by David Beard
‘We need forensics to check all the small items again, the rings and things, Dexter. I don’t think there’s much chance of a trace of anything on them, especially the earring, as it has been resting in twenty thousand gallons of chlorinated water, but you never know. There may be something they have overlooked. I want to see if the jeweller can identify Budge, I’ll take him a rogue’s gallery and see if he can pick him out. Also, I’ve got to chase up the cartridges we found. There were two missing by the way. Eli won’t co-operate, so I’m trying to find the source.’
‘We’ve got enough on him to put him away for a goodly spell anyway and with the ammunition thing we’ll get a remand. That would be a bonus. Yes, good ideas, set it all in motion. I’ll leave these things to you. See how you go.’
Tiley looked extremely pleased with his lot. ‘I suppose it means now I’m on my own for a while I’ll have to buy my own …’ he began.
Smalacombe felt in his pocket and threw the peppermints in his direction. ‘Now, fuck off.’ Tiley caught them and threw them in the air to catch them again in his clenched fist. He smiled and bounced out through the door.
Smalacombe worked uninterruptedly for the rest of the day. He snacked on sandwiches that WPC Childs kindly brought up from the canteen for him, as she was sharing the same lunchtime routine as he was in the outer office. At a quarter to five, just as he was preparing to wind up for the day Tiley rushed in to his office.
‘I’ve seen the jeweller this afternoon and he has identified Budge. The Met have been on the phone, they’ve got Budge in custody, in Shepherd’s Bush. When do you want to see him?’
‘Now! Let’s get on with it! I don’t want another bloody day like today. What about your missus? Can you get away? We could be there by ten.’ He checked his watch, which was no more than a spontaneous reaction to his remark. Despite the look he didn’t register the time exactly because he was already roughly aware of it.
‘What’s the hurry? We can’t see both of them tonight anyway. We certainly won’t get hold of Golding until midday tomorrow at the earliest.’
‘OK. Let’s make it tomorrow morning then. I’ll pick you up at say, six o’clock?’
‘Leave it to me,’ said Tiley. He hurried back to his desk and picked up the phone.
CHAPTER 15
Tuesday July 11th
It was exactly eleven o clock but more than twelve hours later than Smalacombe’s original timetable when they arrived in the police station at Shepherds Bush, a stone’s throw from Wormwood Scrubs, an edifice with which Kelvin Budge was very familiar. Smalacombe was not surprised that Rita Golding was unavailable for interview until noon. Within ten minutes or so of arriving they had been directed to an interview room. Budge was already waiting. Detective Inspector Wilson of the local CID came in with them.
Smalacombe eyed the thug and saw more or less what he expected. Budge was thick set, clean shaven, with a bull neck and blond hair closely cropped. He sported one large earring and the lobe of his other ear was tattooed with a star. Huge arms bulged out from his T shirt, the result of years of working out in prison gyms. They were covered in a myriad of tattoos, some expertly done, and by the looks of it, a number of pathetic scratches that had been self inflicted. He was chewing and relaxed. His eyes followed Smalacombe as he entered and sat down. He showed no emotion or interest as Inspector Wilson carried out the preliminaries for the interview.
Smalacombe began. ‘Mr. Budge, what were you doing in Devon on Thursday 29th of June?’
‘Nah, not me. Not there!’ He looked to the back wall deliberately avoiding eye contact in order to convey an attitude of boredom. It also indicated that his firm negative response was most likely a precursor to the answers to all of the questions to come. Smalacombe was not amused or surprised; it was a trait he had witnessed many times before.
‘You were seen and identified, Mr. Budge.’
‘Never been there.’
‘Well, I saw you,’ Tiley butted in and played an ace card. ‘This is not second hand information, I saw you in the Dog and Rabbit on Dartmoor near Longtor village, that lunchtime,’ said Clive Tiley concluding his first contribution to the interview.
‘You don’t know me.’ For the first time he looked at his interrogator with a look of disdain. When he felt he had conveyed his contempt he looked away again.
‘Oh, yes I do, Mr. Budge. Our paths crossed in Bristol a many years ago. You got five years for armed robbery. I don’t forget blokes like you that easy.’
Budge sat tight.
‘So, what have you got to say?’ Smalacombe prompted him.
