The Last Straw

by Paul Gitsham

  Getting up, he stretched his back.

  “Karen, can you go round up Tony Sutton and Gary Hastings and ask them to meet us in the briefing room in five minutes?”

  Nodding her assent, Karen also stood up, but before she could take a step towards the door it burst open. It was Sutton again. One look at his face and Warren’s heart sank; he could tell it wasn’t good news.

  “You’d better come and see this, guv. Severino’s mum is live on the BBC.”

  Chapter 33

  Sutton’s announcement sent a surge of adrenaline through Jones. “Shit,” he groaned as he leapt to his feet, following Sutton into the main briefing room. Projected on the far wall was the familiar backdrop of The Mount Prison. A local BBC anchorman holding a microphone was gesturing silently towards the prison’s main building. A scrolling ticker across the bottom announced that a prisoner on remand had attempted suicide early that morning. The next banner read ‘Prisoner’s mother blasts lax security’. The camera panned away from the anchor to reveal an uncomfortable-looking Daniel Stock standing next to a middle-aged woman of Mediterranean appearance. Beside them stood a dark-skinned man in a black suit. The woman, Mrs Severino presumably, was talking forcefully into the microphone.

  “Some sound would be good!” called out Sutton.

  “Sorry, leads aren’t connected. There we go.” A sudden blast of Italian came from the speakers as the stressed-looking DC fiddling with the laptop finally plugged the jack into the correct socket. They must be streaming live off the BBC’s website, Warren realised.

  The woman stopped speaking and the man in the black suit took over, speaking in heavily accented English. Her translator, Warren realised.

  “Mrs Severino demands that there is a full enquiry into how her son, who strenuously denies all of the allegations against him, was able to attempt to kill himself when he should have been on suicide watch.”

  Another blast of Italian. “We would also want to take this opportunity to demand that the police continue to investigate the crime that Antonio Severino has been wrongly charged with. Her son has clearly been framed for this murder. Evidence found at his house is little more than circumstantial. Her son has given the police a description of a woman that he believes—” At this point Daniel Stock stepped forward, cutting off the translator mid-flow.

  “About bloody time he did something,” snapped Sutton, angrily.

  “Um, obviously this is the subject of an ongoing investigation and it would be unwise for us to comment any further,” the young solicitor stammered.

  “Too bloody late,” said Warren quietly. “I don’t speak Italian, but it seemed pretty obvious to me that Mum said everything she wanted to.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Christ, what a mess. The press are going to be all over this one.” He shook his head in dismay. “I can’t believe the BBC gave her air time. How damned irresponsible of them.”

  “Uhm, guv, I don’t think they had much choice.” The young DC who’d been setting up the laptop looked up from another computer. Warren stepped over.

  “They were just keeping up with the Joneses…er, so to speak.” The constable flicked quickly through a half-dozen tabs on the computer’s web browser. Warren groaned inwardly as the front page of every major news outlet proclaimed the same breaking news, with varying degrees of breathlessness. The page that caused the coldest chill to run down his back was that of the most popular tabloid.

  ‘Tomorrow — Exclusive. Free my innocent son before he kills himself for real!’

  Below a picture of Mrs Severino, a bulleted list promised to reveal:

  ‘The woman who set my son up’

  ‘Anger and hatred in top scientist’s lab leads to brutal murder’

  ‘How under-pressure police grabbed the nearest suspect’.

  Warren rubbed his eyes with his thumb and his forefinger, hoping to ward off the burning sensation in his temples threatening to become a full-blown headache. “If anyone can think of a way that this day could get any worse, please don’t hesitate to tell me.”

  As if on cue, Superintendent Grayson’s voice rang out across the room. “DCI Jones. In my office, please.”

  Be careful what you wish for, thought Warren ruefully.

  * * *

  “Damn it, Warren, this is the last thing we need.” Superintendent John Grayson slumped back in his chair, massaging his eyes in the same manner that Warren had been doing moments before. Warren wondered if it would be any more successful for his boss than it had been for him.

  “I agree, sir. This is an ongoing investigation. These details should not be released to the press, for fear of prejudicing the case.”

  “Yes, quite, that as well. In the meantime, the suggestion that a killer is still running around Middlesbury on the eve of that huge conference could be disastrous. And the suggestion on top of it all that we arrested the wrong man means that this department will be a laughing stock. This needs sorting out and quickly, Warren.”

  Well, there it was, Warren thought. It was quite clear that the biggest concern that Grayson had was political. Warren doubted he had even thought as far ahead as to what effect the threatened revelations could have on the court case.

  “Where the hell did this all come from, Warren?”

  “As far as I can tell, it all seems to be coming from Severino’s camp, sir.” He went on to outline to Grayson his visit to The Mount Prison and his subsequent investigations into the mysterious young woman that had visited Severino the week before the murder.

  Grayson tapped his pen against his teeth thoughtfully, before shaking his head. “I don’t know, Warren, it all seems pretty tentative. Compared to the evidence that we have against Severino, this is pretty circumstantial.”

  “I agree, sir, but—”

  At that point, Grayson’s phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID and motioned for Warren to wait as he picked up the phone. “Grayson here.”

