SECRET CRIMES a gripping crime thriller full of suspense

by MICHAEL HAMBLING

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I locked the door and went down to the restaurant to see if she was having breakfast. But there was no sign of her. And then the manager came in and started looking around and ticking names off a list. I spoke to her and asked her if she’d seen Sarah. That’s when I started to really worry.’

  ‘What happened last night?’

  Sophie listened attentively to Rosemary’s account of the evening, while Marsh took notes.

  ‘Tell me more about the two men, Rosemary. Describe them to me.’

  ‘Well, Derek was the one who was with Sarah last night. He was tall, probably about six feet. He had dark hair and brown eyes, a kind of Mediterranean look. Really handsome. He was wearing black trousers, a red cord shirt and a tan bomber jacket. There was a spark between them as soon as they met, I could tell. I didn’t catch his surname.’

  ‘And the other man?’

  ‘Brian. He wanted to get off with me, but I didn’t really like him. He seemed a bit of a moody type.’

  ‘What did he look like?’

  ‘A lot shorter. He had mid-brown hair, and blue eyes that bulged slightly. His nose was a bit turned up. He was in jeans and a black leather jacket. He left about the same time as Ed and me.’

  ‘So you stayed the night in Ed’s flat? Did you hear anything during the night?’

  ‘Nothing unusual, and I’m a light sleeper. But I was in the lounge with the door shut. I didn’t sleep with Ed, you know. He offered me a place to sleep as a way out of my dilemma. Sarah wanted our room, and I didn’t want to go with Brian. Staying at Ed’s was the only alternative.’

  ‘Okay. What clothes did you bring, Rosemary?’

  ‘Just enough for a couple of days. It’s all in the room, either in the drawers or hanging up.’

  ‘Can you tell me about Sarah? Where she lived, what she did as a job? That kind of thing.’

  ‘I know her address,’ Rosemary replied. ‘But I can’t be sure about much else. She might have worked in a bank, but she also talked about insurance. She was a bit vague about it.’

  Marsh took Rosemary back to the reception area. Sophie spoke to Ed Wilton for a few minutes.

  ‘What do you think of their story, ma’am?’ Marsh asked, once they were alone.

  ‘Same as you, I would have thought. I’m apt to believe the two of them for now, but I want everything they’ve said double-checked. Get the locals out looking for our two men. They were at a B and B somewhere in the town. It shouldn’t be difficult to find. I’m a bit surprised Mrs Corrigan didn’t know where they were staying. But if they were up to no good, maybe they avoided talking about it.’

  ‘Right away, ma’am. It’s interesting that Mrs Corrigan also spoke of a strange atmosphere in the room.’

  ‘It was the smell, Barry. I’ve been thinking about what it was. A faint trace of shit and piss nearly masked by the air freshener and some perfume. But it was in the bedroom, not the bathroom.’ She paused. ‘It’s the smell of someone who’s almost paralysed with fright. She lost control of her bodily functions.’

  * * *

  The forensic team arrived and started their meticulous examination of the room. After interviewing the staff, Sophie and Marsh found time for a coffee. Marsh nibbled on his biscuit.

  ‘Is Lydia still with you?’

  ‘No. She put in for a transfer soon after that last business down here. A bit odd really. She’s in Bath now, apparently. She sent me a card thanking me for the help I’d given her, but I haven’t heard from her since she went.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘It took me by surprise. I thought she was happy working for me. I guess I was away a lot around the time she left. It took longer than I expected to get those poor girls identified — the ones you found buried at the farm. Duff and company were clever, you know, certainly in the early stages. They only chose poor, country girls or orphans to smuggle out from Romania. I suppose like so many thugs they got overconfident as time went on, and that’s when it started to go wrong for them. Nadia and Sorina were too much of a handful, too bright, and the gang had become sloppy.’ She sipped her coffee. ‘They were both back here a couple of weeks ago, visiting Jade, and they looked as if they’ve recovered well.’ She paused. ‘I was seconded to the Home Office for a while and was getting therapy for the state my head was in. I suppose I wasn’t around enough for Lydia to be able to talk to me. I certainly didn’t see it coming, her wanting to leave, and it was too late to do anything about it when I did find out.’

