The copies of the wills of the three siblings had been received from Walkers and each clearly stated that in the event of their death their third of the company went to a surviving sibling and not to any children they may have. So, for the time being Reece and Maggie had lucked out. And with it went any motive for killing their father and mother respectively.
Anderson hauled himself out of the car. He felt as if he’d aged years in the past few days. He was disoriented, as his previously ordered life tilted on its axis. He knew from experience that murderers came in all shapes and sizes, but Paul? It just didn’t compute.
He followed Crane as he limped down the hospital corridors, his stick tap tapping on the floor. It was as annoying as a dripping tap, but Anderson swallowed his irritation at the noise which was disrupting his thoughts, which were focused anywhere other than on where they were going. But all too soon they arrived at the morgue.
After being suitably attired, Crane and Anderson walked into the autopsy room. Jill was lying on a stainless-steel table, looking as cold and lifeless as the metal she was placed on. It was still hard to look at her, but Anderson had to push away his memories of her from his childhood and concentrate on the task in hand.
Major Martin, an ex-officer in the British Army who had joined the NHS on his discharge, was Crane and Anderson’s preferred pathologist. They were well versed in each other’s method of working and trains of thought.
The Major was talking into the microphone suspended over the autopsy table. ‘A contributing factor in her cause of death was manual strangulation. Bruising from hands are clearly visible on her neck, with the thumbs being used to close her airway, placed one above the other on her throat. Bruising from fingers are visible, wrapping around her neck.’
‘Contributing factor?’ said Crane.
The Major looked up. ‘Oh, it’s you two. About time you arrived.’ Then for the recording said, ‘DI Anderson and Sgt Major Crane have entered the room.’ He turned back to the body, a scalpel slicing easily through the skin of Jill’s throat, exposing her windpipe. ‘Yes, her mouth was full of soil, so I need to see if it went down her throat.’
Anderson looked anywhere other than at Major Martin’s hands as he wielded the sharp blade.
‘Umm,’ the Major said. Then, ‘Ahh.’ Followed by, ‘Just as I thought.’
‘What? What is it?’
‘Sorry, Derek, but your friend here was strangled, presumed dead and then buried alive in the grave. There is soil in her airways, caused by breathing in the dirt as it was thrown on top of her.’
Anderson swayed and for once it was Crane who came to his aid, rather than the other way around. ‘Let’s get a coffee,’ Crane said and steered his friend out of the room, leaving the Major alone to find out if there were any more secrets Jill’s body could give up, that would help catch her killer.
24
The next day, still recovering from Jill’s autopsy, Anderson decided not to attend Kevin’s. It was all too much. Sat at his desk, he pulled out of his pocket a photograph that he’d found at home. It showed the three Dean children and Derek, sat on a log, dressed in swim suits, grinning and dripping water. That day was one of Derek’s most cherished memories. The four of them had been taken to the local river for the day. A heatwave had prompted their outing to a part of the river where a rope had been hung from a large oak which overhung the river. Swinging on it and shouting like Tarzan, then dropping into the river, the four children had been in their element and once the photograph had been taken, had ravenously fallen on the picnic lunch. He smiled as he once again felt the shock of the cold water against his hot skin as he fell into the water from the rope, and the taste of the scotch eggs and ham sandwiches they had devoured like locusts. He was still looking at the photograph when there was a knock on his office door.
‘Um, Derek,’ said Crane. ‘Sorry to disturb, but I thought you might want this.’ He held out a buff folder.
‘What is it, Crane?’
‘The autopsy report on Kevin Dean from Major Martin.’
‘I take it you’ve read it.’
‘Of course,’ Crane smiled wryly.
‘Give me the highlights then. By the look of you, it’s not good news.’
‘No, it’s not, I’m afraid. It appears Kevin was goaded into a heart attack.’
Anderson’s head snapped up. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’
‘The Major thinks he was zapped by a defibrillator while his heart was beating.’
