SECRET CRIMES a gripping crime thriller full of suspense

by MICHAEL HAMBLING

  ‘Why? Why would you do that? Why leave in the early hours of the morning? You had a room booked at the Hawthorns. Your bag and spare clothes were there. Why did you leave in the middle of the night?’

  ‘I was just pissed off at the way things had gone. I knew things were just going to get worse and worse cos I’d be on my own. Derek was going to call in at the B and B the next day to pick up his stuff. I decided to cut my losses and come back home early.’ Shapiro glanced at Marsh. ‘I get depressed. I’m on medication for it and I forgot to bring my pills with me. So I decided to go home.’

  ‘Why are you still refusing to tell us the truth, Mr Shapiro?’ Sophie’s look was cold. ‘You’ve put your story together very carefully, haven’t you? Enough truth to correspond with what you’ve guessed we know. But the thing is, you can’t be sure. How much do we know?’ She looked at Marsh.

  ‘We know there were at least three people in that room with Sarah, not two,’ said Marsh. ‘So who else was there, Mr Shapiro? And why are you trying to protect them? Were they with you last night?’

  ‘What we did had nothing to do with what happened to those two. They were fine when we left.’

  ‘We? You said we? So you admit there was someone else?’

  ‘I’ve said all I’m going to say.’

  ‘But it casts doubt on your whole story. Can’t you see that? Why should we believe you?’ Marsh said.

  Shapiro didn’t answer.

  ‘Why were you at Derek’s flat last night, Mr Shapiro? Tell us that.’

  Silence.

  Marsh cleared his throat. ‘Brian Shapiro, I am arresting you on suspicion of murder. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’

  Chapter 20: Doubts

  Saturday afternoon

  ‘What do you think, Barry? Really?’

  Sophie Allen and Barry Marsh were leaning on the parapet of the bridge over the Swan Brook, watching a pair of ducks splashing in the reeds. They’d returned from Portsmouth half an hour earlier and had just finished a quick lunch in a café.

  ‘Everything seems to fit. He admits he returned to the hotel. He admits he had sex with her. He admits that he left in the middle of the night. All good reasons for us to consider him as our prime suspect. But it just doesn’t ring true. He’s obviously hiding something, but what? I can’t see the motive. Okay, he could be a psychopath who killed Sarah because of some argument they had. But to then wait a couple of days and kill Derek as well? It doesn’t fit. Paul Derek’s murder is a real problem. If he was killed at the same time as Sarah it would have made some kind of sense. But a day or two later? To me that means Derek was involved in her death, helped dispose of the body and then there was some later disagreement. I just can’t get my head round it. Maybe I’m making it too rational. You’ve always said that many murders are ruled by emotion and passion rather than logic. But aren’t they the ones that get solved really quickly because the killer isn’t careful enough?’

  Sophie nodded. ‘Usually, yes. And I agree with you. Maybe things will become clearer if Benny can narrow down the day of Derek’s death. But something just doesn’t seem right, and catching Shapiro has brought it to a head. He could easily have got clean away last night. They had what they came for, so why did he come back to the flat? He says it was to check on Rae. If that’s true it paints a different picture of him.’ She sighed loudly. ‘He isn’t a nice person, that’s obvious. But a double killer? I have my doubts. The problem is, where does that leave us? We’ve spent all week looking for the son of a bitch, thinking that when we’ve got him it’ll be case over, and now we’ve found him we’re not sure.’

  ‘Remember there was someone else with him.’

  ‘Yes. A scared-looking, pale-faced woman, according to Rae. And she couldn’t run very fast. So let’s assume she’s a girlfriend. He’s in his mid-fifties, isn’t wealthy and doesn’t have knock-’em-dead good looks. So what is that likely to tell us about her? Also middle-aged? Rae says that she was fairly short and slightly built. Hardly the description of a ruthless double killer. Paul Derek was tall and fit, from what the post-mortem has told us. He worked out in a gym, so his work colleagues say. Even Shapiro might have struggled to overcome Derek. He’s obviously a heavy smoker and looks flabby. Of the three we know were in the room, the two victims ought to have been able to defend themselves easily. They were the fit, healthy, strong ones, both of them taller than Shapiro. It just doesn’t make sense. And my number one rule is, if it doesn’t make sense, start looking elsewhere.’

