The Murder List

by Roger Silverwood

  Grant looked slowly at the grim faces of Angel, then Carter and then at the PCs. He made a snorting noise and said, ‘I do it under protest, I tell you. I’m not guilty of harming my mother or anybody else for that matter. It’s an outrageous accusation.’ He then felt in the pockets of the blue overall and took out a tissue and a bunch of keys and tossed them on the counter. Then he unfastened the buttons down the front of the overall so that he could reach his trouser pockets. He emptied them ending with a big wedge of paper money from his hip pocket. ‘There,’ he said.

  ‘Is that everything?’ Angel said.

  ‘Yes,’ Grant said.

  Angel said, ‘Now put your hands in the air while the constable searches you.’

  ‘No! I don’t have to do this,’ Grant said. ‘I haven’t done anything wrong.’

  ‘If you haven’t anything to hide, you wouldn’t mind being searched, would you? It’s only the guilty who would have any objection.’

  Grant glared at him and slowly put up his hands. The constable patted him down.

  ‘Turn round,’ the constable said.

  Grant slowly obeyed. The constable made quick work of the patting down his back then said, ‘Lower your hands and face the front.’

  Grant slowly turned.

  The constable looked back at Angel; his expression indicated that everything was satisfactory.

  Angel said, ‘Now, put your hands behind your back, wrists together.’

  ‘This is bloody outrageous! I want to see a solicitor.’

  ‘We’ll organize that as soon as we get to the station, Mr Grant,’ Angel said.

  The corners of Grant’s mouth were turned down. ‘You’d better,’ he said.

  ‘You can depend on it, Grant,’ Angel said. ‘It is the law of the land. We have to do it. Now put your hands behind your back. The handcuffs will come off at the station.’

  With his head down, Grant diffidently put his hands behind his back.

  There was the quick click and rasp of the handcuffs and everybody except Grant relaxed.

  Angel looked at the uniformed policemen and with a jerk of the head instructed them to head back to the station.

  By holding his arms, the policemen manoeuvred Grant out of the shop and into the car. Don Taylor and the SOCO team came in then.

  Angel looked at Flora and pointed to the contents of Grant’s pockets on the shop counter. ‘Take charge of that lot. Put it in an evidence bag and bring it along.’

  Angel then turned to Taylor and said, ‘You know what we want, Don. All the usual things, plus anything to do with Monty’s lager, cauliflowers, dried rice, a two stone diamond ring, a long sheepskin coat and photographs or any reference at all to an elderly woman with grey hair. All right?’

  Taylor scribbled them down in his notebook. ‘Right, sir,’ he said.

  ‘And make sure all your team know,’ Angel said. ‘Phone me, if you find anything.’

  ‘Right, sir.’

  ‘We’re off,’ Angel said. Then he turned to Flora and said, ‘Are you ready?’

  FOURTEEN

  Angel was in his office, checking over his notes.

  Flora knocked on the door and came in.

  Angel looked up at the clock. It was exactly two o’clock.

  ‘Is Mr Bloomberg still with Grant?’

  ‘Yes, sir. They’re in Interview Room number one, ready and waiting.’

  Angel looked up. ‘Oh. Right, Flora,’ he said.

  He picked up his notes and pen, put them in his pocket and made his way to the door.

  ‘Did we have any denims that fitted Grant then, Flora?’

  ‘Oh yes, sir. He looks all right, but he doesn’t like them of course.’

  ‘Never known a suspect that did. Have his clothes been carefully bagged and sent down to SOC?’

  ‘I took them there myself, sir.’

  Angel nodded. ‘Good.’

  They went out of his office into the corridor.

  A PC was stood in front of the door of Interview Room number one, which was conveniently next door. The PC could see Angel’s intention so he moved to the side and opened the door for him.

  ‘Thank you,’ Angel said, and he and Flora went inside and closed the door.

  Bloomberg, a short, bald-headed man in a dark suit was seated next to Grant at the table. Grant was dressed in army fatigues. He now seemed bright-eyed and confident.

  ‘Ah, Mr Bloomberg,’ Angel said. ‘I understand that you have completed your discussions with Mr Grant.’

