‘It’s important that you produce a list of your whereabouts each day that week. It shouldn’t be too hard. You were working for your uncle, weren’t you? Add who you were with, if you can remember.’
Sophie stood up. ‘I’ll leave DS Marsh here to give you a hand. We’re trying to build up a timeline of the events that week. It will help us to home in on the probable date for their deaths. So it’s important for you to be as accurate as possible.’
* * *
Rae Gregson, the unit’s junior member, had spent the morning preparing an incident room at Blandford’s police station, directing technical staff on the placement of computers, printers and scanners sent across from county headquarters. The systems were now being networked together as she finished off the details on the incident board, organised in her usual meticulous way. She was inspecting her work, hands thrust into her skirt pockets, when her boss arrived in the incident room.
‘That looks good, Rae.’ Sophie looked at the material that Rae had fixed to the board. ‘Some of Rod Armitage’s recollections match what we’ve discovered, by the way. There’s an old green jacket hanging on the back door of their house with gardening gloves stuffed in the pockets. He remembered his father taking it off and hanging it there.’
‘Doesn’t prove anything, though, does it, ma’am?’
‘Of course not, you cynic. We’ve taught you too well.’
‘I traced that car you asked about. It’s a company vehicle, registered in Bournemouth. Woodruff Holdings. I haven’t taken it any further.’
‘No, that’s fine. I’ll maybe get Barry to give Bob Thompson a bell to see if he recognises the name. Normally I’d just call Kevin McGreedie, but he’s on leave at the moment. If anything interesting crops up I’ll switch you back onto it. Can you continue digging into the family background? We need to find out if there are any skeletons in the closet. Okay?’
CHAPTER 10: Going Doolally
Monday Afternoon, Week 2
Rae Gregson had already made some headway with her research into the background of the immediate family members, and her discoveries fitted in with what they already knew. Edward Armitage had been retired for ten years. He’d been the manager of the local bus station, having risen through the ranks from his first job as a bus driver. He’d been a stickler for detail, judging from the comments Rae had gleaned from the bus company, clearly judging that cleanliness and punctuality were what the travelling public most desired from their local bus services. Quite right, Rae thought. And maybe a similar approach to his family life had been the cause of the friction with his son. Although she hadn’t yet had the pleasure of meeting the rather wayward Rod, Rae had collated all the information about him that had come in from the two previous detectives and the uniformed squad. Even at this stage of the investigation, it was looking increasingly likely that father and son had been at loggerheads for many years.
Edward had been seventy-five years old at the time of his death. He’d obviously been hard-working, and Rae guessed he must have been proud of his rise to a managerial role, having come from a family of farm labourers. Certainly the clues tended to suggest that he looked down a little on family and friends who had not progressed quite so well in their careers. Rae wondered if his attitudes, along with his motives for pushing ahead with his own career, had been formed because of his marriage to Sylvia. She had been well educated and was working in a bank when she’d met the young Edward. Her own family background had been in farming, but not as labourers. Her parents had owned a sizable farm several miles to the west of Blandford, and she’d attended a private school as a girl. Her prize possessions had included several gymkhana cups won as a teenager, still kept polished in a display cabinet in the elderly couple’s bungalow. Sylvia had never returned to work after the birth of her two children. She’d received a windfall from a favourite uncle and this had helped with the purchase of the bungalow and the residual money had helped the family through some lean times as Ted was working his way through junior roles at his work. Sylvia had volunteered for support work with several local charities once the two youngsters had left home, and these duties seemed to have kept her busy. Rae did wonder about this. Sylvia had obviously been better educated and more intellectually able than her husband, yet seemed to have done little with her life in her middle and later years. Had she found fulfilment in her charity work? It was possible, but had it really been enough?
