Barry opened his mouth to reply, but saw that his boss's attention was elsewhere. Was it his imagination, or did she look a little on edge?
‘I want to bring Blackman and McCluskie in closer,’ she finally said. ‘I know it seems to go against my previous decision, but I want them where we can keep our eyes on them. And we don’t post anything else on the incident board about the Woodruffs or anyone connected to them. We’ll keep that line to ourselves. Agreed?’ They all nodded. ‘Rae, remove that second reference, the one about the car I saw. That’ll leave just the one, the funeral mix-up.’
‘Why, ma’am?’ Rae asked.
‘I want to see if its disappearance causes either of them to comment. Tell me if that happens, won’t you?’
* * *
Blackman and McCluskie appeared in the incident room mid-morning, sober and smartly dressed. Marsh met them and took them into Sophie’s office. Both seemed slightly nervous.
Sophie’s tone was cool. ‘I need someone to log and crosscheck all of the forensic details, so that’ll be your job. Barry here is my second, so you report to him. I want to know all there is to know about the car, the crime scene and how and when they might have got there. You might need to cross check with the uniformed squad that found the car, Rose Simons and George Warrander. Don’t contact the family in any way without my say so. I have Rae Gregson from my own team liaising with the two of them, and I want it to stay that way. You’ll need to get up to speed with what we already know from the forensic team, but more information will trickle in on a daily basis and we’ll adapt what we’re doing accordingly. You’ll work from here, in the incident room.’
Blackman frowned. ‘Do we have to, ma’am? I mean we have our office downstairs. Can’t we just use that, as normal?’
‘Why would you want to do that? The whole point of a murder investigation is that you keep abreast of what’s going on, so I want you in here. We work from eight to eight. And every time you go out it gets logged on the system. Time out, time back in, where, what and why. Check with Barry before you go anywhere. Have a rundown ready for me at the end of each day. Clear?’ She smiled thinly.
Marsh showed them their work desks and went to have a chat with Rae.
‘Christ,’ was all Blackman could manage.
‘Ditto,’ McCluskie replied. ‘Welcome to the workhouse.’
* * *
The full autopsy report arrived mid-morning. Sophie sat down with Marsh and ploughed through the details. There was nothing new, and they weren’t expecting anything, but they still had to double check.
‘It doesn’t make sense, ma’am. The deaths, I mean. I still can’t imagine any scenario that would justify murdering that couple in such a calculated, planned way. It’s just so weird.’
Sophie finished reading the final page and looked up. ‘I know what you mean. We’re missing something. Whatever it is, it’ll be some little snippet that will make everything fall into place. The family are all mostly sensible people. I even wonder if Rod isn’t more capable than he appears to be. Okay, so we haven’t had time to make any real progress yet on the possible link to this Woodruff person, whoever he was, but I still can’t see how a mistaken visit to a funeral could end up in a double murder. It’s what Rae said earlier, we’re not in gangland Chicago. Even there, I doubt whether a couple like the Armitages would ever find themselves victims of violence as senseless as this. So it isn’t senseless. It can’t be. Someone, somewhere, either gains a lot from their deaths or was in danger of losing a lot with them alive.’
‘Follow the money?’
‘It’s the best way. It’s what my gut instincts tell me. I’ve always said, Barry, there are crimes of passion, usually easy to solve, and crimes of greed and cover-up, often more difficult because they’ve been planned very carefully. This has all the markings of the latter.’ She paused. ‘Deep Throat deserves a medal for that phrase. It’s become a cliché, but a lot of the time it’s true.’
Marsh shook his head. ‘You’ve lost me.’
‘All the President’s Men. My favourite film of all time. As far as I know, that was the first time it was used. Deep Throat was the insider, feeding information to the two investigative journalists, Woodward and Bernstein. He advised Woodward to “follow the money” at one of their secret meetings.’ She looked at the clock. ‘How do you fancy a pub lunch, Barry? Across in Bournemouth, maybe?’
