Edward Sharman knew that the situation was hopeless as he sat in the interview room. On one side of the table, the two police officers were sitting up straight, full of pride because they had brought an investigation to a successful conclusion. On his side, Ainsley Caxton had shrunk in his seat. Before O’Grady’s body had been found, and before he had discovered that Gary Frost had run out on him, Caxton had been full of himself, almost cheeky with the police constable who had brought him his breakfast, but now, it was over.
The confession had surprised even Isaac. Caxton had not spoken since entering the interview room and would not until he had left, except to give his name and to read his statement.
‘I, Ainsley Gregory Caxton, do admit to the killing of Hector O’Grady. I was acting on the instructions of Gary Frost. He has been responsible for other murders, none of which were committed by me. I am guilty of the maltreatment of Ralph Lawrence and Keith Waters. O’Grady was proving to be unreliable. Frost demanded that I dispose of the man. I followed orders as a soldier would if given a command by an officer.’
Larry could see Sharman’s clever wording. An attempt to convince a jury that his client Caxton, a man who did have a good army service record, was a man who did what he was told, a humble man who deserved leniency. It was a clever ploy, but Larry, like Emily, knew full well that with the litany of crimes against Caxton it would not lessen the sentence. He was going down for sixteen years at the very least.
‘Frost’s business empire was under threat. He needed to reduce his liabilities. O’Grady was a man likely to talk. He was physically strong, mentally and morally bankrupt,’ Caxton continued. ‘I joined the boat two miles from the boatyard. We had pulled in there before, and both of us were familiar with the place. Sometimes we’d make a small fire, cook the fish and then have a few drinks. I shot him, not because I wanted to, but because I had to. In Belgium, it had been O’Grady who killed Samuels. I was merely the bystander, but Frost intended, if there was no hope, to lay the blame on me. If I did not agree to kill O’Grady, he would implicate me in Samuels’ death. It was known that he had received a phone call from Belgium, and the evidence was mounting against him. I had regarded Frost as a friend, but when he told me to kill O’Grady, I knew he was not. That is the end of my statement.’
Caxton was formally charged with the murder of Hector O’Grady and taken back to his cell. ‘Where’s Frost?’ Sharman said.
‘We’re still waiting for him,’ Emily said.
‘Give me a call when he gets here. I’ll be representing him.’ Sharman stood up and walked out, not shaking the officers’ hands, not saying goodbye.
***
Frost did not return to his car. He cut a sorry figure as he walked, keeping to the side streets as much as possible. He met Ted Samson, the small man who had kept a watch on Ralph Lawrence on his ignominious return to England.
Samson was pleased to see Frost in the coffee shop, knowing that their meeting would come with four fifty-pound notes being slipped across the table.
‘Mr Frost, what do you want?’ Samson asked. He had ordered a café latte, the man opposite to pay. ‘I told you what I saw at Gilbert Lawrence’s house.’
‘You were looking for Ralph Lawrence, but he was in Spain.’
‘That’s right. You never paid me.’
‘How much?’
‘Another five hundred. In cash and now.’
Any other time, Samson would have been hanging upside down from a beam for his impertinence, but now the man who saw all, said nothing unless paid, was in control. Frost reached into his wallet and withdrew ten fifty-pound notes. He passed them across the table, the little man hurriedly putting them into a pocket.
‘You’re a little bastard,’ Frost said.
‘Little, I’ll agree with, but not a bastard. You’re in trouble, and the police are looking for you. The word is that Caxton’s pleaded guilty, put the blame on you. The police have your photo on a list of the most wanted. You’ll be lucky to stay free for more than a few hours.’
‘How much?’
‘Another ten of what you just gave me. A disguise, is that it?’
‘I need to get out of the country. Can you arrange it?’
‘A good passport costs money. I can’t help you there.’
‘Okay, a disguise. What do you have that you haven’t told me?’
‘I kept a watch on Gilbert Lawrence’s house. I saw people going in, people going out.’
‘Which people?’
‘The housekeeper, the postman, the old recluse.’
‘Anyone else?’
‘Another five hundred.’
Frost was running short of cash, but he managed to give the man what he wanted.
On a piece of paper, Samson wrote down the name of one more person. ‘That’s who’ll get you a passport.’ He also handed over a timed and dated photo from his iPhone.
‘I could have bled this person for a fortune,’ Frost said.
‘You still can. I’ve no need of a fortune,’ Samson said. ‘Just a quiet life, enough for my needs, a couple of pints of an evening.’ And with that, he left. Fifteen minutes later he returned and placed a bag on the table. ‘That’ll cost you two hundred,’ before he disappeared once again, this time not to return. For the first time that day, Gary Frost smiled.
***
Jill Dundas sat in her office, the door was closed. At the reception, a man stood. ‘Tell Jill I’m here about an unpaid debt. Tell her it’s personal.’
The lady on reception made the phone call. Jill Dundas came out of her office. ‘Yes, what do you want?’ she asked as she looked across at a man with a mop of black hair.
‘Look at this,’ Gary Frost said, as he opened his wallet to reveal a time-stamped photo.’
‘Come into my office, please.’ The woman maintained her cool.
