Death Watch

by Deborah Lucy

  Temple went back to Sloper. He was just going to launch into him when, over Sloper’s shoulder, he saw Maxwell coming towards them. Temple walked towards him.

  ‘Maxwell, I’m sorry to hear about James. Have you managed to speak to him?’ asked Temple.

  Maxwell was tight-lipped. His confident, easy going manner was clearly dented by events. He was tense and strained.

  ‘No, I haven’t. How long will my house remain a crime scene, Inspector? I’d like to take my son home as soon as he has recovered.’

  ‘It’ll be out of bounds for some weeks yet, depending on the progress of the inquiry; I’m sorry. Will that cause you a particular problem?’ Temple asked.

  ‘No, no, Inspector, I was just wondering.’ Maxwell stopped himself speaking any further. It was as if James’s suicide attempt had made him momentarily drop his guard. Temple could see he was taking the event hard – much harder than the death of his wife. Their game-playing hadn’t bargained for this, thought Temple. They’d lost control of the situation and it was written all over Maxwell’s face.

  ‘I’m going to head back to Marlborough, now, Maxwell. If you have any questions, please give me a call. We will be keeping in touch with James’s progress,’ said Temple. He wanted to put some distance between him and Sloper. ‘Jonathan not with you?’

  ‘No, he was earlier, but he’s gone home,’ said Maxwell.

  Temple wondered if the cracks had begun to appear in the relationship. Suddenly, a woman spoke from behind him.

  ‘I’m from the Wiltshire Daily Record. We’re following the story at Ramsbury, can you talk to us, Inspector?’

  Before he turned round, hearing she was from the Daily Record, Temple’s instant reaction was to tell her to fuck off. He was still trying to digest his situation with Harker and the IPCC and he wanted to continue his conversation with Maxwell.

  ‘No, not now. If you want to talk to me about the inquiry, make an appointment at Marlborough Police Station and I’ll talk to you there,’ said Temple.

  ‘I just want a quote,’ she persisted. ‘The young boy, the one who took the overdose, is he a suspect in your inquiry?’ She had attitude. Temple concluded this was exactly what he didn’t need, a lippy journo.

  ‘How did you know he’d taken an overdose?’ asked Maxwell.

  ‘I’ve been here, sitting over there …’ she gestured.

  ‘But how did you know to come here?’ asked Maxwell, his voice rising.

  Temple looked over at Sloper who shrugged. He had tipped off the hack, to put more pressure on Temple.

  ‘What’s your name?’ asked Temple.

  ‘Sophie Twiner,’ she replied, holding out her hand. Temple ignored the gesture.

  ‘Right, Sophie, make an appointment at the station and I’ll give you want you want. In return, I’d ask you not to hassle this man now.’ Temple turned to Maxwell.

  ‘OK, I’ll come and see you tomorrow,’ she said.

  ‘I’m promising nothing. If I’m free, I’ll see you, if not, I won’t,’ said Temple.

  Finishing his conversation with Maxwell, Temple left for Marlborough, leaving Sloper at the hospital. He couldn’t trust himself around him any longer. The urge to put him up against the wall and punch him was becoming overwhelming.

  Kelly arrived back at Marlborough at the same time as Temple. She had been to see Ann Powell.

  ‘She was reluctant to talk. I tried to engage her with the coroner’s report and her witness statement but she said it was all too long ago now and she couldn’t remember,’ she explained.

  Temple was distracted by James.

  ‘Just as well she made a statement at the time then,’ said Temple. ‘Go back and see Caroline Black, see if she was aware of any gossip about Maxwell and Olivia from when they were married, they all worked for the same organization after all.’ He was only half listening to her.

  ‘Hang on a minute,’ said Kelly. ‘All I said was that she was reluctant. I didn’t say she didn’t speak to me. After a while, she spoke. She said that she remembered Olivia and Jonathan Silvester talking together, at a table. She said there were people getting in and out of the swimming pool but they sat apart from them. She said she thought they were having an intense conversation and that she didn’t seem particularly happy that evening. She said she probably wouldn’t have remembered this but for the fact that Olivia died soon afterwards and she often wondered what it was that she and Jonathan were talking about.’

