Naked Flames

by Graham Ison

  ‘I think I’ll need to interview her again, Clare,’ I said. ‘Can you tell me when she’s next off duty?’

  ‘Yes, she’s scheduled to land at ten hundred hours tomorrow morning, after which she’s off duty for five days. You’ll probably find her on the prowl back at that nudist club during her five days’ leave.’

  ‘Ten hundred hours tomorrow, you say. Is that Zulu or BST?’

  ‘BST.’ Clare laughed. ‘I can see you’re familiar with the jargon, Harry. You could get a job here when you retire.’

  ‘There’s absolutely no chance of that,’ I said. ‘I’m going to find a nice quiet place in the sun and relax with my rich widowed girlfriend.’

  ‘You should be so lucky,’ scoffed Clare. She obviously didn’t believe me.

  ‘Maybe. Before I go, let me ask you a question, Clare. D’you think Madison Bailey is the sort of woman who is capable of murder?’

  Clare Hughes shrugged. ‘I honestly don’t know, Harry. Maybe if you pushed her too far, she might, but you could say that of a lot of women. Depends entirely on the circumstances and the woman, I suppose. At least, that’s my partner’s view.’

  SIX

  Dave parked the car in Duke Street and spent the next few minutes giving Kate instructions on how to reach Sadie Brooks’ antiques shop. He then described Sadie Brooks herself, including the jewellery and the clothes she had been wearing when he last saw her, and mentioned that she spoke with a London accent.

  Kate grabbed her shoulder bag and set off to saunter through The Lanes, stopping from time to time to peer in shop windows. She deliberately walked past Sadie Brooks’ shop just to check it was the right place. Going on a few yards, she stopped, turned and made her way back and looked in the window.

  Sadie Brooks appeared from inside the premises, dressed almost identically to the description Dave had given. ‘There’s lots more stuff inside, love. Were you looking for something in particular?’

  ‘G’day,’ said Kate, immediately hamming up her Australian accent. ‘I’ll bet you’ve got a whole load of stuff I’d just love to have, but I’m flying back to Oz tomorrow and there’s no way I can take anything else.’

  ‘Oh, lucky you,’ said Sadie. ‘I’ve always wanted to visit Australia. They tell me it’s a lovely country.’

  ‘It’s beaut, mate, especially Port Douglas in Queensland where I come from.’ Kate moved closer to Sadie and lowered her voice. ‘Me and my mates used to go skinny dipping in the Coral Sea. But every once in a while, some wowser would tip off the cops, then we’d have to grab our clobber and run like hell for it.’

  For a second or two, Sadie Brooks appeared baffled by Kate’s quickfire Australian slang. ‘Sounds wonderful,’ she said eventually, ‘but with a figure like mine, I’d probably get arrested for being the wrong shape if I did it.’

  ‘Could I ask you a favour, Miss …?’

  ‘It’s Sadie Brooks, but call me Sadie. What can I do for you, love?’

  ‘I’m Kate, Sadie. When the folks back home knew I was coming to the Old Country they said to be sure and take lots of photos. D’you think I could have one of you standing outside your shop?’

  ‘Sure.’ Sadie struck a pose and smiled as Kate used her phone to capture a few images of the antiques dealer.

  ‘That’s great, Sadie,’ said Kate when she’d finished and put her phone back into her bag. ‘The folks will love that. A real bit of old England. If you ever get Down Under, be sure to look me up. I’ll give you my address in Port Douglas. We could have a special barbie and a few tinnies. Might even go skinny dipping. What d’you say?’

  ‘Sounds good. If I do get to Australia, I’ll make sure I look you up.’

  Kate took out a notebook, jotted down a fictitious address and handed it to Sadie. ‘If you don’t feel like skinny dipping, I can lend you a cossie.’

  DI Kate Ebdon returned at three thirty.

  ‘There you are, Harry. What d’you think of that?’ Kate displayed the series of photographs she had taken with her mobile phone. Each one was an extremely good likeness of Sadie Brooks and confirmed that Kate was a competent photographer. Or a lucky one.

  ‘Excellent,’ I said. ‘Well done, Kate. Did she suspect anything?’

