Sandra walked off smiling ‘ it will wait’.
Williams raised his eyebrows in surprise for getting off lightly and went to see Chief Inspector Howcroft about driving to Leicester Square in London to meet up with Brewer and Barnes who had discovered what the key belongs to.
‘Guv’ Williams said as he barged his way into the
office.
‘Pleased you got the hang of knocking before you enter’ Howcroft said sarcastically.
‘Sorry Guv, _just anxious to get to London, hopefully Brewer and Barnes have tracked down what that key belongs to’.
Howcroft was pleasantly surprised ‘Great, you had better get up there, do we know what?’
‘As far as I know Guv it belongs to a Selfridges security box’.
Howcroft nodded in a way of taking his word for it ‘Oh by the way has Sandra seen you?’.
Williams was now curious as to what was going on ‘no Guv, something I should know?’
Howcroft shook his head. ‘ No nothing.just go
and report back what you find out’.
Christmas shoppers with dispirited faces ‘in the season to be joy’ had made Williams’s Journey time consuming and in most part joyless. As he turned into Leicester Square, the traffic was bumper to bumper, ‘shit’ he said to himself. As he looked out of his window all he could see was bags and bags of shopping advertising the shop names in great colour and detail.
He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in annoyance and his mind started wandering on what Nikki wanted for a Christmas present. He glanced upwards to see the illuminations and remembered when he was a young child being in wonderment of the sparkling and dancing lights. The traffic all of a sudden moved swiftly on.
PC Mike Brewer and WPC Tina Barnes were waiting outside Selfridges amid the panic and chaos that Christmas shopping always seemed to bring.
‘Bloody Christmas’ Brewer moaned ‘ what a waste of time and money’.
‘Shut up you miserable git, it’s a lovely time of year’ Tina was quick to snap back. ‘I suppose I won’t hold my breath in expecting a present from you then?’.
Brewer laughed ‘Too bloody right, you will be lucky to get a card’.
Mike Brewer was over six feet tall and built like a ‘brick shit-house’ and generally worked out most nights at his local gym. Tina on the other hand was struggling to reach five foot six and would much rather curl up in her flat in front of the television. They worked well together, could laugh at each other’s mishaps, wind each other up no end and had forged a great partnership.
At that moment they saw DS John Williams speed around the corner and skid to a halt where they were waiting. It was a no parking zone, but Williams couldn’t be bothered to try to find a car parking space especially at this time of year.
Williams jumped out of the car, ‘Sorry guys’ he apologised.
‘Don’t think you can park there sir’ Mike smiled sarcastically.
‘Yeah sir, who do you think you are?’ Tinajoined in laughingly.
‘Okay, okay just piss off!’ Williams responded jokingly ‘Right seriously you’ve located the box this key belongs to and got the warrant to search ..yes?’.
They both nodded and Tina produced the white piece of paper from her pocket. Mike Brewer and Tina Barnes took time and mental effort in finding out what the key belonged to. Directory’s of key makers and then hundreds of phone calls of all the shops that sold that type of key. Visits to banks, security companies and stores that kept security deposit boxes until they found a connection. The security key code number that was imprinted on the key, Selfridges confirmed was a key to one of their deposit boxes.
So now it was for the moment of truth, a sense of excitement of what the deposit box contained. Would it be concrete evidence linking the Judge or Tarling or even both to the murder of Susan Kenyon-Lloyd? Or incriminating evidence of money laundering …Or would it be empty
Mike Brewer rested his elbows on top of the car roof and watched Tina and Williams disappear into the imposing store. It was warranted that someone stay with the car rather than having the risk of it being towed away.
Williams and Barnes made their way to the lift and pressed the button for the fifth and top floor, which dealt with customer administration, Theatre and hotel bookings, estates, banking information and the one that concerned the security deposit boxes.
As they left the lift and noted the sign to go left it was like walking into a five star Hotel, push carpet, marble walls and art deco greeted them. As they approached the counter a warm friendly smile met them.
‘How can I help you?’ asked the peasant sounding
voice.
‘I’m DS Williams and this is WPC Barnes, we have a warrant to examine the deposit box which belongs to this key’. Williams held up the gold key and passed it to the woman.
‘Thank you’ she smiled again in a robotic fashion and pressed a key on her telephone and requested her Manager to take on the responsibility of dealing with the matter in hand. After a few minutes a small man appeared from a door to the side of them, he had black receding hair and round rimmed glasses. A small version of Himmler, Williams thought. He nodded at them without saying a word and went to see his female colleague. She showed him the key and then tapped out a number on the computer.
He looked up at Williams and Barnes ‘Sorry’ he said in a low droning voice. ‘I’m Mr Edwards, I understand you are from the police and wish to see the contents of the box, is that correct?’
Williams and Barnes tried not to look at each other. ‘Yes that is correct’ Williams nodded.
‘Is it possible to know the name and address of the holder of that box?’ Barnes asked hopefully.
Mr Edwards shook his head ‘No..no, that’s highly private and confidential information’.
‘But this is a Police matter and information that could lead to an arrest in a murder investigation’ Williams responded sternly.
