by Nick Roteman
Chapter Twenty One
Tom was desperate to put some distance between himself and the body of Steve before it was discovered, so picking up his car he swiftly drove out of Bournemouth along the Southampton road.
Once he had joined the M3 he stopped at the first service station. It was too early to arrive back in Weybridge, so he parked up and attempted to sleep in the car, actually managing nearly a couple of hours, which frankly surprised him. Getting out and stretching his long frame he walked into the centre. After a large cappuccino he set off again and finally arrived back in Weybridge just before 5am which was more acceptable.
He joined Alice in bed and they cuddled and slept until breakfast time around 9 o’clock.
Over breakfast they chatted in general terms discussing news items and local issues while they ate; the mood was light and friendly. Over coffee in the conservatory Alice’s mood visibly changed, as she chose to sit down opposite him.
She fidgeted uncertain how she should begin.
Tom sensed the mood change. “What’s up darling, you look like you’ve got something to say?”
“Yes I do have things on my mind,” she confirmed, her face a mask.
After another slight pause she visibly took a deep breath. “A couple called Freddy and Auburn came to see me.”
“Yeah?” Tom said a mite too quickly as he sat bolt upright.
“They live in the flat below my Peter.”
Tom took a grip on himself. “That’s good, any news of him from them?” he asked as calmly as he could, but his mind was racing, now what he thought.
“They came with a preposterous tale about you, and taking photos, and, umm...” she faltered and desperately looked down at her hands unable or unwilling to carry on. Her long delicate fingers were trembling.
“Well go on, just say what’s on your mind.” He said possibly more harshly than he had intended.
Keeping her gaze lowered so as not to meet his eyes she said. “These pictures were on her laptop, and were horrible pictures, horrible, naked young men....” She stopped, put her head in her hands and cried. He stayed seated and waited for her to stop crying. At length she managed to control herself and sniffing glanced across at him. She caught his gaze and held it.
“There were a couple of my Peter, my darling boy in obscene poses; I can’t get it out of my mind. It was horrible, horrible I can’t believe it! He must have been drugged or something it was obscene.”
Tom put his right hand out to gently touch her knee, she flinched and rocked back in her chair as if he had slapped her.
She looked back down at her hands and almost inaudibly said. “Auburn said these pictures came off your computer.”
Tom rubbed his right hand over his face and glanced at her but she refused to meet his gaze and kept examining her hands.
“That’s absolute rubbish, how can you believe that, what’s she trying to do to me? In fact she’s already done it, she’s managed to alienate you from me. She’s nothing but a bloody trouble maker, yes I do know Freddy, he’s a close friend of Pete’s and I met him a few times in Bournemouth. I think besides her being slightly unstable, she’s just plain jealous of me knowing Freddy, god alone knows what’s on her crazy mind. She’s not right in the head you’ve seen it, she’s made all this up. Perhaps she even took those pictures, she’s into god knows what I tell you.”
She shook her head savagely. “No I don’t want to hear anymore, not another word on it never again. I told them to never come back with any more filthy lies so that’s the end of it.”
She got up and pushing his legs out of her way rushed from the conservatory and straight upstairs. He heard the bedroom door slam shut.
He sat back and glowered. This was all he needed right now, that bloody Auburn was determined to cause him trouble. Much more of this and he would kill her, sod the consequences, she had already plunged the knife into him. If Alice really believed her, and he hoped he could win her around, he was finished, his income gone. He hadn’t done all that killing for nothing. He’d just stay cool, give her time to think it over, he could win her round. If she had totally bought Auburn’s story surely she would have kicked him out of her bed and house hours ago. He felt better already, just give her some space he reckoned.
Steve’s body was recovered from the bottom of the cliff, and on analysing the contents of his stomach and discovering how much alcohol he had consumed, his death was recorded by the police as a suicide; case closed.
Wayne was in shock over the loss of another friend, blaming himself for not having seen how depressed Steve had obviously become.