  ‘Nah! She was as sweet as apples. She wished me a happy holiday and said she’d like to visit Australia one day so I gave her a bogus address and told her it was where I lived with my brother in Port Douglas. I doubt she’ll ever get Down Under though. I reckon she’s a dreamer. She’s certainly dreaming if she thinks she’ll make a fortune out of that junk shop she’s running. A bit of a loser, if you ask me.’

  ‘D’you reckon she’s the sort who could resort to murder?’

  ‘Any woman could if you pushed her far enough and hard enough,’ said Kate. ‘I certainly could if some bastard had me over the way that poor cow was stitched up. Mind you, I’d probably settle for breaking both his legs.’

  And that, more or less, was what Clare Hughes at the airport had said about the propensity for women to commit murder.

  ‘By the way, Harry,’ Kate continued, ‘I had another look at the CCTV footage from the club. The last time I checked, it was to see if anything had been thrown over the boundaries or whether there was anyone loitering with intent, so to speak. But then I thought about vehicles. The CCTV camera at the entrance showed Robert Sharp’s car entering at five past nine on the morning of Monday the fifteenth of July. The camera was deliberately aimed at front number plates and it isn’t possible to see who was in any of the vehicles.’

  ‘Yes, I discovered that the first day we were there.’

  ‘It’s done for security so that the receptionist can record the number and check it against the booking. When it tallies, she opens the electronically controlled barrier and lets the vehicle in. And as Madison Bailey claimed, her car is recorded leaving at two minutes past eight on the Saturday morning.’

  ‘I didn’t doubt what she said about leaving at that time, and no one but a fool would leave a car like that in the street for several days. Nevertheless, I’ll speak to Madison Bailey again and this time I’ll take you with me.’

  ‘D’you have a moment, sir?’ Colin Wilberforce asked as he appeared in the doorway of my office.

  ‘Come in, Colin. Sit down and tell me what’s on your mind.’

  ‘Sadie Brooks, sir.’

  ‘What now?’ Whenever Wilberforce appeared asking if I had a moment, I always had a dread feeling that he’d discovered something that would upset the direction of my enquiry. Although, having said that, it more often saved me from taking the enquiry in a direction that ultimately would lead nowhere.

  ‘Sadie Brooks was married to a James Brooks five years ago.’

  ‘Yes, she told me that, but she didn’t say when the wedding took place.’

  ‘Well, the truth is, sir, they weren’t married. Not legally anyway, because James Brooks was already married. It turns out that he’s a serial bridegroom. When the Devon and Cornwall Police arrested him last year for bigamously marrying a woman in Exeter, they found that he had entered into a form of marriage on three previous occasions, including his wedding to Sadie Brooks. The motive was, of course, to relieve each of his “wives” of the contents of her bank account by sweet talking them into some get-rich-quick scam.’

  ‘Was there any suggestion that he used the alias of Robert Sharp, Colin?’ I was beginning to wonder if Sadie Brooks had been entirely honest with us and it wouldn’t have surprised me if she had lied. I’d come to the conclusion that after her experiences, she’d probably lie automatically to any man. Even if he was a police officer.

  ‘Well, it’s possible, I suppose, sir,’ said Wilberforce dubiously, ‘but I can’t see any profit in a con man pretending to be another con man. However, Brooks is currently serving five years in Ford open prison.’

  ‘That’s a bit strong for bigamy these days, Colin.’

  ‘The bigamies were only taken into consideration, sir. The police were originally inve
stigating a series of frauds, but during that investigation they discovered the bigamies. He was sentenced for defrauding various persons by false representation.’

  ‘D’you know if Sadie Brooks gave evidence at his trial?’

  ‘No, sir, she didn’t.’

  ‘I’d already decided to see her again, but now I’ll have her bigamous marriage to talk about. Thanks for all that, Colin.’

  ‘All part of the service, sir.’

  Because most police officers either work shifts or have done so in the past, they are particularly careful not to disturb others who have occupations that follow a similar pattern. There is nothing worse than being woken by a nine-to-five-Monday-to-Friday type when you’ve been working all night. However, in view of what Clare Hughes at the airport had said about Madison Bailey almost certainly going to the Pretext Club, I decided not to wait until the afternoon of Thursday to interview her a second time. We arrived at her Harlington flat at about ten fifteen.

  In the event, it wouldn’t have mattered what time we’d arrived.

  ‘I always catch up on sleep at night,’ said Madison. ‘I don’t like sleeping during the day, it’s such a waste of off-duty time. In fact, I was just throwing a few things into a bag before I push off to the Pretext Club.’ She giggled. ‘Not that I’ll need much.’

