Death Watch

by Deborah Lucy

  ‘Powell says that the party quickly got out of hand as drunken men and women flirted with each other in the pool and in the lifts, using the opportunity of going between both to go off to each other’s rooms. Olivia had been seen talking with Jonathan Silvester in the pool that evening and was pissed off with Maxwell flirting with other women. He disappeared at one point and Jonathan and Olivia were together in the pool. Ann Powell said they started to argue when Jonathan also continued to flirt with women. Powell says that two different hostesses told her that Maxwell was having sex with another hostess at the time Olivia was found in the pool. Silvester was left to find him and tell him. Anyway, as soon as it becomes known about Olivia, the partygoers clear the room of all traces of alcohol, the cups and bottles and go back to their rooms, they pack up and get ready to leave on the next plane out of Saudi. Maxwell and Jonathan are left behind to go to the Green Crescent Hospital; when the authorities find out about the alcohol in Olivia’s bloodstream, Maxwell and Jonathan deny any knowledge or involvement. Once they realized their predicament, they took steps to get out of Saudi using a private carrier, Curtis Coleman. The coroner asked other witnesses to corroborate Powell’s account but they wouldn’t.’

  ‘We’ll have to speak to Ann Powell,’ said Temple.

  ‘I’m already on it, boss. I’ve tracked her down. Going to see her tomorrow.’

  Looking at the computer, Temple was concentrating on the train times from Pewsey to Paddington. DC Mellor’s inquiries with Curtis Coleman had come to a halt; Adrian Coleman and Charlie Curtis were quite elusive characters. Only an hour away by train, Temple decided to visit them himself.

  CHAPTER 25

  THE OFFICE OF Curtis Coleman was off Gloucester Road. A tiny doorway was wedged amongst a charity shop and obscurely named boutiques; having checked the street numbers, Temple nearly missed it. He looked down a dozen named security buzzers before he found Curtis and Coleman. He pressed the buzzer and waited.

  ‘Hello, how can I help you?’ asked a female voice.

  ‘Hello, my name is Detective Inspector Temple. I’ve an appointment to see Adrian Coleman.’

  ‘Push the door. We’re on the second floor, first on the left.’

  Temple went inside, up a narrow and steep flight of stairs. A small landing and another flight of stairs took him to a further landing with three doors, one signed Curtis Coleman. Temple pushed the door which didn’t open. There was another security buzzer to negotiate before Temple was invited across the threshold. Once through the door, Temple was struck by the decor and atmosphere; it had the air of an exclusive club.

  Subtle lighting came from picture lights which shone on gilt framed paintings of race horses and on one wall, lights were directed at a full floor-to-ceiling bookcase. He walked across a plush Wilton carpet. At a reception desk stood a tall, exotic looking, immaculately suited receptionist, her long dark hair falling to one side across her shoulder. Looking up, Temple observed a security camera in the corners of the ceiling. He saw that a monitor on the desk had charted his progress up the stairs. The fact that Curtis Coleman were obviously so alive to security Temple felt he might be able to use to his advantage.

  ‘Hello, Mr Temple,’ said the receptionist, in a slightly accented middle-eastern lilt, as she greeted him with a wide white smile. With a confident authority that belied her years and slight frame, she said, ‘Mr Coleman will see you in just a moment, he’s just finishing a phone call to our Kuwait office. If you would like to take a seat,’ and gestured over to a seating area.

  Temple sank into a deep seated, green leather wing chair in an alcove to the side of the reception desk. He continued to look around him. A glass table had a well arranged array of magazines and a vase of huge lilies. Another vase of the same lilies was on the reception desk. They scented the room. Before he had time to observe more, the receptionist spoke.

  ‘Mr Coleman has finished his call, you can go in now.’ She waved her arm towards a door.

  Temple went in, to be greeted by the outstretched hand of Adrian Coleman. Coleman was tall, straight and expensively though casually dressed; he looked freshly out of the barbers and with a slightly plumy voice and athletic build, Coleman looked as if he’d just broken from a pose in a magazine shoot. Still in a suit he’d worn for days, Temple felt like a tramp in comparison.

