TWISTED CRIMES a gripping detective mystery full of suspense

by MICHAEL HAMBLING

  They left the office, taking the stack of folders with them.

  ‘Useful, Mr Mitchell. Gives us many of the people he’d have been in contact with. You’ll get them back when we’ve finished with them, probably in a couple of days.’

  They walked back to the car.

  ‘He’ll be panicking round about now,’ Sophie said. ‘He’ll be back in that office to see exactly what we’ve taken, then he’ll be on the blower to his bosses. Someone, sometime, will think of our man, Pete. If he is involved, they’ll start to worry.’

  ‘Do you think he might be in danger?’

  ‘Only if he is involved somehow. If it’s purely coincidence, then he’s got nothing to worry about, has he?’

  ‘But we don’t know yet.’

  ‘No. Do you think we should put Blackman and McCluskie onto surveillance, just to keep him safe? They’ll do a good job, won’t they? Two solid, reliable, hard-working coppers.’ Sophie laughed.

  CHAPTER 26: Willy-Waggling

  Saturday Evening, Week 2

  A thin drizzle was falling, creating halos around the lights along the footpath. The figure in the dark coat had turned up his collar and lowered his umbrella as he approached. Mitchell couldn’t make out his features.

  ‘Listen, Wayne. Don’t tell me anything I don’t absolutely need to know. And that includes what you and your pals have been getting up to, because it makes me an accessory. The less I know the better. And who’s this guy with you?’

  ‘Gordon Mitchell. He’s been doing our legal stuff for years now. We’ve just promoted him, so he’ll be doing some of Tony’s jobs. You need to be able to recognise him, just in case.’

  Gordon stepped forward and held out his hand. It was ignored.

  ‘Recognise him? Christ, what do you want from me now? Listen, this has gone far enough. I’m not some little snitch, at your beck and call. I looked after your dad’s interests as a favour. All I did was to tip him off if the police were visiting one of his places. As far as I’m concerned, that stopped when he died. That’s what I told Sorrento. And the stuff you’ve been up to in the last few days turns my stomach. I don’t know why the two of you fell out, I never asked him for details. But what you did was way beyond what was necessary. What is it with you? First that old couple, now one of your own top people. Are you fucking mad? Talk about a hornets’ nest. Why did you do it?’

  ‘He was double-crossing me and my family. It was either him or us. No alternative. And I’ve got Frimwell to keep sweet, now he’s involved. He won’t put up with any dissent. And as for that doddery old couple, do you think it was me that topped them in case they'd seen something? I'm not some psychopathic nut-head like Frimwell. There was more to it than that, trust me.’

  There was a snort. ‘Frimwell? That mad bastard? He’s inside, locked up safe and sound. For life. What can he do?’

  ‘He’s still running things for his family. His sisters get a load of dosh each month from their mum’s trust fund, and it’s that same trust that owns the properties we’ll be buying. I want Gordon here to take over the running of that trust, then start to make changes. Access to it will give me a helluva lot of flexibility. But I’ve got to keep the Frimwells sweet, all of them. They’re a close lot.’

  The man was slowly shaking his head. He was deliberately standing in deep shadow, and Gordon still couldn’t make out any of his features.

  Woodruff continued. ‘And I know you did more for my dad. I know you pulled strings and made contacts for him, so don’t try and bullshit me. I won’t ask you to do any more for me than you were doing for him, so don’t get high and mighty. I’ll make it worth your while. We’ll all be in clover once I get our business merged with the Frimwells.’

  Gordon had never worked this closely with Wayne before, he’d always had Sorrento as a go-between. His new boss wasn't as canny as he’d imagined. Gordon was learning a lot from this exchange but he was worried about the implications of what he'd heard. Was Wayne behind the recent deaths, as this cop had implied?

  ‘So it’s a merger now? Sorrento was talking of just buying some of their properties.’

  Woodruff sighed. ‘It was all so unnecessary. He never realised that I’d always planned this. He thought up his little scheme all by himself, and just didn’t twig that he was treading on my toes. I had a far bigger project in mind.’

  ‘Isn’t it chancy getting involved with the Frimwells? Do you think you’ll be able to control them?’

