SECRET CRIMES a gripping crime thriller full of suspense

by MICHAEL HAMBLING

  He went on to describe the scene as the group split up, and the short walk to his flat. Marsh nodded and made some notes. Ed ran his fingers through his hair.

  ‘How did you get that graze on your right hand, Mr Wilton?’ The DCI was looking at him.

  ‘I stumbled slightly as we left the hotel last night, and brushed it against the wall. I didn’t notice it until later, when I was back here. It’s nothing really. I rinsed it and dabbed it with a bit of antiseptic cream.’

  She held out her hand and gently took his, turning it to get a better look. Her hand was cool, with slender fingers that brushed against the graze.

  ‘It’s slightly bruised underneath the skin,’ she said. ‘Where exactly did you scrape it?’

  ‘The steps coming down from the entrance. I misjudged one of them at the bottom.’

  ‘Which side were you on?’

  Oh, for pity’s sake, he thought. ‘I was on the left, against the wall of the building.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Her green eyes gave nothing away. ‘Is there anything else you feel you need to tell us?’

  Ed shook his head.

  ‘Mr Wilton, Rosemary asked us for advice about where to stay tonight. I’d have been happier with her at the hotel, but since she was here last night I couldn’t raise serious objections to her staying again. Please don’t betray her trust. The police station is only two hundred yards away, as I’m sure you know.’

  ‘No. She’ll be safe here.’ He wasn’t sure how to interpret this comment.

  ‘If you think of any other information that might be of help to us, please contact me immediately.’ The sergeant looked at his watch, and then at his boss.

  Could we have a few words with your daughter, Mr Wilton?’ she said.

  ‘Why on earth do you want to speak to her?’

  ‘Corroboration, as I’m sure you can guess. We’ll only take up a minute or two of her time.’

  Ed walked through to the kitchen.

  ‘This is getting beyond a joke. They want to see you, Ella.’

  She nodded and left the room.

  ‘I need a drink,’ he announced. ‘A big one.’

  He opened another bottle of wine, refilled the three glasses and sat down at the table. Neither he nor Rosemary spoke. After a short while he heard the front door open and close and Ella re-entered the kitchen.

  ‘Just confirming times and events,’ she said. ‘Nothing to get worried about.’

  Ed moved to the window and watched the two detectives cross the road. As they walked under a nearby streetlight he could see that the woman had a mobile phone pressed to her ear and was talking into the mouthpiece.

  ‘The trouble is, Ella, I’m a natural worrier. That’s what your mother always used to tell me.’ He continued watching. ‘That’s odd. They’re walking up the hill, away from the police station.’

  His daughter joined him at the window.

  ‘Back to the hotel, do you think?’

  Chapter 5: The Weird and Wobbly World

  Sunday morning

  Sophie opened one sleepy eye. A chink of light had found its way through a gap in the bedroom curtains and was falling on her face. She felt her husband slide his cold body down under the duvet and raised her head. She spotted a steaming mug of tea on her beside cabinet.

  ‘Oh, you sweetheart,’ she said. ‘You perfect specimen of manhood. I love you to distraction when you bring me tea in the morning.’ She turned around and put her limbs around his chilly torso. ‘Gosh, you’re cold. Did we forget to change the timer on the boiler? You poor thing.’

  ‘I’ll live. After last night I’ve got a lot to live for.’

  ‘All your fault, Martin Allen. It was your shoulder massage that started it. Normally all I want to do when I feel as exhausted as that is to sleep. Preferably in bed, but any soft surface will do if it comes to the crunch. My reaction took even me by surprise. I never knew I had an erogenous zone in the small of my back. Mind you, the way my body is ageing it’s probably slipped round there from wherever it’s really meant to be.’

  ‘Well let’s make sure last night wasn’t a one-off. Let’s make a date for the middle of the week, okay?’

  ‘No promises, but I’ll try. And I did sleep well.’ She sat up and took a sip of tea. ‘I’ll just drink up before it gets cold. And it’s my turn to give you a massage next. Don’t know when I’ll manage it, though.’