  ‘It’s been a week now and we’re not much further forward. Is that what you’re saying, ma’am? But who else could it be?’

  She looked down at the ducks. ‘It’s got to be one of those on our list, Barry, including Hugh and Peter Shakespeare.’ She put her hands in her coat pockets. ‘Let’s go back in. I’m getting cold.’

  As they were about to enter the police station, Sophie put her hand on Marsh’s arm. ‘We must trace this John Renton character, if only to remove him from the list of suspects. Or whoever was pretending to be John Renton, since he’s supposed to be in Afghanistan. Why haven’t we managed to find out anything about him? We also need to get the story behind that photo of Sarah in a wedding dress. But let’s not write Shapiro out of the equation yet. I don’t trust what he’s told us one little bit. We have to remember that he was involved in the probable rape of Brenda Plant two years ago, along with Paul Derek and with Sarah Sheldon as a possible accessory. That’s what I meant when I said he’s not a nice person. In fact, not one of them was nice. Yet people who knew Sarah and Paul Derek have said what great people they were. Human behaviour is such a complex thing.’ She sighed. ‘Let’s get the rest of the team involved with filling in Shapiro’s background and trying to trace this woman that Rae saw. Maybe you can switch to the Renton business and I’ll back you up as necessary. Keep in mind the description we have from the hotel. Our friend Mr Brodie thought someone was watching Derek and Shapiro in the pub early on Friday evening. It could easily be the same man. With Rae in hospital we’re an officer short, but Jack Holly has agreed to do a stint this afternoon. I’ll ask for someone else to be sent down from HQ next week if it’s necessary, but we’ll leave it until Monday to decide.’ She paused. ‘At this stage we don’t let anyone else know about our doubts. We still need the background on Shapiro to be filled in, so that’s what they can do. Happy about all this?’

  ‘Of course, ma’am,’ he replied. ‘And I haven’t said thanks for yesterday evening. We were really enjoying it up until the time you got Rae’s phone call.’

  Sophie smiled. ‘You were lucky. My cooking worked out well for once.’

  * * *

  Jimmy Melsom looked worried. ‘Do you really need to take it over, boss? I’ve done my best, but there’s really not much to go on.’

  ‘We’re not criticising you, Jimmy,’ said Marsh. ‘The DCI thinks there might be more to this Renton business than meets the eye. She wants someone on it full-time. Most Whitehall departments will be pretty empty at weekends and they’re probably trying to delay us until Monday. She wants me to push them hard. If you can give me everything you’ve got on Renton, I’ll get started. Stay here, because she’s got something important for you to follow up. She’ll explain it better than me.’

  It didn’t take Marsh long to read through the thin folder. The hotel staff’s description of Renton, the photofit image, a printout of the hotel booking record, some pages of credit card statements, and several sheets of information from the MoD. Renton’s unit was currently stationed in Afghanistan and wasn’t due to return to Britain for another three months. Melsom had compared the purchases from the credit card against times when the regiment had been in the UK. There were several discrepancies, including the hotel booking the previous weekend. Some of the purchases listed on the bank statement could have been made over the
internet, but in several cases the purchaser would have had to be present in the UK. It was puzzling. He tried to call the MoD in Whitehall. It took him well over an hour to find someone who could provide him with the information he wanted.

  Meanwhile Sophie was briefing PC Jack Holly, temporarily standing in for Rae Gregson.

  ‘We need to fill in all the background on Shapiro, so you and Jen Allbright will concentrate on that. Read what we’ve got so far, spot the gaps and fill them. We need to know everything about him and it all needs to go in here.’ She placed the file on the desk. ‘And I want to say thank you for the work you’ve done so far. I’ll make sure we finish before five. You’ve both got homes to go to and lives to lead.’