Sharon had inherited her mother’s brains, but amplified several times. She seemed to have been a ferociously dedicated pupil while at school, winning prizes every year, finally securing a place to study medicine at Birmingham University. Her parents must have been overawed by their daughter’s achievements, and probably used them as an emotional lever against the intransigence of Sharon’s younger brother, Rod, the exact opposite in so many ways. Rae was beginning to understand the result. A family that might have seemed happy enough on the surface, but which bubbled with internal pressures underneath. Was this the ultimate cause of the tragedy that had happened several weeks previously? There was no way to tell at the moment. There were many families with similar tensions and comparable pressures, but they didn’t dissolve into a whirlpool of brutal murder. And hadn’t the boss always said that extreme family tensions tended to erupt into unplanned violence, bloody and messy? Usually easy to solve? The murder of the elderly Armitage couple didn’t fit that description, for sure. So what extra forces had been at work? She decided to widen her background research and look into Rod’s friends and acquaintances, then examine Sharon’s own family situation. She had a short-list of people who had employed Rod during recent years. Maybe it was time to pay a few visits. And then a similar probe into the very different life of his sister. Was she just too good to be true?
* * *
‘Ted was my half-brother. He was a good fifteen years older than me. His mother died when he was about ten and Dad remarried. I’m the result. We were almost different generations because of the age gap, but we got on well enough. He was a steady, reliable sort of bloke.’
Pete Armitage was in the small office from where he ran his decorating business. He employed a part time secretary, but she only worked mornings and had left an hour earlier. Rae was standing to one side of the desk as Pete sorted through the morning’s paperwork, signing invoices and documents the secretary had left for his attention.
‘What about Sylvia? How did the two of them get on?’ Rae tucked a few loose strands of dark hair behind her ears as she spoke.
‘She was lovely. Just the kind of woman most men would give their right arm for. She loved her home and her family, and she was so supportive of Ted. They doted on each other. It’s a bloody tragedy, what’s happened. I’m still in shock.’
‘Can you think of any reason why anyone would want to harm them?’
‘No. The idea’s ridiculous. Your lab people must have made a mistake. No one would want to harm them. I know there’s been friction with Rod, but he’s got no violence in him. Take it from me.’
‘But as you said, there has been friction,’ Rae suggested. ‘And stretching back some time.’
‘Rod’s always had a chip on his shoulder. It was there when he was still a small boy, it was there when he was growing up and it’s still there now. But I still don’t think he could harm anyone in his family.’ Armitage paused. ‘I suppose, from his point of view, Sharon seemed to have all the luck. The brains, the looks, the talent. What he always fails to see is that she’s worked hard to get where she is. Okay, he was never going to match her in educational stuff, but he gave up too easily on everything else as well. I know she’s naturally attractive, but he’d have been a lot better if he’d looked after himself and paid a bit more attention to his appearance.’
‘So he resented her even as a child?’ Rae suggested.
‘Yeah. He’d even try to get her into trouble. It never worked though. His lying was always totally transparent, so we all knew to double check on what he said. And Sharon could outwit
him anyway. She could see one of his half-baked schemes coming a mile off. It was sad in a way. It seems a bit disloyal of me telling you this, but you need to realise that he’s useless at planning and scheming. He couldn’t plan his way out of a paper bag.’
‘It’s just confirmation, Mr Armitage. We’ve already sussed the gist of what you’re saying. Has Rod had any close relationships?’
‘There were a couple of longstanding girlfriends, but he was never one for commitment, so they left. He only ever realised what he’d lost when it was too late. He’d mope for weeks after they’d gone, but what could he expect? That’s what I told him. He never put himself out for them, so why would they bother? Plenty more fish in the sea. Tastier ones as well.’
‘Did Rod have a reference when he joined you?’
‘Are you joking? No one has ever given Rod a good reference as far as I’m aware. He’s a bone-idle shirker. I’ve refused to give him one, now he’s left me. My name would be mud around here if he got another job on the basis of a false reference that I’d given him. I have a good reputation in Blandford and I want to keep it that way, thank you very much.’