  Wayne laughed. ‘You don’t get it, do you? You cops think you know everything, but you fucking don’t. I know it’ll work because I’ve got an insider. I don’t just have you and that greedy council bloke who acts like he’s some bigwig but does everything I tell him. Shall I tell you his weakness, apart from the money I give him? He likes snorting crack in the presence of a couple of busty babes. He can’t resist the white powder and the big tits. And if the trail of crack is spread out on the big tits, even better.’ He paused. ‘No, I have an insider in the Frimwell family business, involved with the trust fund. And there’s stacks of cash there. So stay on my good side, my friendly cop, and you too will be in clover.’

  ‘I’ll need to think about it,’ came the reply.

  ‘Okay, but don’t take too long. And you’d better make the right decision when you’ve done your thinking. Savvy?’

  The man turned on his heels and walked away, his tall form quickly disappearing into the mist and gloom.

  ‘Prick,’ Woodruff said. ‘It’s different days for him now. He either sings to my tune or not at all.’

  Gordon and Woodruff turned back towards their car. ‘What can you do if he doesn’t play along?’ Gordon asked.

  ‘Plenty. And if Blythe starts playing up as well, I’ve got enough to link the two together and bring them both down. The finer detail will be up to you, Gordy, you’re our legal man. But it won’t be too tough.’

  ‘How’s Griffy taking the change? He wasn’t happy when I told him about my new role last night at your barbecue.’

  ‘He’ll come round. He knows which way his bread is buttered. It’ll all be fine, Gordy. The whole thing is sitting there like a big, juicy plum, ripe for the picking. I’ve been thinking about this for years, ever since I married Sue. And working on it since Frimwell was locked up. I could see what it would mean even then.’

  ‘How can you be so confident?’ Gordon asked. ‘Don’t get me wrong, it’s a good plan and I can’t see any problems, but you seem so sure.’

  ‘Don’t you know? Haven’t you twigged? Sue is Ricky Frimwell’s sister. She’s the brains behind the family trust. That’s why I was laughing all the time Tony was up to his shenanigans. He didn’t know that my wife is Ricky’s sister, and he didn’t know anything about their trust. And you, my good friend, with your brains and your legal know-how, are ideally placed to exploit it. Sue is on our side, so we’re nearly home and dry. She thinks she runs things, but I know better.’ He paused. ‘God, I feel on top of the world. How about a couple of beers before we split? I’ve got a bit of a thirst.’

  * * *

  Back at the Mitchells’ house, Marilyn was pouring nibbles into a couple of dishes when the doorbell rang. She glanced at her watch. That would be Sue Woodruff, a few minutes later than planned. Sue had phoned Marilyn soon after Gordon had left, asking if she could pop round for a chat. Marilyn had been looking forward to an evening with her feet up, watching the television, but she didn’t feel able to turn down a request from the wife of Gordon’s new boss.

  Marilyn walked slowly to the door. Sue was on the doorstep, already slipping out of her coat, ready to hang it up. She was wearing an expensive-looking dress and high heels. She leant forward to give Marilyn a quick hug and a kiss.

  ‘You’re looking great, Marilyn. I don’t know how you’re feeling, but I thought last night how well you were looking.’

  Marilyn smiled, trying to appear cheerful. ‘Shall we go through to the sitting room? I’ve got some wine chilling in the fridge if you�
��d like some.’

  Again the warm smile. ‘Actually, Marilyn, could I just have a cup of tea? I’m not a great one for the booze, and I suffered a bit this morning after all that bubbly last night.’

  ‘Of course. It will suit me better too.’

  Sue followed her through to the kitchen and chatted amiably while the kettle boiled. ‘I hope you don’t mind me popping round. I wanted a chat out of earshot of the men. They can be such a bloody pain at times.’ She laughed. Marilyn began to thaw.

  ‘Not at all. The two boys are in bed, so I haven’t got much to do. I must warn you that I’m not great company at the moment, particularly come evening. I’ve got to that stage where I feel listless.’

  ‘I’ve never had children, Marilyn. In fact I can’t. I had a hurried abortion back when I was a student, and something went wrong. So no kids for us.’