  ‘Yes, Inspector. We are ready.’

  ‘This is DS Carter,’ Angel said. ‘She’ll be sitting in with us.’

  Bloomberg nodded and Flora Carter smiled politely at him.

  Angel reached over to the recording machine, checked that there was a new tape in it and pressed the red button. It lit up and the spools in the cassette recorder began to rotate. He then made the necessary opening, stating the date, time and place and giving the name of all four people present.

  Then Angel looked at the young man and said, ‘Mr Grant, do you enjoy a drink from time to time?’

  Grant looked at Bloomberg, who nodded.

  ‘Yes. Of course,’ Grant said.

  ‘Would it be correct to say that you prefer lager to whiskey?’

  Grant frowned. ‘Yes. I suppose so.’

  ‘Do you have a favourite brand of lager?’

  ‘Well, I suppose I would enjoy any of the most well-known brands, why?’

  Angel rubbed his chin. ‘Well if you had choice of any UK brewed lager, which would it be?’

  Grant’s forehead creased. He looked at Bloomberg who nodded.

  ‘Well,’ Grant said, ‘out of any I would choose Monty’s lager. Why?’

  Flora looked at Angel. He noticed out of his eye corner but didn’t react.

  ‘Monty’s,’ Angel said forcefully. ‘Well, Mr Grant, would it surprise you to know that an empty can of Monty’s lager was found in the waste bin in the kitchen of the house where Michele Pulman was murdered? It was discovered shortly after her death, and it has your fingerprints all over it.’

  Grant took a deep breath, pulled his head back, frowned and said, ‘Frankly, Inspector, it amazes me. I don’t think I know Mrs Pulman or where she lives and I’ve certainly never been in or near her house. There must be some mistake.’

  ‘There’s no mistake, Mr Grant. Fingerprints do not lie.’

  Grant looked desperately at Bloomberg.

  The little man looked at Angel and said, ‘Inspector, do you have any other evidence – however unlikely – to put before Mr Grant?’

  Angel’s eyes flashed. ‘I have no more evidence at this time, but I assure you that that evidence is not at all unlikely, Mr Bloomberg,’ he said. ‘I have witnesses who will swear to where and when the lager can was found, and to confirm that Mr Grant’s fingerprints are all over it.’

  Bloomberg said, ‘My client has duly noted that, Inspector, and will answer it in due course. So, do you have any other evidence to put before him?’

  Angel said, ‘Not at this time, but I have more questions I would like to put to him.’

  Bloomberg whispered something into Grant’s ear, who pulled a face then nodded.

  Angel looked down at his notes. He knew exactly what he was going to say but it gave him several seconds to cool down. The interview was being recorded and he had to try not to lose his temper or show any lack of control.

  He looked across the table and said, ‘Mr Grant, where were you between 5 a.m. and 8 a.m. on Saturday last, 9 May?’

  ‘At home, in my own bed until around 7.30. Then I got up. I have to have the shop open by 8.’

  Angel pursed his lips. ‘Erm … Was anybody else in the house or the shop with you who can confirm that you were there during that time?’

  Grant glared at him and said, ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Oh, dear me,’ Angel said. ‘That’s very awkward. That’s the time that Mrs Pulman was stabbed and died.’

  Grant sai
d, ‘Erm. Yes, I am very sorry to hear that, but it has nothing to do with me.’

  ‘And what about between 5 a.m. and 8 a.m. on the mornings of 6th May and 7th May?’

  Grant’s face went red. ‘The same. I was at home on my own.’

  ‘Did anybody see you through the window, during either of those times, do you remember? Or did the phone ring? Did you speak to anyone on the landline?’

  Grant shook his head. ‘I was asleep. I always sleep until the alarm clock wakes me up at 7.30.’

  ‘That’s very awkward, Mr Grant,’ he said. ‘You see, those are the times that two other women were murdered.’

  Grant raised his shoulders, opened his hands in front of him and said, ‘What’s awkward about it? I had nothing to do with them.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ Angel said, rubbing the lower part of his face with his hand.

  Bloomberg said, ‘Excuse me, Inspector. Is there anything else you want to ask my client?’