‘Fuck all. If you say I was there, I was there.’
Smalacombe tried another tack. ‘What was your relationship with Anna Turle?’
‘Who the fuck is Anna Turle?’
‘Lad, we didn’t come all this way, getting up in the middle of the night, without doing our homework.’ For the first time Smalacombe noticed a reaction from Budge. He stiffened at the address, “lad”. Smalacombe took it on board. He considered it worthwhile to use it again shortly, just to keep this deadhead alert. ‘Do you want me to recite, chapter and verse, the court case when you got off a prostitution racket?’
‘She was a mate.’ He was back, looking at the wall again and chewing rapidly.
‘On the Sunday, previous to that Thursday when you were seen, she was murdered.’
‘Well, I know that. Everybody knows that.’
‘So, you know the dates. You admit then, you were there?’ Budge never moved apart from his jaws, which were working, overtime on his gum. Smalacombe knew there was no point in waiting; Budge was never going to commit himself further. He forged ahead. ‘Yes, but the real dilemma is that the person who did it, was herself murdered two days later.’
‘Well, we all fucking know that too. I wasn’t down there until the Thursday, you said so, yourself.’ Budge continued with swift, short unequivocal answers. He showed no emotion and his voice was a monotone that generated a sense of routine that he had honed over a long period of experience. He showed no interest or contact with his brief, who sat quietly and nervously at his side.
‘Did you go down and back the same day?’ No response. ‘What were you doing down there?’
‘I took a holiday, that’s what everybody does if they go to Cornwall isn’t it?’
‘Devon,’ Tiley corrected.
‘Wherever, it’s all the fucking same,’ said Budge dismissing Tiley’s interjection.
‘Bird watching were you? Brushing up on your knowledge of the local flora and fauna, or were you going over to Honiton for a bit of lace making?’ Budge never flinched. ‘Bloody short holiday, wasn’t it?’
‘I came back the weekend.’
‘I think not,’ Detective Inspector Wilson of the Metropolitan CID interjected. ‘You were seen up here on the Thursday evening.’ Wilson’s contribution was very welcome but it still didn’t put Budge in Devon on the day in question. Smalacombe placed a plastic bag with Anna Turle’s rings in them. ‘Have you ever seen these before?’ Smalacombe asked him.
‘Rings are rings.’
‘Not these, lad.’ Smalacombe noted with great satisfaction that Budge once again reacted to the soubriquet.
‘Well, how the fuck would I know if I’d seen them before?’
‘Because you sold them to a jeweller in Newton Abbot on the day after Rebecca Winsom was murdered.’
Budge looked to his brief. ‘I’ve had enough of this. What’s it all about anyway?’
‘I think you could tell me,’ Smalacombe retorted and pointed to the solitary earring. ‘That was found in the swimming pool along with the body of our actress friend. What I want to know is how it got there?’ The brief shook his head and Budge remained silent.
‘You see, we know you were down in our patch on the day Ms. Winsom died and we know these rings were taken from Anna Turle’s body two days before, whilst it was lying in the river.’ Budge shrugged his shoulders and pursed his lips in a gestur
e of disinterest. ‘And, Mr Budge we also know that you took these rings from the guy who pinched them in the first place and then you sold them, apart from this one,’ he pointed to the earring again, ‘in Newton Abbot. Now I haven’t driven two hundred miles up here to be pissed around by the likes of you. I want some clear answers because I don’t know what my colleagues up here want you for but you are number one in our frame for the murder of Rebecca Winsom.’
‘I didn’t murder her. It’s not my scene.’
‘Then what were you doing there?’
‘That’s your problem. I’ve got nothing more to say.’
As the two detectives had expected, a thug of Budge’s ilk was not going to be intimidated by a police interview and so the progress perceived was limited. It was their hope that Rita Golding might add enough to their knowledge for them to be able to make their journey more worthwhile. They thanked DI Wilson for his hospitality, reminded him they would be back at midday, and repaired to a café around the corner. It was not a place Smalacombe would have taken Freda, but it was warm and dry and as it was to turn out, very capable of serving up a good English breakfast.
