Anna’s face lit up and she had no hesitation as she replied, ‘That would be really nice, thank you.’
Langton couldn’t believe how luxurious Jessie Dewar’s lakeside apartment was. The large living-come-dining room had floor-to-ceiling windows that gave a panoramic view across the man-made lakes and golf course. The floors were real wood and the walls were pristine white with modern art hanging throughout and splashing the rooms with colour. The white leather sofa and armchairs were large and comfortable. A glass dining table and six white leather chairs were positioned near the sliding glass doors that led onto the large terrace with glass and aluminium railings. There were two double bedrooms, the master with en-suite bathroom, and both with LCD TVs and walk-in closets. A double garage to one side was designed to fit in with the surrounding buildings.
Langton decided to take a wander over to the golf club to eat and have a cold beer. Once there, he was surprised how busy the restaurant was and didn’t really feel properly attired to eat in it, so he opted for the barbecue menu on the veranda and had a T-bone steak, fries and salad. The meal was delicious and he was joined by a couple of the golf-club members who had just finished their round. One turned out to be the local sheriff and so Langton told him that he was with the Met Police in London and a visiting lecturer on a course at the FBI Academy. He and the sheriff got on very well and spent an enjoyable evening topping up each other’s beer glasses whilst swapping war stories.
Langton returned to the condo quite drunk, and contemplated calling Travis, but knew she would be exhausted and well asleep by now so he didn’t bother. He was looking forward to having dinner with her and wondered if he should invite her to stay at Dewar’s as there were two rooms. Why not, he thought to himself as he lay on the bed fully clothed, whereupon the alcohol and jet lag kicked in and he was fast asleep within minutes.
Chapter Twenty-Four
A call from the reception-desk officer summoned Dewar and Barolli down to Witness Interview Room One, where they were greeted by the sight of Marisha Peters grinning widely and swaying slightly in her seat. Barolli introduced Dewar and said she was helping him with his enquiries into her nephew Josh’s death.
‘I is helping too, just like Miss Dewsi, and I can tell youse I knows a thing or two,’ Marisha said, wagging her finger.
‘Have you been drinking, Marisha?’ Barolli asked.
Marisha shook her head, and then sucked air through her teeth in annoyance.
‘I told youse, Officer Perrolli, I’SE DON’T DRINK!’
Marisha was slurring her words and Barolli knew that she was lying. Checking her eyes he noticed her pupils were dramatically enlarged.
‘Have you been taking drugs, Marisha?’ he pressed.
‘DRUGS, no way, mon. I’ve not touched the ganja for years.’
Marisha licked her lips and started to shake slightly. ‘Can someone tern de heating down. I’se burning up in here and me mouth’s no spit left,’ she said, but showed no signs of sweating.
Barolli leaned towards Marisha to smell her breath and smiled at her.
‘You had some of that spiced rum with your coffee?’
Marisha grinned back, giggling, and leaned in close to his face to whisper: ‘Well, only a little one fer a bit of da Dutch courage, before I’se come and see ya to tell you what I knows about da rich bitch.’
Her voice was so croaky that Barolli pushed his own bottle of water across the desk. Marisha squinted, trying to focus on it, and grabbed at thin air in her attempt to pick it up. Barolli noticed her breathing was becoming heavier and there was a faint rasping sound. He picked up the bottle of water and put it in Marisha’s hand, then turned his back towards her so he could have a whispered conversation with Dewar.
‘She doesn’t look too good to me. She’s clearly had a skinful so I don’t think it’s appropriate to interview her at the moment.’
‘You’re being overcautious,’ the agent insisted. ‘She’s only had the one rum and her wheezy breathing is down to her being overweight.’ Before he could reply, Dewar started her questioning: ‘I want to ask you some things about your brother Samuel.’
‘De good lord knows she done for ma nephew,’ Marisha said, her voice becoming more agitated as she started to rock backwards and forwards in her chair, constantly licking her lips.
‘The date he went back to Jamaica is important, as I believe Donna Reynolds is trying to frame him for murder,’ Dewar said firmly.
‘Frame who for murder?’ Marisha asked with a confused look on her face as she began to scratch her lower left arm repeatedly.
