion Hotel had been taken over by its new owner, Lotto winner James Sheldon, he had brought in a design company to revamp the hotel. One of the things they had done was to extend and upgrade the bars and restaurant. So the bar staff were working at full capacity to cope with the hordes of curiosity seekers anxious to see where the murder had taken place. You always got people like that - just like motorway accidents where people slowed down to look or take photos.
So far the newspapers had concentrated on printing the details of the murder but DCI Andy Stone knew if they didn’t get a result in the next couple of days they would come up with a new angle to keep the public buying their papers. The usual way was to start attacking the police and ask what they were doing to bring the killer to justice.
This had the effect of putting the man in charge of the investigation under the spotlight. DCI Andy Stone was the man in charge of the investigation and all eyes were on him to get an early result.
Such a high profile case couldn't have come at a worse time. For the past few weeks he had been having a lot of personal problems at home and he really didn't need this. Luckily he had managed to build a good team around him. Eden Gold was a man he could depend on. But he needed a result, and he needed it quickly.
The top brass, as always, wanted quick results too. And they didn’t really care how you got them. After all, they could simply wash their hands of anything that happened. But they hated bad headlines and so anything they could show to the newspapers in the way of an arrest was fine. And it gave the impression they were hitting their targets. However, if things went pear shaped, the elite top brass always found a way out. If someone was arrested, the newspapers were off their backs. If the detective in charge failed, then it was his name on the report. That was why most real and genuine coppers hated the job. As the politics had taken over, it seemed justice had gone out of the window.
Politics, probably the only thing that could give ‘shit’ a good name, Andy thought to himself.
The general public didn’t know the real reason the government had d
ecided to bring in the 'Police and Crime Commissioners'. It was their way of controlling everything. Getting people with no experience but with the powers to oversee everything the police did and paying them up to £100,000 a year plus expenses for the privilege. Of course, they were all associated with a political party. Nothing changed. As Andy reflected on it all, the words of a song by The Who came into his mind: 'meet the new boss, same as the old boss.’
Based on the evidence, Andy felt there was a very strong case for charging Norman Gentle with the murder. After all, he was the spurned lover. From what they could tell, about to be let go in favour of a new and much younger model. Just like his own current situation at home. And Norman had argued with the victim the previous day and it was entirely possible he stood to be the beneficiary in the will that could be worth millions.
He probably thought he’d just walk away without but hadn’t reckoned on being recognised by the antiques dealer and his fake identity being discovered.
All they needed to do was find the blood stained clothing or missing painting with Norman’s fingerprints all over it. They’d done a complete search but there was no sign. They just needed to figure out how Norman had got these items out of the hotel. It was only a matter of time.
DCI Stone decided to call DI Eden Gold into his office to get his opinion.
“Eden. What do you think? Is there enough evidence to charge Norman Gentle with the murder?”
“I'm not sure, Andy. Although it all seems to point to him, there's just something in my gut that tells me we should keep looking.”
“I understand what you’re saying but I'm getting a lot of pressure from upstairs about this one. I need to tell them something. I’ve only got a few hours before I either charge him or release him. I've forwarded the papers to the CPS and I’m waiting for them to get back to me. I hear what you say but based on what we have I think it's likely they will decide to go ahead and from what I can see he's our man. I hate to overrule you on this one but I really think it’s an open and shut case.”
“You know I’ll back you all the way. I fully understand where you’re coming from. But off the record I’ve been a bit worried about you recently. Are you feeling okay? I've noticed you’ve been a bit off colour the past few days. Are you coming down with something?”
Andy opened his mouth and looked as if he was about to tell Eden something but then thought better of it.
“No. Everything is fine. Maybe a bit of a headache and in need of a holiday but you know what it's like. No chance with a big case like this going on. We just need a lucky break. Then we’ve got the case all wrapped up.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Following the decision by DCI Andy Stone to charge Norman Gentle with the murder of his live-in lover, Eden Gold had been assigned to the case of schoolteacher Barry Turner, who was still unconscious in hospital following the head injuries he had received during the one-sided attack at the Five Bells pub.
A police informant had come forward saying he had overheard someone boasting and laughing about the incident in a pub called the Jolly Brewers.
The informant had named someone who was well-known to Trentbridge police. But every time they tried to get close he seemed to elude them. Kevin O’Connor. A name to strike fear into the heart of any local police officer.
He and wife, Sadie, and their two sons, Tyson and Lennox, had been a pain from the day they moved to Trentbridge over twelve years earlier. Fen Road was located on the edge of Pickstone and known locally for the traveller community who managed to reign mayhem over all the people unfortunate enough to live nearby.
Twenty years back, the police controlled the area with an iron rod but this had eroded as the powers that oversee the police force became more liberal. It was an area most police officers would hesitate to visit, unless they really had to.