  ‘Did she say what she thought happened that night, how Olivia died?’ asked Temple.

  ‘I asked her that. She said that the way Maxwell and Jonathan disappeared quickly gave rise to a lot of speculation within BA. She said what she thought was odd was that she saw Jonathan holding Olivia’s arm as he guided her into the pool and that she was obviously reluctant to go in. Jonathan got in with her but she said they continued to carry on talking in much the same way as she’d seen them at the table. That was the last time she saw Olivia alive.’

  ‘Well done, Kel, she seems to have remembered more than in her original statement to the coroner. Caroline Black may be able to add to this, see if she knew what the rumour mill was saying about it.’

  ‘Will do, I’ll ring her tomorrow.’

  Temple picked up the phone and dialled an internal number. He knew it was even more urgent now for him to try and move the inquiry forward; he had to stay focused. He had to follow up on his meeting with Adrian Coleman.

  ‘Is that Callum Naylor?’ asked Temple.

  ‘Temple, you old bugger. How you doing?’ DS Callum Naylor answered.

  ‘Fine, fine,’ Temple lied. ‘How’s Special Branch these days?’

  ‘Busy as ever, you know how it is. How can we help you?’

  ‘I need some information about aircraft landing strips and airfields. I know there’s an airfield at Old Sarum near Salisbury and one at Kemble in Gloucestershire, but how many more are there?’ Temple asked.

  ‘There’s quite a few, mate. You’d be surprised, so much so that we have ports officers who keep tabs of them and who’s coming and going – well, at least, that’s the theory.’

  ‘You got time to go through them now?’

  ‘Yes, come up to the office at HQ.’

  Temple went to Naylor’s office. There, Naylor showed Temple a detailed map of all Wiltshire landing strips and airfields.

  ‘What’s your interest?’ asked Naylor.

  ‘The murder inquiry at Ramsbury. The husband is a pilot for BA and I think he’s been moonlighting for a security firm. I want to check out local landing strips before I speak to him again.’

  ‘Well, there’s one near Ramsbury, at Clench Common. Ramsbury has an old World War II airfield, closed in 1946. The 101st Airborne Division – you know, the “Band of Brothers” from the TV series – was based there. That’s now part of a farm, but Clench Common Airfield has two grass airstrips in the shape of a cross, with an aviation club set up over there.’

  ‘Any others?’ asked Temple.

  ‘Take your pick,’ said Naylor, nodding at the map, as Temple looked at the spread of various landing strips and airfields.

  ‘I didn’t realize there were so many,’ said Temple.

  ‘People don’t. There’s bloody loads, mate. Some are disused or dummy WWII airfields, like the one at Ramsbury. Some are new, set up by enthusiasts, micro-lighters and gliders. And then there’s the private ones.’

  ‘Private ones?’ asked Temple.

  ‘These are marked out in designated fields. In the main, it’s the great and the good, the monied, your landed gentry, a few farms. They keep them for their helicopters, light aircraft and small jets.’

  ‘Are those on this map too?’

  ‘Some are, but not necessarily all, but we’d like to think we know who and where they are,’ replied Naylor.

  ‘So, how are these monitored, who knows who’s coming and going?’ asked Temple.

  ‘Well, the CAA, Civil Aviation Authority, are supposed to know and local
clubs such as Clench Common will keep a log of who comes and goes. There’s designated flying times. But we ask about for people to give us sightings, particularly when an aircraft is heard at night,’ Naylor explained.

  ‘So chances are, if there is any activity, you will know about it either through official channels or through information received?’

  ‘By and large, yes.’

  Temple continued to study the map.

  ‘Can I get a copy of this?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, no problem, I’ll get a copy and send it over.’

  ‘Could you also do me one more favour? Can you check with Singapore Airlines and any others that run flights from Singapore to Gatwick to see if a Maxwell Ashton-Jones was on a flight from Friday to Sunday last?’

  ‘Will do. We’ll let you know.’

  Temple drove back to Marlborough. He rang the HR department.

  ‘I want you to find me a DC on light duties,’ he said. After some toing and froing, they came back with DC Craig Toff.

  ‘He’s got a broken ankle,’ said the girl on the end of the phone. Toff had broken it playing hockey.

