by Deborah Lucy
Temple, desperate to help his case, was suddenly forced to thrust his hands deeper in his pockets to conceal his bruised knuckles, as he countered an involuntarily action to touch Ceri Lambert’s arm. Unable to completely control himself, his right hand then reached for his head, running his fingers through his hair, gripping onto the back of his neck in the process. Ceri Lambert looked at his face; as she saw the familiar signs of sleep deprivation and pressure, she relented.
‘I’ll give you twenty-four hours. I’ll tell one of the team to concentrate on adult sites and conduct a search on new content. Send me over a picture of your victim and we’ll see what we can do. I have to say though, don’t get your hopes up. Just so that I manage your expectations, we are unlikely to find what you’re looking for, it’s going to be like looking for a needle in a haystack,’ she said.
He knew in reality Ceri Lambert couldn’t have used a better euphemism, but he closed his mind to the hopelessness of the situation. At least she was going to try to help him. Before Temple left, he rang Kelly who emailed a picture of Greta to the Hi Tech Crime team. On his way out of the station, Sophie Twiner rang him.
‘I hope you like the coverage I’ve given you in today’s Daily Record. I’ve kept it fairly restrained and I’ve asked for an appeal for information,’ she said, referring to a piece in that morning’s edition of the newspaper.
‘Thanks for that.’
‘Perhaps we could catch up later, tonight maybe? You can update me on progress?’ she asked.
‘I’m actually a bit tucked up with all this at the moment, so I can’t promise anything. Text me later and I’ll see if I’m free,’ offered Temple, concentrating on getting back to the incident room.
‘OK, I will.’ Sophie ended the call, happy that Temple had invited contact from her.
Back at the incident room, Temple informed Kelly of the conversation with DS Lambert. The phone rang and Kelly answered it. It was the Call Centre at Headquarters. They had a call from a member of the public, a Ramsbury resident who had read the piece in the Wiltshire Daily Record and had information for the inquiry about a dark blue transit van they had seen in the vicinity. Kelly asked them to be put through and started to take the details down from the caller. As Kelly wrote, Temple looked over her shoulder, reading her notes. As she wrote out a registration number, Temple was immediately on another phone, contacting PNC for them to run a check. It came back registered to a van hire company in Croydon.
‘Go out and get a statement from the caller, Kel,’ instructed Temple, ‘and I’ll ring the hire company.’
The hire company confirmed the hirer to be Ian Turner, with an address at the empty flat in Croydon where Temple and Sophie had visited. The van had been returned to them only days ago, the Monday after Greta’s death.
‘Where is the van now?’ asked Temple.
‘Oh, it’s gone out again already, mate. As soon as we get them in, they’re washed, hoovered and out again.’
‘How long had he had it?’
‘Continuous hire for about three months, he had another one before that,’ came the reply.
‘Come back in good nick, did it?’
‘Yes, bit dirty, but apart from that, everything was in order.’
‘Did you find anything, anything at all, when cleaning?’ Temple asked in desperation.
‘I’m looking on the inventory here. No, mate, nothing, clean as a whistle.’
‘And did he hire another vehicle? What did he drive away in when he left the van with you?’
‘He walked off. Walked off down the road.’
Temple let out a deep sigh.
‘But what I do have is a photocopy of his driving licence,’ offered the assistant. ‘It’s part of the hiring process. We kept it on our files.’
Temple asked for it to be faxed over to Marlborough Station. For the first time, Temple saw the face of his main suspect.
CHAPTER 40
TEMPLE RANG KELLY and met her at Ogbourne St George, where she was taking a statement. He was able to show the witness, a postman, the picture on the driving licence.
‘That could be him. I was picking up the last post in the afternoon from the post box and I saw the van, because it was in my way,’ he said, helpfully.
‘When was this?’ Temple asked.
‘About a month ago.’
‘Where?’