‘What? Is that even possible?’
‘Apparently it is. If a healthy heart is hit with a defibrillator, it can send the heart into cardiac arrest. He’s given the scientific explanation, which to be frank I can’t make head nor tail of, but the upshot is that it is possible.’
‘And how does he know that’s how Kevin was killed?’
‘By the state of the heart. It says here,’ Crane flipped to the end of the report, ‘that the heart shows areas of black tissue which is dead tissue (infarct) caused by the shock. The vessel of the heart did not have plaque (a thick viscous substance that looks like yellow nasal discharge) forming a blockage in one or more of the cardiac arteries. Also, there were no blood clots which look like semi set strawberry / raspberry jelly. The Major therefore concludes that a healthy heart was shocked by a defibrillator.’
‘Shit!’ Anderson banged a fist on his desk, causing several files to slither off and fall on the floor with a soft thud. Holding his head in his hands, he mumbled to the desk, ‘Who the hell would want to do such an awful thing?’ He thumped himself several times on the chest, as he wondered how it must have felt to Kevin, but that only served to hurt his hand, so he stopped.
He looked up at Crane. ‘Why would anyone want to kill Jill and Kevin? They never hurt anyone, at least not as far as I know. They ran a very successful company, always winning some award or another for looking after their employees, giving to charity, cleaning up a local space, stuff like that.’
‘Very civic minded.’
Anderson didn’t like the sarcasm he could hear in Crane’s voice. ‘What are you sneering at?’
‘Well, for goodness sake, Derek, stop making them out to be saints. They were normal human beings who got some things right, but who also got some things wrong, I’m sure. You really have to take those bloody rose-tinted glasses off!’
Derek was prevented replying, by a knock on the open door.
‘Here’s the coffee you ordered, boss,’ Ciaran said as he held a mug out to each man.
‘I didn’t…’
‘Thanks, Ciaran,’ said Crane, stopping Derek from saying anything else. ‘Oh, and close the door on your way out would you?’
‘Um, yeah, sure.’
Crane turned back to Anderson, who said, ‘I don’t want any bloody coffee, Crane.’
‘Yes you do. Come on, take a few sips.’
‘Oh for God’s sake,’ Derek grumbled, but did as he was told. As the hot liquid slid down his throat and his heartbeat slowed as he drank, his head cleared a little and he became embarrassed by his outburst.
Stopping drinking and after clearing his throat, he held his mug up and said, ‘Thanks,’ and hoped Crane understood that he was not only thanking him for the drink but thanking him for making him see more clearly. Or at least with less of a bias.
‘You know that we need to get Paul Dean back in for another interview,’ Crane said.
‘Very well. But we should explore with him the theory that there could be a malicious employee, or ex-employee at work here. See if he knows of anyone like that. And, he must give us access to his personnel files, so we can follow that up. There may be someone who feels slighted, has been sacked, passed over for promotion...’
‘Derek,’ Crane interrupted.
‘What?’
‘You’re absolutely right, of course, it could be someone like that. But it could equally be Paul, killing his siblings for control of the company. You have to accept both as possibilities.’
‘Alright, alright. We’ll discuss both theories.’
‘Thank you.’ Crane drained his coffee and then headed for the door.
‘Where are you going?’
‘To arrange for a police car to pick up Paul and bring him in for questioning.’
Anderson paused, then said, ‘No, don’t do that. Let’s get Tommy Walker to bring him in. If we play this as a friendly interview, a ‘helping the police chat’, we might get more out of him that way, than if he’s brought in and questioned as a suspect. Let’s not forget he’s a shrewd businessman. If he is our man, he might not be easy to crack.’
Crane appeared to think for a moment. ‘OK, let’s do it your way this time.’
Derek nodded his thanks and relieved, reached for the phone.