  ‘Sorry to keep you waiting, Inspector, I’m Adrian Coleman, co-founder and CEO of Curtis and Coleman.’

  They shook hands. Very soft, Temple registered.

  ‘I understand you think we may be able to help you with your inquiries?’ said Coleman. He sat back in his chair, confident and in total command of the situation.

  ‘Yes. I’m currently conducting a murder investigation in Wiltshire. During the course of financial inquiries, Curtis Coleman Ltd came up. Two payments were made by cheque for £2,400 from Maxwell Ashton-Jones and I’d like to know what those payments were for.’

  ‘I appreciate your directness but this is where we may run into difficulties, Inspector. I’m not sure I can help you.’

  Temple tried a different tack.

  ‘In what capacity do you know Maxwell?’ asked Temple.

  ‘He is a friend, a former employee and a client. His status as a client means that I cannot divulge any information about him.’ He paused. ‘Sorry.’ Coleman looked back at Temple with a wry smile.

  ‘Can you at least tell me how you met?’ Temple asked.

  ‘I met him through Charlie Curtis, my partner. Charlie is a former pilot and he and Maxwell worked together at British Airways. Charlie left BA to work privately, mainly piloting small jets for the rich and famous. Charlie and I met in a nightclub here in London, became acquainted and thought, with our combined contacts, that we could do some business together when I came out of the army. We set up Curtis Coleman Ltd.’

  ‘What exactly does Curtis Coleman do, Mr Coleman?’ asked Temple.

  Adrian Coleman leaned forward.

  ‘We’re in the security business. When we started, there were very few firms like ours around but now, we’ve got some healthy competition. We provide a bespoke security service, anything from live-in and live-out close protection, anti-hostage trained chauffeurs, pilots, sea captains, to private investigators and computer encryption specialists. Our clients are mainly foreign diplomats, rich and titled people, some celebs – or at least, those who think they are – who want to move around this country and the world quietly, quickly and safely. We provide them with the means to do that.’ Adrian Coleman sat back into his chair.

  ‘And Maxwell, where does he fit in?’ asked Temple.

  ‘As I said, I met Maxwell through Charlie. Maxwell’s piloted for us in the past and he’s become a friend.’

  ‘You said he was also a client, what did you mean by that?’ Temple asked.

  ‘I also said that I couldn’t divulge any information about Maxwell as he was a client. Why don’t you ask him yourself?’ Coleman enquired.

  ‘I intend to,’ said Temple.

  ‘What’s he got to do with your murder investigation anyway, Inspector?’ Coleman asked.

  ‘His wife, Greta, was found murdered last weekend and I have to conduct inquiries into her and the people close to her.’

  ‘My God, is that so? Poor man,’ said Coleman.

  Temple had the distinct impression that Coleman knew about Greta’s murder. He hadn’t been making a call to their Kuwait office, he’d been speaking to Maxwell.

  ‘Did you know Greta?’ asked Temple.

  ‘Yes, well, no, not really. I met her once, so didn’t really know her. But I do remember that she was a very attractive woman, very attractive …’ Coleman’s voice trailed off.

  ‘Are you still not prepared to tell me in what capacity Maxwell was a client? Was he frightened of someone, did you provide him with security?’

  ‘Client confidentiality means that I cannot disclose any further information to you, Inspector,’ said Coleman.

  ‘As an employee, did Maxwell wor
k for you whilst still working for BA?’

  ‘Look, I don’t mean to be evasive, Inspector, but you should really ask him yourself.’

  ‘The private jets, airplanes – do you own a fleet or …?’

  ‘We own a few and we lease the rest.’

  ‘And where are they kept?’

  ‘We keep them at various locations around the country and the world, ready for whoever needs them. As you might expect, we need to be able to respond quickly, as the need arises.’

  Temple could see that Coleman wasn’t going to betray Maxwell’s confidence.

  ‘And Charlie Curtis – where is he?’ asked Temple, thinking he might try him instead.