  ‘He’ll do,’ said Temple, ‘get him to report to me at HQ tomorrow morning and tell him to bring a sleeping bag and an alarm clock.’

  Looking down at his mobile, he saw he had a missed call from Jackie Newly.

  ‘Hi, Jackie, you rang?’

  ‘Yes, boss, got some news for you, on the DNA.’

  ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘I have a negative on Jonathan Silvester for the mixed profile,’ she said.

  Temple held his breath.

  ‘But it’s come back as a positive match for James Ashton-Jones, both for one of the mixed profiles and for the foetus.’

  Temple closed his eyes and the calmness of his voice belied the relief he felt at the breakthrough. ‘That’s good news, Jackie, thanks for that. But hang on a minute, if Maxwell’s profile was negative, – surely James’s wouldn’t be a positive match?’ asked Temple, suddenly wondering if he’d understood what Jackie was saying.

  ‘Well, that’s precisely why. There was none. When there was a match with James, a check was run again for familial DNA to Maxwell. No match. However, there is familial DNA between James and Jonathan Silvester.’

  ‘Them two?’

  ‘Yes, it became clear when checking the mixed profile and the DNA of the foetus. It means they’re father and son. That’s why Maxwell’s sample showed no familial because he’s not James’s father. Jonathan Silvester is.’

  CHAPTER 27

  TEMPLE’S PHONE RANG. It was Sloper.

  ‘Things have taken a turn for the worst here. They’ve just put James on a ventilator and are doing more tests. They say that he’s suddenly deteriorated.’

  ‘Oh shit.’ Temple had been hoping that his recovery would begin to progress. He needed him to stay alive, not just to find out what he knew. ‘Stay there and let me know if there’s any further change,’ instructed Temple, glad to keep Sloper out of his way for now.

  Temple knew he still had to identify the outstanding DNA profile, particularly should James’s condition deteriorate further. Whilst it further added to Maxwell having a motive, especially if he knew that James wasn’t his son, Maxwell was still out of the country at the material time.

  Temple wondered if he knew that Jonathan Silvester had an affair with his first wife and that James wasn’t his son. Maxwell knew about and encouraged an affair with his second wife, perhaps it was the same for Olivia. But if Maxwell didn’t kill Greta, then who did? Jonathan Silvester said he was alone at the time. Temple knew that despite the welcome breakthrough, he was still no nearer to finding Greta’s killer.

  Temple informed Kelly of the new developments.

  ‘I want you to go and see James’s friend, the one he says he stayed with on Saturday night, Felix somebody or other …’

  Kelly flicked back through her notebook.

  ‘Felix Harmond-Fford, boss.’

  ‘Go and see him now and get a statement. If he hasn’t heard about James taking an overdose, don’t tell him and obviously don’t disclose the DNA evidence. He’s probably back at school, but I want that statement, Kel.’

  ‘Will do, I’ll find out where he is and go and make arrangements to see him.’

  Temple’s phone rang again.

  ‘Sir, PC Gregory here, at the scene at Wedwellow House.’

  ‘Christ, I’d forgotten about you. You haven’t been standing there since I last saw you, have you?’ asked Temple.

  ‘No. sir, I’ve been relieved by a colleague. Between the two of us, we’re covering the scene on a twelve hour shift. I rang to say that a witness approached me today. I’ve taken all her details. She says she can remember a van in the area in the weeks preceding Greta’s death. She doesn’t know if it’s significant, but it was a blue transit. She saw it once down the lane by the side of the crime scene and again, parked up, away from the premises but on the same road.’

  ‘Don’t suppose she got a registration number?’ Temple asked.

  ‘Well, because it was suspicious and because she’s in the Neighbourhood Watch, she did write it down. I haven’t run it through PNC, I thought I’d pass it on to you first, sir.’

  ‘Good work, Gregory.’

  Temple took the registration number and rang PNC. He took the details of the woman ready for Kelly to go and get a statement. The PNC inquiry came back negative. Either it had been written down wrongly or the plates were false.

  Kelly came back into the office.