  She walked over to Melsom’s desk. He looked at her apprehensively and she laughed. ‘It’s not the end of the world, Jimmy. I’m just reorganising the tasks. Okay? It’s a bit of a shot in the dark, but I want you to work through the companies running cruises to tropical or semi-tropical destinations. Start with the Caribbean. Try to build up a list, then contact them one by one looking for a booking for Sarah Sheldon. If that doesn’t work, we’ll try the Mediterranean and Aegean, then other places further afield. She may not have made the booking herself, but she should be on a passenger list. We think it was between one and three years ago. Let me know right away if something crops up. Okay?’

  He nodded. Sophie left him to the job and returned to her office in order to think. Barry had been right. Nothing seemed to add up or make sense. She needed to look at the problem from a different perspective. She dialled Hugh Shakespeare’s number.

  ‘Mr Shakespeare? It’s DCI Allen. I wonder if you can do me a favour. I need the names and contact numbers of whoever would have been Sarah’s superiors when she was still at the bank in Portsmouth. My problem is that it’s a Saturday afternoon. I can’t go through normal channels, which is why I’m phoning you.’ She listened. ‘Fine. Can you call me on this number? I know it’s a bit of a long shot, but it’s worth a try. Thanks.’

  Sophie sat looking at the photo of Sarah in the cream wedding dress. The flowers Sarah was holding were tropical, the sunshine looked strong. Sarah was tanned and the sand underfoot was pale, almost white. Where had the photo been taken? What did it signify? If only the Sarah in the picture could talk. The whole case would be wrapped up in a few minutes, she was sure. Sophie sighed and went to get herself a coffee while she waited for Hugh Shakespeare’s return call.

  * * *

  Late in the afternoon the group reassembled in the incident room.

  ‘I think I might be getting somewhere, ma’am,’ said Jimmy Melsom, first to report back. ‘But it was only a few minutes ago so there are no details yet. I need to phone them again on Monday morning to get the full picture. Someone called Sarah Sheldon was on a cruise in the summer of 2010, in July. She made the booking, so that’s why it was easy for them to trace it. But any more information than that will have to wait.’

  ‘Where was it?’ Sophie asked.

  ‘The Caribbean, like you thought. Antigua, Barbados and a few other islands. She booked a double room on the cruise ship. That’s all they could find . . . Is that okay, ma’am?’

  Sophie smiled at his anxious expression. ‘Of course, Jimmy. Well done. It’s just that you mentioned Barbados. It’s one of those places where you can get married with just two days’ notice. Couples have a romantic cruise, call in there and get themselves hitched on the spur of the moment. Interesting, don’t you think?’ There was a silence. ‘Fine. Follow it up first thing Monday. Get to the bottom of it, Jimmy. Don’t let them give you the run-around. Take tomorrow off and have a break.’

  She looked at Jack Holly and Jen Allbright. ‘Anything else to add at the moment?’

  ‘Not much, ma’am,’ Allbright replied. ‘Rae and Jimmy did a good job and had already got all the information from when Shapiro was in the police in Portsmouth. The only thing we’ve managed to add is that he worked at a petrol station for a few months after getting sacked. He then helped out at one of his brothers’ restaurants and recently had a job with a Portsmouth security firm. He’s still on their books. They act as a kind of agency and send people out to different jobs, so they don’t actually employ him. Like Jimmy, we’ll need to wait until Monday to get details from the people who hired him.’

  ‘Good. You too should take a break tomorrow so you’re fresh on Monday.’ She turned to Marsh. ‘Anything useful from the MoD, Barry?’

  ‘Yes, and it’s quite definite. John Renton serves with an armoured unit which has been in Afghanistan for five months. And there’s a stunning piece of luck for us. He’s coming home this weekend to attend a family funeral. He’s due to arrive at Brize Norton tomorrow morning. What do you think?’

  ‘What do I think?’ she said. ‘What do you think I think? We need to be there to greet him. We’ll go and have a look-see, as my American cousins put it.’

  ‘Did you discover anything useful, ma’am?’ Marsh asked. ‘From the bank people, I mean?’

  ‘Like you, I’ll get more on Monday morning. I did get through to one man who was her boss before she left last year. He was happy with her work but couldn’t tell me her reasons for leaving because apparently she didn’t want to talk about it. But he did say that she hadn’t been her normal self for some months. She seemed uneasy at times. He also told me something else, but couldn’t confirm it. Typical man, really.’