  ‘Ah. Charlie’s in Mauritius at the moment, been there for a month and I don’t expect to see him for a few weeks yet. He’s got a bar and tends to spend a lot of time there now. More of a silent partner, as a consequence.’

  Temple could see that he was wasting his time; on his own turf, Coleman was impenetrable.

  ‘Thanks for your time, Mr Coleman, I’ll see myself out.’

  Temple left and went to catch the Circle line to Paddington. He thought about Maxwell’s connections with Curtis Coleman as he stood on the crowded tube train. He was obviously piloting for Curtis Coleman whilst still working for BA but it was his client status that intrigued Temple. Two cheques for £2,400 to Curtis Coleman and then four more cheques for the same amount, un-attributable. What did £2,400 buy from Curtis Coleman, wondered Temple. Was it enough to get him back to England from Singapore and back again using one of their aircraft? His mobile rang.

  ‘Boss, it’s Kelly.’

  Temple could barely hear her and tried to speak above the noise of the tube train as it screeched to a halt along the metal tracks to stop at High Street Kensington.

  ‘Kel, I can’t hear you properly, the signal keeps cutting out, I’m on the underground.’

  ‘Boss, you need to know … urgent …’ The line broke again.

  ‘Boss … hospital …’ The signal dropped out completely.

  He’d have to wait for the train to stop at the next tube station. His phone rang again.

  ‘Hello?’ he shouted.

  ‘Boss, we’ve just had a call. It’s …’

  The phone signal dropped out again. Temple rang Kelly back as the train halted at Notting Hill Gate but after two rings, the signal disappeared as soon as the train started again. The phone signal continued to drop in and out. Frustrated, Temple looked up at the tube map above the doors. The next stop was Bayswater, then Paddington, five minutes, tops. The train suddenly slowed to a stop. Temple looked at his watch. It was eight minutes to three and his train left for Pewsey at 3.05. He had to get it as the next was an hour and a half later.

  The train started again, stopping at Bayswater and onto Paddington. With three minutes to spare, he ran along to the terminal and up the stairs where his train was boarding at platform three. Temple ran across the concourse and just managed to jump on the first class carriage at the end of the train. Temple sank down into the leather seat while he caught his breath. He decided he’d stay put until the ticket collector came along. Searching his pocket for his ticket reminded him it hadn’t been a completely wasted journey. On his arrival at the station before catching the tube, he’d managed to nip outside to the Grand Union Canal that ran alongside and drop the three bullets into the water. That was at least now something he could forget about. As the train moved off, he returned his call to Kelly. She was desperately awaiting his call.

  ‘Boss, I was trying to tell you about James Ashton-Jones. He’s in the Great Western. He’s taken an overdose. He tried to commit suicide.’

  CHAPTER 26

  THE WORDS STUNG him. Fuck it. He hadn’t anticipated James taking such action. He stared out of the window through his reflection. He had plenty of time to think. There was nothing he could do until his journey ended.

  Temple met Sloper at Great Western Hospital in Swindon.

  ‘How is he?’ asked Temple.

  ‘Silly little bastard took a load of paracetamols,’ said Sloper. ‘Maxwell found him and called an ambulance. First we heard of it was from Jonathan Silvester.’

  ‘And how is he?’ Temple asked again.

  ‘Touch and go. He took a lot, must have been during the night or early this morning. When he didn’t stir, they just thought he was lying in. They didn’t find him until nearly midday.’

  ‘Shit,’ said Temple, annoyed with himself that he hadn’t seen it coming.

  ‘He’s obviously involved in what’s happened, either that or he knows who is. The burden of his knowing has obviously tipped him over the edge,’ offered Sloper.

  ‘I better tell Harker,’ said Temple, knowing that the prospect of telling him of the near demise of a potential suspect was not a conversation that was going to go well.

  ‘I, er, already have,’ confessed Sloper.

  ‘Oh thanks, Si,’ said Temple sarcastically. ‘Of course, you would.’ Temple could imagine how Sloper had put it across – ‘the wanker’s really fucked up, boss.’

  Sloper defended himself.

