Last Boat To Camden Town (The Christy Kennedy Mysteries Book 1)

by Paul Charles

  ‘A sin of omission,’ ann rea said quietly.

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘A sin of omission,’ she replied. ‘It’s an American phrase. It’s when a doctor, while carrying out his duty, omits to give the correct medication and, as a result, the patient dies. A sin of omission. And then the suing begins. Will the hospital accept liability in this case, Kennedy?’

  ‘Well, I think they’re expecting a stink from the brother, but I also think that they’re ready to pay out some money. The only question is how much.’

  By this time they had both finished their cups of tea so Kennedy had another idea. ‘Fancy a glass of wine?’

  ‘Good idea. Shall we go to The Queens?’ answered ann rea.

  ‘You mean Pub Schizo?’ he replied.

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘You know – the sign outside the pub?’

  ‘What – The Queens?’ She didn’t have a clue what he was on about.

  ‘Yes – but if you look closely at the sign there’s a different queen’s head on each side – Queen Alexandra on the Primrose Hill side and Queen Victoria as a young woman on the reverse. So the regulars call it Pub Schizo.’

  She laughed at him, as much at his sense of fun as at what he’d just said.

  ‘How about we stay here? I have some cold, crisp Chablis somewhere,’ Kennedy suggested.

  ‘Oh, go on, you’ve twisted my arm. Can I use your loo, though?’

  ‘Of course. First door at the top of the stairs.’

  Kennedy opened the wine in her absence and had two glassed poured by the time she returned.

  ‘Your health,’ he toasted.

  ‘And yours,’ she replied. ‘Here’s to the end of another case.’

  ‘Looks like it,’ he replied.

  He was relieved the wine tasted as great as he had remembered. Kennedy quite liked wine but he seemed to sample as many bad wines as good, so he usually forgot the good ones. But on this occasion, luck was with him.

  ‘Great wine, Kennedy!’ she said.

  ann rea was thinking that she had never seen him as relaxed as this. Was it because of the end of the case or was it because they were becoming more comfortable in each other’s company?

  Kennedy seemed to like her. The journalist angle didn’t seem to put him off. In fact, they had nearly kissed, once. What was I thinking about, ann rea asked herself. I nearly let it happen and then I’m in deep shit again. But he’s not your regular type of guy, if such a creature does exist. And he’s a policeman, for God’s sake, but a nice man. But then she thought that they were all nice men when they were trying to do a number on you. It’s afterwards that they show their true colours. Been there, done that, didn’t like it – next please, ann rea thought as she continued to enjoy the wine.

  ‘So tell me about your writing?’ he started.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Your writing – I mean, do you want to be a writer? Books, stories, poetry or whatever. Or are you using this route to break into television, or what?’

  I think out of your list I would probably go for “or what”,’ she smiled.

  ‘Ah, come on.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Kennedy. I don’t really know, is the correct answer. I mean, everyone wants to write the novel. Few do and the majority of those who manage it do so when they’re a lot older than I am now. So there must be some kind of sign. I’ve tried poetry. I’ll have all the words and thoughts and feelings in my head and they’ll all sound great – no, not great – more like brilliant, powerful, painful, gentle, dramatic, elegant, playful, happy and sad, but when they spill on to the page, they all sound so… so inarticulate. I suppose I’m in a “look-and-see phase”. I don’t really know what I want to do with my life eventually. I quite enjoy what I’m doing at the moment and I’m convinced that in time, all will be revealed and I’ll realise what I have to do and what I’ve been waiting around to do.’

  ‘That sounds reasonable to me,’ Kennedy ventured.

  ‘Now, in the meantime, Kennedy, I hate to throw a spanner in the works but I have another angle on your Berry / Cumberland Basin case,’ ann rea said, shifting the attention from herself.

  ‘Ah-ha,’ said Kennedy, shifting the gears of his brain while thinking that she may be trying to swing the conversation around to a semi-professional level.

  ‘How about… how about if either of the relations, or even both of the relations – brother and boyfriend – have found out, or are suspecting, what you’ve just told me and they, either separately or together, decide to seek their revenge by kidnapping Berry and dumping him in the canal?’