  ‘This is Detective Inspector Kate Ebdon, Madison,’ I said.

  ‘G’day,’ said Kate.

  ‘Oh, hello.’ Madison held out a hand, but despite her customary confident response, Kate’s brash greeting appeared to bring a brief frisson of concern across the younger woman’s face. Maybe it was Kate’s Australian accent, or it might have been that I’d brought a woman with me this time instead of my black sergeant. Women officers are not as easily taken in by female suspects as male officers are, and have an intuitive ability to detect when they are lying. And right now, Madison, in common with everyone else involved in this murder, was a suspect. That said, I didn’t think she was a viable one, but rather a silly girl who frequently disappeared into a fantasy world of her own.

  Madison invited us to sit down and offered tea or coffee.

  ‘No, thanks, Madison,’ I said. ‘You must get fed up with doing that when you’re at work.’

  I’d briefed Kate on how to play the interview, knowing that she’d give no quarter, and she immediately tackled the young woman in a typically uncompromising Ebdon manner.

  ‘Why did you lie about arriving at the Pretext Club in your own car? You didn’t, did you? You arrived in Robert Sharp’s car.’

  The directness of Kate’s allegation took Madison Bailey completely by surprise. In fact, I think it would be fair to say that she had probably never been spoken to like that before. She stared at Kate with a shocked face, as if trying to convince herself that it hadn’t happened, and it was some moments before she was able to formulate a reply.

  ‘No, that’s not true. I used my own car.’ Madison looked at me. ‘I told you, when you were here before, that I wouldn’t have left my new Mini out in the street for four or five days, because it wouldn’t have been there when I got back. You can check with the club. They keep a note of everyone’s car when they come in and when they leave.’

  ‘When did you hear about the fire, Madison?’ Kate changed her line of questioning, having satisfied herself that the Bailey woman was telling the truth about her movements that day.

  ‘When I got to the airport, someone mentioned that there had been this fire at the Pretext Club and that someone had been killed.’

  ‘When I told you about the fire and the death, you gave me the impression that it was news to you,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, did I?’ asked Madison innocently, and paused. ‘Are you sure about tea or coffee?’

  ‘Quite sure, thank you.’ I concluded that her repeated offer was to give herself time while she sorted out a suitable answer.

  ‘Why didn’t you mention to my chief inspector that you knew about the fire when he and Sergeant Poole came to see you on Monday?’ asked Kate, once again taking back the questioning. ‘Are you hiding something?’

  ‘Well, I—’

  ‘You were having an affair with Sharp, weren’t you?’ continued Kate relentlessly. ‘And you wanted to keep it a secret. Why didn’t you admit it instead of wasting our time?’ she added, giving Madison no chance to deny the allegation.

  ‘I didn’t want the airline to find out.’ The lame responses continued to tumble out, one after another. Madison was now much less confident than when we’d arrived just under half an hour ago.

  ‘Why not?’ persisted Kate. ‘Was he married? Was that the problem?’

  ‘No, he was single.’

  Kate glanced at me. I knew that look; it said that we’re not going to get any more out of Madison Bailey until we’ve found out a hell of a lot more about her.

  ‘I think that’ll do for the time being, Madison,’ I said, ‘but we may have to see you again.’

  Kate and I left Madison Bailey to her own thoughts, but she must have been worrying about how much we knew about her – not that it was much. But it was apparent that she thought we knew more than we did. I was now determined to find out why. Kate summed it up as we drove back to Belgravia.

  ‘That woman is up to something, Harry.’

  I had a feeling that things were beginning to move at last. After leaving Madison Bailey’s flat, I returned to the office.

  ‘Colin, find out as much as you can about Madison Bailey, but without showing out,’ I said to Wilberforce.

  ‘Of course, sir.’ The slight tone in Wilberforce’s voice indicated that he didn’t need me to tell him to be discreet.

  ‘I’ve spoken to Clare Hughes at the airport and she passed on the scuttlebutt that has been doing the rounds about the Bailey girl. But when Miss Ebdon and I spoke to Madison this morning, we both got the impression that she was hiding something.’

  ‘Leave it with me, sir.’

  After grabbing a quick lunch at my favourite Italian, Dave and I set off for Brighton once again.