  ‘What? You can’t just leave it there, ma’am.’ Barry sounded put out.

  ‘Can’t I? Oh well. He said that he’d had a one-to-one, target-setting meeting with her a couple of years ago. He was sitting across the table from her the whole time. He let her go at the end without noticing anything different about her. When his secretary came in just after the meeting was over, she asked if he’d noticed the new ring on Sarah’s wedding finger. He hadn’t of course. She’d spotted it in thirty seconds and he hadn’t clocked it at all, despite being with her for an hour. Incredible, isn’t it? What was he looking at all that time? Don’t answer that, anyone. I’ll hit you if you give me the obvious answer. Anyway, the ring didn’t appear again, but he says that his secretary swears she saw it. A thin, plain gold band. It can’t have been the ring from her marriage to Hugh, because Peter, the son, has had that ever since his parents divorced. So was it of any significance? Maybe not on its own, but coupled with that photo of her in a wedding dress and the cruise to the Caribbean, it could be significant. And Rosemary reported seeing her wear a similar ring on one occasion, though she can’t be sure it was a wedding ring. Jimmy, first thing Monday morning I want you to get onto the registrar’s office in Barbados and get them to track back through the marriage records. If she did marry again, it puts a completely new slant on things. What I can’t understand is, if she did so why keep it from her son, Peter? He claimed that they were very close.’

  Marsh was looking thoughtful. ‘Peter also said that she often acted on the spur of the moment. What if it was just that? A sudden impulse while on holiday? Maybe she regretted it, or never found the right way of explaining it to Peter without upsetting him, so she never told him.’

  ‘Human nature is a strange thing, Barry.’

  She was interrupted by a tap on the door. Rae’s head appeared round the corner, still heavily bandaged.

  Sophie looked horrified.

  ‘What on earth are you doing here? For goodness’ sake, Rae, are you mad? You need another couple of days at least to recuperate.’

  ‘No I don’t, ma’am. I look worse than I feel. I was discharged an hour ago, and the doctor said I’d probably be fit for light work by tomorrow. So here I am. I’ll be fine to be here for an hour or two, really. It’ll stop me from getting bored and I’m sure there’s something you can find for me to do.’

  Chapter 21: Brize Norton

  Sunday morning

  The three detectives were waiting in a customs room at the Air Force’s principal transport hub. It was a Sunday and Brize Norton was quieter than norm
al, but there were still passengers making their way through the building to be embraced by family members. Through a window they watched the groups of uniformed personnel at the customs desk, wondering which one of them was John Renton. Marsh had managed to contact Brize Norton the previous evening and had arranged with the duty officer to speak to Renton. He would be brought into the inner office as soon as he appeared at the check-in desks. Renton was returning for a brief spell of compassionate leave, giving the detectives the opportunity to question him in person. They’d reluctantly brought Rae with them because she was familiar with the layout of the complex. She’d visited Brize Norton several times to collect her father when he’d returned from an overseas posting.

  The customs officer entered, accompanied by a middle-aged man in plain clothes. He was wearing blue chino trousers and a dark grey leather jacket. He walked briskly across the floor and extended his hand.

  ‘John Renton. I understand you wanted to see me?’ He had a soft Hampshire accent. He was just under six feet tall, with dark hair beginning to go grey at the sides, and a smooth, olive complexion. He looked wary despite his confident, authoritative manner. Sophie stepped forward and shook his hand.

  ‘I’m DCI Sophie Allen from Dorset police. This is DS Barry Marsh. We’d like to speak to you for a few minutes. If you wouldn’t mind sitting down?’

  ‘This will be about Sarah, I expect,’ Renton said, seating himself and stretching out his long legs.

  Hiding her surprise, Sophie nodded to the customs officer, who went out.

  ‘Yes. If you don’t mind me asking, why exactly have you returned?’

  ‘To help Peter with the funeral arrangements. He contacted me a few days ago, so I made the necessary arrangements and took the first available transport back here.’

  Sophie was struggling to keep up with all this.

  ‘Peter Shakespeare has contacted you? Why? Do you know him?’