  ‘Well, you weren’t here. You were on your way back from London. A lad attempts suicide after police contact. I had to tell him. He’ll have to inform the Independent Police Complaints Commission.’ Sloper enjoyed delivering that news.

  ‘And that’s all I fucking need.’ Temple couldn’t help but think that Harker would capitalize on having him investigated by the IPCC.

  ‘Right, let me see if I can find a doctor.’ Temple needed a prognosis for James before he spoke to Harker.

  He went to a nearby office and found the doctor who had tended to James.

  ‘He’s being closely monitored at the moment. We are doing various tests, liver damage, brain function etc. I’d say he was found just in time. Just a few minutes longer and he would have been in a very bad way indeed, possibly fatal,’ the doctor told him.

  ‘What’s generally the process of recovery in these cases?’ Temple asked.

  ‘Well, it depends on the results of the tests. Paracetamol is very harmful but we are hopeful that there will be no long lasting damage. The road to recovery will, however, be a slow one, even in the event of minimal damage. Our tests will show us quite quickly what further support we need to provide and if minimal, he’ll be sitting up in a couple of days. But he is far from out of the woods yet. He will, of course, need psychiatric help. Given the heavy dosage taken, it was obvious he intended to end his own life and we will need to know why.’

  ‘I’m as interested as you are in that question. I’m investigating a murder in which James is a very important witness. I’ll need to speak to him at the earliest opportunity, Doc. When will I be able to speak to him?’ Temple asked.

  ‘His recovery takes priority and only when he is ready will that happen.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Temple rang Harker.

  ‘I’ve informed the IPCC, Temple. The only saving grace here was that he wasn’t in police custody, but as he had come into contact with the police, I had to let them know.’

  ‘What are the chances of them investigating?’ asked Temple.

  ‘Depends. If they haven’t got a lot on, who knows, they might take it on. Simon says the lad was under pressure,’ Harker snarled.

  ‘I think he was, but not directly from us,’ said Temple.

  ‘He says you told the family about the victim being nine weeks pregnant.’

  ‘I told her father that and I believe he told her husband and son,’ Temple explained.

  ‘What was that all about then? They’re victims, aren’t they? Have you even got a proper grip on this, Temple?’ asked Harker, his voice rising, but feeling a sense of satisfaction that his judgement on Temple had proved to be right. He wasn’t up to this and he’d take great pleasure in informing chief officers at the earliest opportunity. Harker needed them to rely on his judgement and this would do very nicely.

  Temple was fuming, listening
to Harker questioning him. Sloper had done a good job on him. He continued.

  ‘They’re actually potential suspects, as Sloper knows, sir. At the very least, there’s more they could be saying to help us with our inquiries.’

  ‘Simon said the lad was ill when you instructed him to go and see him,’ Harker persisted.

  ‘He wasn’t ill. He was clearly nervous, I saw that for myself but I suspect what made him sick was the news of his stepmother’s pregnancy. From information given by a witness, I think there’s a chance the child could be his, given his reaction and the course of action he took today.’

  ‘Well, I hope you can prove that, Temple. I’m coming down to do a seven day review in two days’ time. Depending on progress, you can come off the inquiry,’ said Harker.

  ‘I’m also after some technical, sir,’ said Temple, doing his best to ignore the last remark and seizing his chance.

  ‘What? Where?’ asked Harker, surprised at the request.

  ‘At Jonathan Silvester’s house. Maxwell is living there at the moment. Given the turn of events in the last six hours, this might yield a quick result.’

  ‘And who do you think is going to monitor that for you?’ said Harker, dismissively. Feeling the pressure of the lack of progress of his own inquiry, Harker’s gravel voice took on a menacing tone. ‘My investigation takes priority, Temple. I’ve got more fucking plates spinning at the moment than Paul fucking Daniels and I can do without—’

  Temple cut in. ‘Well, if you’re refusing, I’ll have to put it in the policy book—’

  ‘Don’t get fucking smart with me, Temple. If you can find someone to monitor it, come back to me,’ growled Harker and terminated the call.