  She snuggled up to him and gave him a kiss.

  ‘Love you. But, I must rise and travel the lonely miles to fair Swanage. Time and tide wait for no beauteous damsel.’

  ‘Sorry to break the mediaeval tone, but the porridge mixture is ready in the microwave. Just press the button. Presumably we should leave Jade to sleep on?’

  ‘Yes. There’s no point in us putting our lives at risk unnecessarily. Mothers know these things.’

  ‘In that case I yield before your superior understanding, O great one. You use the en suite, I’ll make do with the bathroom.’

  * * *

  When Barry Marsh arrived in the incident room, Sophie was reading an email.

  ‘Come and have a look at this, Barry. Would you believe what these pen-pushers at HQ think is a priority?’

  Her sergeant looked at the screen. ‘They want you there at nine tomorrow morning? At this stage of a murder inquiry? But, with respect ma’am, even they’re not as stupid as that, are they? There must be something they’re not telling us.’

  ‘You might be right. It does say that more information will be provided. Curious. But at least it gives us another permanent member of the team. We need a replacement for Lydia. This is for you and me only for the time being, Barry.’ She finished her coffee. ‘Now, what are the priorities for today? Did Jimmy get that statement from the roadie we spoke to?’

  ‘Yes, and he’s written it up. He made a start on cross-checking all the statements we have so far before he finished last night.’

  ‘Here’s what we do. Find out what we can about Derek and Brian. I also want some corroboration of that roadie’s story. Even if no one else overheard the conversation, someone must have noticed the two of them out on the patio. We have to make sure he’s not a total fantasist. If we could check with the pub staff that he was doing what he said at the times he claimed, that would be partial support. Will Jimmy be able to finish collating all the statements we took from people in the pubs yesterday?’

  ‘Yes. He’s due in any time now. But I don’t think we should expect too much from them. From what I could gather, the most we got was a few vague recollections.’

  ‘Well at least they help to verify times, Barry. And they help us to check the accuracy of Ed’s story. So far it all matches, so there’s no reason to doubt his and Rosemary’s accounts, but we need to keep an open mind.’

  ‘That makes sense. Festival-goers who were there on Friday night are likely to be somewhere else on other evenings. Our last major opportunity is lunchtime today. People start drifting away on Sunday afternoon. It’s only the real hard-core fans and locals who’ll stay to the bitter end this evening.’

  Sophie thought for a while. ‘Do people stick to the same kind of music? Could we find out who was playing at the Red Lion on Friday night and predict where they’re most likely to be this lunchtime?’

  Marsh shrugged his shoulders. ‘Worth a try. Leave it with me.’

  ‘What’s really bugging me is the fact that we can’t trace either of the two men. Which means their names could be false. In fact, I bet they are. There’s something strange about the whole set-up. Has Jimmy made any progress on other music festivals?’

  ‘He got started, ma’am, but only very late yesterday evening. Maybe someone else could take over collating the statements? Then he could get stuck into it right away.’

  ‘Fine. I’ll put Jack Holly onto it if you’re happy. You and I need to go back to the hotel. I’m still not certain how Shapiro might have found out about getting into the place from the back entrance. That’s assuming he returned and
was somehow involved in what happened to Sarah. From what Ed Wilton said, he was only there for fifteen minutes. He spent that time sitting in the bar sulking, not exploring the building. And the barman backed Ed up. So how did our man discover that door? The route through the garden couldn’t have been obvious. It was completely dark outside by that time.’

  She put photofit images of the victim and the two suspects into her bag, and the two detectives left.

  As they arrived at the hotel, the night porter was just going off duty and he had nothing to add to his previous statement. He confirmed that he’d only seen Shapiro coming in after eleven with the three others, and he left a short time afterwards. He did add that he only came on duty at ten, and that it might be worth checking with the receptionist who had finished her shift at ten thirty. This receptionist, Maria, had been off duty the previous day but her colleagues had told her about what had happened. The two detectives remembered her from their visit the previous year during their investigation into the death of her fellow hotel worker, Donna Goodenough.