  Marsh inhaled. ‘She thought it was you, ma’am. You know, the woman who tortured Charlie Duff. I tried to convince her that it wasn’t, but she wouldn’t have it.’

  ‘Christ! So that was it.’

  ‘She’d always hero-worshipped you, ma’am.’

  ‘And in her eyes I fell from grace quite spectacularly.’ She regarded Marsh. ‘And what do you think, Barry?’

  ‘I was with you when we found him. I know it wasn’t you, ma’am. I saw how it affected you, finally finding the man who killed your father. That was no act, and if you’d done those things to him the night before, you wouldn’t have reacted like that.’

  ‘That’s very loyal of you, but I don’t know whether I deserve it. I have a proposal for you, Barry. I don’t know what the future holds for you here, what with all this talk of job cuts. I’ve pondered on it for a long time, but there’s no one I’d rather have working for me. So if you could bear to put up with me on a full-time basis, how would you feel about being my permanent second, based at HQ?’

  After several seconds Marsh realised his mouth was hanging open and closed it. He opened it again.

  ‘I’d love to, ma’am. There’s nothing to hold me here now. I’ve finally split up with Sammie, and with the uncertainty about the future of the station here, I’d much rather go somewhere settled. You know that Tom Rose plans to take redundancy? We’re guessing that it’ll just be a sergeant in charge.’ He finally took a sip of coffee. ‘You’ve no idea what this means to me. But isn’t there anyone else you’d prefer? Someone a bit more qualified? You know, more like Lydia?’

  ‘There are cutbacks going on left, right and centre. I wouldn’t get to pick and choose, Barry, and I’d find it hard to accept that. And you’re a good counter to me. In some ways Lydia was perfect, but in other ways she was too much like me. I need someone to pull me back down to earth occasionally. And you do that brilliantly. But we will have a DC with us. Someone starts next week as Lydia’s replacement, and I don’t know anything about him or her. I should have had a DS with me all along, but the powers that be never got around to it because they knew there were cuts on the way. So in a way, if you join me, I’ll have the core of the permanent team that I should have had from the start.’

  ‘When do I start? Officially, I mean?’

  ‘Now. I’ve already cleared it with Matt Silver and the Chief Constable will ratify it. I had a long chat with him last month when I returned to full-time work.’

  ‘I knew you were on leave for a long time. I heard that from the Super on one of his flying visits down here.’

  ‘I needed it, Barry. You saw what a mess I was in. That whole business really wrecked my brain. I thought I’d be okay once we bagged Duff and got all the loose ends tidied up, but I just got worse and worse. I was in and out of therapy for months. It was all due to the hatred I’d felt towards my father. I always thought that he’d run out on my mother when he found out that she was pregnant, despite what she’d told me. A childhood filled with that kind of simmering anger was barely controllable. Then to discover that he’d been murdered and hadn’t abandoned her at all was too much for me to cope with. It was all down to the intense guilt I was feeling, at having hated him for forty years.’

  ‘I had no idea. I’m just amazed that you want to continue.’

  ‘It’s what I do, Barry. It’s what I do best. I’m not ready to chuck in the towel just yet.’ She smiled at him. ‘Lucky for you, wouldn’t you say?’


  He nodded. Then his phone sounded.

  ‘We may have a lead on where they were staying.’

  ‘Let’s get moving. Time waits for no woman, nor does a murderer.’

  * * *

  The Hawthorns Guest House was situated just off Victoria Avenue, about half a mile from the seafront. It was a detached building, constructed from the local grey Purbeck stone. Virginia creeper, still in its glorious autumn colours, clung to the walls above the front porch and late-blossoming flowers cascaded from hanging baskets and tubs. Marsh introduced Sophie to the guesthouse proprietor, an anxious-looking woman in her fifties.