‘He’d parked right in front of the post box. There’s a deep verge there and he had reversed back into it and was having to give it some welly to get his back wheels out of the verge. Then he lunged forward and the front wheels did the same on the opposite side of the verge. I was just sat there, in my post office van, not able to get on until he sorted himself out. When I saw the article in the Daily Record earlier today, I thought I’d ring in, for what it’s worth. I’ve got an eye for numbers as you might imagine in my line of work and the fact they drum it into you that you are part of the community and to report anything suspicious. We all have a list of registration numbers of unfamiliar vehicles we collect during the course of deliveries. Just in case.’
‘Well, it’s been a real help, thanks very much,’ replied Temple.
Temple took the short drive back to Marlborough Station. He went into the office where he was alone.
As he was considering his next move in the investigation, the door of the office opened and in walked two detectives. Temple looked up from his desk, he recognized them from Professional Standards. His immediate thoughts were that Roger had gone straight to the nearest police station and they were about to arrest him. Temple’s mind raced; he wondered where they would take him and how long he’d be kept in custody. Should he just admit to what he’d done or deny it? He wondered how many witnesses they had and for the first time, started to feel a little nervous.
‘DI Temple, we’ve come to serve disciplinary forms on you regarding the voluntary referral to the Independent Police Complaints Commission following the death of James Ashton-Jones.’
Temple remained silent and looked back at them. They were poised to record in their notebooks any reaction he made. He took the forms, read them and signed for their receipt. One of the officers gave him back a copy.
‘We’ve also been instructed to inform you that you are to report to Melksham Police Station in the morning, where you have been posted whilst the investigation is carried out into your conduct. You will now be part of the local uniform shift, reporting to Superintendent Brown,’ he was instructed, robotically.
Temple nodded in acknowledgement and the two detectives left. Ordered off the case, Temple knew he now had to act quickly. He dialled his mobile.
‘Kelly, once you’ve finished with the postman, I want you to meet me at Wedwellow House in two hours. I’ll meet you outside.’
Temple’s desk phone rang at the same time.
‘Hello?’ he answered.
‘I’m calling from Social Services, I’m after Detective Inspector Temple—’ came the reply.
Before the female caller could finish her sentence, Temple interrupted, annoyed at the intrusion.
‘He doesn’t work at this station any more, you’ll have to try elsewhere.’ He put the receiver down abruptly and left for Headquarters.
He knocked on the locked office door and after a short delay it was opened by DS Lambert.
‘Twice in one day, we are honoured. I hope you don’t think we’ve made too much progress yet,’ she said, opening the door and inviting him inside. Temple negotiated some laptops on the floor and went in.
‘Sorry about them, we weren’t expecting any more visitors today,’ Ceri said.
‘I’ve just managed to get a photo of my suspect and I thought it might help,’ explained Temple. ‘He’s gone to ground. I don’t know where he lives or what he drives at the moment, but I’ve now got his face.’ He handed over a page containing Turner’s image.
‘I’ll give it to the guys who are looking on the sites for you. I’ll also fax it up to my colleagues at CEOP, you never kno
w, he might already be on their radar. I see he’s got a beard,’ said Ceri, looking at the image again. ‘That’ll be off straightaway, they’re pretty resourceful, these lowlife, at changing their appearance once they’ve had an official photograph taken. They don’t vote, so you generally can’t find them on Quick Address or on voters’ lists, so having their name doesn’t normally help, either. They’ll rent their houses and cars and use multiple aliases when they’re doing it.’
‘What do you think the chances are that he’ll come up on the internet?’
‘Honestly? As I said, very slim. But if you’re right and your victim’s death has been recorded, sadly, there’ll be a market for it. It just may take a while for it to surface sufficiently for us to find it. If, of course, we ever do. There’s an international market for this stuff and the thing is, this is unlikely to be the first time he’s done it.’
As she said that, Temple remembered that Turner had only ever asked for matrimonial cases. Turner had exploited the perfect pretext for spying on vulnerable women, thought Temple, and he wondered how many more victims there were.