  ‘Nah. I don’t think so. The boyfriend is very upset but he’s doomed to be no more than an extra in a documentary. He wouldn’t have the guts to do something like that,’ Kennedy replied.

  ‘But perhaps he’s in his current state precisely because he killed Berry?’ suggested ann rea.

  ‘Hmm.’

  ann rea continued further along this line of thought. ‘He – or the both of them – did it in a way that made it look like Berry committed suicide.’

  ‘Well…’ You could see the wheels of his brain slowly begin to turn again. ‘Bowles did say that the brother was becoming quite troublesome and Rose Butler told me of a violent scene the brother had at the hospital. But then they, or one of them, would almost certainly have been spotted by the Boat People.’

  ‘The Boat People?’ queried ann rea.

  ‘In the office, Martin Shaw and Junior have become known as the Boat People.’

  ‘Ah, but you’re assuming that the splash that these so-called Boat People heard was in fact Berry jumping or being pushed into the canal. But if this wasn’t the case and Berry jumped – or was pushed – into the canal before or after the Boat People left, then the Boat People would not necessarily have seen the person or persons who pushed him. And that person or persons, your honour, could be… could in fact be the brother and / or the boyfriend.’

  ann rea was obviously enjoying herself, and Kennedy thought she might even be on the right track.

  ‘In fact,’ she continued, ‘they could have been waiting in the bushes until the boat had pulled out or cast off, or whatever they call it. There are bushes there Kennedy, are there not, bushes to suit my case?’

  ‘No.’ He considered the scene again in his mind’s eye. ‘Just a locked-up hut, a high fence and… you’re right, you know… good God, you’re right!’ Kennedy cried.

  ‘I’m right? Who killed Berry? Who… the brother? The boyfriend? Who Kennedy? Hello – Kennedy?’ ann rea demanded from the wall of thought.

  ‘I missed it, I missed it. Berry did not commit suicide he didn’t fall into the canal by accident, or indeed on purpose. Come on, ann rea, grab your coat. I’ll show you what I mean. Come on!’

  ‘My wine, my wine, Kennedy. I was enjoying it!’

  Too late. He was in the hall on the way out of the house and unless she followed him, and pretty damn quick at that, chances are she would never know what this Detective Inspector Christy Kennedy was on about.

  ‘Wait for me, Kennedy, wait for me. I’m coming.’

  ann rea took a quick slug of wine, put on her coat and scarf, grabbed her bag and ran after him in the time it had taken another Christie to win the Olympic Gold for 100 metres.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  ‘Look! There!’ Kennedy pointed. They had half-run, half-walked the mile or so to the Cumberland Basin. The heavy rain had ceased, unveiling a full moon. From one side, the moon lit the bridge they were standing on whilst the lights from the Feng Shang floating restaurant illuminated the other.

  It was obvious from Kennedy’s agitation that he had stumbled upon something important to the case. Just exactly what that was remained a mystery to ann rea.

  ‘What’s going on? What is it Kennedy?’ she asked again.

  ‘Okay. The only way it’s possible to be on that bank of the canal,’ he started, pointing to the zoo bank, directly opposite the Feng Shang, ‘is if you come down there by
the side entrance – near the zoo building, down the steep bank and through that gate. That’s a very high fence, with barbed wire on top, so there’s no other way down.’

  ‘So?’ ann rea inquired, still not following him.

  ‘Now, that gate remains locked until Junior opens it first thing in the morning and he arrives around six-thirty. He spends some time preparing the boat and awaiting the arrival of his work mate, Martin Shaw. The gate is locked after them. That side is not open to the public – boat-owners only. The public walkway is on the other side. This side dead-ends up there at the top of the basin. The public side…’ he turned and pointed to the other side, ‘continues around under that bridge and heads up towards Camden Lock. So that means that Berry could not have reached the bank by accident. He could not have made his own way there to jump or fall in.’

  ‘Couldn’t he just have jumped from up here on the bridge?’ ann rea asked.

  ‘No, impossible. His body was found over there, you see? Where the Sailing Diamond is moored now – that must be at least twenty feet away. It would be impossible to jump so far,’ answered Kennedy.