* * *
The Rising Moon was a large, red-brick building dating back to the years after the Second World War. It had a car park to one side and a garden at the rear, surrounded by hanging baskets and small flower beds, all full of colourful blooms. Inside, the two detectives looked around them. The place was clean, carpeted and well furnished. A few people sat at the scattered tables, and two men propped up the bar.
‘Is it how you remember it, Barry?’
‘No, not at all. It used to be a bit of a dive, to be honest. It was split into two bars, as a lot of pubs were back then. This open-plan decor is much better, and the whole place has a more comfortable feel.’
Sophie ordered a pint of ale and a glass of orange juice from the barmaid, and collected two lunch menus from the counter. As always, the fruit juice was put down in front of her and the beer pushed towards Marsh. She pointedly switched them over.
‘Sorry,’ said the young woman. ‘Unusual, though.’
Sophie smiled. ‘I know I am. In lots of ways. Even so, you should have asked.’ She saw one of the men smirk. ‘I’ll have the chilli and rice. What about you, Barry?’
‘Ham, egg and chips, please.’
The barmaid put through the order. The two detectives chose a quiet table set in an alcove that gave them a view of the room.
Sophie sipped her beer. ‘Tell me what the place was like ten years ago.’
‘It used to have a dividing wall down the middle of this room. The bar was in the same place and served both rooms. We used the public bar. That was in the other section. This area was the lounge and was a bit nicer, but not that much. I never came in here if I was out with a girl. It was too naff. We used to go to the bars close to the seafront. Much livelier. This place was convenient ’cause it was close to my digs. I never liked the staff very much either. Maybe they knew I was a copper. Let’s hope the food’s better than it was then.’
‘Pub food is always a bit chancy, isn’t it?’
‘They used to have curry on the menu, trying to compete with the takeaway, I guess. That place wasn’t great, but the curry here was total crap. They should have just stuck to sausage and mash. At least that was edible.’
Sophie laughed. She looked up as a staff door opened on the other side of the bar. Three men entered, and made their way to the bar, where they helped themselves to some sandwiches laid out ready on a plate and sipped gin and tonics, which the barmaid poured as soon as she spotted them.
‘The shorter one reminds me a bit of old Phil,’ Barry said. ‘I wonder if it’s his son.’
‘I can top that,’ Sophie replied. ‘One of the others, the one with the scar on his face, is the man I spotted up at Morden Bog last weekend. Well, well. Aren’t things getting interesting?’
They watched the men chatting to the barmaid until a bell rang behind her. She disappeared through a doorway and re-emerged with two plates. The group at the bar watched as she crossed the room and laid the plates down in front of the two detectives.
‘I think I’ve got it right this time,’ she said.
‘What is it about men and chips?’ Sophie replied. ‘A whole day’s calories on one plate.’
The barmaid tilted her head. ‘Not so much the ones we serve. They’re cooked with just a spray of oil. Probably no more calories in his meal than yours.’
Sophie smiled. ‘Well, that’s good to hear from his point of view, but you’ve got me worried.’
The young woman looked her up and down. ‘I’m sure you don’t need to worry too much, with your figure. I only hope I’m half as slim at your age.’
/> They were part way through their food when the man Barry thought he recognised came across to them. ‘Everything alright?’ he asked.
They nodded.
‘It’s fine, Mr . . ?’ said Sophie.
‘Woodruff. I’m the licensee here.’
‘No complaints, you’ll be glad to hear. And the beer’s good too. How long have you had the pub, Mr Woodruff?’
‘It’s been in the family for years but most of that time it was my dad’s name above the door. He died early last month. We own a few other pubs and clubs in the area. Are you local?’
‘No. We’re based near Dorchester and were just passing by.’ She glanced across to the bar, but the other two men had their backs turned. Woodruff walked back to join them and all three left.
‘Do you think he recognised you, ma’am? The one with the scar?’
Sophie shrugged. ‘I couldn’t tell. To be honest, I couldn’t care less. And anyway, all I am is some woman who spoke to him on Saturday morning, nothing more than that. And if he did recognise me, and found out who I am, it might put more pressure on him, and that might lead to a slip up. He either has something to hide or he doesn’t. If he does, we’ll get to the bottom of it. Let’s finish up. We should get back so I can needle Blackman and McCluskie a bit more.’