‘Did Samuel ever meet Donna when he was decorating?’ Dewar asked, growing exasperated.
‘Decorating Donna, yes, ma’am, he also decorate Esme’s real good.’ Marisha again sucked air through her teeth and began to shake even more.
‘Will you please answer my question?’ Dewar said, becoming frustrated.
Barolli was concerned. ‘Marisha, are you okay? I can get a doctor to come and see you if you feel ill.’ Dewar glared at him, but he quietly told her that he didn’t think it was a good idea to continue, as Marisha was clearly on another planet and due to her condition anything she might say would be ruled worthless as evidence. Dewar, latching onto Marisha’s comment about Donna, ignored his advice.
‘When did Samuel go back home?’ Dewar asked, leaning forward, pressing for an answer. Marisha stared into space and began to sway and shake even more, as Barolli noticed that her pupils had got larger and she had scratched her arm so roughly that she’d drawn blood.
‘Answer my question, Marisha, or I will arrest you for perverting the course of justice,’ Dewar said assertively.
Marisha’s breathing had become even more erratic.
‘Samuel never steal no money, the rich bitch give it to him.’ Her shaking was now uncontrollable.
Barolli could see the woman was incapable of understanding the questions and it was time to get her medical assistance.
‘Stop now, Agent Dewar,’ he said.
‘She’s lying, she knows something. Tell me why Donna gave Samuel money, Marisha.’
‘Ask de lord, he knows she done for my Samuel as well!’ Marisha shouted at the top of her voice.
‘He helped Donna so she paid him off, didn’t she?’ Dewar asked loudly.
Marisha suddenly squeezed her chest with both hands and her eyes began to roll in their sockets as she bent forward, apparently in great pain.
‘Where is he, where is Samuel now?’ Dewar persisted.
Marisha couldn’t speak; it was as if she was suddenly starved of oxygen, and she looked at Barolli as if begging for help. He jumped up, opened the interview-room door and shouted for someone to call an ambulance. As Marisha slumped to the floor, Dewar knelt down beside her and unzipped her jacket and the top button of her blouse.
‘She’s lying to protect Samuel and I—’ Dewar started to say as Barolli knelt down.
‘Shut the fuck up, Dewar, and help me with CPR.’
By the time the ambulance arrived, Marisha was unconscious, but still alive thanks to the continuous CPR that Barolli and Dewar had given her. Having seen their witness safely off to hospital accompanied by a uniform officer, Barolli phoned Mike Lewis to tell him what had happened, stating only that they had just started to interview Marisha when she collapsed and had a suspected heart attack. Mike Lewis told Barolli that he and Dewar were to wait, as he was on his way over to speak with them both, and on no account should either of them leave the station.
Barolli paced around Travis’s office, racking his brains about what to tell Mike and whether or not he should defend Dewar. He knew that the whole incident had been captured on CCTV but was somewhat relieved that being a witness interview room the system was video only and no sound.
‘What are you looking so worried about, we’ve done nothing wrong,’ Dewar remarked.
‘You don’t get it, do you, Jessie? We are in serious trouble here. If Marisha dies, it will be treated as a deat
h in police custody.’
‘But she wasn’t under arrest,’ Dewar said.
‘It doesn’t fucking matter, she was in a police station when she collapsed. I told you we should have got her medical attention right away.’ Barolli rubbed the base of his neck, which was tight from stress.
‘I only did what I thought was right,’ Dewar said emphatically.
‘What was right? You threatened to arrest her without a whiff of evidence that she was involved.’
‘She said Donna killed Josh and Samuel knew. Marisha’s trying to protect her brother. Question is, why and where is he now?’
Barolli looked at her with disbelief. ‘She didn’t know what time of bloody day it was. I suggest you tell Superintendent Lewis that you continued to question Marisha as you feared for Samuel Peters’ safety and current whereabouts.’
‘Okay, if that’s the way you want to play it. I’ll do it for your sake, if it will keep you out of trouble.’