‘But you’ve always got on well with Sharon? You sounded a bit in awe of her.’
Armitage looked up. ‘I never thought of it like that. I suppose you’re right. We Armitages are ordinary people. To have one of us get as far as Sharon has is really something special, so I suppose you’re right. We’re all a bit in awe of her, I expect. But she’s very supportive of the family. We all know we can turn to her for advice. She’s very approachable.’
‘What about her husband?’
‘Oh I like him. I know he’s French, but he’s a great bloke. They make a lovely couple.’ He made a point of looking at his watch. ‘Look, time’s getting on. I need to be back at the current job, otherwise God knows what mess my new apprentice will be making. Can you just phone me if you need anything else?’
* * *
Rae’s next visit was to the Giroux family home, a large detached house in an upmarket part of Blandford. Pierre answered the door and, after Rae had introduced herself, told the detective that his wife was still at work and wouldn’t be home until well into the evening.
‘It’s you I came to see, Mr Giroux. Just for a few minutes?’
She followed him through the hall into a comfortably furnished lounge.
‘I’d like the full details of your recent holiday in Cornwall, if possible taking it day by day.’
‘So we’re suspects?’
Rae gave a thin smile. ‘I’m sure you watch enough crime drama to realise that we have to account for everybody close to the deceased. Don’t jump to conclusions, Mr Giroux.’
She noted the details as he related each day’s activities. He’d travelled to Oxford by train in the middle of the first week of the holiday to visit his office, something he did each week.
‘But you normally drive there, don’t you?’
‘From here, yes. But it’s not a long drive from Blandford, usually about two hours. Coming from Cornwall is a different matter. Besides, I managed to get a lot of work done on the train, so I saved time in the long run.’
‘Which way did you go? Did you change at Reading?’
He nodded. ‘I stayed in the same guest house I always use. I’m there for one or two nights each week. My contract requires me to be in the office for two days each week, and I’m happy to oblige. Working from home is all very well, but those of us who do it still need some contact time in the office. Much of my work is electronic though, so I use email a lot.’
Rae finished her notes. ‘And when did Dr Giroux go to her medical conference? Was that in the second week?’ She flicked through her notes, crosschecking.
‘Yes. On the Monday and Tuesday of our second week. She took the train as well. We only took one car with us to Cornwall, you see. It seemed a sensible option to leave the car for the rest of the family in Cornwall.’
‘Hers would have been a relatively easy journey, wouldn’t it?’
‘Yes. She was only away for one night.’
They heard the sound of the front door opening and both looked up.
‘That’ll be Sharon,’ Pierre said. ‘She often pops home to drop off some paperwork and have a quick cup of tea before she starts her evening surgery.’
Rae stood up as Sharon came into the lounge. ‘Hello, Dr Giroux. I’m DC Rae Gregson, from DCI Allen’s unit. I’m just visiting to fill in some background details.’
‘Right. Anything I can help with?’
‘I just wondered if you were aware of anything unusual in the weeks leading up to your parents’ deaths? Anything out of the ordinary?’
‘Not really. Their lives were pretty routine, as are most people’s at their age. The only thing they mentioned was a bit of a mix-up at a funeral they went to at the beginning of last month. Apparently they ended up attending the wrong funeral service, though they extricated themselves before it really got going. I think Rod knows more about it than me. He happened to call on them the same evening and found them a bit upset about it.’
Rae frowned. ‘He hasn’t mentioned it, as far as I know.’
‘He wouldn’t, simply because he’ll have forgotten about it entirely. Don’t think there’s anything suspicious in his omission. Things just don’t stick in his mind.’
Rae decided to call in on Rod Armitage on her way back to the station.
* * *
Rod was sitting on the front step of his block of flats, enjoying the sunshine and sipping at a can of lager. He looked up as Rae stopped in front of him and showed her warrant card.
‘Yeah, I know, I’m a lager lout. But it’s not against the law, is it? Or aren’t we even allowed to do this now? Bloody police state.’