  ‘I remember the two ladies checking in,’ she said. ‘They were one of the last. We’d normally get people checking in much later than that, but not for the music festivals. Most people don’t want to miss the Friday evening gigs.’

  Maria raised a hand to her pale face. She looked miserable. I can’t blame her, Sophie thought. Only a year since the nightmare of having a close friend murdered, and this happens. Most people make it right through from birth to death without a murder ever impinging on their lives, and this poor girl has had to cope with two inside twelve months. She was clearly upset but listened carefully to Marsh’s questions about Friday afternoon’s check-ins.

  ‘There was nothing unusual? Nothing that caught your attention in any way?’

  ‘Not with them, no. Both of the ladies seemed really nice.’

  Is there something else then?’

  Maria nodded, her long, dark curls swaying slightly. ‘One of our other guests still hasn’t appeared. He had a single room for the weekend. I checked him in on Friday and he was seen once or twice during the evening, but not since. His room wasn’t used again last night, according to the senior housekeeper.’

  ‘What was the name?’

  ‘John Renton. He gave a Portsmouth address.’

  ‘Maria, please could you ensure that nothing in the room is touched or removed? And let me know tomorrow whether he returns or not?’

  The two detectives checked the booking details and obtained a description of Renton. They had a brief word with the senior housekeeper and then left the hotel for a visit to the town centre pubs.

  * * *

  ‘Yeah, I remember them. Two guys on the patio up at the Red Lion, with fags. I remember the roadie asking them to shift cos they was getting in his way. He got a right mouthful back.’

  Sophie’s hunch had paid off. Marsh had identified the band who had been playing at the pub on Friday evening, then had matched their style with bands due to play at midday. They were now in one of the other town centre pubs, talking to a tall, thin young man sipping at a beer.

  ‘I’d been there for a while and the band had arrived and wanted to get their gear inside and set up. That’s when your two turned up and decided to stand in the doorway, getting in the band’s way. It looked like there were a few cross words, then they calmed down.’

  ‘Did you hear anything that was being said?’ Marsh asked.

  ‘No. I was watching but not listening. But it looked like the tall one was a bit put out by the shorter one’s attitude towards the roadie.’

  ‘You were very observant, Mr Brodie.’

  ‘Yeah, well.’ He coughed. ‘I was looking to see if I could make a move on one of them but they were both straight. So I lost interest. When I came back from the loo a while later they’d moved into the bar. What was a bit strange was this other guy standing in the corner. He could have been watching them.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Marsh.

  ‘He looked as though he was looking in their direction. But he was only there for a few minutes so I might have been imagining it . . . I probably was. It was pretty busy. He could have been watching anyone.’

  ‘Could you give us a description?’

  ‘Middle-aged, sandy hair. Small tattoo on his left wrist, but it wasn’t clear. Jeans, lumberjack shirt. He wore dark glasses. That’s what drew my attention. This was inside. Then he turned round and looked directly at me, as if he’d spotted me watching him. His look gave me the shivers. I looked away and when I turned back he’d gone, just vanished.’

  ‘I’m afraid we’ll need a statement from you, Mr Brodie. And full descriptions. By the way, did you see two women arrive?’

  ‘Nah. It was like bloody sardines once the band started playing. And to be honest, I don’t take much notice of women. Not interested. They’re around, they come in and out of view, but they don’t stick in my mind.’

  ‘Not even me?’ asked Sophie.

  ‘Fraid not. Now . . .’ He didn’t finish.

  ‘Don’t say it,’ growled Marsh.

  Sophie laughed. ‘Barry, don’t be so touchy. Take it as a compliment.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s what you should do. She’s right.’ Brodie grinned and raised his glass. ‘Here’s to the weird and wobbly world.’

  * * *

  Jimmy Melsom had spent the morning on the computer and the phone, searching for information about the two men. He hadn’t got very far. Nor had he made much headway on looking for suspicious deaths at other music festivals across the south. He’d made more progress on Sarah Sheldon’s background and had traced her ex-husband, Hugh Shakespeare.