An angry Mike Lewis informed Barolli and Dewar that Marisha was in a coma after a serious heart attack and still in a critical condition. Barolli breathed a sigh of relief as Mike told him that there would be no suspension from duty, but as a matter of course the Met’s Department of Professional Standards would interview him and Dewar later in the day. Mike went on to tell Dewar that the only reason he was allowing her to stay on the team was because of Barolli, and if he didn’t people might become suspicious and suspect some sort of cover-up. He also informed her that she was on her final warning, and then asked her to leave the room while he spoke to Barolli. She hesitated, glancing towards Barolli, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes.
When it was just the two of them, Mike asked for the full story, off the record, and so Barolli told him the truth about what had happened and what Marisha had said whilst intoxicated.
Mike rubbed at his head with frustration. ‘This bloody case has more directions than a guidebook. Do you think Samuel Peters is involved?’
‘Could be, but we need to get to the bottom of exactly when and if he returned to Jamaica. There’s enough to get a search warrant for Marisha’s flat, might find something that’s useful,’ Barolli said.
‘A picture of Samuel would be a good start! We should run his name with the UK Border Agency and get onto the Jamaican police, see if they can help.’
‘I wouldn’t hold your breath on either having any up-to-date records,’ Barolli remarked bluntly. Mike glumly agreed and fell silent, thinking about the case, until Barolli voiced a new idea.
‘I know Marisha was pissed and talking gibberish, but do you think Donna and Samuel could be in this together?’
‘We know jack shit about Samuel, but we do know Donna’s a liar and a thief, the CCS Medical theft shows that. We also know she left the Savoy in a car on the night in question. Mike paused for thought then continued: ‘Get Dan Ross to go over the Savoy Hotel CCTV to see if a man matching the description we have of Samuel was seen entering or leaving the building on the night of the fifth of November.’
‘I’d say at a posh charity event like Lady Lynne’s, dreadlocks and a Rasta hat would make him pretty visible, so if he was seen he’d be remembered,’ Barolli said, grinning.
Anna was abruptly woken from her sleep by the sound of gunfire and thunder flashes. Disorientated, she didn’t have a clue what was going on and sat bolt upright as her eyes adjusted to the light and she realized where she was. Getting out of bed, she saw that her alarm clock gave the time as eight am, but had not rung to wake her. She went over to the window, pulled back the curtains, and could see trainee FBI agents running over assault courses, enacting hostage situations and pumping out live rounds on the firing ranges.
Dressed in her FBI uniform and carrying her notepad she made her way down to the canteen for breakfast and enjoyed some mixed fruit salad and scrambled eggs on toast. Feeling rather bloated and glad that she didn’t have to do any physical exercise yet, she then went to find the library to use the Internet.
The library was an ugly two-storey concrete building, with a drab interior, extensive bookshelves, work desks and computers. Anna glanced out of the window while she waited for her pass card to be issued, and noticed a red Ford Mustang Convertible pull up in the car park. Looking up, the librarian spotted the car as well and commented that he hadn’t realized that Agent Dewar was back from her European trip. The crafty beggar, Anna thought to herself, as she saw Langton get out of the vehicle and lift the cloth roof up. She had wondered why he was so cagey about where he was staying but it did seem churlish that he hadn’t had the decency to tell her it was Dewar’s place. She thought she’d have some fun with him later.
Anna found a free computer desk, went onto her Dropbox and saw that Joan had uploaded the Charity Ball photographs. She scrolled through the files, concentrating on the time each picture was taken, and started to open the photographs taken from nine p.m. onwards.
Donna and Gloria Lynne were easily recognizable in a number of the photographs, as well as a host of politicians, film and television celebrities. Although Anna had not met Aisa, she knew who she was from the description Barolli and Dewar had given, plus there were some pictures of Gloria and Donna together with a young woman who was obviously Aisa.
Anna meticulously wrote down the file number and time of every picture Donna appeared in. She remembered that Donna’s Mini was on the hotel CCTV leaving the underground car park at 10:05 p.m. and returning at 11:50 p.m. Donna was clearly in a number of photographs, either as the subject or in the background, between those times. Anna now knew for certain that Donna Reynolds could not have driven her car or murdered Josh during that time period. While there was still the possibility Donna had hired someone to kill Josh and let them use her car, she thought that unlikely. Still, the fact was that someone had driven Donna’s Mini that night.