  ‘Mrs Julia Fantini, ma’am. She owns the place, and checked in a Mr Brian Shapiro and his friend when they arrived late yesterday afternoon.’

  The two detectives were taken to the room booked by the two men. Sophie asked the owner to wait downstairs.

  ‘We’ll just have a quick look around,’ she said. ‘I want to get a feel for the place.’

  The twin-bedded room was family-sized, and one of the beds was a double. It was a similar arrangement to the room they’d just visited at the hotel, although this one was smaller. It was neat and clean.

  ‘Well, nothing looks out of place, but we’ll get forensics to check once they’ve finished in the hotel.’

  Marsh nodded, and looked out of the window.

  Sophie stepped around the beds, scanning the surfaces of shelves and tables, but all the items looked as though they belonged to the premises. The wardrobe was empty, as were the four drawers in the dressing table. Two holdalls lay on the floor in front of the window.

  ‘It doesn’t look as though they unpacked,’ Sophie said. ‘Maybe they arrived, dumped their stuff and went out immediately.’

  She carefully unzipped each bag, looking for anything with a name on it, but could find nothing. Each small bag merely held a few spare clothes and an electric razor.

  ‘Travelling light,’ Marsh commented.

  ‘Right, let’s leave the detailed search to the experts. We need to examine the bookings.’

  They returned to the ground floor. The owner was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, her arms folded tightly around her chest. She looked paler than when they’d first arrived.

  ‘A friend’s just called and said a body’s been found out at Peveril. Is this linked?’

  ‘We can’t be sure, Mrs Fantini. Not until our forensic people have been here to check on the evidence. But we’ll need to seal off that room, and maybe talk to your other guests. Can you give me the details of the reservation? Which of the two made it, and when?’

  ‘The booking was made about three weeks ago by phone.’ Mrs Fantini checked the details on her computer. ‘Mr Shapiro made it.’

  ‘That’s fine,’ Sophie replied. ‘Did you pick up anything unusual about them when they arrived?’

  Mrs Fantini shook her head. ‘Not really. They were in a bit of a rush. They took the key, dropped their bags in the room, then they were back downstairs and out.’

  ‘What time was this?’

  ‘Just before seven twenty. Mr Shapiro asked about pubs and somewhere to eat when he signed in. I told him that all the pubs served food, but that they’d be much busier than normal because of the blues festival. He told me that’s what they were down here for.’

  ‘And it was definitely him who made the original booking?’

  ‘Yes. It was done on his credit card.’

  ‘Can I see the details, please?’

  Marsh stood to one side and the two women squeezed in behind the desk. Sophie looked at the booking sheet and sign-in book. All completed under the name of Shapiro.

  ‘Did the other man say anything at all?’

  ‘Not that I remember. He stayed in the background.’

  ‘Did they come by car?’

  ‘No. And that’s rather unusual. He said that they came by bus from Poole.’

  Marsh looked puzzled.

  ‘Are you sure of the time they arrived?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m certain. I always note the time and I remember this one distinctly, because the show I was watching on TV hadn’t quite finished. I missed the final ten minutes.’

  ‘You couldn’t have mixed them up with any other guests arriving?’

  ‘No. They were the last. Everyone else was already booked in and had gone out to see the first performances. They’re all here for the festival, you see.’

  ‘How long would you say it takes to walk up here from the bus terminus? Ten minutes?’

  ‘That’s what we put on the website, but I doubt it would take two fit men anywhere near that long. And the email I send out to confirm bookings has directions.’

  ‘It would be straightforward, wouldn’t it?’ Marsh continued. ‘Out of the bus terminus, left along Rempstone Road for a few hundred yards and you’re just about here.’

  ‘That’s right. Those are the directions we provide.’

  ‘Could you smell any drink on their breath?’

  ‘Not that I could tell. And he said they were in a hurry to get out for a drink and some food.’

  Sophie interrupted. ‘Did either of them return at any time last night?’

  ‘No. We usually lock the front door about eight in the evening, but last night I left it until well after eleven because I knew most of our guests would be coming in late. Even so, I was up until just after midnight. I saw everyone else coming in.’

