Smile of the Stowaway

by Tony Bassett

  ‘At first he thought we were there to investigate the burglary,’ he told us. ‘But the smartly-dressed man’s carefree manner soon vanished when we informed him he was under arrest. After our DC Tariq Khan cautioned him and mentioned he was suspected of having committed murder, he replied: “What murder? What are you talking about?” When we mentioned the name Lucas Sharp, he said : “Don’t be so ridiculous. I was at the Pilgrim’s Rest all night. There were dozens of people with me.”

  ‘Then, just to make our job a little challenging, Luke Bennett suddenly walked up the garden path and DC Khan made some comment along the lines of: “Suddenly I’m seeing double.” We had to bar Luke Bennett from going into his house as the boss had asked for the forensic team to give the place a thorough search.

  ‘We drove Neil Bennett to the station, while DC Khan took a statement from the brother.’

  Anne had been listening to every word, but she was desperate to ask a question.

  ‘Sergeant, I was wondering if any results had come back from the forensic tests?’ she said.

  ‘I was just going to come onto that. You’ll be pleased to know the pieces of glass found embedded in the shoe were definitely from the broken pane in the back door. They were composed of the same obscure glass pattern known in the glazing trade as stippolyte. In addition, tiny traces of a wheatgerm bread spilt on the kitchen floor in the cottage were also found ingrained in the sole.’

  He explained the partial shoeprint scenes of crime officers had found in the mud just outside the cottage door appeared to have been created by exactly the same shoe.

  The sergeant added that tread on the Bennetts’ mountain bike matched the tracks discovered at the cottage.

  ‘We’ve made checks with the Automatic Number Plate Recognition system for the twins’ cars,’ he said. ‘Both vehicles were in the Sissenden area at the time of the murder, but we’ve no information about whether either car travelled to Chivingden.

  ‘CCTV cameras picked up Neil’s gold Toyota Land Cruiser when it was travelling in St Stephens, but we couldn’t get a clear enough image of anyone inside.

  ‘Then we interviewed Neil Bennett. He was a cool customer to begin with, I must say. He was represented by his solicitor, Rashid Chowdhury.

  ‘Bennett confirmed he is separated from his wife. He said he returned from work on Bonfire Night just after six thirty. He drove to the Pilgrim’s Rest at about seven and claimed he was there all evening. We were getting nowhere. He was denying everything. Then suddenly we had a breakthrough.’

  37

  Sergeant Kirwan’s face broke into a smile as he recalled how the interview with Neil Bennett suddenly began to produce results.

  He said : ‘We began making headway when I asked him the names of his quiz team that evening. He could recall his parents and Ted Moreton being there but couldn’t remember anyone else.

  ‘Then Inspector Woods intervened to say: “How come you didn’t know the answer to question fourteen?”

  ‘He said: “What d’you mean, question fourteen? Am I expected to remember every single question asked that night in numerical order and the answers we gave?”

  ‘I told him: “You’d remember this one all right. It concerned caving. You’re a bit of an expert in that subject, aren’t you?” He admitted he was. Then I pointed out the fourteenth question asked: “Underground potholers sometimes come across a tall, narrow passage formed by a stream eroding downwards. What do we call this passage above the water table - phreatic, vadose or littoral?”

  ‘He snapped back at us: “That’s right. The answer’s vadose. What’s the problem?” We then revealed the team gave the answer as “phreatic.” He tried to deny it, which was ridiculous. The inspector really let rip at this point.

  ‘He said: “We’ve got the quiz sheet filled in by your team. Your brother stood in for you at the quiz, didn’t he? You were somewhere else, weren’t you? We’ve had a long chat with Luke. Eventually he confirmed the pair of you swapped places. No one noticed because you’re identical twins. It’s the kind of prank the two of you have played all your lives.”’

  Anne interrupted to say: ‘He must’ve been shaking in his boots then.’

  ‘Yes, he asked for an adjournment at that point. He said he wanted to speak to his brief.‘

  ‘Had Luke Bennett really confessed to standing in for his brother?’ Anne asked.

