Geoff and Ben both nodded.
“Geoff has his SOCO van with his team out of sight a bit further down King Henry’s Road. The dog team is with them. I thought it better to avoid suspicion by posting them a bit further away. I was thinking we would go in first and I ask them to join us when we are in.”
“Sounds good. Do we have the family liaison officer as well?”
“That’s me, ma’am,” a WPC spoke up.
“And you are?”
“Lisa Turnbull, ma’am. “
“Okay, Lisa. I guess Ben must have briefed you already, but the plan is we go in and Ajanta here will take Mrs Devos down to the station with her. We assume the two children will be at home. There is a son, Sebastian Devos, fourteen years old, and a daughter, Helen Devos, eighteen years old. They are probably getting ready to leave for school as we speak. They may want to stay at home today rather than go to school. We should allow that, but you will need to make sure they cannot interfere with the search. After the search, I want you to stay with them until their mother will be back. That might be rather uncomfortable.”
“I understand, ma’am. Not to worry.”
Ianthe looked at her appreciatively.
“I’m certain you are more than competent, Lisa. In case there are issues, call me.”
She glanced at her watch.
“Okay, it is now six fifty-seven exactly. Let’s do this.”
*
Ajanta, immaculately dressed in a navy Ralph Lauren sweatshirt, Stella McCartney black faux leather pants to die for and on her signature Alexander McQueen sneakers got into the police pool car she had picked up earlier at CID HQ and drove over to the Devos residence, blocking the entrance, while Ianthe, Ben, Geoff, Lisa and four other uniformed PCs walked the short distance.
Ianthe crossed the driveway and rang the bell. Moments later the door was opened by Josephine Devos, fortunately fully dressed, who looked mightily surprised to find so many people waiting for her on the outside.
“Good morning, Josephine,” Ianthe said, showing her warrant card as well as the search warrant document Ben had just handed over to her.
“We have a warrant to search these premises,” she added, while the PCs, Geoff and Ben pushed past Josephine Devos to enter the house.
“You are also requested to go with DS Ajanta Ghani here to CID HQ where she and DS John Ryan will ask you more questions. I will join you there later. Please take your coat if you need one.”
Josephine Devos was clearly stunned by the turn of events and simply stood there watching the police officers pass by. From the kitchen area they heard the voices from the Devos children. That seemed to wake her up. She turned to Ianthe.
“Helen and Seb are here. I can’t just leave them without explanation.”
“WPC Lisa Turnbull here,” Ianthe pointed to her, “will stay with them until your return. They can either go to school or stay here for the day. She will no doubt take particularly good care of them.”
“Am I being arrested?”
“No, you are not. We are simply asking you to come with us to the station to answer some questions we have. There is no need to worry. You are only cooperating with the police to find your husband’s killer.”
“But I already told you everything I know!”
“Sometimes in the course of an investigation details that may first have been unimportant become critical. We need to go over everything again with you to make sure we have not missed anything essential.”
“Do I need to call a lawyer?”
“You are of course allowed to have legal assistance if you deem you require it. However, as I have said already, I am not arresting you, we are not treating you as a suspect and we are merely asking you to cooperate with the investigation which we think may be easier this time in the more neutral setting of CID HQ.”
That seemed to convince Josephine. She took her coat of the hanger and followed Ajanta to the waiting car outside. Ianthe followed WPC Lisa Turnbull who had already gone down the hall to the kitchen while the SOCO van drove up and the Police dog alighted from his special trailer. The kitchen had obviously also been modernized very recently and no cost had been spared. Sleek apparel mainly from the luxury SMEG brand in a vivid cranberry red complemented the impressive AGA Masterchef Deluxe Cooker. Worktables and implements were arranged in such a way that the cook had a perfect view of the south facing terrace and garden, which had been mainly laid to lawn with flower and shrub borders. On the right of the kitchen an annex led to a sizeable cast iron conservatory, decorated artistically in an Art Nouveau style that reminded Ianthe of the winter garden of her old boarding school. Both Devos children were sitting at the glass topped cast iron breakfast table in the middle of the kitchen, looking up in expectation when she entered the kitchen. It was obvious they were totally bewildered by what was happening around them.