Kevin and his two sons certainly liked a drink ... or three. Most of the local pubs had at one time or another tried to ban him but no one had the bottle to say no to Kevin. Three bouncers who had stood up to him in the past had all ended up in hospital needing surgery. So he was left to drink in the hope he would get bored and move on to another pub.
It was not only bar staff and bouncers who gave Kevin a wide berth. Most patrol cars knew Kevin’s cars and would suddenly get an emergency call somewhere else if they happened to see him driving home. The only time he was likely to get stopped was if he was driving a vehicle not flagged up as belonging to him and usually found to be on the stolen vehicles list. The word was, if you wanted to arrive home with all your teeth, police officer or not, you didn’t get involved with the O’Connor’s.
Recently an expensive RV vehicle worth over £70,000 had gone missing from the driveway of a house in another part of Trentbridge. It had been fitted with a tracker device that showed it was located at the back of the Two Oaks caravan site on Fen Road but uniformed police had refused to enter the site.
The local newspaper put the story on the front page and caused a stink about the incident but all they got was a statement from the local chief constable saying it was a difficult situation.
Kevin O’Connor was the man the police suspected of taking the vehicle and also behind other crimes including a string of armed raids on post offices where staff were threatened with baseball bats and iron bars, although police had little proof. They were also thought to be the gang behind several ATM cash machine raids that had taken place in the early hours of the morning at several local supermarkets and convenience stores.
The gang would break into the store by smashing a glass panel in the storefront and then crawl inside and smash open the back of the cash machines with power saws, blow torches and sledge hammers. There had been eleven incidents over the past two years and the haul of cash was estimated to be over £600,000 and caused at least £250,000 worth of damage.
On one occasion a police car had arrived on the scene just as the gang were leaving and had given chase. The thieves seemed to know the back roads to take and after a six mile chase on a steep bend the police car travelling at nearly seventy miles per hour had to abandon the chase after a petrol bomb landed on the bonnet. It was only the skill of the police driver that prevented the car from leaving the road and the two officers from being badly injured.
Kevin had moved his family to Trentbridge after the Garda back in Ireland had made their lives difficult to try and get them to move, following constant trouble. The roots of the O’Connor family went back a long way from the area of Connaught. Possibly back as far as the Tara dynasty who were said to have ruled the area from the fifth to the twelfth century. Legend had it that Turloch O’Connor and his son Rory were recognised as kings of Ireland only to be overcome by the Anglo-Normans in the twelfth century.
It was also a place with a long and varied history with its hatred of the British, still remembered from what had become known as the Great Potato Famine of 1845 - 1849 in which over one million people were said to have starved to death or died of disease – as a result of the British landlords becoming more and more greedy. When the crops failed as a result of potato blight, it robbed entire families of their meagre way of life and resulted in famine and widespread starvation.
As a result, during that period, Connaught saw its population decline by nearly thirty percent as people either died or emigrated.
At that time, Ireland was controlled by the government of England who refused to help, instead exporting the foods from Ireland to England and thus leaving the population to die. The Irish, being a proud people only wanted what was fair and did not seek or ask for charity. If the British parliament and people had been unpopular before, this set things on a new level and the contempt of everything to do with England had since been taught down the generations.
This might have had something to do with the way Kevin O’Connor had been brought up by his family; to not ‘give a shit’ about people or their property and to take advantage of them at every opportunity.
As for the law, Kevin O’Connor
considered it a game of cat and mouse. The Liberals in society had helped ensure the police could only operate with one hand tied behind their back.
DI Eden Gold looked at the email that had come through to his desk. It was an internal message from the force’s technical division and gave him the name and address of the person who had dialled 999 from the Five Bells pub regarding the attack on schoolteacher, Barry Turner.
Eden and Detective Sergeant Carla Parsons stood at the door of 15 Histon Road after ringing the bell. A few seconds later, a man appeared.
“Hello. Eric Davies?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“I’m DI Eden Gold and this is DS Carla Parsons from Trentbridge police. We’d like to ask you a few questions about an incident that took place at the Five Bells pub on Wednesday of last week.”
“Oh, you found me. Yes, you’d better come in.”
As the two detectives walked past him into the hall, the man stuck his head out of the front door and looked around. “Sorry, my wife and kids have just left. I wanted to see they had gone. Let’s go through to the kitchen, shall we.”
Eric led them through and offered them chairs at the kitchen table. “Can I get you a tea or coffee?”
“Now, Mr Davies, before we proceed I’ll need to give you a formal caution and my colleague here, Carla, will be making notes. You’re not under arrest but we have to do things by the book. I hope you understand?”
Eric nodded that he did.
Eden read out the caution and then proceeded with the questioning. “We have reason to believe you witnessed an incident that took place at the Five Bells pub on Wednesday of last week.”
“I did. I wondered if using my mobile to call for an ambulance would mean you’d find me.”