  ‘I’m just off now, boss, off to Stilcombe School to see Felix. While you were on the phone, the Financial Investigation guys rang. They’ve located a safety deposit box, in Knightsbridge, near South Kensington. It’s Maxwell’s.’

  Temple rang the Financial Investigation office.

  ‘How did you find this?’ asked Temple.

  ‘Just trawling through all the bank statements, boss. It’s paid for once a year, £500, to Knightsbridge Safe Deposit Boxes.’

  ‘Interesting, thanks, guys, do you have an address?’ Temple asked.

  ‘Yes, they’re a kosher firm, all above board, albeit, why do people have safety deposit boxes? Still, that’s one for you, boss.’

  The address was close to Gloucester Road and Curtis and Coleman.

  CHAPTER 28

  IT WAS LATE and dark outside. Felix Harmon-Fford stood waiting for Kelly in the headmaster’s office. As he looked out of the window into the blackness of the night, his own reflection looked back at him. Using the window pane as a mirror, he stared at his image, eyeballing himself. He was nervous – this was serious shit. He’d found out Greta was dead from the house Dame when she’d told him why James was absent. He would keep quiet, he decided. No comment, like he’d seen on TV.

  Kelly had never been to a place like Stilcombe. Fucking Hogwarts, she thought, as she drew up to the floodlit sandstone castellated facade in one of the force’s Ford Corsas. She walked up to the main door. Without stepping over the threshold, she felt the atmosphere thick with high achievement and potential; it was almost palpable. She felt just being there tonight, some of it might rub off on her.

  Expected, she was shown into the headmaster’s room by a harried-looking school Dame who thought the room was fitting for a visit from the police. She closed the door behind them all and sat on a straight backed chair, by the door. Kelly introduced herself to Felix Harmond-Fford and pulled two chairs together and sat opposite the boy. She sensed Felix’s nervousness and did her best to put him at ease. He sat down awkwardly in front of her. She spoke to him gently.

  ‘All right, Felix? Cool name you have there. As you probably know, Greta Ashton-Jones was found murdered on Monday and James may have been one of the last people to see her alive. I’m here to take a statement from you so that we can verify what James has said, do you understand?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Felix, crumbling, all ideas of going ‘no comment’ dissolving as soon as he saw Kelly and she began
to speak.

  She was younger than he had expected her to be and prettier. He judged her to be fit. Her gentle tone disarmed him, he had been expecting more of an interrogation when they’d told him the police were coming to talk to him.

  Kelly weighed him up; he shared the same height and muscular build as James, making him look older than his seventeen years.

  ‘James says that he stayed with you last weekend, from Saturday afternoon, would that be right?’ Kelly asked.

  ‘Yes. He arrived by train from Bedwyn and we picked him up from the station at Newbury,’ Felix explained.

  ‘Who’s we?’ asked Kelly.

  ‘Me and my mother, she was driving.’

  ‘And then what did you do, Felix?’

  ‘Then we went home, hung around the pool, listened to music …’

  ‘How was James when you picked him up from the station?’

  Felix shrugged. ‘Normal, I guess.’

  ‘Was he happy, or sad, or was he agitated at all?’ asked Kelly. She could see Felix was finding it a struggle to maintain eye contact with her.

  ‘No, he was perfectly happy, buzzing I’d say, good spirits.’

  ‘Did he say anything to you about his morning, or Greta?’

  At this question, Felix succumbed to Kelly’s gaze.

  ‘Um, no, I don’t think so,’ he said, as he looked away, colouring red as he tried to think of what to say.

  ‘It’s really important, Felix, that you tell us what you know. So, did he say anything to you about his morning or Greta?’ Kelly asked, as he continued to avoid her gaze by staring at a breakfront bookcase that was behind her.

  ‘Um, only that he’d had a good morning.’

  ‘Did he say anything about Greta, Felix?’ She said his name in an attempt to regain his eye contact. It failed.

  ‘Um, Greta, um, I don’t think so.’

  ‘Did you know Greta, Felix?’ she tried again. It worked. He looked at her.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did you visit James at his home, like he visited you at yours? Did you stay over?’

  ‘Yes,’ he replied, his eyes downcast.

  ‘What did you think of Greta? Was she a good mum?’ asked Kelly.