*
“Good morning. I am DI Ianthe Seymour. I am the investigating officer into the murder of your father,” she said. “I understand you must be a little scared by what is happening. I’m afraid we have to search your house for clues related to your dad’s death. Your mother is currently helping us with our inquiries at CID HQ in Brighton. She will be back with you some time this afternoon I expect. There is nothing really you should be worried about. You are free to go to school if you want to, but I suggest you would rather stay here with WPC Lisa Turnbull here until your mum will be back home. You can ask Lisa anything you want to know. If there is something you want to tell her, or me, please do so in your own time,” Ianthe tried to put them at ease. They nodded silently. She could hear the dog bark upstairs, just once, and knew what that meant. Leaving WPC Lisa Turnbull with the children, she went back to the hallway and up the teak staircase. Ben was waiting for her at the top of the stairs and nodded in the direction of one of the bedrooms.
“The dog has found something in that bedroom.”
Ianthe went inside. It was clearly Helen Devos’s bedroom. Pink was the predominant colour. Posters of various artists cluttered the walls of a room dominated by a four-poster princess-style bed. There was another door that led to a walk-in wardrobe. The Canadian White Shepherd bitch listening to the name Yuki, which meant “snow” in Japanese, that had been brought in for the search, was sitting up inside the walk-in wardrobe next to a range of drawers. Her minder, a gentle PC who must be close to retirement age, Alex Scott, was rubbing its head and telling her what a good girl she was. Geoff held up a small white package using tweezers, which Belle Thomas, equally a SOCO officer was dusting for fingerprints while he held it.
“I bet you anything this is coke, Ianthe,” Geoff said.
They waited in silence for a minute while Belle Thomas took an ampoule out of a box, unscrewed the cap, took a tiny sample of white powder from the bag, and dropped it into the ampoule. After another minute or less, the liquid in the ampoule turned cobalt blue. Belle nodded and looked up at Ianthe.
“Definitely cocaine or a derivative like crack, Ianthe,” she confirmed.
“Does it match the sample we found on Bert Devos’s boat?” Ianthe wanted to know.
“Too early to say. For that we will need to run a gas chromatography test in the lab, I’m afraid.”
“All right, do that as quickly as you can please.”
“It’s only a very small bag though,” Ben added, who had been watching the proceedings over her shoulder. “Looks more like a bag for personal use to me.”
Ianthe agreed. “Quite. But we can’t exclude this is just the last bag of a larger delivery. Let’s see what Helen will have to say about that. I assume this is her room,” she added, looking at all the girlie stuff around. They went downstairs together to the kitchen while Geoff and his team continued the search. Helen and Sebastian Devos had not moved at all. WPC Lisa Turnbull was in the process of making tea.
*
Helen Devos was a young girl with short cropped blonde hair and blue eyes. She had applied some make-up and burgundy lipstick, obviously
getting ready for class. She was wearing a simple Brighton Uni sweatshirt, skinny jeans and cowboy boots.
“Hello again Helen,” Ianthe said. “I believe you are over eighteen, right?”
“No actually, my birthday is next month,” she answered.
“Excellent. Can we have a short chat with you in the lounge please, while Sebastian waits here with Lisa?”
“What is this about then please?” Helen Devos had paled considerably.
“It’s just a short chat, Helen. Nothing to worry your brother about. You can interrupt at any time you don’t feel comfortable with it.”
Helen reluctantly led them into the lounge, which had been searched already, and turned to face them. Ianthe signalled to Ben to close the door behind him.
“Look, Helen, you are under eighteen, which means that you can have an appropriate adult or a solicitor present when we ask you questions. I am however just going to ask you one or two questions and given the current circumstances I would prefer not to have to take you to the police station. So, if you agree to answer a few questions now, we can proceed. Again, you can stop at any time if you are uncomfortable. Clear?”
Helen nodded silently.