Their case had many aspects to it, not the least of which was a dire lack of forensic evidence. Smalacombe reflected on this as he dipped his fried bread into his egg yolk. Tiley was aware that he was sharing the place with women in the same job as Rita Golding but not quite of the same echelon. ‘We need less than two hundred cells for a DNA test Clive and we can’t even find one,’ Smalacombe moaned
‘They reckon within a year or so one cell will be enough.’
‘It’s still more than we’ve got. This case is going to be solved by old-fashioned police work. There’s still nothing to replace a good old piece of ferreting.’
‘We’re going to have a job to pin Winsom’s murder on this animal,’ Tiley observed.
‘I know, but it’s a safe bet that he did it, or at least he knows who did. What did you find out about the cartridges?’
‘Nothing yet. Eli couldn’t have bought them. He would have to find a bent supplier anyway as he doesn’t have a gun licence. There is no one in Devon who sells that particular brand but somebody supplies him because we’ve found another empty box at his home. There are fingerprints all over the boxes. Forensics are still working on it.’
‘He uses them for the deer, I suppose,’ Smalacombe mused.
‘He works a bit here and there; does a bit of odd job and he poaches, that’s how he scrapes a living. He probably pays through the nose but he can get a good return on the deer.’ Tiley stirred his tea as he spoke.
‘And two cartridges were missing from the box,’ Smalacombe added.
‘Exactly, and forensics have told us that Winsom was shot twice.’
‘Both barrels eh?’
‘They also think they can probably identify the shot if it came from that batch. It’s an unusual weight apparently.’
‘But, where does he keep the bloody gun? It seems to me that Budge got hold of the gun and presented Winsom with the earring and then shot her.’
‘Sounds like Cluedo, boss,’ said Tiley repeating a comment he made earlier.
Smalacombe sniffed and carried on. ‘And then threw it into the pool so that we all knew it was a matter of retribution.’
‘It could be! Dickheads like Budge rarely think beyond the next few minutes.’
‘It’s called hedonism, Clive. Bloody goldfish are more aware of their future than him.’ Smalacombe checked the time. ‘Let’s see what darling Rita has got for us, and, Mr. Tiley, no lusting. That’s an order.’
Rita Golding arrived on time, dressed in a little summer frock of printed cotton. She wore high heels but no tights and her long legs were tanned and impossible to ignore. Her blond hair rested on her bare shoulders. She greeted the two detectives as long lost friends, which concerned Smalacombe because he wondered if it was a front to disarm them.
‘We’ve just seen an old mate of yours,’ Smalacombe said. ‘Kelvin Budge.’
‘He’s hardly a mate. People like Kelvin don’t have mates, but yes I know him.’
‘How well do you know him?’
‘Pretty well! I’ve known him for a long time. He’s handy if he’s on your side, if you know what I mean.’
‘Bit of muscle if things get out of hand?’
‘Something like that.’
‘He owes you doesn’t he?’
Golding never flinched. Smalacombe guessed that she had anticipated what the interview would be about and she was well prepared. ‘You mean the trial. I suppose so, but the truth is he was fitted up and Anna told the court so. They wanted him for a lot of things but they couldn’t nail him, so they made it up. We just didn’t like what was going on. It wasn’t actually about doing the guy a favour; it was more to do with fair play. What concerned us was, if it was him today, then who tomorrow? Us? I think a few coppers lost their jobs over it.’ She knew by now that Smalacombe wanted more and would keep pressing until he was satisfied. ‘He fancied Anna like mad but he couldn’t afford her. So, he offered a bit of muscle if we needed it in exchange for a quickie once in a while.’
‘Regular payments were they?’
‘Not exactly, he was inside more times than out.’ Smalacombe and Tiley both suppressed a snigger. Golding quickly took up the thread and shook her head. ‘Come on! Grow up, you know what I mean. Also, when I say a quickie, that’s what I mean. The forty five second man, Anna called him. She could cope with that once in a while.’
‘Always did it twice then did he?’ She smiled. She had come to expect that sort of remark from the chief inspector.
‘So, you took his offer up?’
‘Yes and Anna obliged, on and off. Not me. We live in a pretty nasty world, Mr. Smalacombe, there’s always someone trying to squeeze us out.’
‘You sail close to the wind.’
‘Maybe, but there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s not a chargeable offence is it? How he deals with it is his affair. There’s no law against talking to people.’