* * *
‘So who is she?’
‘Only the fucking chief inspector in charge of the murder investigation, that’s who,’ Sorrento replied.
He and Woodruff were standing at an office window, looking out through net curtains onto the car park below.
‘What? What’s she doing here?’
‘Maybe you can tell me. On second thoughts, I don’t want to know, in case it makes me some kind of accessory. If you did have anything to do with those deaths, Wayne, you’d better get your thinking cap on, because she seems to have picked up your scent. But one thing you need to know is that the rest of us won’t agree to you putting our insider at risk by leaning on him to find out. For years he’s been useful in keeping the cops out of our hair, and we want it to stay that way. He’s got to stay hidden. We don’t involve him, apart from asking him to keep us informed, even if you think he might save your hide. We have our futures to think about, and we don’t want them going down the pan.’ He looked out of the window again as the detectives drove away, the ginger-haired man behind the wheel. ‘Yeah, that car was parked along from mine on Saturday morning. It’s her alright. Look, Gordy and I’ll find out what we can and keep you posted. Just don’t do anything hasty. It’ll all probably blow over if you give it time.’
Once Woodruff had returned to his office, Sorrento took out his mobile phone and sent an urgent text message. ‘Need to meet again. Important.’
CHAPTER 18: Family Questions
Thursday afternoon, Week 2
Sophie sipped her tea and looked around the lounge of the Giroux home.
‘Have there been any developments?’ Sharon asked.
‘Yes, fairly substantial ones, but I can’t tell you any more than that, Dr Giroux, certainly no details at this stage. You must realise that there are a number of puzzling aspects to the case and we’re in the process of trying to link them all together.’
‘So there isn’t an imminent arrest?’
‘You just have to be patient. We don’t move until we’re fairly sure.’
‘In that case, why are you here?’
‘Because I need more information from you about your two-day visit to Exeter during your holiday. You told us it was in the middle of your second week in Cornwall. I need the full details. Times. Where you stayed, what you did, who you were with. It’s a necessary formality, Dr Giroux.’
‘Your DC could have asked me for that. Why you this time?’
‘Because I have a suspicion that you’re holding back on something. So, to start, I want full details about the conference.’
Sharon sighed. ‘It was at Exeter University on the Monday and Tuesday of our second week in Cornwall. It was a catch-up for GPs on the latest information about prostate cancer diagnosis.’
Sophie looked at her. ‘That was on the Monday, and it was a single day according to the organisers. It didn’t spill over to a second day.’ She waited.
‘On Tuesday there was a symposium on the latest treatments for patients with CPD, so I stayed on.’
‘That was in the afternoon, from two onwards.’ Again she waited.
‘What are you implying?’ Sharon asked.
‘I’m not implying anything, Dr Giroux. I just need to know where you were during those two days. Look, why don’t you start from the time you set off from your holiday cottage? The Monday morning, wasn’t it? What time?’
‘I left shortly after six thirty. I’d booked a taxi to take me to St Austell station. The session was due to begin at ten, so that gave me plenty of time for the journey. I checked in and dumped my bags in the overnight room I’d been allocated, then I freshened up. It also gave me time to grab a coffee before the session started.’
‘Did everyone arrive at about the same time?’
‘About half of us. Some of the people from further away had travelled the day before. Anyway, the session went on until six. It was meant to finish earlier, but there was a lot of discussion about a couple of points.’ She fell into silence.
‘Many of the delegates left at that point. Am I right?’
Sharon seemed reticent. ‘Most. Only a few were staying over for the session on the following day.’
‘So what did you do that evening?’
‘I went out for dinner with a few other doctors and then on for some drinks.’
A very minimal answer. Sophie again sensed that Sharon was nervous and holding back on something.
‘Is there something you want to add to that?’
‘No. Why should I? It’s what I did. I’ve answered your question.’
‘I’ll need names, for corroboration purposes.’
