Only the Lonely: DI Ted Darling Series Book 5

by L M Krier

  Ted knew he could safely leave it to Sal and Mike. They were both experienced officers, well trained, perfectly capable. He knew he didn't need to be telling them how to proceed. He just wanted it to done thoroughly. And he wanted to be there, to watch them at work. He felt he owed Honest John the right to justice.

  He phoned Trev, while he had a moment, to warn him that he would be late and couldn't promise what time he'd be back. It would depend how the initial interview went and whether they would need to bring the others in quickly, before they had time to cover their tracks.

  'Make sure you eat something, and not just a bagel,' Trev told him. 'I'll keep something here you can just heat up when you're back, but I know what you're like. Eat. Keep your strength up. I have plans for you later.'

  Ted laughed. 'I was about to say you sounded like my mother, but I've just revised that. I'll be back as soon as I can. Your plans sound interesting.'

  Sal and Mike let him know when they were back and Ted went down to watch and listen to the interview through the two-way glass. Theo Cowell looked no more than a teenager, lanky, awkward, traces of acne. He also looked scared.

  Mike went carefully through the formalities, with the tape running, before he began.

  'Now, you've already been cautioned, but for now, we just want to ask you some questions in connection with our enquiries.

  'Theo, what can you tell me about a luxury gift hamper which was delivered to your address?'

  'Shouldn't I have someone here?' The young man was now looking suspicious as well as scared. 'My uncle, or someone?'

  'We've explained your right to legal advice, should you want it, but you don't have the right to have a family member present as you're an adult. So, about the hamper, Theo?'

  Now the young man was looking sulky. 'You're trying to trick me. I want a lawyer. I want to call my uncle. He'll know what to do. He'll send me someone.'

  'All of this was explained to you before, Theo,' Mike said patiently. 'But if that's what you've now decided, that can be arranged for you, and we'll resume questioning as soon as your legal representative arrives.'

  Ted had been working behind the scenes as soon as Sal had told him about the suspect. He'd got the Ice Queen on the case of getting a warrant to search Cowell's bedsit. The break worked in their favour. With luck, they could have the results of the initial search before the interview went very far, with the delay in waiting for the lawyer to arrive. Ted was keeping his fingers crossed that Theo had not been clever enough to dispose of Honest John's medical kit and his insulin, if he hadn't realised their significance in the case. If they could find those, it meant Theo Cowell was implicated up to his neck in a possible unlawful killing charge. Even if Seth Hartman turned out to be his favourite uncle, Ted wondered how long the younger man would stay silent once he realised that he might be alone in facing a serious charge.

  Ted regrouped with Mike and Sal over a plate of sandwiches in his office, taking advantage of the break while the family lawyer was summoned.

  'So, do we like him for this, so far?' Ted asked the others.

  'I like him a lot, boss,' Mike told him. 'He's not the brains behind it, clearly. I doubt if he has the brains for much, to be honest. Have we got enough to arrest him, without the results of the search warrant?'

  Ted shook his head. 'I doubt it. We can't make much of a case out of giving someone a present. We need to find that insulin. If he took it away deliberately, even on his uncle's instructions, he's possibly looking at a murder charge, but it's so unusual, I'll have to see what CPS say. Removing the insulin must show pre-meditation though, surely?'

  'And if we get lucky and find the stuff at his bedsit?' Sal asked.

  'Then we bring in the uncle, soon. Question them separately, and see where we go from there. We could be looking at a late evening, so you'd better warn your other halves.'

  Virgil arrived bang on time to take Jezza to meet Nat. He grinned at her conspiratorially as she got into his black BMW. 'I can't tell you how glad I am of the excuse to escape. Have you any idea how many different shades of trendy white there are these days? She keeps saying she wants it to be neutral, but they all look the same to me.'

  'I'm sorry to be a wimp and need a babysitter,' she told him apologetically. 'It's just, I'm not ready… you know.'

  Virgil did know. It would be a while before Jezza would feel comfortable alone in the company of a man she'd not met before.