Temple left the unit and headed off to Ramsbury to see Maxwell. He pulled up outside the home of Anthony de la Hay. It was a large thatched property, with its neatly sculptured hedges and a well kept front lawn matching the precision of the sharp straight lines cut in the thatch. Nothing was out of place to catch the Brigadier’s eye.
Temple visited on the pretext that he was updating de la Hay on the inquiry and hoped that Maxwell had already moved in, as Toff had reported. He rang the doorbell. An elderly lady opened the door. She invited Temple in and called for de la Hay in a loud and shrill voice that belied her apparent frailty. De la Hay appeared, with Maxwell by his side.
‘How did you know I was here, Inspector?’ asked Maxwell.
‘I didn’t, sir. As promised, I came to update the crime commissioner on the progress of my inquiry,’ Temple lied, ‘but as you’re here, I do need to see you. Would it be all right if we speak please, if you feel up to it and it’s not too inconvenient?’
De la Hay ushered them both into a snug room and shut the door. He suddenly recalled Temple’s warning about Maxwell being a person of interest in the murder enquiry and felt more than a little uneasy at the visit.
‘I’m sorry to intrude at this time, but there are a few questions I need to ask you,’ said Temple.
Maxwell stood before him, less sure of himself than Temple had ever seen him. The death of James had obviously hit him hard. He had lost the assurance he had previously had and was a much changed man than Temple had previously encountered. He was nervous – deservedly so, thought Temple.
‘Ask away, Inspector,’ replied Maxwell, in almost a whispered voice.
‘The private detective, what exactly was his remit again?’
Maxwell looked back at him.
‘Well, as I’ve already told you, I asked if he would find me evidence of Greta being unfaithful.’
‘And you mean you relayed this to Curtis Coleman who found you the operative and relayed that message?’
‘Yes, because as I said, I never met him. His evidence was the photographs that I have shown you of Greta and the other men involved. These he left in a safety deposit box that I had. It had been pre-arranged by Curtis Coleman that he would report every two weeks. Curtis Coleman accessed the deposit box and sent me anything that the detective posted. That was how we communicated. That was how he was paid.’
‘Why didn’t you just deal with him direct?’
‘I actually didn’t want to meet him. I didn’t want him to know me by sight. I told you, I wasn’t comfortable with it.’
‘Was that the only kind of surveillance you commissioned, for him to follow her?’
‘Yes, what else is there?’
‘Did he have the keys to your house?’
‘No, of course not,’ replied Maxwell, incredulously and increasingly uncomfortable at the reminder of what he had done.
‘I asked you once before, so I’ll ask you again, did he ever show you any other photos than those you have already shown me?’
‘No, Inspector, those I have shown you are all that I received.’
‘And you don’t have any contact details at all for the investigator?’
‘No, I’m sorry I don’t. As I’ve already told you, I left it all to Curtis Coleman.’
Temple was still uncertain as to whether Maxwell was being completely truthful. While they spoke, Temple heard de la Hay answer the front door and welcome someone into the hall.
‘What brings you to visit de la Hay, Maxwell?’ Temple asked, knowing the answer.
‘I, I have asked him if I can stay with him. He has kindly offered in the past and now I shall move in, until I can take repossession of my home,’ Maxwell replied, nervously.
‘Were you not happy with staying with Jonathan Silvester then?’
Maxwell’s face changed into a hard mask.
‘We had a difference of opinion over James’s burial and I thought it was best for us to both cool off,’ he lied.
‘I see. Thank you for your time.’
As Temple went into the hall, he found de la Hay standing with a woman. She saw Maxwell coming through the doorway behind him and rushed towards him. It was Antonia Peronelli.
Temple left, knowing that it was probably the last time he would have access to Maxwell. PSD would be contacting him shortly regarding the IPCC investigation and he would know that Temple had been moved off the inquiry.