‘For heaven’s sake. This is ridiculous.’
‘It isn’t, Dr Giroux. We’re investigating a double murder, as you well know. Every single item of information we’re given is double checked. That’s standard procedure. If I went back without taking any names from you, it would be a dereliction of duty. You need to tell me who you were with.’
Sharon pursed her lips. ‘I don’t know that I can do that.’
‘Well, let’s come back to it. You led us to believe that you were fully involved in a conference the next day, but it was only in the afternoon. So what did you do in the morning?’
‘I did some shopping in Exeter and wandered around the cathedral.’
‘Alone?’
Again the pursed lips. ‘No. I was with someone.’
‘Was this someone in the group you spent the Tuesday evening with?’
Sharon nodded.
‘And at the conference?’
Sharon looked trapped. ‘Look, there was nothing in it, but I don’t want Pierre to know.’
‘So it was some kind of liaison?’
Sharon sighed. ‘He was my boyfriend when I was at university. We split up just after we graduated. We’ve kept in touch but at a distance. Those two days were the first time we’d seen each other since we were students. We just wanted some time together to catch up on each other’s lives.’
‘So you weren’t out in a group?’
‘We were for the meal, then the two of us split off and headed to a different pub for a quiet drink. I think we were both curious to see if the old spark was still there.’
‘And was it?’
‘It was different compared to the old days. Look, I value what I have. My husband and family mean the world to me and I wouldn’t dream of doing anything that would put our future at risk.’
‘It’s not my place to judge you, but I will need his name and a contact number. As I said, everything has to be corroborated. But I can assure you that we will be totally discreet.’
‘Okay. I think I trust you and your team, but I’d hav
e had problems with those two cretins who came round initially. I wouldn’t trust them further than I could throw them. They make me shudder.’
‘None of this will go on the incident board, Dr Giroux. It will be kept tight between myself and my immediate team. I may not even tell them unless it opens up a new avenue.’
‘Well, it won’t, I can assure you of that. I didn’t kill my parents, if that’s what you mean.’ She wrote a name and telephone number on a slip of paper and handed it across to Sophie.
‘Does your husband know? That you stayed in contact?’
Sharon shook her head and tears appeared in the corners of her eyes. She lowered her head, but then looked up again. ‘It’s just escapism. You must know, surely? Sometimes life seems to be just one gigantic juggling act. Family, work, house, elderly relatives. All those responsibilities piling up, all clamouring for attention. Even on holiday there was the pressure of keeping the kids amused. I just needed to escape from it all for a day or two.’
Sophie covered Sharon’s hand with hers. ‘I know the feeling all too well. I said not to worry about it and I meant it.’
Sharon gave her a weak smile.
‘We’ll need to see Pierre, to go through the same questions with him. Is he home at the moment?’
‘No. Today’s his day in Oxford. He’s due back mid-morning tomorrow.’
‘Okay. If I can’t make it, I’ll send one of my team round.’
* * *
Rae was putting the finishing touches to her report on the family finances. She’d discovered some unexpected aspects. Much of the financial history was as she would have expected, and showed a careful approach to managing their money. Their main bank account was jointly held, and the same had been true of their house mortgage until it had been paid off some years earlier. Sylvia had also maintained a savings account in her own name for many years and this account now held a sizable sum. The regular withdrawals from it seemed to have all gone to charity and were fairly small.
Rae looked again at the details. Her boss had said often enough that money matters were at the root of so many family murders. People saw that the chance of gaining a large sum of money might be slipping away from them, and decided to act before they lost what they often saw as theirs by right. Maybe Sylvia had started talking about giving more of the money away to charity, and the son or daughter may have decided that their future inheritance was being put at risk. But which one? Sharon was far better off financially than Rod, but her overheads would be much greater. A larger house, two children, an expensive lifestyle. Rod was poor, almost destitute, but his needs were few. What if the two of them had acted together? What if the friction between them was a sham, put on deliberately to divert suspicion?
TWISTED CRIMES a gripping detective mystery full of suspense Page 11