Anna returned to her room and rang the office, realizing it was four p.m. in the UK. Joan answered and Anna immediately said that she needed to speak with Mike Lewis, but Joan told her that it was not a good time as there had been a bit of an incident and DPS were interviewing Mike, Barolli and Dewar. Anna asked her what had happened and Joan said that she was not fully aware of the circumstances but that Marisha had had a heart attack whilst being interviewed by Barolli and Dewar and was now in a coma.
‘Tell Mike Lewis from me that Donna did not leave the Savoy between the relevant times and the pictures from the Charity Ball prove it,’ Anna said.
‘Well they are now working on a couple of theories, one being that Samuel Peters knew that Donna killed Josh so she paid him to keep quiet,’ Joan said.
‘Joan, you’re not listening – Donna did not leave the hotel therefore she couldn’t have killed Josh,’ Anna insisted, wondering why Joan was having difficulty in grasping such a vital piece of evidence.
‘Dewar is also considering that Donna may have actually paid Samuel to commit the crime,’ Joan went on.
Anna felt like screaming but held back. ‘Dewar is talking absolute crap, she makes everything fit her theories—’
Joan interrupted, saying it was not a wild theory and Anna needed to listen to what had happened since they last spoke. Joan promised she would send Anna a copy of the interview with Marisha and explained that the woman had said that Samuel and Donna had known each other and Donna gave Samuel money, which Dewar thought must have been for killing Josh.
‘That’s absurd. We don’t even know if Samuel was in London when Josh died and why would he agree to kill his own nephew?’ Anna remarked with disdain, as Joan continued, saying that they had searched Marisha’s flat and found forty thousand pounds cash hidden in the freezer, but nothing to indicate Samuel Peters’ whereabouts. Dewar had suggested it was even possible that Donna had murdered Samuel as well.
‘How much?’ Anna exclaimed, hardly able to take it all in. Joan explained that Barolli had asked her to contact the UK Border Agency about Samuel leaving the country, which she had already done, but they were about as much use as a chocolate t
eapot and as yet she still had to make enquiries with the Jamaican police.
‘Are you all in Dewar’s dreamworld back there? I really need to speak with Mike Lewis.’ Anna was infuriated at what she thought were wild flights of fancy.
‘He’s in with DPS at the moment but he does believe it’s possible – you know, Samuel using Donna’s car.’
Anna felt like she was going round in circles.
‘Joan, for heaven’s sake, there is not a shred of evidence to support that theory.’
‘Well there is now.’
‘Exactly what evidence have they got?’ Anna was trying very hard to keep her voice on an even level and not shout into the phone.
‘Barbara found a picture of a black man on a Jamaican fishing boat at Marisha’s and he fits the description of the decorator, who we now know is Samuel Peters.’
‘Along with every other Rastafarian with dreadlocks and a beanie hat,’ Anna snapped.
‘No, Dan Ross found CCTV of the same man entering the Savoy Hotel at nine fifty p.m. on the fifth and leaving ten minutes later.’
‘You are kidding me . . .’ Anna shook her head.
‘I wish I was but the CCTV footage also shows the same man outside the hotel and he clearly walks off round the corner towards the underground car park. Also,when they enlarged the footage it was clear he had some keys in his hand.
There was a pause as Joan waited for Anna to reply, but when she didn’t she continued:
‘They think that Donna gave Samuel the car and flat keys, and he returned them later that night after killing Josh.’ Joan added that Pete Jenkins had found fingerprints on the paint tins at Esme’s flat that matched those on the money under the floorboards and the money in Marisha’s freezer. Although there was no trace on the UK database, they were believed to be Samuel Peters’ prints as they also matched other prints found at Marisha and Esme’s flats.
There was another pause. Anna was wondering what other revelations were to come, but Joan then apologized for being the bearer of what in effect was bad news, destroying any belief in Donna’s innocence. Anna could feel Joan’s impatience to end the call but she wasn’t quite finished and asked if the large sum of money found in Marisha’s flat was connected to the purchase of all the new electrical equipment. Joan reported that along with a new luxury bed and other household items, they were all cash purchases made a few weeks after Josh’s death and totalled about ten thousand pounds.
Wrongful Death Page 26