“We have found a controlled substance, Class A drug in your wardrobe.”
Helen sank down on a chair and hid her face in her hands.
“I assume this does not really come as a surprise then,” Ianthe added.
“Possession of such a drug is a criminal offence. However, I am investigating your father’s death and I am far less interested in your drug habit. So, if you can answer my questions about that drug and how it may be related to your father’s murder, I may just mention it to your mum and leave it to her to take appropriate action.”
Helen looked up at her with a glimmer of hope in her eyes.
“You are not going to arrest me then?”
“I propose not to if your answers are satisfactorily. However, I will expect your mother to take action and will follow up on that later. What I want to know is who sold these drugs to you and when.”
Helen hesitated only the briefest instant before answering.
I got them on campus. Bought them off a senior year student from Brighton at an end-of-term party at his house. Everyone knows where you can get that stuff.”
“Name and address please?”
Another brief hesitation, then she answered: “Brandon Nicholson. He lives at his parents’ place on Roedean Way. Number 55. That’s where the party was.”
Ianthe and Ben looked at each other. That was one of the most exclusive addresses in Brighton. Helen saw them looking at each other and said: “Yeah I know. His parents are filthy rich. His dad is the General Manager of one of the tech companies here and his mum is in London most of the time, shopping. He is just doing this, selling some drugs, to have more pocket money, and just for the heck of it, I guess. He was sweet on me for a while, but my dad didn’t like him one bit.”
“Your dad knew him then?”
“He mainly knew off him, I guess. He came over to the house just one time to pick me up in his merc.”
“Did your dad know Brandon was dealing?”
“I don’t think so, why would he?”
Helen raised her hand to her mouth in alarm.
“Do you think Brandon may have something to do with his death?! Oh my god!”
“I doubt it,” Ianthe tried to put her at ease. “It’s a long shot, but of course drugs are a very dangerous thing to dabble in.”
“Look, I just bought the one bag at that party end of last term. I tried it one time but decided it was not for me. I should have thrown it away really.”
“Why did you break up with Brandon? Did it have anything to do with your dad?”
“He rather broke up with me. I guess I was too boring for him.”
She shrugged.
“But honestly, I didn’t really want to have a relationship with someone dealing drugs.”
“Do you know if he sailed?” Ben wanted to know.
She looked surprised at that.
“Yes actually. The one time he came over he and my dad had a quick chat about sailing. My dad was mad about sailing.”
She smiled sadly.
“Brandon’s parents had a yacht twice the size of Polaris.”
“But he never went sailing with your dad?”
“Not that I am aware of. I doubt it very much. As I said, my dad didn’t like him much.”
“And why was that?”
“Brandon is a typical rich kid. Had one of those fancy Mercedes sport coupes, crashed it and immediately got a new one. His parents were never there, so he did much as he pleased. He’s smart though. Doesn’t do much but manages to pass his exams. I suspect he is paying someone to write his papers for him.”
“What is his subject field?”
“Business Studies.” She shrugged. “That’s just a bit of everything and nothing much about anything in my honest opinion.”
“Did your dad ever mention drugs to you?”
“Only in a negative sense. He was absolutely against all sorts of drugs. Hardly even drank any alcohol at all himself and didn’t want Seb or me to drink either. Not even a glass of wine on holiday. He would have been genuinely shocked had he known I had been dallying in coke.”
Her eyes were brimming with tears now. Time to bring this conversation to an end, Ianthe thought.
“That was extremely helpful, Helen. We’ll stop here. Mind you, as I said, you’re not off the books yet. I’m going to CID HQ now and will tell your mum about this.”
Helen nodded, tears now freely rolling down her cheeks. She went to the side table and grabbed a box of Kleenex to take with her back to the kitchen. Ianthe and Ben stayed behind in the lounge.
*
“That certainly puts some new light on the case,” Ben said. “Drugs would make a great motive all right.”