25
Anne
May 1945
Dear Ada
I’m coming home soon, now the war is nearly over. After the surrender of the Germans, the government are scaling down the manufacture of munitions. Not stopping it completely, of course, but letting some of us go home. The ones who have been here the longest get to go home first. A least it’s a recognition of what we’ve all been through for so long. But once again I mustn’t feel sorry for myself. The war has affected all of us and my sacrifice is not as great as others. I didn’t have to give the ultimate sacrifice - my life. Not like Memphis and the millions of other soldiers and indeed the millions of civilians.
So, I’m to come home. Not that I really remember it. It seems too long ago, too far away. Part of me is glad, of course. Glad to get out of this smelly, dark factory. Away from the TNT. I should be glad to get away from the danger, but I’m not really. At least while I was at the factory there was a chance I’d be killed. I must confess to thinking it would be a convenient way out. That it would take this hurt and emptiness away. But it wasn’t to be.
I’ll make the best of it, but I’m not sure how I’ll ever be happy again, mind. All the joy has gone out of my life and I can’t see it coming back anytime soon. Please, please, promise me never to tell about the baby, or about Memphis. No one at home knows but you. And I don’t ever want them to. It’s not that I’m ashamed of them. It’s just that the last thing I need is to be ostracised in my home town. I’ve had enough of that here to last a lifetime.
And as for you, you’re going to America with an American GI called Mason! You kept that one quiet. I know you said you didn’t tell me as you hadn’t wanted to upset me, so I do understand. But I don’t want your happiness to be in anyway coloured by what has happened to me. It’s such a shame that I won’t get to see you as you’ll have sailed before I get home.
To be honest I think going back home will feel very strange. So many men from the town will be missing or dead, or prisoners of war. I know everyone has been putting a brave face on things. Let’s hope we get back to some semblance of normality soon. Mind you, I hear the food and clothes rationing will be continuing for a while yet. Mum tells me they’ve dug a vegetable plot, so it will be nice to go home to some fresh food.
I really do wish you the best in your new life. You must be so excited. I hope he’s a good man and he’ll be kind to you. It’s what I wanted so badly with Memphis. That wasn’t to be, but I can live that life now through you!
You must promise to keep in touch. I so desperately want to know what life in America is really like. And what it’s like being married to a yank.
I wish you every happiness in your new life. You never know, I might manage to visit one day!
Your loving friend, Anne.
26
In response to the phone call to Tommy Walker, Paul and his solicitor duly attended a ‘meeting’ at Aldershot Police Station, armed with the files on the employees at the factory.
Crane, being fed up of pleasantries and idle chit chat while waiting for everyone to be given tea or coffee, finally saw his opportunity to start interviewing the suspect. For even if Paul Dean didn’t think he was a suspect, Crane most certainly did.
‘So, are there any employees you can think of that would hate Jill enough to kill her?’ Crane laid his hand on the files to emphasise his point. ‘In other words, are we going to find in here any employees that left under a cloud.’
‘Sorry, but I can’t think of anyone off hand,’ said Paul. ‘Oh, wait,’ he continued after a sip of coffee, ‘we did go through a period when we changed the working practices, hours, shifts, that sort of thing. The union made a bit of a meal of it, but everyone eventually calmed down. Or at least I think they did. Anyway, the union rep wasn’t happy when the workers agreed to the changes. He wanted them to strike. You know how it is…’
‘No, actually, I don’t.’ Crane ignored a glare from Anderson. ‘Never having been in the position to run a company myself. I take it all the paperwork on all employees is in here? Including written warnings and notes of interviews?’
‘Of course,’ Paul said, his face hardening. ‘I wouldn’t hide anything. What do you take me for?’
And that was all the excuse Crane needed. ‘Well, if you don’t give us all the information we want, the natural suspicion is that you’ve got something to hide. Which leads me to our other theory.’
‘Other theory?’ interrupted Tommy Walker.
‘Yes,’ said Crane. ‘Our other theory is that your client committed two murders.’
‘Two! What the hell? This is ridiculous.’ Paul stood in his anger. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I think it must come from the results of the post mortem on Kevin.’ Walker put his arm on his client. ‘Sit down, Paul. Anderson?’