  Marilyn didn’t quite know what to say. ‘Sorry to hear it. Have you thought of adopting?’

  ‘We’ve thought of it, but decided no. To be honest, I’m not really the maternal type, though please don’t take that as a criticism of you. We’re all different.’

  Marilyn made the tea. She was about to pick up the tray but Sue took it from her.

  ‘I’ll carry, you lead.’

  Marilyn wondered if she’d misjudged Sue. She spoke well and seemed considerate. ‘So you were a student?’ she asked, sitting down and propping her feet up on the couch. ‘At university?’

  ‘Yes. I did a degree in business economics. I’m not as stupid as I look.’ She gave a slightly throaty laugh. ‘People underestimate me, and I like it that way. It gives me the upper hand. Keep this to yourself but I make a lot of the decisions, Marilyn, not Wayne. It’s me that decides the future course of the company. I used to make quiet suggestions to Phil about good property investments, and he always listened to me. It’s a bit harder with Wayne, even though he’s my husband. It was me that decided to offer the job to Gordon. I’ve always thought he was a decent guy who worked hard. It was me that decided to ditch Sorrento. I never liked him after he made a pass at me a couple of years ago at a party. And his recent plans were half-baked. I expected to see him there last night, though. I don’t know where he’s got to.’

  ‘He gave me the shudders,’ Marilyn admitted. ‘He never tried it on with me, but I could feel his eyes all over me whenever we met.’

  ‘Exactly. So we women need to stick together. Which is why I’ve come round for this chat, since Wayne and Gordon are both out. Men are just far too competitive and extreme, Marilyn. Everything seems to come down to willy-waggling and unnecessary violence. I just don’t like it.’ She paused. ‘You have a background in property development, don’t you?’

  Marilyn nodded. ‘And sales. That was before I had the children, though I’ve worked part time in recent years.’ She poured the tea and waited. Was there a proposition coming?

  * * *

  In their Wareham home, Sophie Allen’s husband, Martin, was in the sitting room fiddling with the stereo.

  ‘It’s still not my favourite though.’ Tracy Daunt, Matt Silver’s wife, was in a deep discussion with Martin Allen about the merits of different Jacqui Dankworth albums. ‘I saw her at the Harrogate music festival some years ago. It was great jazz, and then she did an encore — Sitting On Top of the World. It’s an old blues classic, apparently. It was stunning. Someone told me that she took it a lot faster than most blues groups do. Just perfect. I was on my feet, jigging around, and nearly spilt my glass of wine.’

  ‘I like blues. It goes down well with a pint of decent beer,’ Sophie said. ‘I keep meaning to pop down to Swanage for one of the blues festival weekends, but I’ve never made it. The one time I did go it was because there’d been a murder, so I was otherwise engaged. We did have to visit a couple of the pubs, and some of the bands sounded pretty good. Very “sixties” though. Right up your street, Tracy.’ She laughed.

  ‘Oh, that hurts. I was just about to offer to clear the dishes away, but I think I’ll have a sulk instead.’

  ‘I couldn’t sulk, not after that food.’ Laura McGreedie had managed to eat more than she’d expected to. ‘I don’t know where you found that husband of yours, Sophie, but if you ever want to trade him in, I’d be interested. He cooks like a dream.’

  Sophie nodded. ‘He does, doesn’t he? That’s why I stick with him through thick and thin. Love may come and go, but good food lasts forever. Jade does the food shopping, Martin cooks it and I enjoy it. Seems a fair division of labour to me.’ She reached across and squeezed Martin’s hand.

  Martin had really come up trumps with the food this evening, particularly the venison en croute with a stilton topping. Laura looked pale and drawn, clearly worried about her forthcoming course of chemotherapy, but she’d obviously enjoyed having an evening out among friends and had more than held her own in the conversation. She was looking more tired now, though.

  ‘Sulk over,’ Tracy said. ‘Let’s get busy clearing the debris. Come on you two. These three coppers clearly need to chat. Alternatively, we three spouses could sit here and enjoy our liqueurs, and they can clear the table and chat in the kitchen. Doesn’t that seem fairer to you? Of course it does. Get cracking, you three.’ She pushed her husband to his feet, jabbed Kevin McGreedie in the ribs with her elbow and glared at Sophie. ‘We can put our feet up, swap cooking tips and gossip about you behind your backs.’

