by Kate Ellis
‘Who was it? Who did he see?’
‘Haven’t a clue. Do you think it might have been Roberta? Or Stag? What if he was scared of them and he never told me?’
‘Come to the police station and look at some pictures – just to see if you recognise anyone. We’ll give you a lift to Tradmouth.’ He looked at Rachel, who was standing by his side, her eyes fixed on Danny as though she was afraid he’d make a run for it. But she could see Wesley had developed a rapport with the suspect so she was wise enough to stay silent.
Wesley assumed the worried look on Danny’s face was because of his imminent trip to the police station. He was soon to realise he was wrong.
‘When I came in here I saw Stag’s van parked at the end of Bert’s street. Like I said, I saw Roberta go into one of the bungalows while he waited outside. I think an old woman lives there on her own. What if they killed Bert and they’re planning to kill the old girl too?’
There was an urgency about Danny’s words that told Wesley he needed to act. It could be a ploy but somehow he didn’t think so. He called for a patrol car to take Danny in, telling him to wait in his car with Rachel and Barney in the meantime until it arrived. If Danny wasn’t lying, he had to investigate.
Following Danny’s directions, he walked the short distance to the bungalow Danny had described but when he arrived there was no white van in sight. He took his warrant card from his pocket and knocked on the door, which was opened by a small birdlike woman with a shock of white hair. She was leaning on a Zimmer frame and she looked him up and down suspiciously.
Wesley introduced himself and asked her whether a woman had just called. The answer was yes. A very nice young lady from the council had just been round to check her house was safe.
When Wesley asked her to see whether any valuables were missing she told him to wait and disappeared into a back room, returning a few minutes later with a look of triumph on her face. Her jewellery was all there, she said.
‘Have you a spare front-door key?’ Wesley asked, earning himself another wary look. ‘Please, it’s important.’
‘It’s under the plant pot outside.’
‘Did you tell the woman who’s just visited you where it is?’
The woman’s watery blue eyes widened. ‘Why shouldn’t I? She wanted to make sure I was safe.’
Wesley told her to move her key somewhere else. He now knew how the burglaries had been committed so neatly.
He returned to the car just as the patrol pulled up. Danny was sitting in the back of his car beside Rachel, fondling Barney’s ears, so he reckoned it was safe for them to take him in themselves. Even so the patrol’s presence wasn’t wasted. He instructed them to pick up Stag and Roberta as a matter of urgency.
As he was about to drive away his mobile rang and he saw Grace’s name on the caller display. He needed to get back to the station so he killed the call. He’d ring her back later.
When he reached the station he settled Danny in the interview room with a cup of tea and a bowl of water for Barney before hurrying upstairs to the CID office. Gerry was pacing up and down impatiently and the solemn expression on his face told him something was wrong.
‘A man’s body’s been found,’ he said. ‘And it looks like another murder.’
50
Wesley had been intending to return Grace’s call only for events to overtake him. A man’s body had been found at Knot Creek, with no ID and no phone. Two lads had been mending their motor boat at low tide when they spotted the body face down in the mud a few yards from the shore and called the police.
It was a short distance by boat from Tradmouth to Knot Creek but it took longer via the winding country lanes. Wesley and Gerry arrived just as the tide was beginning to turn and for the CSIs it was a race against the incoming water as they photographed the corpse in situ. In the end they yielded to the inevitable and moved the dead man to the bank to allow Colin Bowman to make his examination.
‘When the call came in my money was on a drowning,’ said Gerry as they stood watching. ‘You know the old legend, Wes: every year the river claims a life. There’s been two this year already. That drunk who fell off the embankment in Regatta Week and the rowing boat caught in that storm last month.’
‘But?’
‘Once the officer who was first on the scene noticed the stab wounds we knew different.’
At that moment Grace rang again. This time Wesley answered, ready to point out politely that he was in the middle of a case so he hadn’t time to chat. But as soon as she spoke the worry in her voice told him it wasn’t a social call. ‘You know I told you about Dale?’
‘What about him?’
‘I told Maritia a little fib. I haven’t been in London for the past few days. I’ve been staying with Dale on his yacht.’ She’d lowered her voice as though she was making a confession and her words gave him a jolt. The man sounded like bad news and he felt hurt that she’d misled him.
‘He went out last night,’ she continued. ‘Said he was going to see someone who owed him money and he wouldn’t be long. Only he never came back and his phone’s switched off.’
‘Are you sure he didn’t just lose interest?’ Wesley knew his words were blunt but it was a question that needed to be asked.
‘Of course I’m sure,’ she snapped. ‘He’d have said something. We’re both adults. I think something’s happened to him.’
Wesley looked at the body lying there surrounded by police photographers and the forensic team, the centre of everyone’s attention. ‘Can you describe him?’
As she began to speak he saw Colin squat down to examine the corpse. He listened while she went into impressive detail about the clothes Dale had been wearing when she’d last seen him: chinos, denim jacket, checked shirt. They were all there, draped sodden on the corpse in front of him.