  'Does your wife mind? You being out this evening, chaperoning me, I mean?'

  Virgil laughed, a rich, deep, rumbling sound. 'I told her we were going to interview a witness. Which is true, pretty much, except that Nat was a witness from a good few cases ago. It was simpler that way.'

  Nathan Cowley, Nat, had been living on the streets when Virgil first met him, and had been witness to a fatal shooting. He was currently living in a friend's flat, to look after the tropical fish, while the friend was working abroad. He was also recovering from a bad accident when he'd once again found himself a witness to a serious crime. He and Virgil had struck up something of a friendship.

  Nat greeted Virgil warmly, but looked hesitant as he was introduced to Jezza.

  'I do hope Virgil has been frank and warned you about me,' he said warily. 'I hope you realise that I finished up on the streets because I all but bankrupted my former employers when I was a market trader.'

  Jezza liked what she saw immediately. Nat had an air of sincerity about him. She liked his honesty.

  'That's fine. I suppose it means that if anyone can tell me where not to put the money, you can.'

  'Come in, anyway. Go on up to the flat, Virgil, you know the way. I'm still a bit slow on the stairs, I have to do them one at a time, but I'm getting there.'

  Virgil led the way, showing Jezza into a spacious, modern flat, with a big aquarium as the focal point of the airy living room.

  'Hi, guys,' Virgil greeted the fish. He'd looked after them when Nat was in hospital following his accident. 'Hey Errol, you're looking well. I think you've put weight on, little buddy.'

  Jezza shook her head and laughed. 'Virgil, they're fish. Can they even hear you, let alone understand?'

  Nat limped slowly in to join them, inviting them to sit down. He offered beer or wine and said apologetically, 'Neither of them very good, I'm afraid. I'm still on a tight budget.'

  Armed with a bottle of lager each, they began the reason for their visit; financial advice. Nat had prepared a detailed spreadsheet, showing what he considered to be the best and worst investments currently available. He was careful to keep himself well out of Jezza's personal space. Virgil hadn't betrayed a confidence but he had intimated to Nat that because of a recent incident, she had preferred not to come on her own the first time they met.

  As well as the figures, Jezza was looking appraisingly at Nat. His face was earnest and he spoke with a frank sincerity as he told her his thoughts, then repeated, 'But as I'm sure Virgil has told you, I'm really not the best person to ask, except where not to put your money if you don't want to lose the lot.

  'I'll give you my phone number then, if there's anything at all you want to go over, or ask me about, please feel free to do so. Or maybe we could meet up again for another beer, the three of us?' he suggested tactfully.

  'I like him,' Jezza said decidedly when they had left the flat and got back into the car. 'He seems sincere. Thanks, Virgil, I appreciate it. Back to the colour charts and the paint-brush now?'

  Virgil grinned at her. 'Like him as a financial adviser? Or as something else?'

  'Get back to your colour charts,' she retorted, with a laugh.

  The Ice Queen certainly had a regal way of obtaining search warrants quickly. Ted had never known anyone quite so efficient. It meant they had their warrant to search Theo Cowell's home almost before they'd finished their plate of sandwiches.

  'How do you want to play this now?' Ted asked the others. 'I'd suggest, Sal, that you go round there, with a couple of uniformed officers. You know wha
t we're looking for. We need to find that insulin, if we can, and get it checked for fingerprints. In the meantime, once the solicitor arrives, Mike, I can sit in with you, if that helps, while Sal's out. My own feeling is we won't get a lot out of him without something to shake him up.'

  Cowell's solicitor was brusque and officious. He had time alone with the young man before the interview could continue. He'd clearly advised his client against saying anything much at all, until he was able to assess what the police had against him.

  Mike was going patiently over the questioning, receiving monosyllabic answers, sometimes, merely a 'No comment'. It wasn't long before the door opened and Sal came back in, keeping his face carefully deadpan. Ted stepped outside into the corridor with him.