  Angel’s face creased. He licked his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. Then he looked at Flora who shook her head.

  ‘No,’ Angel said. ‘Not at this time.’

  It was 8.28 on Tuesday morning, 12 May, when Angel arrived at his office. It was only two days away from Mary’s and his twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. He was feeling pleased with himself for obvious reasons, but not least because Daniel Ashton would have to let him have the £800 solitaire ring for £500 because he had caught the serial killer before their anniversary. Those were the terms of the deal he had with him. There wasn’t much time.

  The phone began to ring. It sent all thoughts of wedding anniversaries and solitaire rings straight out of the window.

  He reached out for it.

  It was a young PC on reception. ‘Sorry to disturb you, sir, but there’s a young lady here called Maisie Spencer, who is asking to see you. She says it’s in connection with the arrest of Cliff Grant.’

  Angel frowned. He rubbed his chin. Of course, he would have to see her. It could very well be more valuable evidence.

  ‘Bring her down to my office, Constable,’ Angel said.

  ‘Right, sir,’ the PC said.

  It was at that moment that Angel realized he hadn’t seen Ahmed since he had sent him to do some jobs in the morning of the previous day, and that was before Don Taylor had found out that the prints on the lager can belonged to Cliff Grant. Angel was particularly concerned about him because of the conversations they had had regarding his appointment to see the Chief Constable on Thursday morning. Angel hoped that he hadn’t done anything stupid.

  There was a knock on the door. ‘Come in,’ Angel called.

  It was the PC with the young woman. ‘Detective Inspector Angel, miss,’ he said.

  Angel stood up.

  She looked at him and then brought her hands up to her mouth. She glanced round the room. She didn’t seem to like what she saw.

  ‘This is Miss Maisie Spencer, sir,’ the PC said.

  ‘Thank you, Constable,’ Angel said as he looked at the curvy, silver blonde as she came in.

  The constable touched his forehead, went out and closed the door.

  She stood by the door. Her hands were round her mouth. One hand held a tissue. Her hair was all over the place and there were dark brown streams of eyeliner running down her cheeks. Her soft appealing eyes looked over her hands at Angel, who smiled benevolently back at her.

  ‘Come in, Miss Spencer. Please sit down,’ he said.

  She took a small step forward, then in a small voice said, ‘Maisie.’

  He smiled. ‘Maisie,’ he said.

  She nodded and took the seat directly opposite him.

  ‘What can I do for you, Maisie?’ he said, resuming his seat behind the desk.

  She wiped her eyes and said, ‘I’m sorry … I am such a mess, Inspector.’

  Angel shook his head. ‘That’s fine,’ he said.

  She took in a deep breath and said, ‘I was told that you have arrested Cliff Grant because you think that he is the serial mur … mur … murderer. Well, I know for a fact that he couldn’t be.’

  ‘Tell me about it, Maisie.’

  ‘Well, last Friday night, I spent the whole night with him. He’s perhaps too nice to tell you that, Inspector. He couldn’t be in two places at the same time. That woman, Mrs Pulman. I don’t know what time she was mur … mur … it happened, but it couldn’t have been Cliff. He isn’t like that. Anyway, I was with him. And the previous Tuesday and Wednesday nights, when those other women … when it happened to them, it couldn’t have been Cliff because I was with him, all night.’

  Angel looked at her. He rubbed his chin then said, ‘Do you sleep around a lot, then, Maisie?’

  Her face muscles tightened. ‘That’s not sleeping around,’ she said. ‘We’re engaged to be married.’

  Angel instantly looked at the back of her left hand, and saw a two stone diamond ring on her third finger. His eyes shone and his eyebrows shot up momentarily. His heart began to beat like a loud drum. He couldn’t take his eyes off it.

  ‘When were you planning to get married?’ he said.

  ‘Soon, but we hadn’t talked about a specific date.’

  ‘Hmmm. How long have you been engaged then, Maisie?’

  ‘Some time now, Inspector. Almost a year.’

  ‘Is that ring your engagement ring?’

  She relaxed a little. She smiled and pushed her hand forward closer for him to see. ‘They’re not cubic zirconia. They’re real diamonds.’