“Sure. It’s possible Bert found out Brandon was selling drugs to his daughter and threatened to expose him. That would definitely be a strong motive for Brandon. And if his parents keep a yacht at Brighton Marina, he probably has one of these key fobs to enter at will. Or Bert was Brandon’s supplier and they ran into arguments.”
“But that doesn’t quite agree with Bert’s attitude about drugs as Helen told us, right?”
“Well in my experience what people say and what people do can be vastly different things. You remember Joe Maloney? Ran the biggest prostitute racket here in Brighton before I put him away, but I never saw more disciplined and conservative people than his sons and daughters.”
“I guess. I had a chat with ‘Dutchy’ Feensma yesterday evening by the way.”
Ben told Ianthe about the meeting with ‘Dutchy’ and the comments he had made about the presence of a new supplier in Brighton.
“Interesting,” Ianthe replied. “Throws a bit of a new light on this whole thing. If Ricky Rowlands is involved himself. But ‘Dutchy’ told you Mr Devos’s name was not mentioned by Rowlands’ guy, right?”
Ben nodded.
“We cannot exclude they found out about him and did something about the competition. But it seems a bit of a long shot. Good to know we have Ricky’s blessing to solve this case,” she added sarcastically. “Although, if that is true, I guess it would mean they are not involved. By the way, I didn’t know ‘Dutchy’ was an acquaintance of yours.”
“We were introduced several years ago in my previous life. Before I became a copper.”
Ianthe raised her eyebrows a little, but Ben did not offer more, so she left it at that.
“What do you want to do, boss, go pick-up Brandon Nicholson?”
Ianthe looked at her watch before replying.
“I need to go back first for the press conference. Then I want to discuss this development with Pooh Bear before we take further action. If this kid is as rich as Helen claims, he will lawyer up as soon as we touch him, so we better tread carefully and keep the brass informed before we go in swinging. Can you
stay here and take care of the search for me?”
Ben nodded in assent.
“Let’s all meet at two in the Major Incident Room. Hopefully, Ajanta and John will have been able to extract some more information from Josephine Devos by then. Although I am not too optimistic there. We can then decide on our plan of war.”
CHAPTER 13
At exactly nine fifty-one Ianthe walked into Norman Stokes’ office. Duncan Fraser, the press officer was already present.
“Good morning, Ianthe. What the hell happened to your eye? Josephine Devos put up a fight?” the Detective Superintendent asked curiously. Ianthe forced a laugh out.
“Actually, not as interesting as that, I’m afraid. Just took a pretty nasty fall last night when I got out of the shower.”
“Can you somehow cover that up a little for the press conference?” Duncan wanted to know. Ianthe showed him her sunglasses. He shrugged.
“How is the search in Lewes going? Anything interesting come up we should know about before the conference?” Pooh Bear inquired. Ianthe told him briefly about the limited amount of cocaine they had found and the potential connection to one of Brighton’s wealthier families.
“Let’s not bring that up during the press conference. I plan to keep it as vague as possible and appeal to the public to come forward with information if they have it.”
Duncan nodded in agreement. Ianthe assented, too. It was crucial not to give away too many details at this point in order not to pass on too much information to the perp.
At nine fifty-nine they entered the press briefing room where about ten reporters from various newspapers were waiting. Ianthe immediately recognized Joyce Rindell, the Argus’ main crime reporter on the first row. Norman Stokes took the mike and read from his prepared statement.
“I am Detective Superintendent Norman Stokes and with me is Detective Inspector Ianthe Seymour who is running this investigation. In the night of Monday to Tuesday thirteen to fourteen May a man was murdered in Brighton Marina. The victim is Mr Bert Devos, of Dutch descent, long-term resident of Lewes, Sussex, where he lived on Prince Edward’s Road with his wife Josephine and two children. Mr Devos is believed to have been killed on his sailing yacht Polaris between the hours of midnight and one am. Sussex police is appealing to the general public to come forward if you have noticed anything unusual at Brighton Marina around these hours. We would also like to hear from you if you have ever sailed with Mr Devos on his boat or if you knew him well and have information pertaining his demise. We will now try to answer any questions you may have regarding this incident.”
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