‘I’m not here for that, Mr Armitage. I’m part of DCI Allen’s team and I’ve come round to ask you a few more questions about your parents. Well, one thing in particular. Your sister told me that your parents had some kind of funeral mix-up a while ago. Apparently you saw them later that evening, so you might know more of the details than her. What can you remember?’
‘What? When was this?’
‘She said it happened early last month, and that they were upset about it. Is that right?’
Rod looked blankly at her for a few moments before his expression cleared. ‘Oh yeah. They went to some friend’s funeral and ended up in the wrong one. How stupid is that?’
‘Can you remember any of the details?’
‘No! How would I know about some old codger’s funeral? It made me think they were going doolally themselves.’
‘Did they say where it was?’
‘Poole, I think. They said it was a sunny afternoon and the people there were weird. That’s all I remember. Maybe they’d had a bit too much to drink themselves. S’not likely, though. They were mean with the booze.’
‘Well, if you do remember anything else, particularly the date, please contact us. You have our details, don’t you?’
He nodded and raised his can to his lips, watching as Rae turned back to her car.
CHAPTER 11: Ripples on the Pond
Monday Afternoon, Week 2
Tony Sorrento was visiting one of the Woodruff-owned premises in Poole. He drew into the prime parking place at the Boulevard Casino Club and climbed out of the Range Rover. He cast his eyes over the vehicle. He’d asked Gordy for an identical replacement, but now wondered if a silver one might not be a better choice.
‘Thinking of a new limo, Tony?’ The speaker was a burly man with a pale face who had just come out of the staff door.
Sorrento turned and nodded. ‘Let’s go inside, Toffee. I need to get to the bottom of that problem you reported. Who was it again?’
‘Jimmy Russell. He joined us two years ago. At the start his takings matched everyone else’s, but the past eighteen months they’re down one month in about every three. He’s palming some of the bar money, I’m sure of it, but never when I’m around checking.’
‘It probably totals a couple of thou. I’ll show you.’
Sorrento followed the club manager into his office, where a spreadsheet displayed on a laptop screen showed the bar takings of recent months, broken down by staff member.
‘Does he know that we monitor the takings like this?’
Toffee Barber shook his head. ‘None of them do. It’s what we agreed years ago, remember?’
‘Of course I remember. I made the rule. It’s just that it leaks out sometimes.’
‘Not here in my club. No leaks.’
Sorrento thought for a few moments. ‘Any other clues? New car? New home? New togs? New wife?’
Barber shook his head.
‘Drugs, then?’
‘Possibly. He’s been looking a bit pasty at times, a bit spaced out.’
‘I’ve told you not to employ druggies.’
‘And I don’t. He was fine when he started, and there’s nothing obvious to spot.’
‘Is he on tonight?’
‘Yeah, from eight until two.’
Tony looked across at the club manager. ‘I’ll be back to see him as soon as he arrives. Don’t let him know. And keep that parking slot free for me.’
* * *
Sorrento was back just before the seven o’clock opening, waiting in the manager’s office. He watched coldly from behind the desk as Toffee brought a nervous-looking man into the room and indicated that he should sit at the desk. Toffee moved to stand near the door.
‘Happy in your work, Jimmy?’
Russell nodded nervously. The dark suit he was wearing hung loosely on him, and he looked gaunt, strained and anxious. His thin, dark hair lay plastered to his head as if it hadn’t been seen shampoo for days, or longer.
‘Don’t we pay you enough?’ Sorrento leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head. He waited.
‘Things are a bit tight, I s’pose. Could do with a bit more.’
Sorrento smiled thinly. ‘That was a rhetorical question, Jimmy. Maybe you don’t know what that means, so I’ll explain it to you. You’re not meant to answer it. I asked it to make a point. Do you understand now?’
TWISTED CRIMES a gripping detective mystery full of suspense Page 7