Derek nodded. ‘Yes. The autopsy found that Kevin had died of an induced heart attack.’
‘Induced?’
‘Probably by way of a defibrillator. The thought is that Kevin was somehow rendered unconscious by a blow to the head. And then zapped with a defibrillator, which stopped his heart. I understand that there is a portable defibrillator at Dean Engineering.’
‘And there’s no doubt about that?’ an ashen faced Paul asked.
‘No, none, I’m afraid,’ said a more conciliatory Anderson, provoking a glare from Crane this time. He wanted Paul Dean upset.
Crane said, ‘So, what are the connections between the two murders, I asked myself? Well firstly both victims are from the same family. Work at the same offices and have an equal share in the company. Both were involved in a dispute with you, Paul. Both deaths give you total control of the company. So now you can reap the total profits of Dean Engineering, without sharing them with anyone else, can’t you? Or you could take the company public yourself and never have to work another day in your life. Let’s face it, all the apple is better than a third of an apple.’
‘If you’ve got something to say to my client, then I suggest you do it and stop with this fairy tale.’
Walker’s little speech did nothing to stop Crane, he was on a roll. ‘Yes, I do have something to say, actually. Paul Dean I’m arresting you for the murders of Jill Dean and Kevin Dean. You do not have to say anything, but anything you do say will be taken down and may be used in evidence against you.’
If Paul Dean did want to say anything, Crane couldn’t have heard it over the clamour of Tommy Walker and Derek Anderson. Ignoring them both, Crane calmly walked over to Paul Dean and before anyone could react, put handcuffs on him. Pulling him up by the arms, he bundled Paul out of the door where Ciaran was waiting to take him to meet the Booking Sergeant.
27
‘Crane! What the hell do you think you are doing?’ Anderson shouted.
‘I’ve just arrested our prime suspect,’ replied Crane calmly. ‘I can’t see what the fuss is all about?’
‘Can you actually do that?’ sneered Walker. ‘Are you even a policeman?’
‘Technically, no, being a civilian consultant. But Ciaran who was waiting outside is a bona fide policeman and he will be repeating the arrest down in booking. Just so there’s no misunderstanding.’ Crane leaned against the open
doorframe. A study in nonchalance, but perhaps not quite so calm inside. But the one advantage that Crane had over the majority of his police colleagues, was his poker face. Soldiers were renowned for them. When on exercise, or in the theatre of war, usually a look of grim determination is the order of the day as they focus on the job in hand. And that’s what Crane had just done, focused, to the exclusion of all else, particularly the emotional outbursts currently being displayed by Anderson and Walker.
Tommy Walker sat down at the table and said, ‘Look let’s talk about this, shall we? What evidence do you have against my client?’
As Anderson also sat, Crane decided to join them at the table. ‘This is how I see it,’ he said. ‘Your client is mentioned in both Jill and Paul’s wills. He is their main beneficiary, at least as far as the company is concerned. All their shares go to him on their deaths, not to their children.’
‘That was just a way of protecting the company,’ Walker said. ‘I remember we talked about it at the time the wills were drawn up. All their children were young and still in school at the time and therefore were in no position to make any informed decisions about the company. I accept that Reece and Maggie are grown now, but I guess Jill and Kevin never got around to making any changes.’
‘That’s all very well,’ said Crane, ‘but I’m sure you can see where the police are coming from. Paul is the main beneficiary of both wills and is now in full control of a not inconsiderable company. The turn over must be, what?’
‘Millions of pounds per year,’ Walker had to concede. ‘But I still can’t see that Paul would do that!’
‘Think about it from my point of view,’ Crane said. ‘Paul has no alibi for the times when we think Jill and Kevin were killed.’
‘But he’s just lost two of his siblings! Can’t you see the man is in pieces? There’s no way he would have done this.’
A Grave Death Page 6