by Sally Rigby
‘I’ll tell you one thing, if you suspect Ross of anything then you’re probably right. He’s always been on the wrong side of everything.’
She showed them to the door, closing it behind them.
‘Very informative. Do you think Andrea and Aaron are in it together?’ Birdie asked.
‘Possibly. Or he’s doing it to protect her and she doesn’t know. If he’s seen himself as her protector ever since they were at school, then he could easily have done this off his own bat. It makes more sense because, as I said, based on the conversation in her car, it was like she wanted to keep the blackmail quiet and not let him know. We’ll drive back to Market Harborough, via Foxton Locks. I want to show the manager of the pub the photo of Dunkley to see if he recognises him as the man who was with Donald on the day he died.’
Chapter 37
20 May
It was almost six o’clock when they arrived at the Foxton Locks pub and as they pushed open the door the low hum of voices and the smell of beer invaded Seb’s senses. It was much busier than the last time they’d visited. He was sure he could smell chips, which reminded him he could do with something to eat.
They headed towards the bar and as they approached, Seb signalled for the bartender to come over. ‘Is the manager, Freddie Evans, available?’
‘It’s his night off,’ the bartender said.
‘Do you know where he is?’
‘He’s upstairs and doesn’t wish to be disturbed, can I help? I’m in charge this evening.’
Birdie stepped forward and held out her warrant card. ‘I’m DC Bird from Market Harborough police, please contact Mr Evans and ask him to come down to speak to us immediately.’
The bartender glanced from Birdie back to Seb, his brow furrowed. ‘I’ll phone upstairs and let him know.’
As he disappeared to the rear of the bar and picked up the phone, Seb turned to her. ‘Hasn’t your shift officially finished?’
‘We’ll call this overtime. I didn’t have a choice in making it appear as a police matter as it was the only way we were going to get to see Evans this evening.’
‘Let’s order a drink,’ Seb said as he stepped up to the bar. One of the guys standing behind the bar came over. ‘I’ll have half a pint of stout and …’ He glanced at Birdie.
‘It’ll have to be lemonade now I’m back on duty. And a packet of cheese and onion crisps. We haven’t eaten since the doughnuts this morning.’
‘No wonder I’m feeling hungry,’ Seb said. ‘Make that two packets.’
‘Shall we stay here for a meal?’ Birdie suggested. ‘Their lasagne and chips is to die for.’
‘Not this time. I want to get back to the house after we’ve spoken to the manager.’
‘Perhaps a drive-through burger on our way then?’ she suggested.
‘Let’s see what time we get out of here,’ Seb said.
‘Okay, but—’
She stopped as the bartender arrived back. ‘Freddie said would you mind going upstairs to his flat as he’s in the middle of cooking his dinner.’
‘No problem,’ Birdie said.
They picked up their drinks and crisps and followed him through the pub, to a door marked private. ‘Go to the top of the stairs and into the flat. The door’s unlocked so you can go straight in.’
They headed up the narrow, dark wooden staircase typical of buildings of this age, and into the flat.
‘Hello,’ Seb called out.
‘I’m in the kitchen,’ Evans called out.
They went in the direction of the voice and into the kitchen, where the manager was standing at the hob. Two saucepans were on there, a delicious smell of tomato sauce coming from one.
‘I remember you from before, but you were off duty then, is this about something else?’ Evans said.
‘Same investigation. We won’t keep you too long,’ Birdie said. ‘We’re here to check whether you recognise this man.’
Seb took out his phone, pulled up a photo of Aaron Dunkley and showed it to the manager, who took it and stared for a few seconds, nodding his head.
‘He’s definitely familiar. Definitely. I’m trying to think from where.’ He slapped his forehead. ‘I remember, now. He was with Donald Witherspoon the day that he died. How could I have forgotten that?’ He narrowed his eyes, while continuing to stare at the photo. ‘I think it’s because there’s something different about him in this photo, but I’m not sure what it … Oh, I know, he had a beard when I last saw him. He must have shaved that off, but yeah, it’s definitely him. He wasn’t friendly, in fact he appeared sullen.’
‘Are you absolutely sure he was with Donald Witherspoon?’ Seb asked.
‘Yes.’ He turned to give the sauce a stir.
‘Did they come in together or separately?’
‘If I remember rightly, they met in here. Witherspoon arrived first, ordered a drink and made sure he could get a table at the back of the restaurant, and then he was joined by this man, about ten minutes or so later.’
‘Did they have a meal?’
‘I believe so, yes.’
‘Who paid?’ Birdie asked.
Seb nodded his approval at her quick thinking, it could lead to a paper trail.
‘I couldn’t tell you, sorry.’
‘Is there any way of finding out? Can you track which credit card was used?’ she continued.
‘I’ll have to go through the records. Can I do that later and let you know?’
‘Yes, that’s fine,’ Birdie said, giving him her card. ‘What time did they leave?’
‘Now you’re asking. I honestly don’t know.’
‘Can you remember whether they were they arguing, or chatting in a friendly way?’ Seb asked.