  He listened intently for a few moments. “I agree, we should be able to get an injunction blocking publication. I’m a bit surprised they even tried. They must have known we weren’t going to let them prejudice the case.” He listened again. Warren tried not to fidget; he always felt uncomfortable listening to one side of a telephone conversation. Couldn’t he just put it on speakerphone?

  “He’s here now, sir.”

  Shit, thought Warren. There were only a few people that Grayson called ‘sir’, none of whom Warren was comfortable about being discussed with. Grayson put his hand over the mouthpiece. “Warren, are you certain that you haven’t spoken to the press? The governor of The Mount Prison is doing his nut. Apparently the papers have all of the details of the suicide attempt.”

  Warren shook his head emphatically, “No, sir. Not a word. If I were to speculate, it probably came through Severino’s lawyer, Daniel Stock. He’s a bit inexperienced. Severino may have told him what happened on a visit and he hasn’t got the good sense to advise his client not to speak to the press.”

  Grayson nodded in agreement and relayed Warren’s message to the voice at the end of the line. “The Mount have already released a statement refusing to comment on an ongoing investigation. I’ll draft one from us stating the same thing and reiterating that we are investigating all leads and reminding the press of their obligation not to prejudice any upcoming trial.”

  He listened for a few more seconds, before closing the conversation and turning to Warren. “We’re going to try and manage this debacle as best we can. Warren, you need to wrap this investigation up asap. Make sure that conviction’s sound — the last thing we need is Severino’s lawyers tearing holes in our case. And I needn’t remind you that we have to keep the press on side. We can’t afford the bad publicity right now.” He stood up and started shovelling sheets of paper into his briefcase.

  Warren nodded. “About Severino, sir, I’m not sure—”

  Grayson raised a hand, forestalling him. “Sorry, Warren, it will have to wait. I have to get over to Legal and start the ba
ll rolling on this injunction and get those press releases drafted.” He smiled tightly, showing a glimpse of humour. “I seem to spend all of my time dealing with lawyers these days. Makes me long for the days when I was chasing rapists and murderers — at least I got to associate with a better class of people.”

  * * *

  Tony Sutton hung up the phone with a mangled, “Grazie,” and sat back with a smug smile on his face. After a few seconds of silent self-congratulation, he got to his feet, winding his way across the room to Jones’ office.

  Knocking, he entered. “Got some good news, guv.”

  Leaning back in his chair, Warren eyed him. For some reason, he had a feeling that what Sutton regarded as good news might be a little different from what he regarded as good news. Nevertheless, he gestured for Sutton to continue. “Go on, Tony, good news is always welcome in this office.”

  “Well, the first bit of good news is that I tracked down Severino’s fiancée. It was just as he said — she is visiting her parents in Bavaria. Before I spoke with her, I had a quick chat with a local police chief, who kindly visited her and confirmed her identity from her passport. I figured that if Severino had done something to his missus, it would be all too easy for him to give us the address of a friend who could pretend to be her.”

  Warren nodded his approval. “Good thinking, Tony.”

  “Anyway, once he’d done that I spoke at length on the phone to her. Apparently, they have been together for several years now and engaged for the past six months. She claims not to have heard anything about his arrest, although the murder had made the news.”

  “So why didn’t she contact Severino — his boss had just been murdered. Wasn’t she even curious?”

  “She says that she wasn’t sure if she wanted to speak to him. Apparently, things have been rocky between them ever since he lost his job. She said that he was drinking too much, and implied he was smoking a bit too much weed also. They had a couple of really violent arguments — she insists verbal, not physical — and she eventually decided it would be better for both of them if she went home to her parents for a few months. Apparently, she’s finishing writing up her own PhD thesis and could just as easily work in Germany as she could in the UK. It sounds as if she was going to call off the engagement.”

  “Well, that certainly matches what Severino told me. It would also explain why he is so depressed. His fiancée has left him and now he’s accused of murder.”

  “Well, don’t waste too much sympathy on the bastard. I’ve just got off the phone with an Italian prosecutor. It seems that our boy Severino has form.”

  Warren raised an eyebrow at Sutton’s apparent glee, but said nothing.

  “He’s been arrested, but never successfully convicted, several times since his late teens. Apparently, he has a bit of a temper. His first arrest was for a fight at college, allegedly over a girl. It was claimed that he broke the nose of his rival and gave him a mild concussion.”

  “What happened? I can’t believe that he would be accepted onto a British university course if he was expelled from college for fighting.”

  Sutton’s mouth twisted as if he’d tasted something unpleasant. “The lad he hit dropped the assault charges. There is nothing in the file about the college’s response. However, a background note attached to the file observes that his family are among the wealthiest people in that region of Italy. They are one of the biggest distributors of Italian wine in the world and are well-known philanthropists with political connections. I think you can draw your own conclusions from that.”

  “OK, but a bit of fisticuffs in college hardly sets him up for murder, does it?”