‘Oh…oh’ Edwards said nervously and his body language showed he was flustered, ‘I think in the circumstances we can give you that information’.
He asked his female colleague to tap into the computer again, after a few seconds Edwards gave them the information that appeared on the screen:
Leigh Cook.
10,Long Acres.
Bournemouth.
Tel no. 01202-774412
Williams smirked, ‘The infamous Mr Cook’.
The other three looked at him in a puzzZed expression.
‘Tell me, have you sent invoices to that address or called the telephone number?’ Williams asked curiously.
The woman efficiently tapped into the computer records again, she looked at Edwards and then explained that the gentleman had paid cash for one years rental and had given those contact details in case of emergency.
Williams looked surprised ‘So he didn’t have to show proof of his identity’
Edwards coughed in a manner reflecting Williams was right ‘we are providing a service to protect individuals’ he said.
Williams shrugged his shoulders ‘Your call, anyway could we pease have a look at the contents?’
Edwards had taken offence and was keen to remove the two police officers as soon as possible and hastily made tracks ‘come on this way’ he was quick to announce.
DS John Williams and WPC Tina Barnes followed, they were taken through an electronic security coded door and then down a short flight of steps. A receptionist met them and after Edwards had explained what they were doing, he duly obliged and opened another combination door with a safe type dial. The room opened up into a corridor with deposit boxes from knee to head height all along both walls which must have stretched forty feet.
Edwards ran his finger along some of the boxes as he made his way down the corridor he suddenly stopped
. ‘Yes here it is’. He took the key, inserted and turned, the deposit door wildly sprung open.
Williams quickly made his way to the box, he looked in only to see a piece of a paper, he put his hand in and retrieved it. ‘What the…’ he gave a hal hearted laugh as he read it:
My Lord let us make peace and let the dead be, and if this cannot be, may God pardon you for your anger towards me. ‘Wiiliam Claxtonfifteenth century’.
He looked at Edwards and said ‘thanks’ as Edwards pushed the door shut and locked it up. Williams handed over the piece of paper to Tina who frowned and uttered the word ‘Bollocks!’ which got a disdainful look from Edwards.
As they made their way back out of the store they were escorted by Edwards in his lickety-split manner.
‘So we’ve got a cever-dick then Tina, I’d better get on the mobile and inform Howcroft’.
Barnes nodded with a smile on her face, imagining what the Chief Inspector would say.
Chapter 14.
It was Friday 12th December and there was an early morning mist across the open expanse of land on which Church of St. David was located. Crows squawked as they pranced around and suddenly flew low across the ground, giving an eerie feel to the scene.
Judge Francis Lloyd pulled the sleeve of his black coat back up his arm as he walked across the damp grass and looked at his watch. 7.30am, it would be three hours before the funeral of his wife but he couldn’t sleep and decided he would get some fresh air and strolled across the field from his house to see the Priest. It would take ten minutes and although he was convinced the Priest would have everything in hand for the funeral it was other thoughts he wanted to get off his chest.
His steps echoed as he walked into the empty church, suddenly his mobile tdephone burst into life ‘bollocks’ he murmured and then apologised to the most worshipped statue on the planet. He then fell foolish as there was no one else around, but turned around quickly and went outside through the Church’s main large wooden doors. He was eager to answer his mobile in the allotted amount of rings before it went into the message answering service.
‘HeUo Lloyd’ he snapped answering with his name as habit but annoyed he was being disturbed on this of all days.
‘Sorry Francis, it’s Stephen Tarling’ he said hal asleep then realised it was the day of the funeral. ‘I was going to update you from Colombia, but I’m home now and it can waitI’ll see you at ten’.
‘Yeah well have a chat after the service’ Lloyd switched his mobile phone off.
As Francis Lloyd re-gathered his thoughts and composure he noticed out of the corner of his eye a car parked on the road outside the front entrance to the church. As he looked over the car engine started up and slowly moved away. Lloyd raised his eyebrows and thought it was an unusual time of the day to be visiting a church, then again he wasn’t a churchgoer, so who was he to say what time people should worship?
His mind began to work overtime, and he couldn’t wait, he needed to know about the murder investigation and Tarlings trip to Colombia. He used his thumbnail to push down on the top of his mobile to switch it on and to call Tarling back and hear the news.
He held the mobile telephone cose to his ear, it was ringing. ‘Stephen, sorry I was inside the Church….just the funeral and everything getting to me’.
‘I understandit’s a very sad day’.
‘Ironic eh, never read the Bible, never been to Church and yet you turn to God in times of need’ he gave a slight sniff as he made his way to the Priests house. ‘Tell me Stephen, just give me a direct yes or no are we out of this money laundering business?’.
Stephen Tarling was in bed and using the telephone on the bedside cabinet. The question brought a sudden stop to his slowly unwinding drowsiness and now he was wide awake and sat up. ‘Er….yes’.
‘Er yes, what sort of bloody answer is that?’
Tarling pushed the covers off him and sat on the side of the bed resting both elbows on his knees with one hand holding his chin, the other with the phone to his ear remembering his ordeal.