  ‘No, we were bluffing,’ said the sergeant. ‘But it did the trick. Ten minutes later Neil Bennett and his solicitor resumed their seats. Then Mr Chowdhury told us words to the effect: “My client would like to make a statement. He’d like to inform you he’s not been totally honest with you. The reason was he wanted to protect his child and try not to involve his family in view of his estrangement. The fact is you’re correct, gentlemen, in your assumption Mr Bennett was not present at the quiz that night. He was with his son Mark, who’s twelve. He took him for a drive to show him the fireworks.” That was the gist of what the solicitor said.

  ‘Well, we were making progress. But the inspector felt this statement didn’t have the ring of truth about it. He looked Bennett directly in the eye and said: “We’d like you to tell us whereabouts you drove to show your son the fireworks?”

  ‘Bennett looked uncomfortable. He looked towards his lawyer. He said: “I don’t mind telling them. We drove to Herne Bay. There was a big display on. We watched from a distance.” The inspector said he didn’t believe him because one of our detective constables had checked mobile phone records for the area. This had shown that, on Bonfire Night, the phones used by both Bennett brothers had been solely in the Sissenden area throughout the evening.

  ‘All he could come up with was the lame excuse he might’ve left his phone with his brother. Then the inspector established both Bennett brothers take size ten shoes and questioned him about the brown size twelve shoe found at the house. Bennett couldn’t explain why it was there and denied anyone else had been staying with them.

  ‘The inspector was really beginning to lose his temper now. He warned Bennett: “You’re accused of premeditated murder. Whichever precise charge you eventually face, it remains a fact the more you hold back, the worse it’ll be for you in the long run.” But Bennett still refused to cooperate and said simply: “No comment.”

  ‘We were becoming concerned the twelve hours we’d been granted to hold Bennett in custody were nearly up. But shortly afterwards some fresh information came in and we were able to convince our boss, Chief Superintendent John Packham, we deserved a twelve-hour extension.

  ‘The new information came from Rosie Bennett’s mother, Sandra Fagg, who confirmed her grandson Mark remained at Rosie’s Sturry home for the whole evening on Bonfire Night.

  ‘Our forensic team at the Bennetts’ house yesterday afternoon found more military correspondence in the loft at Summoners Close. Along with the letters you found, Anne, they all referred to the soldier Chad Draxfield. Microscopic fibres from a military-style jacket in the loft matched fibres found on the back of Lucas Sharp’s jacket.

  ‘We knew we were on the home straight then. We even received a report from DC Khan by email which supported the information you gave us earlier in the week, Anne, about Lance Corporal Draxfield. Khan confirmed he’s been fighting in Afghanistan as a member of the Royal Engineers.

  ‘In a third interview, we questioned him about his links to Draxfield, along with details about the tyre tracks from Luke Bennett’s bicycle.

  ‘The inspector demanded: “Are you going to play around with us or tell us the truth? The maximum sentence for murder is life. Did you realise that? It means you won’t see Mark and Cheryl growing up.” This appeared to do the trick. The son’s name had cropped up previously. But Bennett had not realised the inspector knew the name of his seven-year-old daughter. That came as a shock. Tears welled up in his eyes.

  ‘He sudden
ly said : “I’ve been a fool. I must tell you the truth.” His brief nearly fell off his chair. He tried to intervene, but Bennett said: “No, I can’t take no more of this. I’ll tell you what happened.”’

  ‘Did he explain his precise part in the murder?’ asked Anne.

  ‘Of course, he’s tried to downplay his role. It appears he got Ted Moreton, an old family friend, to order the tracking device. They got it sent to Finch & Davies to avoid awkward questions. Neil attached it to Sharp’s car and used it to trace him to the cottage.’

  ‘Just as I thought. Ted Moreton lied to me,’ said Anne. ‘He told me he ordered the device for himself and the package was stolen from the post-room.’

  The sergeant went on: ‘We don’t believe Moreton knew the real reason Neil Bennett wanted the tracker. Anyway, this is how we now see it. On the night of the murder, Luke Bennett lent Neil and his friend Draxfield his mountain bike, which they put in the back of Neil’s car. Neil drove Draxfield - known among the squaddies as ‘Mad Chad’ -- to the hamlet of Chivingden.