  The Lanes were no less crowded than they had been two days ago. On the contrary, there were probably even more tourists about. Not that it made any difference to Sadie Brooks: her shop was devoid of customers.

  ‘Oh, it’s you again.’

  ‘Yes, it’s us again, Sadie.’

  ‘What is it this time?’ Sadie didn’t bother to lock the door or pull down the blind on this occasion. Either she thought we would not be staying long or she sensed that her line of business was not attractive to the traipsers who continued to peer in shop windows and take photographs but didn’t buy anything.

  ‘James Brooks.’

  ‘What about that loser? You haven’t brought more good news, have you? Is he dead an’ all?’

  ‘No, Sadie, he’s doing time in Ford open prison.’

  ‘Ha! The law’s caught up with him at last. What did he get done for?’

  ‘Bigamy, among other things.’ I didn’t mention that the bigamy cases had been taken into consideration when the sentence was imposed for the more serious offence of fraud.

  ‘Don’t tell me some other poor cow fell for his charms.’

  ‘Four altogether, Sadie, including you. The form of marriage you and he went through was a sham. You weren’t legally married to him at all.’

  Quite suddenly, Sadie sat down on a rather ornate armchair upholstered in green leather. For some moments she remained silent, gazing unseeing at a brass bedwarmer hanging on the opposite wall. ‘Where’s this Ford prison you were talking about, Mr Brock?’ she asked eventually, as she looked at me again.

  ‘It’s not far from Arundel, about twenty-five miles from here, I suppose. Why? Are you thinking of visiting Jim?’

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘Have you forgiven him, then, Sadie?’ asked Dave.

  ‘No, I just want to kick him in the nuts.’

  ‘I don’t think the prison authorities would like you to do that, Sadie. They really don’t like havin
g their inmates damaged.’

  ‘I don’t give a toss what the prison authorities like or dislike,’ responded Sadie emphatically. ‘Anyway, why’s he not in a proper nick, like Dartmoor for instance? That’s where the bastard deserves to be.’

  ‘Incidentally, you were number two on his hit list of brides, Sadie,’ I said. ‘I presume he didn’t mention his first marriage.’

  ‘Yes, he did, and the shyster told me he was divorced.’

  ‘Did he ever show you any divorce papers?’

  ‘No, stupid naive bitch that I am. I trusted him and what thanks did I get? He emptied my bank account, nicked my credit cards and took off. Not that the credit cards did him much good – they were topped up to the limit and I put a stop on them as soon as I found out they’d gone.’

  ‘Now, about last Saturday, Sadie. You said that you were in bed all day with a man, but that he disappeared straight afterwards and you didn’t know where he’d gone. Is that the truth?’

  ‘Not really, no. It was the first thing that came into my head because I didn’t want to admit that I’d been stupid again. I met this fella in the local boozer on Friday night and got bloody pie-eyed. He came back here, had his way with me and then buggered off. Well, I s’pose that’s what happened because he’d gone when I woke up in the morning. But I felt so bad after putting away all that booze that I didn’t feel like getting up, so I stayed in bed.’

  ‘All day, Sadie?’

  ‘Yeah, all bloody day. God knows what it cost me because, being a Saturday, I might have got rid of some of this junk.’ Sadie waved a hand around the shop; the stock seemed exactly the same as it had been the last time we called on her. She started to laugh but then, quite suddenly and uncharacteristically for the tough, brassy woman she was, she burst into tears, great sobs shaking her body.

  I wasn’t quite sure what had brought that on, although I imagine she had plenty of reasons, but decided that it was best to leave her until the moment had passed.

  Finally, Sadie looked up, not bothering to wipe her eyes. ‘That bastard Jim Brooks,’ she said. ‘He was only with me for a year, but it was the best time of my life. We’d go out a lot, do all the nightclubs and really enjoy ourselves. Then we’d come back here to the flat, go to bed and he’d screw the arse off me. D’you know, he was the only man I ever knew who could hit the spot every time.’ The tears started again, mascara running down her cheeks unnoticed. ‘Men just don’t fancy me any more, Mr Brock. All they want is money. They think I’m rich because I own this millstone.’ Again, she encompassed the interior of her shop with a sweep of her hand. ‘And sex, of course, but they’ll soon start to think that I’m getting too old for that. I ask you, what’s left for me?’