  Sophie dutifully led her colleagues into the kitchen, each carrying a load of dishes and cutlery.

  ‘Do we need to talk?’ Matt asked her while they stacked the dishwasher.

  ‘If you want. At the moment we’re still trying to find out more about this Sorrento character who was found dead yesterday.’ Sophie gave a short summary of their progress.

  ‘Are you sure it’s linked to the other deaths?’ Matt said. ‘Could have been coincidence, surely?’

  ‘Last weekend I saw him looking at the first crime scene through binoculars. Why would he be doing that?’

  Matt shrugged. ‘I’m not questioning you, Sophie, I’m just making suggestions. If you’re convinced, then that’s fine. Do you have another connection?’

  ‘We’re working on it.’

  He looked at her. ‘Why do I get the impression you’re holding something back? That’s not like you.’

  She was saved by a call on her mobile phone. It was Rae Gregson.

  ‘Ma’am, you were right. We followed him to the central gardens. He met a couple of other men. One was the guy in the photo you had. Mitchell, I think you said? The other was the Woodruff guy, from what you described. The problem is, the photos don’t show much. It was too misty and drizzly, and our guy kept his collar up and his umbrella down. They talked for about ten minutes, then he got back in his car and drove off. We followed the other two back towards Poole. Woodruff dropped Mitchell off first, presumably at his house, then drove home. Nice house with a big garden. Very posh area. And I got more information about a certain councillor into the bargain.’

  ‘Thanks, Rae. Get yourself home now. And tell Rose thanks from me for giving up one of her free evenings.’

  ‘She’s a real laugh, ma’am, and a totally mad driver as well. We might go for a couple of drinks before we split up. Apparently she knows a pub where they serve chilli and rice until late on a Saturday night. Sounds good to me.’

  Sophie was smiling as she replaced her phone.

  ‘Good news?’ Kevin McGreedie asked.

  ‘Oh, yes. But that’s all I’m saying at the moment.’

  CHAPTER 27: Proposal

  Sunday, Week 2

  The following day was a Sunday, but Barry Marsh was in the incident room early that morning. He wanted peace and quiet in order to analyse the photographic evidence from Friday’s murder scene, now the details were all in. The trouble was, he couldn’t assemble a picture in his mind. All at once, he shoved the papers into a folder and made his way out to his car. He would have to visit Morden Bog, there was nothing else for it.

&
nbsp; Twenty minutes later, he was turning into the gravel parking area on the southern side of the reserve. He spoke briefly to the uniformed officer on duty there, then walked along the rough track into the scrubby woodland. The track petered out after about fifty yards, ending in a shadowy cul-de-sac wide enough to accommodate two vehicles, side by side. This was where they had seen two sets of faint tyre tracks, along with blood scatter on some of the nearby foliage.

  Barry stood to one side, photos in hand, trying to visualise the scene. If a vehicle had already been parked on the left side of the small clearing, it would have forced Sorrento to pull in on the right, with his door very close to where the assault seemed to have occurred. Someone could have been hiding just behind that bush, only a yard or two away from where Sorrento would have been getting out of his car. If he’d had a rock in his hand ready, he could have moved forward quickly and hit Sorrento on the side of the head when he was at a disadvantage, off balance as he started to straighten up. The spot was gloomy even in daylight. At dusk it would have been difficult to spot a second person, particularly if Sorrento’s attention was being distracted by whoever had lured him to the scene. It all seemed to fit. The forensic team’s vehicle expert was fairly sure that the tyre tracks on the right were that of a four-by-four, possibly a Range Rover. That would tally with the boss’s sighting of Sorrento’s vehicle the previous weekend. The blood spatter on the nearby foliage suggested a hard blow and the trail of disturbed undergrowth matched the image of Sorrento’s body being dragged the twenty yards or so to its resting place in the densest clump of shrubs. The areas of flattened undergrowth beside the edges of the clearing indicated that the vehicles had turned before leaving. The drivers would not have wanted to reverse down that narrow track at night.