‘Definitely no arguments, or it would’ve made me take notice. I’d assumed he was a prospective client because Witherspoon got out some leaflets. He’d often do that when he was here with clients so he could explain various investments.’
‘How do you know that’s what he did?’ Seb asked.
‘Sometimes I’d listen to see if I could pick up any tips.’
‘Didn’t Witherspoon mind?’
‘I’d position myself in such a way that he couldn’t see me.’
‘Did you take any of his advice?’
‘I couldn’t afford to, but it was useful to know for when I decide to invest my money, if I ever have any spare. Though, seeing as his whole business was a sham, it’s probably not a good idea to take notice of what he said.’
‘Are you sure the meeting he had with this man was the same as the others?’ Seb asked.
‘It didn’t seem any different.’
‘And you definitely don’t remember the time they left?’
‘I’ve already said that. All I can tell you is they left together because I was standing behind the bar when Witherspoon called out goodbye. I glanced over and saw the man was with him.’
‘What sort of frame of mind would you say Witherspoon was in? Did he look scared, or under duress?’ Seb asked.
‘The exact opposite. He seemed happy and I remember thinking that he must’ve got the man to invest. When I found out about the suicide, I thought it was strange.’
Birdie’s eyes widened. ‘Yet you didn’t tell the police any of this.’
‘I would’ve done if they’d asked me, but as I told you last time, no one came to see me about it. I thought that meant it wasn’t important.’
‘Thank you, for your help. We’ll leave you now to get on with your dinner,’ Seb said.
They returned to the pub and found a table in the corner where they sat with their drinks and crisps.
‘Now the manager has confirmed the connection it’s an official police matter. We know Dunkley attacked you and we know he was seen with Donald on the day he died,’ Birdie said.
‘If only the police had spoken to the manager and found out more about Donald’s movements before his death, it might have changed things.’ Seb picked up his drink and took a sip.
‘It still could’ve led them to the verdict of suicide. Although they might have listened to Sarah a bit more. And if they’d discovered who Donald was with it could’ve raised alarm bells. But this is all coulda, woulda, shoulda. Even if I’d been on the case, I can’t say for certain that I’d have followed up on everything. You know what police work is like. We know now, and that’s the main thing.’
‘You’re right. We’ll go back to my place, pull everything together and you can take it in.’
They finished their drinks and got back in the car and headed towards Market Harborough. As he was driving, Seb’s eyes were drawn to his rear-view mirror.
‘Is there anything wrong?’
‘I think we’re being followed by a silver Volkswagen Golf. In fact, now I’m aware of it, I’ve seen this car a few times today. I can’t believe it hadn’t registered before now.’
‘Can you see who’s in it?’
‘Not clearly. I’ll slow down so they can get closer.’ He released his foot from the accelerator. ‘Damn. They’ve slowed down, too, and are keeping their distance. But I think it could be Dunkley, and there’s another male with him.’
Chapter 38
20 May
‘What are we going to do?’ Birdie asked, staring at the intense concentration etched across Seb’s face as he drove them towards Market Harborough.
She glanced in the wing mirror at the Golf, which was still quite a way behind them. If only she could see the number plate, she could call it in.
‘Nothing, other than keep an eye on them.’
‘We should go straight to the station. It could be dangerous.’
‘They’re hardly going to follow us there and give themselves up. Let’s bide our time and see what happens. I want to make absolutely sure they’re the ones who attacked me and murdered Donald.’ His lips set in a flat line. He was determined.
She shouldn’t let his age and experience get in the way. Going to the station was the right thing to do. Should she pull rank? He was no longer a DI so her being a DC put her in charge.
‘You said you recognised him. How much surer do you have to be?’
‘I think it’s him and that he’s been following us, but I want to play it out and see if they follow us all the way back to town and then to my place.’
‘I’m still not sure that’s the right thing to do, but okay. I suppose it’s not taking us out of our way.’
They continued along the Gallow Field Road, turning right onto the Harborough Road, towards the town centre. She kept her eyes constantly on the car behind. There was now a vehicle between them. Perhaps Seb was mistaken. But would he be, with his memory?
‘What if they try to run us off the road?’
‘There aren’t a lot of places around here that they can do that,’ he said, cracking a smile.
‘I suppose not. It’s not like in parts of America. Surely they must know you’ve clocked them.’
‘They’ve been keeping well back, so they might not. I’m sure they won’t try anything at the moment because my car is much more powerful than theirs, and I could lose them easily enough if necessary.’
They reached the outskirts of the town centre and turned into Bowden Lane but the car behind them went a different way.
‘They’ve gone,’ she said, glancing in the wing mirror. ‘Maybe it wasn’t them after all and you were mistaken. They could have just been coming back from Foxton after being in the pub or looking around the locks.’
‘The driver did look like Dunkley, but as it was from a distance you could be right. And I didn’t recognise the man with him.’
‘Then again, what if it was them and they’ve gone to your house to wait for you? They know the area you’re staying in because they followed you, even if they don’t know the actual house, although I expect they do if they’ve been keeping an eye on you for a while.’
‘They’re not heading in the right direction. I was most likely wrong.’
‘And if they do turn up at your place?’ Birdie pushed, still uncertain.