  ‘What if he jumped down on to the bank and then made his way to the point where he leapt in?’

  ‘Well, to jump that distance on to a hard surface, he’d have broken some bones, and a doctor would certainly have known that, plus there would have been some marks or swelling on his body as a result. Berry had no such marks or broken bones when he was found,’ Kennedy said, triggering off another of his thoughts. ‘Ah! No marks, except the faint line along the front of his chest, underarm to underarm. That would explain that,’ Kennedy said, racing ahead again.

  ‘Pardon? Please explain what you’re on about now. I’m beginning to think I shouldn’t have had that wine, Kennedy.’

  ‘Okay. At first we thought the mark across Dr Berry’s chest was caused by his clothes bunching up under his arms and pulling tight when he was pulled out of the water. But it would make a lot more sense…’ this time ann rea waited for the explanation, ‘if someone had tied a rope around him – under the arms – and lowered him over the side of the bridge down on to the bank.’

  ‘Wouldn’t that be rather awkward to achieve?’

  ‘Not really. You’d rest the body on the railing, here; lean the body over; place the rope around this knob, here; let the body slide gently over. The rope on the knob would take the strain. After that, it wouldn’t be difficult to lower the body down on to the bank. If someone was reasonably strong it would be do-able.’

  Kennedy walked to and fro the length of the isolated bridge, checking angles, heights, weighing up possibilities. He had formed his theory as to the disposal of the body and was now checking to see if anything could disprove his hypothesis.

  ‘Yes, yes, yes!’ cried Kennedy, in a rare burst of excitement.

  ‘This is the most excited I’ve ever seen anyone get without taking their clothes off,’ smiled ann rea.

  ‘Sorry, it’s just that I wasn’t sure. I thought that he didn’t or wouldn’t commit suicide. I had that feeling but I couldn’t find anything to convince me either way. Then, Alexander “Call me bleedin’ Alex” Bowles’ statement made it plausible that Berry could indeed have committed suicide. Berry had made a critical mistake and a patient had died as a result. I was beginning to think that maybe when he was feeling very down about it he just might… just might have taken his own life. But this – this fence – proves that Berry was brought here by a second party who wanted to do him harm.’

  ‘So, Kennedy, now you’ve proved to me that you’re a genius, my big question is, who killed Berry?’

  ‘Ha, that’s a good one. Too early to say yet. But now that I know it was murder, it’ll be easier to proceed from here.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Well, I’ll have to re-interview a few people, taking this new information into consideration. And I’ve still a couple of people to talk to, yet. But this is important.’

  Kennedy continued to survey the scene. ann rea was tired. ‘Sorry, Kennedy, it’s late. Don’t forget I’m a working girl. I’ll walk you back to your house – I’ve left my car just around the corner.’

  They walked off into the night, arm in arm. To strangers, they looked like lovers, but Kennedy felt this relationship, though growing stronger, was still not heading in the romantic direction he wished for it.

  ‘What was that bit in your column this week about Nigel Mansell? I saw the picture and the headline but I didn’t get a chance to read it,’ he asked, as they crossed the moonlit Primrose Hill.

  ‘Oh, that,’ laughed ann rea. ‘Well, apparently, last season after one of the time trials, Mansell stormed into the pits telling his mechanics that he needed more power. One of the mechanics answered, “Sorry Nigel – it’s going flat out. There’s nothing else to give.” Nigel wasn’t satisfied, he wanted to go faster. The brummie pleaded. “Well, Nigel,” one of the mechanics answered, looking at Mansell’s well-filled driving suit, “Perhaps if you were to lose a little weight, that would speed things up a bit”. Mansell left the pits, only to return twenty minutes later, minus his famous moustache, announcing to the mechanics, “Okay, I’ve done my bit. I’ve lost some weight. Now it’s your turn – make me go faster.”’

  ‘Is that true?’ laughed Kennedy.