  He looked at the ring. It matched exactly the description of Michele Pulman’s missing ring. He rubbed his chin.

  She looked at his face. She was disappointed that he didn’t seem to like the ring. ‘Don’t you think it’s fabulous?’

  ‘It is. It is. It’s beautiful. Have you had it long?’

  ‘Cliff gave it to me four days ago. Saturday night.’

  Angel’s fingers rubbed his forehead really hard. Michele Pulman was murdered early that same day. What was he going to say to this young woman?

  ‘Well, where did he get it from?’ he said.

  ‘Dunno. I didn’t ask him. The two stones represent him and me. My mother reckons that those two stones will add up to more than a carat.’

  Angel nodded. He had an idea. He took out his notes from the inside pocket of his coat and looked down it for a phone number.

  Maisie Spencer looked at him and frowned.

  ‘Excuse me, just a minute, Maisie,’ he said. ‘There’s something I have just remembered I must do.’

  He picked up the phone and tapped in the number.

  Maisie looked round the room. It wasn’t really what she thought a detective’s office would look like.

  The phone was soon answered.

  ‘DI Angel, Bromersley police, is that Miss Cole?’

  ‘Oh, yes, it is, Inspector,’ she said. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘Something has come up, Miss Cole. I wondered if you could come down to the station.’

  ‘Do you mean now?’

  ‘Yes. If you could. I can organize transport if that is a problem?’

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose so. I’d certainly appreciate that. Very well. I can be ready in five minutes, Inspector.’

  ‘I’ll send a car for you then, straightaway.’

  Angel cancelled the outside call then tapped in a digit for the control room and made the necessary arrangements to transport Miss Cole from her home to his office.

  He replaced the phone and turned back to Maisie Spencer.

  ‘Excuse me, I had to do that,’ he said.

  ‘That’s all right, Inspector.’

  The phone rang.

  He looked at it and said, ‘I’ll have to answer it. I’m sorry about this.’

  ‘That’s all right, Inspector. I’m in no hurry.’

  It was DS Taylor of SOC. ‘What is it, Don?’

  ‘We’re back from searching Grant’s shop and house, sir,’ Taylor said.

  ‘What did you f
ind?’

  ‘We found twenty-four cans of the same lager, Monty’s, in exactly the same size and pattern cans as the one found in Michele Pulman’s house.’

  Angel nodded. He was thinking that that was good ammunition for the prosecution. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Taylor said. ‘Our team here in the station have vacuumed Grant’s shop overall and extracted several grains and dust of dried rice from the right hand pocket. I’ve checked them against the rice used in the course of murdering the four women and it matches.’

  ‘It matches? No doubt about it?’

  ‘None, sir.’

  He ended the call, replaced the phone and looked at the bewitching face of Maisie Spencer. He rubbed his chin. ‘Maisie,’ he said. ‘I have asked a lady to come in to have a look at your engagement ring. I hope you don’t mind.’

  Maisie smiled. ‘I don’t care who sees it,’ she said. ‘It’s the most fabulous ring, isn’t it?’

  ‘Do you mind waiting for her?’

  ‘No. Not at all. I told you, Inspector, I’m in no hurry.’

  ‘Good,’ Angel said and reached out for the phone. He dialled a single digit.

  A female voice answered, ‘CID.’

  ‘Is Detective Constable Ahaz there?’

  ‘No, sir. This is DS Carter. Can I help?’

  ‘Oh, Flora, yes, you can … but where’s Ahmed?’

  ‘Didn’t you send him to a solicitor’s to collect a Will and then to Births, Deaths and Marriages about something?’

  ‘I did, but that seems a long time ago. I hope he’s all right.’

  ‘I could see if I can follow him up, sir.’

  ‘Well, yes, Flora, perhaps later. There’s something I want doing now. Come across to my office, will you?’

  He ended the call and moments later DS Carter came in.

  Angel introduced the two young women to each other. Then he said, ‘Maisie, would you mind waiting in the interview room next door for a few minutes? DS Carter will get you a cup of tea and stay with you while you wait. There are some urgent matters I have to see to. Won’t keep you long.’