  “Well, that was just the first of several, similar incidents. Each time his victim dropped the charges. Each time the alleged violence was more extreme. The worst case was four years ago. He got into a fight on the way back from a football match. It was claimed that he hit a rival supporter around the head with a metal pole, sticking him in a coma for two weeks. Guy still has blackouts, apparently, and can’t work. Four witnesses initially came forward and Severino was arrested. Three days later the witnesses all withdrew their statements. Even better, the metal pole with Severino’s fingerprints on it somehow went missing from a locked evidence cabinet. His victim is apparently living a lifestyle that would appear inconsistent with somebody unemployed and living off sickness benefits.

  “It seems that without any evidence the case was on rocky ground and it was decided to spare the police department’s blushes and drop the case. The original notes on all of these cases are all a matter of public record, of course, but in reality they aren’t ever going to cause him any problems.

  “I’m telling you, guv, this bloke is dirty and quite capable of murder.” Sutton’s expression was a mixture of outrage at the way in which Severino had played the system and vindication for his belief in the man’s guilt. “We shouldn’t be looking to do the defence’s job for them. We need to put this bastard behind bars for a long time.”

  Chapter 34

  Jones called a team meeting in one of the small briefing rooms. Pulling over a clean whiteboard, he summarised what the team had so far.

  “What we know for definite was that Alan Tunbridge was murdered in his office Friday night. Saturday morning we found CCTV evidence that a person matching the description of Antonio Severino, a postdoc in Tunbridge’s lab with a grudge against Tunbridge and a history of violence, was in the building at about the time of the murder. Records from the building’s security system confirm that the person on the CCTV used Severino’s swipe card.

  “After his arrest, articles of clothing stained with Tunbridge’s blood and the murder weapon were found, concealed at Severino’s property. He’s been charged, but denies the murder. Our job so far has been to tie up any loose ends and piece together exactly what happened that night.”

  Jones picked up a marker pen and wrote ‘Outstanding Issues’ at the top of the board.

  “First question — how did the killer know that Tunbridge would be working alone in his office late on Friday night?”

  Sutton answered the question. “He was set up. An apparently fake investment company contacted him with a view to commercialising his work. They planted a fake website — now taken down — and arranged via email to telephone him at the university at ten p.m. UK time on Friday.”

  Jones drew a line down the middle of the whiteboard and summarised Sutton’s response on the left-hand side. At the top of the right-hand side he drew a large question mark.

  Gary Hastings took over. “Who put the website up?”

  Jones wrote ‘Website Author’, before answering the question. “It was hosted by a cheap, offshore web provider. We’re trying to track down who paid for it.

  “Next question — did Severino act alone? What other people had a motive to kill him?”

  Sutton sighed. “If we’re going down that route, who didn’t have a motive? It seems as though there wasn’t anybody who didn’t dislike the man for one reason or another.”

  “Well, let’s just keep it simple for the time being. Who do we know about?”

  Sutton started ticking them off on his fingers. “The main suspects would have to be Tom Spencer, Clara Hemmingway, Mark Crawley and Professor Tompkinson.”

  Karen Hardwick spoke up first. “I think we can rule out Professor Tompkinson. He’s ill with Parkinson’s disease and has an alibi for the Friday night. He’s due to retire and it just wouldn’t make sense for him to get involved with something like this. He’s looking forward to spending his last few healthy years with the grandkids on a decent pension.”

  There were general nods of agreement around the table; it seemed too far-fetched. Jones put a cross next to the man’s name.

  “Mark Crawley?”

  Gary Hastings replied this time. “He’s a complicated one. He has certainly got the motive, despite what he says. He needs the money that he’d get with any pay-rise that would come if the university promoted him to group lea
der. He is also the best-placed person to benefit from any research coming out of the group — if the lab has made any breakthroughs then he could take them through to commercialisation. From what we’ve heard, others in the field wouldn’t necessarily be suspicious if he announced a major discovery in the next couple of years.”

  Hardwick disagreed. “All of that is true but he has a pretty solid alibi for that night. He was looking after a group of kids at a birthday party. There’s no way he could have got from the ten-pin-bowling alley to the university and back without his absence being noticed.”

  Sutton shook hi head “All that means is he didn’t do the deed. It’s quite possible that he and Severino worked together on this. Crawley could be the brains behind it and Severino the hit man. We know that they were fairly tight. Crawley smoothed over the incident with Tunbridge’s car and negotiated paid leave for Severino whilst he looked for a new job. I could definitely see them working together. And if Crawley does become head of the research group, then what’s to stop him rehiring his old friend Severino?”

  There were mutters of agreement around the table. Warren put a large question mark next to Crawley’s name. “Tom Spencer.”

  Karen Hardwick offered her opinion first. “He certainly has motive. Tunbridge has all but destroyed his future career. He’s been treated as badly as Severino, but again he has a good alibi. He was working in the PCR room whilst the murder took place. If he was involved as an accomplice, why would he be in the building at the same time? If I was him I wouldn’t want to be seen anywhere near the murder scene. Ideally I’d get myself a nice alibi. Even if he was waiting outside for Severino, I can’t see him deliberately getting himself noticed by getting logged into the building and then finding Tunbridge.”