The man matched her description of Dale Keyes exactly but he felt reluctant to tell her. Then he realised he had no choice.
‘Er … a man’s body’s just been found in the river.’ He heard a gasp on the other end of the line. Perhaps his words had been too brutal.
‘You don’t think it’s Dale?’
‘We’re not sure, but would you be willing to have a look at the body?’
She fell silent for a few seconds. Then, ‘OK. Will you be there?’
‘Promise.’
To make things easier for her he said he’d pick her up from wherever she was, but she said it wasn’t necessary; she’d drive over straight away. It would only take twenty minutes.
An hour later she still hadn’t arrived.
It was the easiest money Stag and Roberta had ever made. The only time they’d feared things might go wrong was when she’d visited Bert Cummings. He’d had a few nice pieces of jewellery belonging to his late wife but Roberta had recognised him at once. He’d taught her maths at Fulton Grange, although she’d hardly been his star pupil.
She always used a different name when she made her visits, of course, but she’d had to bluff it out when Mr Cummings told her she looked familiar and asked if she’d once been one of his pupils. After that she’d got out quick and the incident told her it was time to move on and try another part of the country. If they were careful they couldn’t fail.
In a few days, once the old lady had had time to forget about her visit, they’d do their last job in South Devon and, although they knew it was premature, it felt like an occasion for celebration. Danny and that dog of his weren’t at the squat which meant they had the place to themselves, and their feeling of imminent triumph acted as an aphrodisiac so they made straight for their room where they made love on their mattress. When they sold the stuff they were going to have cash and life felt good.
Once they’d dressed, Roberta experienced a miser’s urge to gloat over the treasure they’d accumulated so far. There were some nice pieces in their hoard and she felt a thrill of excitement as she levered up the floorboard. Then when she looked into the hiding place her elation turned to despair.
‘The stuff’s gone. That little scrote Danny must have helped himself. How did he know it was there? You didn’t tell him, did you?’
Before Stag could reply there was a thunderous knocking on the door.
‘Let’s get out of here,’ Roberta hissed.
But by the time they started gathering their things together it was too late.
51
At one thirty Grace still hadn’t turned up and Wesley had started to worry. He tried to convince himself she’d changed her mind about the identification, something that can be daunting even for an experienced police officer. Although if that was the case surely she would have let him know.
The body of the man they believed to be Dale Keyes had been taken to the mortuary and a team had been sent to his yacht. Wesley had also asked Rob to go to Grace’s hotel to look for her and if she wasn’t there, he was to try Strangefields Farm.
In the meantime Danny Brice had given a formal statement and they had two prisoners waiting in the interview suite. He’d asked Trish and Paul to conduct the interview with Stag while he and Rachel questioned Roberta. As Rachel walked into the windowless room where the woman was waiting for them with the duty solicitor, Wesley saw a look of grim determination on his colleague’s face. Rachel Tracey didn’t like people who took advantage of the vulnerable and neither did he, only she wasn’t as good as he was at hiding her disapproval.
‘I’ll need your name and address,’ Wesley began.
‘Roberta Georgina Felicity Onslow-James,’ the woman replied with a hint of a smirk before reciting the address of the Neston squat. ‘And I’m denying everything.’
‘You visited a Mrs Ethel Smith in Stokeworthy earlier today.’
‘No comment.’
‘We found a lanyard amongst your possessions – Neston Social Services. They say they’ve never heard of you.’
‘No comment.’
‘Did you ever visit Bert Cummings, the man who was found dead in Stokeworthy?’
‘No comment.’
The interview continued for another ten minutes by the end of which Wesley was heartily sick of hearing those two words. As they left the room Roberta called after them.
‘You can’t prove anything and you know it. You’ll have to release us.’
Wesley turned to face her. ‘We’ve got the jewellery.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘That little toe-rag Danny told us he’d taken it. He boasted about how he went round these old people’s houses offering to do odd jobs. Said they were never careful where they left their cash and jewellery. It’s him you should be arresting, not us.’
She sounded so convincing that for a split second he was almost tempted to believe her. Then he thought about Danny and knew she was lying.
He shut the door behind him just as Paul and Trish were emerging from the room next door looking pleased with themselves.
Resisting the temptation to share their discoveries in the corridor, they made their way upstairs to the CID office and headed for a small conference room where they wouldn’t be disturbed.
It was Paul who spoke first. ‘He’s come clean to the lot, sir. Says it was all Roberta’s idea. She pretended to be from Social Services and once she’d gained the victims’ trust she found out where they kept their keys and their valuables. Then Stag went back at night and helped himself to anything he could lay his hands on.’
‘She was cool,’ said Rachel. ‘No comment all the way.’
‘According to Stag she comes from a wealthy family,’ said Trish.
‘In that case they’ll probably pay for a clever barrister who’ll put all the blame on Stag … or Danny Brice.’
‘We won’t let that happen,’ said Wesley but he felt anger welling up inside him because he knew Rachel could be right.