  ‘What about later? They could still have got in with their key, surely?’

  ‘Of course, but they didn’t. We have a tracker on the front door that logs each time it’s opened once I set the security alarm on the office. It wasn’t activated at all, so no one came in after I went to bed.’

  * * *

  Sophie and Marsh returned to the car.

  ‘The bus times don’t work, ma’am. Not unless there was a severe delay on the route down. One arrives at six forty. If they got that they should have got here long before they did. They could have called in somewhere on the walk over here, but it’s unlikely. If they followed the simplest route they wouldn’t have passed any pubs or cafés. The next bus gets in at seven thirty, and then they wouldn’t have got here in time. The only other possible explanation is that the buses were running late. I’ll check when we’re back at the station.’

  ‘So, another oddity. And where did Shapiro go when he left the hotel at midnight? According to Wilton and Corrigan he left just before them, and they assumed he was coming back here. But he never made it. Why not? From what our couple back at the hotel said, both men were on the lookout for available women. Maybe the double bed was for that.’

  ‘Shows a lot of confidence, doesn’t it? And what does the second one do when the lucky man returns with someone? Stay out until a prearranged time?’ said Marsh.

  ‘Maybe they were hoping for a foursome.’

  ‘I’d imagine that Mrs Fantini would have had something to say about that, ma’am. I can’t imagine a whole lot getting past her.’

  ‘Let’s get back to the hotel. I want to check the times and dates of that booking.’

  * * *

  Jimmy Melsom was taking statements from the staff at the Ballard View Hotel.

  ‘Nearly finished,’ he reported. ‘Nothing unusual so far.’

  Sophie and Marsh visited the manageress in her office and asked to see the booking details for the room.

  It had been booked three weeks earlier by telephone, with Sarah Sheldon’s name on the reservation. Allen stared at the screen, then stood back, puzzled.

  ‘Barry, this booking was made on the same day as the one at the Hawthorns. And there’s less than a fifteen minute gap in the times between them. This one’s at noon, the other one was made at ten past. How likely is that to be a random coincidence?’

  Chapter 3: Friction

  Saturday lunchtime

  ‘So this might be the last time we’ll be using this place?’ Sophie asked. She stretched out her slim legs under the table and looked up at the high
ceiling. She and Melsom were seated in the incident room at Swanage’s Victorian police station. ‘It’s a shame. I’ve grown used to it during the past year. It’s always had a pleasant feel about it. The whole station, I mean, not just this room. What happens now it’s about to close?’

  ‘The uniformed lot are being allocated some unused rooms at the back of the town hall, along with a few car-parking slots. We don’t know what will happen to us. Probably a move to Wareham. There’s quite a bit of bitterness about it all.’ Barry Marsh was preparing an incident board. ‘Maybe this building will be converted into flats. Who knows?’

  ‘It’s not just due to the cuts, Barry. Crime rates are falling and have been doing so for some time now. It’s not been covered in the press because that kind of news doesn’t sell newspapers, but it’s a fact. Petty and opportunistic crime may be a bit steadier, but society is becoming more civilised. What we’re finding is that serious crime is being concentrated more and more into certain pockets of society. And it’s not just in Britain. It’s been happening across the whole of the developed world.’

  ‘So we’ll all find ourselves redundant sooner or later?’ Melsom sounded downhearted.

  ‘No. Crime rates may be dropping, but the population is rising. So the numbers will probably remain steady. There’ll always be a job for you, Jimmy, don’t worry. Anyway, let’s get on with a quick review before I decide on priorities for this afternoon. You first, Barry.’

  Marsh sat down and took a sip of tea before speaking.

  ‘First odd fact. Despite what Mrs Corrigan said, Sarah Sheldon did ask for a family room. One of the receptionists remembers the phone conversation. Second oddity. The bookings were both made within a few minutes of each other. There was an enquiry about the possibility of a neighbouring room only a short while after Sarah had made her booking. Whoever it was claimed to be her brother.’