  ‘It’s supposed to be. Anyway, Kennedy, here we are.’

  ann rea took out the keys to her car and glanced at him. They were both silent. A lorry came noisily around the corner and broke the trance. ann rea got into her snazzy maroon salon, a vintage Ford Popular, started the engine and waved goodbye. As she pulled away, she could see Kennedy in her rear-view mirror staring after her. If she could have read his thoughts, she’d have heard him think, One step forward and two steps back. And he wasn’t thinking about the Berry case.

  That was for tomorrow.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Kennedy walked to his office the next morning with an inch to his step. He immediately summoned Irvine and instructed him to assemble the team – small though it was – to meet in his office in twenty minutes’ time. The twenty minutes, Kennedy hoped, would be enough to bring Castle up to date on the case. Kennedy also needed Castle’s approval for his next step.

  Running through the previous evening’s events took longer than he thought it would. He was prepared to spend extra time “selling” his theory to Superintendent Castle. As it happened, Castle took little persuading.

  ‘That seems fine to me, Kennedy,’ he said at length. ‘Please proceed as you see fit and keep me appraised of your progress.’

  The superintendent was happy that Kennedy now had a handle on the case. Yesterday, he had felt the case was lacking momentum and would probably end up in the growing “unsolved cases” pile.

  Kennedy was fired up and raring to go.

  ‘Right,’ he began, addressing the team in his office. ‘I think it’s pretty safe to assume that this is now a murder case. Superintendent Castle and I are convinced that Edmund Berry did not take his own life.’

  Kennedy explained in detail his discoveries of the previous evening. There were questions similar to those of ann rea and he gave similar answers.

  ‘Okay, friends – we’ve been letting the trail grow cold so now’s the time for each of us to get back into this in a big way. Here’s what I want…’

  Kennedy held up his left hand and moved his fingers through the points as he called them out.

  ‘One – DS Irvine – call forensic out and have them check all those knobbly things on the bridge to see if a rope was used to lower a heavy load.’

  ‘Right, sir,’ answered Irvine.

  ‘Two…’ Kennedy was still looking at Irvine, ‘…find out from Trevor Davies…’ Irvine looked blank. ‘You know, that friend of William Jackson’s. Find out whether Jackson had told him that he specifically blamed Berry for the death of Susanne Collins, and if Davies knows what Jackson was doing between 5am and 8am on the morning Berry was murdered. And try get as much backg
round as you can on Jackson.’

  ‘Three…’ Kennedy addressed himself to DC Milligan, ‘…I want you to go back to Cumberland Basin and join Martin Shaw and Junior on one of their trips. Observe everything that goes on. Get there first thing in the morning, early, around 5am. Hang around. See what happens at that time of the morning. See who’s out and about then. If you meet anyone, stop them, question them, see if they’re regulars. See if they remember anything at all about the morning in question. Be ready when the Sailing Diamond casts off. Stand on the boat’s roof and look backwards and find out if it’s possible to see back to the bank. Have Martin Shaw tell you at what point on the journey he heard the splash, look around then and see what’s visible on the bank. I don’t know what you’re after – it doesn’t matter – just bring me back anything, anything at all.’

  Milligan beamed from ear to ear, it was a chance to prove himself and he was determined not to let the DI down. He was determined to find something of relevance.

  Kennedy unleashed another finger – his fourth – and now all were taut and outstretched, like the tail feathers of a dove pigeon. He stared at Constable Lundy – a bit of a yuppie cop, with the hair style but not the income to match.

  ‘Four. I want you, Lundy, to contact Crime Watch, Greater London Radio, Capital Radio, Evening Standard and Camden News Journal.’

  ‘Radio One, sir?’ inquired Lundy.

  ‘No, don’t bother, no one listens to them any more…’ A couple of officers picked up on Kennedy’s joke and laughed, ‘…ask that all of them put out the story. Between the hours of five o’clock and eight o’clock on the morning of Tuesday 2nd February, a body was dumped into Regent’s Canal at the Cumberland Basin. The police are looking for people who may have seen anything suspicious at that time. The usual “all calls will be treated in confidence”. The desk sergeant will help you out with the exact wording. I don’t care how insignificant these people feel their information is, I want to hear it and the sooner I hear it, the better.’ Lundy noted Kennedy’s requirements.