  'Bingo, boss,' Sal told him, producing a paper carrier bag in his still-gloved hand, a pharmacy logo on the outside of the bag. Inside was the blood testing kit and insulin which were never far from Honest John's reach. 'Too stupid even to have hidden it anywhere or tried to get rid of it.'

  The two of them went back into the room. Ted sat down. Sal remained standing and carefully put the bag down on the table, where Cowell couldn't miss it. The young man's spotty face immediately drained of colour and he looked panic-stricken.

  'Theo,' Ted said quietly, leaning forward in his chair and looking directly into Cowell's eyes. 'Do you recognise the bag which DC Ahmed has just put on the table?'

  'I need a moment to discuss further with my client…' the solicitor began, but his client clearly had only one thing on his mind – talking himself out of whatever pile of crap was about to land on his head.

  'It was my uncle. He told me to do it. He told me to take the hamper round to the fat bloke's flat, a present for him, like, but to take the medication away. He said it wasn't good for him to have that as well as the food. I didn't know it was wrong.'

  'I must insist on a short break to take further instruction,' the solicitor was blustering.

  'Absolutely fine,' Ted said obligingly, standing up. 'DCI Darling, DS Hallam and DC Ahmed leaving the room at…' he checked the clock on the wall, 'seven-oh-three pm.'

  As the three of them stepped out into the corridor, Ted smiled at his team members.

  'If there's one thing which strikes a note even sweeter than Freddie Mercury, it's a suspect, singing his socks off to clear himself and implicate others.'

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  'Question. You thought you'd committed the perfect murder, or murders. Then you hear that your knuckle-head nephew is being interviewed by the police. You panic, thinking he may have been stupid enough to leave a trail which could lead right to you. What do you do next?' Ted asked.

  Mike and Sal answered almost in unison and using practically the same words. 'You go round to your nephew's flat, not knowing if the police have already been there, trying to find anything incriminating before they do.'

  'Did you leave it tidy, Sal? Could he tell at first glance that you'd been in there?'

  'I'm house-trained, boss. Nothing was out of place. I didn't really need to rummage far. The bag of Honest John's things was on the kitchen table, so I brought that straight in. I didn't look much further. I thought that would be enough for us to be going on with, then go back later for a better look.'

  Ted nodded his agreement, then said, 'Good, that's what I thought, and you were right. What I think we need to do now is to arrest Theo, put him in a cosy cell for now and continue our investigations. We can tell his brief we'll let him know when to come back. We've not got enough to charge him with yet, but we'll arrest him on suspicion of murder for now. That should nicely rattle his cage.

  'Then I think we - by which I mean me and one of you two - need to hotfoot it round to Theo's place and see if we can't find his uncle there. With the credit card details and the missing insulin, I think we could arrest him on suspicion, too, and bring him in. That gives us twenty-four hours each to question them, and a possible twelve more, if we need them and the Super agrees.

  'So, next question. Who wants to arrest Theo then knock off, and who's in for a longer evening with me?'

  'Toss you for it, Sarge?' Sal suggested.

  'No, it's fine, Sal, I've got this one. You bang up our young friend, and the boss and I can go and find his uncle.'

  It wasn't far to the address they had for Theo Cowell. The bedsit was in a smart block, clearly well-maintained.

  'Probably one of his uncle's places,' Ted mused aloud. 'Somewhere like this is clearly not being paid for by his benefits, if he's still claiming to be unemployed.'

  'I'm betting he's moonlighting for his uncle, and not just for doing his dirty work at Sabden House,' Mike replied, as they pulled up outside. There were lights on in most of the ground floor rooms, and the address they had for the young man suggested that his flat would be on that level.

  'If we just sit here a bit and wait for him to come out, he may save us the job of turning the place over. He might well emerge with other bits of incriminating evidence we don't yet know about.'

  'Sneaky, boss. I like your style,' Mike chuckled.

  'I'd better just phone Trev while we're waiting, let him know I'm going to be even later than I thought.'

  'I'll do the same to the missus, while you're doing that. I'll just step outside the car, save you the embarrassment of hearing me getting a hen-pecked earful.'