‘Okay Ill tell you what happened, but I tell you Francis I’m lucky to escape with my life’.
‘What!’ Francis responded loudly in astonishment, ‘what the bloody hell happened out there?’.
Tarling straightened up and took a deep breath before relaying his near death experience:
‘I was met by Freddy Morales and taken by helicopter to the Rafael’s hillside villa in the middle of nowhere. Anyway I got to see Rafael and after a bit of a tense chat he agreed that we could come out of the operation and hope we would reconsider some time in the future. So I thought that wasn’t so bad and was invited to the family lunch. Then for some reason all bloody hell broke loose, Jose-Luis came to me with a baseball bat and tried to bash my fucking brains out!’.
Judge Lloyd was opened-mouth and couldn’t believe what he was hearing ‘why…what’ the Judge was flabbergasted and struggled to find words.
Tarling continued, ‘ Freddy came from nowhere saved me and got me out of there, he told me later that all hell had broken loose in the town and Jose thought I was involvedBloody mad bastard!’.
‘Bloody hell Steve’ Judge Lloyd said in a
despondent tone. ‘So we are none the wiserif we are
out or in?’.
Tarling was quick to put him at ease ‘ No we are out, Rafael agreed it, it’s just his screw loose brother that’s the problembut Freddy said hell sort it okay’.
Judge Lloyd shook his head not totally convinced, but what could he do he thought to himself. ‘Okay..okay, anyway I covered our tracks and put in a little message for Chief Inspector Howcroft in the safety deposit box, just in
case they are ckver enough to locate it,Ill see you
at ten’. Lloyd switched his mobile off and made his way up the three steps of Priest O’Donahue’s house. He knocked on the door.
Tarling frowned as he put the phone down. ‘Message’ he thought to him sell he got up and started to walk to the bathroom when the telephone started ringing.
‘Yes’.
‘Stephen, it’s me’ Zara said.
‘Oh, hi Zara….sorry it’s the funeral of Susan Kenyon-Lloyd, I have to get ready’.
‘It’s very important, I have to see you’.
Tarling could sense the anxiety in her voice ‘Later I promise’.
‘Later thenpease’ Zara pleaded.
Again Stephen looked puzzZed, but needing to get under the shower again he said goodbye and replaced the receiver.
Lisa was quite excited in meeting up with her father for dinner that evening although she didn’t know why? Maybe it was the fact he was engrossed in a murder investigation but yet he was still making time for her.
She drove straight from work to meet her father in Bournemouth, and allowed herself plenty of time because of the rush hour traffic coming out of London. She was meeting George Howcroft at eight o’cock at ‘White Horses’ restaurant and bar.
Howcroft parked and walked through the doors that went into the restaurant, a young lady holding menu’s standing next to a rostrum, which showed bookings and names met him. Next to her was a Christmas tree decorated in silver and gold. She smiled as he came coser, ‘good evening sir’.
‘Evening table for two under the name of Howcroft’ he said. As she scanned the book with her finger he heard raucous laughter from what was obviously a group out enjoying their Christmas party.
‘Yes sir eight o’cock, there is a young lady already waiting for you’ she smiled.
George was pleasantly surprised that Lisa was already there.
‘Let me take your coat and Ill take you to your table’ the waitress said and after hanging his coat in the coakroom, led him through the maze of tabes to where Lisa was sitting. It was in the corner of the restaurant away from th
e partygoers and larger groups. This was more seduded for couples or small families.
‘Hi dad’ Lisa jumped up from the table and gave him a hug. George was pleased but gave a look around at some staring faces and fell a slow show of embarrassment as maybe they were thinking that he was meeting his young secretary in a secret rendezvous and the ‘dad’ bit was just a ruse.
After they sat back down the waitress took their order for drinks, a bottle of the house red and decided to take the normal menu rather than the special Christmas offering.
Lisa was keen to reminisce about the times the three of them went out as a family. When she was only a little girl. They joked, laughed and she reminded him how good it was to meet up from time to time and then studied his face, worried that he was keeping well. He had deep frown marks on his forehead but he had always had them for as long as she could remember. His brown hair was thinning at the sides and grey hairs were beginning to show. She smiled.
‘Whatwhat ?’ Howcroft asked knowing she was
giving him a longer than normal look.
‘Anyway’ Howcroft asked ‘ how is mum?’ there was genuine concern in his voice.
‘Yes she’s fine, we speak or try to’ she gestured ‘at least once a week….we are seeing each other next weekend actually’.
Howcroft nodded with approval, thinking what could have been, he remembered how good a cook she was especially Roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. A waiter removed their plates and also topped up their wineglasses. They both agreed on just coffee for dessert. Once the waiter had gone Lisa burst back into conversation.
‘Do you and mum still talk?’
‘No we don’t’ Howcroft regressed ‘I tried to for many years but it was a very painful time and it was never going to be the same’.
Lisa nodded and remembered crying hersetf to deep trying to understand why her mum and dad didn’t want to live together anymore. Tears were beginning to well up in her eyes, so it was time to change subject. Altogether.
‘Did you see that television programme the other
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