‘It’s called intimidation. But, I’m not interested in that. What concerns me is that he was in the Longtor area when Rebecca Winsom died.’ Smalacombe watched Rita closely but he detected not a flicker of emotion. It was a good sign for her but a poor one for him. ‘What was he doing there? Had you asked him to provide a bit of strong arm stuff down there?’
‘Would I ever? Every time I speak to you, Chief Inspector you get me to incriminate myself. It mystifies me that I let you get away with it.’
‘I’m interested in who killed Rebecca Winsom, I’m not bothered by all the rest of it, and that’s no bullshit, I promise you. Anyway, I don’t have to spell it out to you. Nicking you for riding a bike with no taillight isn’t the best way to get your co-operation, is it? Did you know he was down there?’
‘No. Anna may have asked him. She was playing a dangerous game.’
‘We’ve checked all of Anna’s phone calls and we have traced them. Budge doesn’t feature at all,’ Clive Tiley explained.
‘Well, he wouldn’t. If you ring Budge on his mobile or at home the police know about it before he answers.’
‘Oh, come on, that’s not true, is it?’
‘Where are you from, Mars?’ She looked at the two of them with a screwed up nose. ‘He’s always in so much bother, with cases being prepared against him, they will be routinely checking his every move and contact. Wow! I’m treating you like you’re not coppers.’
‘It stays with me, providing I get the truth.’
‘Association with the likes of Budge is dangerous stuff; there’s always a chance the mud will rub off. If we contact him, we do it from a payphone.’
‘So, did you?’
‘No I didn’t, I told you. Anna might have.’ Tiley made a note to get back to the Timbletown and the taxi firm to see if she did stop off to make a call from a ‘phone box.
‘I have to tell you, Rita,’ Smalacombe said in a particularly serious manner, ‘apart from
all the other things you are worrying about, this business puts you in a fix. Your connection with Budge is doing you no favours as far as this case is concerned. So, if you have anything to say that will help us, then I assure you it will be in your best interests to tell us.’
‘Am I a suspect then?’
‘If you were in my position how would you answer that?’
‘I haven’t killed anybody. On the night of Anna’s death I was with a cabinet minister as I have already told you and the night of Winsom’s death I was with two famous Hollywood actors, a husband and wife team as it happens. All night and they kept me very busy.’
‘Suppose you hired Budge to do the dirty work?’
‘That’s bollocks,’ she said and slammed her hand on the table, ‘I wouldn’t have known where to look first.’
‘Oh, come on. You knew that Hillman had raped Anna; you knew that she was probably blackmailing his misses. You also knew Anna had a thing going with her as well.’
‘Now, that is not bloody true,’ she retorted angrily.
‘Then why did you tell us Winsom wasn’t interested in women when it’s abundantly clear that she was?’ Tiley asked, after being quiet for most of the interview.
Rita Golding gave herself time to calm down and to compose herself before she answered. ‘It was all so messy; I just didn’t want to say anything that involved me. It’s true, I didn’t like that cow messing around with Anna, but it was no reason to murder her.’
‘Big mistake! Doesn’t look so good now does it? Jealousy is a powerful emotion,’ Smalacombe commented in an avuncular manner. ‘How close was Anna to Budge?’
‘You’re no better than the rest of them.’
‘It’s taken you a long time to find out.’
‘As I have told you, no one gets close to people like Kelvin. It was purely business, that’s all. For what it’s worth, she hated him. I mean, sixteen stone of shaven headed flab, powered by an IQ of a bed duvet. Five feet ten, BO, beer breath and a belly to match, all covered in tattoos of spiders’ webs and women with big tits? It isn’t exactly class is it? It certainly wasn’t Anna’s style, or mine for that matter. We have a hard time protecting our interests,’ she caught her breath as the reality dawned on her. ‘It’s just me now,’ she said wistfully, ‘I have a hard time,’ she corrected herself. ‘The biggest shits on earth would like a slice of our action. You don’t need me to tell you that. Budgie was a guy who could hold them at bay and he knew the people who mattered. If he couldn’t handle it, then he knew someone who could. We never asked questions, Mr Smalacombe, we just wanted to survive and Anna did her little bit to help out.’ She paused again. ‘If you think I’m a hard cow, well, you’re right. The world I live in can be a pretty unpleasant place.’