  ‘When they reached the start of the lane called The Street, they unloaded the bike and Draxfield cycled off to the cottage. After the deed was done, Draxfield tried to destroy all evidence by setting fire to a pile of clothes. Luckily that failed, as you know, because the fire brigade were nearby and acted quickly. Afterwards he cycled back down the lane and met up with Bennett. They placed the bike back in the car and drove off.

  ‘Neil denies Draxfield was his hitman. He claims he was against the whole scheme. He never thought Sharp would be killed. He thought he’d just be scared off.’

  I interrupted to say: ‘What? When they had a deadly firework, rope and a hammer?’

  ‘Well, that’s his story. He says it all got out of control and he’s put all the blame on his friend Draxfield. He says the soldier was devoted to him and could see Neil was heartbroken at Rosie’s affair. Draxfield was determined to get rid of Lucas. He couldn’t purchase any explosives without causing suspicion, but managed to buy some industrial fireworks being sold by a man he met in a pub.

  ‘He knew how deadly it would be if the shell was upside down. He also mastered how to write “Devil” in Tigrinyan and scratched the letters onto the car to cast blame on Osman. I’m pleased to say our Mr Bennett will be appearing in court next week charged with murder.’

  Anne asked: ‘Who d’you think made the mystery phone call to Rosie Bennett to delay her going to the cottage?’

  ‘We think Draxfield made the call, putting on a foreign-sounding voice - possibly in another attempt to implicate the Eritrean. If Bennett had made the call, Rosie would’ve recognised the voice - however much he tried to disguise it.’

  ‘Have you had any luck in finding Draxfield?’ I asked.

  ‘We’re hoping to arrest him tomorrow in North Yorkshire,’ the sergeant said. ‘If we’d launched a nationwide manhunt with full publicity, we feared he could’ve gone to ground.’

  ‘So he’s no longer in Summoners Close?’ I said.

  ‘No. We’re not exactly sure where he is right now.’

  Anne declared: ‘Bob - he’s a caver, a mountaineer, a parachutist and a sailor. He’s a survival expert, a woodsman, a denizen of the outdoors. No roof? Not a problem. He builds a shack in the woods. No heating? Not a problem. He lights a fire. No food? Not a problem. He kills a deer and roasts it on the fire.’

  ‘Once again,’ said the sergeant. ‘You seem remarkably well-informed, Mrs Shaw.’

  ‘I’ve just made a personal study of the man, sergeant,’ she explained. ‘I’m sure, if he says he’s returning to Catterick tomorrow, he’ll be there.’

  ‘I know and, when we slap a pair of handcuffs over the big hands that wore those leather gloves we found, I’ll be one happy man,’ he said. ‘But I’m not counting the chickens. As my mam used to say, you don’t toot your trumpet while you’re stirring the porridge.’

  The sergeant then told us he also wanted to discuss a matter close to our hearts - the future of Yusuf.

  ‘As you may know, there’s a preliminary hearing booked for next Monday. The inspector’s decided to have a word with the Crown Prosecution Service and we plan to offer no evidence.’

  ‘What does that mean precisely?’ I said.

  ‘It means the murder charge against Mr Osman is dropped and no further action will be taken. Of course, that doesn’t mean he’ll be released from custody. Because of his illegal status, I’d expect him to remain in prison for a time and then be transferred to a detention centre. ‘

  ‘Is there no way he can be released?’ asked Anne anxiously.

  ‘Well, this is what I was coming to. Your Mrs Carslake should file an application for him to be granted leave to stay in Britain. Migrants from Mr Osman’s country have more luck than most asylum seekers because the government there is one of the world’s most repressive regimes and human rights abuses are rife.’

  Anne assured him, early the following day, she would visit the solicitor and urge her to do all she could to allow Yusuf to stay in England.

  ‘He might be given temporary leave to remain while his situation is considered by the Home Office,’ the sergeant said. ‘He might be allowed to live with yourselves for a while, providing he wears an electronic tag.’