Inside the office, Frost removed his wig. It had itched, and it had made him look stupid. It had, however, allowed him to walk past two police cars. ‘My name’s Gary Frost. I’m about to be charged with murder, and you, Miss Dundas, are going to get me out of the country.’
‘Why, how?’
‘You saw the photo. It is you, isn’t it?’
‘But what does it mean?’
‘Let me tell you a little story,’ Frost said. ‘I had lent a lot of money to Ralph Lawrence. I did not know of his family connection. And why should I? But then Ralph’s a naughty boy, and he’s not answering his phone.’
‘Get to the point.’
‘I don’t know what to do. I need time to consider, and I get one of my men to watch out for him, but he keeps the information to himself, bleeds me for more money.’
‘Is there a point to this?’
‘My man finds the father’s house, realises it probably the one place that Ralph will come to. He sees the housekeeper, the postman, old man Lawrence. He’s a devious man that I employ. He’s like a ferret, here and there, scurrying around, taking me for money, taking it from whoever else. Maybe he took some from you, but it’s not important now. Anyway, my life’s taken a turn for the worse, and I met with the ferret. He tells me that he knows something, something that I’ve not paid for. He may be right, or maybe he’s been paid off. He gave me a photo, the one I just showed you. I’ve taken a copy, emailed it to the police, a twenty-four-hour delay before it’s sent. I could cancel it, but that’s up to you.’
‘I’ll deny it all, the best lawyers.’
‘If he’s as good as mine, you’ll be arrested for murder.’
‘What do you want?’
‘Not money. I want to get out of this country, a false passport.’
‘That can be arranged, but it takes time.’
‘How long?’
‘Eight hours.’
‘Where?’
‘To the north of London.’
‘You’ve done this before,’ Frost said. He had to admit he admired the woman: cool as a cucumber, a heart of pure ice.
‘I’ve not admitted to anyth
ing.’
‘Nor should you. Get me out of the country, a false identity, and your secret is safe with me.’
‘Can I trust you?’ Jill said.
‘What do you think?’
‘I think that you will honour the agreement. You will have your passport.’
Frost could see no reaction in the woman: no sweating, no nervous twitches, no sign of panic.
Outside, in the reception area, the noise of people entering. Frost stood up. ‘You’ve called the police.’
‘I haven’t. They must have followed you. Our agreement stands. Get yourself out on bail, and I’ll get you out of the country.’
‘It’s a deal.’
***
Gary Frost sat in the interview room at Greenwich Police Station. On his right-hand side, Edward Sharman. Across from them, Emily Matson and Larry Hill.
‘We received a tip-off,’ Emily said. ‘What were you doing at the offices of Jill Dundas?’
‘My client has no comment,’ Sharman said. ‘He has given you a statement stating his innocence. He is a wealthy man who is being accused by others in an attempt to discredit him.’
‘Mr Frost will be charged with conspiracy to murder. We have sufficient proof to secure a conviction for that charge. Mr Sharman, you have seen the evidence against your client, as well as the testimony of three other persons. It would be advisable to prepare his defence.’
‘I know what I need to do,’ Sharman said.
Outside of the interview room, Sharman shook the hand of Emily. ‘Not so good for my client, but you did a good job.’ With that he left the police station.
‘Who tipped us off about Frost being with Jill Dundas?’ Isaac asked.
‘We don’t know,’ Larry said. ‘A squeaky voice said something about Frost having cheated him out of a hundred pounds. Unlisted number, so no point in tracing it.’
Emily arrived at Inspector Camberwell’s home at eight in the evening. The man was still asleep after a twenty-four-hour bender at home and in the pub. A security camera had picked up Caxton placing the package under the bench near the Greenwich Observatory, Camberwell picking it up a few minutes later, even checking that the full amount had been paid. It had been another piece of information that Caxton had put forward in an attempt to deny his guilt and to portray himself as a weak man. It was not going to work, but it did allow Camberwell to be arrested: the most heinous of crimes, a police officer guilty of taking bribes. He would be detained in the cell next to Frost.
Nineteen hours after Frost had been remanded, almost twenty-four from when he had sat in Jill Dundas’s office, an email arrived in Isaac’s inbox. He opened it and forwarded it to the team. Bridget printed out a high-definition jpeg and pinned it to the evidence board in Homicide.
Jill Dundas was arrested later that day. She protested that the photo was a fake, an attempt at extortion, and that was why Frost had been in her office. She was charged with murder; the date matched the time of death, the blood stains visible on the hem of the dress as she had left Gilbert Lawrence’s mansion. At her house, the dress was retrieved. The woman may have been financially smart, but she did not understand forensics. There had been an attempt at cleaning the dress, but the marks remained inside the fold of the hem. Forensics were confident that they would be able to extract enough to match Gilbert Lawrence’s DNA.
‘I had to. All that work of my father’s, and Gilbert wanted to come out of seclusion, to make contact with his family. For them to forgive him, for him to forgive them. I couldn’t allow it. I had to kill him.’
Ralph Lawrence and Caroline Dickson were stunned at the revelation. The full extent of their father’s assets, or whatever could be recovered, would be theirs.
Yolanda phoned from Antigua on hearing the news. She intended to be on the next plane to London. Ralph told her not to bother.
The End
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Murder of a Silent Man Page 24