‘Why would a woman who had her advantages in life turn out like that?’ said Trish in disbelief.
‘Some people are just born bad,’ Rachel replied.
Wesley checked his watch. ‘Let’s break the news to Gerry. At least that’s one of our cases solved.’
They would leave Paul and Trish to tie up the Stag and Roberta case and make sure they had enough evidence to charge them; the last thing they wanted was for Roberta to wriggle out of the charges on a technicality. But before Wesley left the room he had another question for Paul.
‘Did you ask Stag about Bert Cummings’ murder?’
Paul frowned. ‘He swears that had nothing to do with him and Roberta. He says they might be thieves but they’re not killers.’
‘Did you believe him?’
Paul considered the question for a few moments. ‘I think I did. What about Roberta?’
‘I think of the two of them she’s the more ruthless,’ said Rachel.
Wesley made for Gerry’s office with Rachel by his side.
‘How did you get on with our friends from Neston?’ Gerry asked as they came in.
‘The man’s confessed to burglary but the woman won’t talk.’
‘Women are made of tougher stuff, Wes. I found that out years ago. A team’s going over Dale Keyes’ yacht and I’ve got someone looking into his past. Apparently he was a property developer until his company got into big trouble – something to do with an employee who cleared out his company bank account. Anyway, he was involved in a ferry disaster in Thailand, believed dead, but it turns out he’s been living in Spain for the past couple of years and doing very nicely for himself. There’s evidence that a woman was with him on the yacht. We need to find out who she is and make sure she hasn’t suffered the same fate.’
Wesley wasn’t prepared for the flurry of panic he felt inside when Gerry put his fears into words. Last time he’d spoken to Grace had been three hours ago. According to Rob Carter she wasn’t at her hotel or at Strangefields Farm and he had a gut feeling that she was in danger.
It was time to come clean with Gerry but he didn’t want Rachel to overhear.
‘If we could have a word in private … ’
Rachel got the message and left the office.
‘I know who’s been living on Keyes’ yacht.’
Gerry waited for him to carry on.
‘Her name’s Grace Compton and she’s an old friend of mine from London. She’s an architect and she’s down here working on the new holiday development at Strangefields Farm. She used to know Keyes.’
‘Know as in hanky-panky?’
Now Gerry had put it into words it sounded sordid, almost a slur on his memories of the girl he’d once been fond of. ‘If you want to put it like that, yes. Anyway, like everyone else she thought he’d died in that ferry accident so she was surprised when she spotted him here in Tradmouth. It looks as if they got together again … not that she confided in me.’
‘Where is she now?’ Wesley could hear the concern in Gerry’s voice.
‘That’s what I want to know. She agreed to come and identify his body but she never turned up. She’s not at Strangefields Farm or at her hotel.’
‘Then we need to find her.’
‘All patrols are on the lookout for her car. Her mobile’s off but if she switches it on we’ll be able to locate it.’
Gerry looked him in the eye. ‘You’re worried about her, aren’t you?’
‘Yes.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Do you think Dale Keyes’ murder could be linked to Linda Payne’s – they were both found in water … ?’
‘Multiple stab wounds. Colin’ll be able to tell us whether the same weapon was used.’
‘Keyes has no connection with Jackson Temples, has he?’
‘Not that we know of.’
Wesley looked out of the window and saw clouds gathering over the hills above Queenswear. After a while he spoke again. ‘Temples was telling the truth about another artist being at Strangefields Farm with him. Jonny Sykes existed.’
‘We tried to find him at the time. No joy.’
‘Sykes might not have been his real name. I’m thinking of Jonathan Kilin. He and Temples went to t
he same school and were both into art. They weren’t in the same year but that doesn’t mean they didn’t know each other.’ Wesley flopped down into the seat next to Gerry’s desk. ‘I was going up to Modbury to talk to Kilin’s parents but with Grace missing … ’
Suddenly he had an idea. Grace and Maritia had been close as teenagers so there was a chance that Grace might have sought out her old friend in time of trouble – or at least told her where she was.
He punched out his sister’s number, half expecting to hear a disembodied message telling him she was unavailable, but to his surprise she answered after two rings.
‘It’s my day off,’ she explained, making him feel guilty about having lost track of the hours she worked at the surgery. ‘I’ve been trying to call Grace but her phone’s switched off.’
His heart sank. ‘When did you last speak to her?’
‘A couple of days ago. She said she was going back to London for a few days and she’d be in touch when she got back.’
She’d lied to Maritia as well but he wasn’t giving up hope.
‘I’m afraid she didn’t tell you the truth. She met a man she thought had died in Thailand and they were seeing each other again. His name was Dale Keyes and a man answering his description has been found dead. We’re treating it as murder.’
There was a stunned silence and he could almost picture the look of shock on his sister’s face. ‘Surely you can’t suspect Grace.’
‘We don’t know where she is at the moment. She hasn’t been in London – she’s been staying on Keyes’ yacht with him and she called me this morning to say he was missing. Then a body turned up in Knot Creek.’