CHAPTER 41
AT WEDWELLOW HOUSE, Temple waited until Kelly turned up and went and sat in her car.
‘We’re going to go inside and into the hallway. We’re going to look around the house briefly and return to the hall. I’ll say to you that we’ll release the house soon, back to Maxwell, in light of the fact that James is dead and he was responsible for Greta’s murder.’
Kelly looked at him. ‘Are you serious? I thought you’d said he wasn’t responsible.’
‘Dan Crayling thinks there is a live covert camera in the hall and if he’s right, I want to use it to our advantage. If he’s right, there are two things. The first, if he’s still remotely monitoring the camera, once Turner knows the police are going to release the scene, he may return to retrieve it. It may have his DNA on it. The second, whatever he has been recording I want him to keep, I don’t want him spooked so that he destroys what he has or goes on the run. I want him to think that he’s not in the picture, that we’ve decided that James killed Greta and he’s more likely to relax if he thinks we’re closing things down.’
‘So you’re setting a trap?’ Kelly asked.
‘Yes. But it all hinges on whether or not he is still monitoring the camera.’
‘And you think this will work, do you?’
‘Look, I might be totally wrong about this investigator. Then again, he might have everything I think he has and kept it and distributed it, or he has already destroyed it. I just don’t believe a seventeen-year-old boy killed Greta. There is a flaw in my plan, though,’ said Temple. ‘PSD are investigating me regarding James’s death and Maxwell will be aware of this very shortly. I’ve been posted off the case and they’ll tell him this in the next day or so. This is all I can think of to get Turner to return to the house. If he does, I can arrest him and take his DNA and see if it matches the outstanding profile. If he doesn’t and he’s the murderer, he’ll have got away with it, because I can’t convince Harker that it wasn’t James.’
‘The flaw in your plan is worse than that, boss,’ said Kelly. ‘It actually might not be him, either.’
Temple and Kelly went into the house and re-enacted the scene he had described in the car. They went back outside.
‘I need you to do me a favour now. I want you to go to Jonathan Silvester and take a statement from him regarding a telephone call that took place between him and James on the night of the murder. Tell him that our telephone billing inquiries have shown that there was a call between t
hem at 23.58 on Saturday night. Give him some old moody that we know it came from Wedwellow House …’
‘But we don’t, boss, cell site wouldn’t show us that,’ said Kelly.
‘I know that and you know that, but he doesn’t. OK, I’ll be straight with you, I’ve had some technical equipment put in his house and he made a disclosure. Obviously, I don’t want him to know how I’ve come by this information, so I need him to think that we know it came from telephone inquiries which showed it came from the house.’
‘Are you going to tell me what he said?’ asked Kelly.
‘No, I just want you to go in there and do your job. Give me a call when you’re done.’
Temple got in his car and drove off to the Porsche garage at Swindon. Marcus Hussain missed seeing Temple’s arrival in the showroom; he had taken a quick break and when he came back out, thought he had an interested customer looking over the latest 911 model. Approaching him from behind, Hussain was taken aback when Temple turned round.
‘What do you want here?’
‘Don’t worry, Marcus, I’ve just come to ask you a question or two. You can calm down. You can pretend to show me over this car while you tell me what I want to know.’
‘This is out of order, man,’ he said through his teeth.
‘Is it? Is it really? Your boss over there, is he? I’ll go and speak to him, shall I, tell him what you’ve been up to? Now, that might be out of order, Marcus, so if that’s what you’d prefer I do …’
‘All right, all right. What do you want?’ hissed Hussain.
They both continued to circle the car, Temple opening the doors.
‘I want to know exactly when Greta booked her car in over the last six months, would you have that recorded?’
‘Yes, I suppose so. I’d have to go into the workshop and have a look.’
‘Off you go then.’
Temple kept up the pretence of looking at the Porsche until Hussain returned.
‘It came in three times during the last six months. The last time, obviously, three months earlier and two months before that. The second time was for the MOT.’