  ‘That would be tremendous, if that could be arranged,’ said a delighted Anne.

  ‘Well, no promises now. It’s just my thoughts after dealing with a few of these migrant cases myself from time to time. Well, I’d better go, but it’s been nice to see you people again.’

  We both shook the sergeant’s hand warmly.

  ‘Thank you so much for coming and bringing us up to date,’ I said. ‘We definitely won’t be tooting our trumpet until we know that squaddie is safely locked up!’

  The sergeant walked slowly back to his car, deep in thought. I watched him from the window and waved as be began to drive away. We knew we had been lucky. We could have landed in court for harbouring Yusuf. We had acted foolishly, I suppose. Months later we discovered from Prunella Ball that, at one stage, the two detectives had been extremely suspicious of Anne and me.

  But when their inquiries began into the Lilac Cottage case, the two officers found there was no time to worry about us. It was such a high-profile case their focus had been principally on solving the murder. Woods and Kirwan had also believed, according to Prunella, Yusuf might have conned us in the same way he had possibly conned many other people.

  DI Woods had on one occasion claimed: ‘I want to get the murder case done and dusted before we deal with the minor matters.’ But there was more to it than that, Prunella insisted. She disclosed senior officers had later elected to take no action over our conduct to avoid any embarrassing revelations about police blunders emerging in court.

  Over the weekend, Anne received a mobile phone call from Gemma Sharp. She told Anne: ‘I want to apologise. I said things to you I should never have said. I accused you of trying to undermine the cops and prying into my personal life regarding Brandon, who genuinely is just an old friend. I’m sorry. I’ve been through a lot over the past four weeks. Could you forgive me?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Anne. ‘I realise you’ve had a tough time.’

  Gemma went on: ‘I’ve heard the floozie’s husband’s been arrested over the murder, so it looks like the cops got the whole thing wrong. I should’ve trusted you in the first place when you spoke up for the immigrant. I hope we can be friends again.’

  ‘Don’t be silly! Of course, we’re friends,’ said Anne. ‘I’ll call round and see you and the children during the week, shall I?’

  ‘Yes. That’d be nice. It’d be good to see you. It’s a great relief for police to catch the bastard who killed my Lucas. I know he’d got his faults, but I never stopped loving him. He was a great father to my children. Even though William was his stepson, he treated h
im just the same as his own son, Richard. I really miss him, Anne.’

  38

  We arrived at the crown court in good time on the morning of Monday, November the thirtieth. It was a bitterly cold day, but neither of us was aware of the icy wind. This was expected to be a day of triumph, a day when all Anne’s efforts would be rewarded. It was the day Yusuf was due to be acquitted of the murder.

  However, we knew in advance it would be something of a hollow victory and our celebrations would be muted. Yusuf was to remain in custody because of his illegal status in our country. Mrs Carslake had already informed us of that.

  I had not been to a crown court before. Canterbury’s is a distinctive cathedral-like building on the city’s edge with two impressive turquoise-coloured box windows at first floor level - one on either side of the towering glazed entrance. A giant roof gable overshadows the double doors, which are reached by a sweep of ten steps.

  Inside the main courtroom, a Royal Coat of Arms hangs from the wall above the judge’s bench. The clerk and lawyers sit at benches beneath him while the defendant sits in the “dock” - a glorified wooden box at the rear of the court.

  Anne and I took our places in the public gallery at the side. We waved to Yusuf, who was sitting in the centre of the dock, flanked by two women custody officers. He looked more gaunt than before but managed to smile and wave back.

  Just after ten o’clock, a court usher in a black gown entered through a side door. As judge Philip Hayden-Jones began to emerge in his wig and violet robe, the usher’s voice boomed out: ‘ All rise. All persons having any business before my lords, the Queen’s justices, in the jurisdiction of this court draw near and give your attendance. God save the Queen.’

  ‘Good morning, Mr Pennycook!’ said the judge as everyone sat down. Giles Pennycook, who represented the Crown Prosecution Service, rose to his feet. ‘Good morning, Your Honour.’