  He was being tactful, Ted knew. The whole team knew that the boss was besotted with his partner, even after being together for a good few years. Mike was clearly happy to give him a bit of privacy.

  'I'm going to be even later than I thought,' Ted began. 'Sorry. But I may just be on the point of arresting the man who had Honest John killed. Am I forgiven, and will your plans keep?'

  Trev chuckled. 'That all depends on how tired you are when you get home. But I like it when you catch the bad guys. I like it a lot.'

  Ted was still smiling to himself when he ended the call and leaned across to open the car door for Mike.

  'I think I got away with it, how about you? Are you in the doghouse?'

  Mike shook his head. 'No worries, boss, I just blamed it all on you.'

  It was only a few moments later that the light went off in the bedsit nearest to them and they saw a man coming out of the communal entrance to the block of apartments.

  'That could be our man. Let's go and find out,' Ted said, as the two of them got out of the car.

  The path leading up to the door was narrow. Mike and Ted effectively blocked it as the man came towards them, carrying a bag in one hand. Both officers pulled out their warrant cards and held them up. The man was looking wary.

  'Mr Hartman? Seth Hartman? DCI Darling, DS Hallam. Could we have a word?'

  'I heard you'd taken my nephew in for something. I just came round to see if he was back yet,' Hartman replied. It didn't sound convincing.

  'No, he's not back yet, Mr Hartman. In fact he's just been arrested.'

  'Arrested? What for? What's he done? Or what are you claiming he's done?' The man was by now looking decidedly anxious.

  'What's in the bag, Mr Hartman?'

  The man instinctively swung the bag so that it was partially behind his legs, as if that would somehow help him to keep the contents hidden.

  'Just some things I thought I'd pick up for Theo, in case he needed them.'

  'Yet you told us that you came here to see if he was back. So how do you know he isn't on his way? I'll ask you again. What's in the bag?'

  Ted's martial arts training meant he was finely tuned to the slightest hint of movement. Mike Hallam hadn't detected anything, but the moment Hartman made to move, Ted had him by the arm and immobilised him with the speed of a striking snake.

  'Seth Hartman, I am arresting you on suspicion of the murder of John Jacobs. 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 can be given in evidence.'

  'This is ridiculous. What murder? I
don't even know this John whatever his name is. I want my lawyer.'

  Ted and Mike carefully installed him in the back of the car. Ted sat next to him, with Mike driving, after he had put the bag in the boot. It didn't feel heavy, but they would wait until they got back to the station to check on the contents.

  'If it's the same lawyer who has been advising your nephew, then we can easily call him back to the station for you, Mr Hartman. You are entitled to legal representation, as is your nephew. For now, it might be better if you say nothing, until you've had chance to take advice.'

  Hartman was protesting his innocence all the way on the short drive to the station. Ted got him booked in and put in an interview room, while he and Mike donned gloves, found a quiet corner, and had a look in the bag. There wasn't much in it, but what Ted did fish out made the two exchange satisfied looks as Ted exclaimed, 'Bingo!'

  'Just as well we're keeping them separate, boss. If Hartman got anywhere near his nephew after us getting our hands on this little lot, he would kill him, for sure.'

  The bag contained mostly paperwork. Theo Cowell was obviously not the sharpest knife in the drawer. The delivery note for the hamper was there, screwed up, but clearly showing the destination address, with Hartman's name on it. There was also the crumpled wrapping and address label from the expensive bottle of malt, from one of the earlier deaths. Best of all, there was a notebook with scribbled jottings, the most recent of which mentioned Honest John and his flat number at Sabden House, with the comment, 'Lonley fat bloke, likes to scoff. Diabettick.'

  'Clearly not much of a scholar, our Theo. It's going to be very interesting seeing how either of them manage to talk their way out of this,' Ted mused. 'They certainly can't claim they had no knowledge of John, with these details. Everyone locally knew him as Honest John. But not everyone would have known he was diabetic, so they'd been informed by someone who at least knew of him.'