‘I’ll call the police. If they’re after me, wherever I go they’ll find me. You’re worrying unnecessarily.’
‘Am I? What if they don’t give you the opportunity to call the police? They could beat you up again. They could murder you. I mean, they’ve already done it to Donald, haven’t they? Or they could kidnap you. It’s going—’
‘Birdie, calm down,’ Seb interrupted. ‘It’s not going to happen. I need some time to get everything together so I can hand it all over. I’ll do that this evening. You can let your sergeant know where we are with the investigation and tell him that tomorrow morning I’ll bring everything in and we can go through it with him. My concern is that we don’t have concrete proof Donald was murdered. The coroner’s report, the police report and the fact the case hasn’t been reopened all goes against us.’
‘But we now know about Donald blackmailing Edgar and Tony, and it looks likely that Andrea was being blackmailed, too.’
‘That’s all very well, but whether any of these people will admit to it in a police investigation, is a different matter. I suspect they won’t, and then what do we have? Our word for it?’
For the remainder of the journey, she was silent. He might be confident that he wasn’t in any danger, but she wasn’t so sure.
When they arrived back at his place, she scanned the street and couldn’t see the car which had been following them. Seb pulled in outside the front of his house and she drove off in her Mini towards the station. As she got to the end of the street, parked in a side road was the silver Golf.
Crap.
She stopped in a nearby street and called Twiggy.
Chapter 39
20 May
Twiggy had put his jacket on to leave the station, already late for dinner, when his phone rang. Surely it wasn’t Evie again, he’d already told her he wouldn’t be much longer. He’d been behind on his paperwork and he’d been informed by Sarge that he wasn’t to leave the station until it was all up-to-date.
He glanced at the screen. It was Birdie. What did she want? She hadn’t been seen or heard from for much of the day and it hadn’t gone down well in certain quarters.
‘Now you choose to let us know where you are,’ he said, without even saying hello. ‘Sarge has been breathing down my neck wanting to know what you’re doing. I tried to cover for you, but I didn’t have a clue what you were up to. What shall I tell him?’
‘Nothing. Actually … Yes … He needs to know. There’s a situation. I need you urgently and bring backup. I think the men who attacked Clifford are at the house he’s renting in Heygate Street, waiting to confront him.’
‘Are you close by? Can you see them?’
‘I was on my way back to the station when I saw their car parked up. They’d been following us most of the day, but then they disappeared.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Positive. They must have taken a shortcut.’
She caught him up with everything that had happened, and mentioned that these men might have murdered Witherspoon.
‘What the fuck, Birdie? Why didn’t you let us know you were in danger? And why did you let him go back to his place on his own? That’s police work 101.’
‘Okay, stop having a go. They stopped following us so Clifford thought it would be okay and that he might have been mistaken about it being his attackers. I didn’t really agree, but I was overruled. Meet me on the corner of Heygate and Doddridge and we’ll go in together. These men could be armed.’
Twiggy gripped hold of the desk, so tightly his knuckles went white. He couldn’t believe that she could be so reckless as to allow Clifford to put his life at risk.
‘Okay, but stay where you are, I don’t want you making any moves without me.’
‘I won’t, I promise.’
He ended the call.
‘What’s that all about?’ Sarge said.
Twiggy hadn’t seen the officer come up behind him.
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‘The men who attacked Clifford are after him again. Birdie saw them parked near the house he’s staying at and she thinks they might be inside waiting for him. It’s possible that these men murdered Witherspoon. At least, that’s what Birdie and Clifford believe. Birdie’s waiting for me. These men are dangerous and could be armed.’
‘You go to Birdie, and I’ll bring backup. I’ll let the DI know what’s going down and get his permission to use firearms and Tasers before signing them out. He’s at the Wigston station all day, but he’ll no doubt come straight here, as he’ll be senior investigating officer. Don’t do anything until we get to you.’
‘Yes, Sarge.’ Twiggy grabbed his jacket, hurried out to the car park and drove as fast as he could.
Chapter 40
20 May
Seb stuck his key in the lock, while scanning the street to see if he could see the car that had been following him. It wasn’t there. He must have been mistaken. He opened the door and went inside, expecting Elsa to come and greet him, as she usually did. But she didn’t
‘Elsa,’ he called, his heart pounding in his chest. ‘Where are you?’
His eyes were drawn to what looked like a half-eaten lump of steak on the floor. He bent down to check and gasped. There were grains of white powder on it.
Had Dunkley and his mate got inside and drugged her?
If they’d harmed so much as one hair on her head, then so help him, they wouldn’t live to tell the tale.
He grabbed hold of a large china figurine of a 1920s woman, which was situated on the hall table, and headed down the corridor. Lying just inside the kitchen door on the floor was Elsa. He bent down and felt her pulse.
It was steady.
She was alive.
He let out the pent-up breath he’d been holding. It must have been a sedative. Thank God.
Where the hell were the bastards?
If they weren’t in the kitchen they had to be hiding somewhere.
He wasn’t going to search for them because that could put him on the back foot. He’d wait for them to come to him. It gave him more of an advantage.