  ‘He’s the manager of a bank in Southampton,’ he reported to Sophie. ‘I haven’t tried to contact him, but I’ve got his home address.’

  Sophie took a quick look at her watch. ‘Fine. I think Barry and I can get over there this afternoon. Maybe at long last we can start to get a clearer picture of our victim. We know that Sarah had a mobile with her, so it looks as though it was taken when she was killed. Can you do your bit, Jimmy, and try to trace that mobile’s number? There might be clues in Sarah’s address book. Forensics have still got it, so chase them about it. If anything important crops up, contact me immediately. Let’s go, Barry.’

  * * *

  Hugh Shakespeare lived in an imposing, detached house in Bitterne, an upmarket residential area east of Southampton’s city centre. The two detectives walked up a short driveway, between tidy flower beds and a neat lawn. They were a little taken aback when a stylishly dressed woman in her early forties opened the door. She spoke with a pronounced French accent.

  ‘Françoise Lassoutte,’ she said, after they had identified themselves. ‘Please come in. Hugh is in the kitchen clearing away the dishes. He is so English with his liking for a roast lunch on Sunday. I let him get on with it.’ She smiled. ‘My only conditions are that he does all the work and we have French wine.’

  ‘We want to ask him about his ex-wife, Sarah,’ Sophie explained.

  ‘Oh, that one. You’d better go into the lounge. I will get him.’

  Sophie looked about her as they waited. The photos on display were mostly recent, showing Françoise with a serious-looking man in his late fifties. In some, Françoise was pictured with a teenage girl. There was a single graduation photo of a dark-haired young man. Françoise returned with the man from the photos. He was removing a chef’s apron, revealing light brown slacks and a checked shirt. He shook hands and asked them to sit on the couch. He remained standing. Françoise perched on a stool in front of a highly polished, baby grand piano.

  ‘We’re here to make some enquiries about your ex-wife, Sarah, Mr Shakespeare,’ Sophie said.

  ‘Why doesn’t that surprise me?’ he responded, with a look of resignation.

  ‘I’m sorry to have to tell you that yesterday morning we found her dead.’

  He sat down heavily, and Françoise moved to sit on the arm of his chair, touching his
shoulder. He looked stunned.

  ‘That is a shock,’ he said quietly. ‘You’re a chief inspector, so this can’t be routine, can it?’

  ‘No, I’m afraid not. She was attending a weekend music festival and was found among the rocks on the shoreline yesterday morning. We’re treating the death as suspicious.’

  He moved his head to and fro. ‘Christ. I thought she would get herself into a mess one day, but not that. Nothing like that.’ He looked up. ‘How did it happen?’

  ‘That’s what we’re trying to discover, Mr Shakespeare. It’s partly why we’re here. You may be able to shed some light on her personality and character so that we can get a better idea of who she was involved with. The motive is unclear at the moment.’

  He sighed. ‘I wish I could help you, Chief Inspector, but I really don’t know. That’s why we divorced. She was involved with so many men that I lost count. They were all shallow, disposable relationships. No permanence, nothing of substance. I could have understood it better if she had preferred one man to me, but she didn’t prefer any one of them to me. She just seemed to need lots of them. Her life was a constant search for attention and cheap excitement. I couldn’t cope with it. We divorced a good ten years ago because I just couldn’t put up with all the one-night stands. It nearly destroyed me, and it nearly ruined our son, Peter. He lives in New York now. He moved there partly to get as far away from her as he could. So much for a mother’s love.’ By the time he stopped speaking his voice had dropped to little more than a whisper. Sophie saw a slight tremor in his shoulders.

  ‘Is that your son in the graduation photo on the sideboard?’

  He nodded.

  ‘We may need to get him here, Mr Shakespeare. He’ll probably be her next of kin, unless you know of anyone else.’

  ‘I’m not aware of her marrying again, if that’s what you mean.’

  Sophie nodded. ‘We understand that Sarah worked in a bank.’