He rang Tom. “I blame myself, why didn’t we see how he was. I feel so bloody awful. Did you think he was going to fucking throw himself off a cliff, I mean why Tom?”
“I just don’t know what to say. Like you I wish I had realised.” Tom assured him. “It’s a tragic loss, he was a good mate!”
“You took him home yeah, what happened then?” Wayne suddenly asked.
“I went in with him, he wanted to sit and watch some Telly so I left him, had a lot of work to do the next morning. He was tired and pissed but definitely ok when I left him.”
“Perhaps you should have stayed with him, I dunno...Jesus Tom what’s happening to us?”
“Listen Wayne I think we’re under attack. Someone’s trying to destroy all of us. Our little group, you know, you me, Darren, Jim, etc.. Just keep cool, carry on, watch your back and I’ll be down again in a few days. Can you do that and trust me old mate, I need you behind me whatever happens? We’ll sort this and get the bastards!”
“Er, yeah you know I’ll always back you, but I don’t really understand what you’re saying.”
“As I said keep your head down and watch your back, look I’ll see you soon, gotta go cheers mate, you take it easy.” Tom confirmed, as he ended the call. A grin was spreading across his face, nice one he thought.
He went into the kitchen to make a fresh pot of coffee, he’d earned it; Alice was out shopping and slowly beginning to forgive him realising he couldn’t do something so horrible, so he would use this free time to have a read of the morning papers. He reckoned if he could just carry on as normal, she would be forced to reassess his involvement with those damned pictures and give him the benefit of the doubt, realising this Auburn was delusional and dangerous. He hoped his reassurances had also bought himself a few days with Wayne still believing in him. He knew eventually he would have to return to Bournemouth and sort out bloody Auburn, the perpetual thorn in his side, but for the present he intended to pamper himself. Today was now, tomorrow might never come and if it did he’d meet it head on like everything he did.
Auburn was still smarting from Alice having dismissed her out of hand, as nothing short of some kind of a mischief-maker or worse.
“Me a mischief maker, really how can anybody think that of me, I only tell the truth I can’t help it, what’s so wrong in that, I don’t understand?” She moaned at Freddy over breakfast, which he hurriedly cut short by announcing he was late for work. He grabbed a slice of toast and hurriedly left.
He did feel some guilt, she was in the right and he supposed Tom needed some form of chastisement, but he still adored and feared him in equal proportions. Such a dilemma, it was driving him mad. Poor Auburn she was so vulnerable, so innocent in her beliefs, such as everything was either black or white- grey didn’t exist as a colour or as a state of being. She was putting herself in great danger and he had to protect her, even if it was from herself. Something would come up he was sure of that, he was the half-full type of guy after all.
A team of workmen were demolishing an old derelict barn, which had stood rotting in the middle of a clearing since the 1990s, unseen from the motorists who flew past that stretch of wooded area at high speed.
One of them suddenly let out an ear-piercing scr
eam, and the JCB driver hit the stop button. He was pointing at something poking out from under part of a wooden door. It was an arm, a human arm.
DS Ash lowered the driver’s window to speak to the uniformed police constable standing guard by the taped entrance to the crime scene.
She drove in and parked next to several police cars and an old Saab.
“Haha!” Simpson whooped at Ash, noticing Dr Peter Bell’s car.
“Seems the old bugger has beaten us again. How’s he get here so bloody fast?” he remarked getting out of the car.
She walked off ahead but called back to him. “Probably doesn’t stop for a fag break like some have to do!”
Simpson ignored her jibe as he approached his friend Bell, the police pathologist, but stopped short with her and called out to him before moving any closer.
“Hi Peter, safe for us to approach you?”
“Hello darling thought it would be you again!” he responded, in his familiar velvety rich voice.
“Yes I’ve done my prelim, can’t do more until he’s back in my lab.”
“He’s male, anything else?” Ash asked.
“Hello Sara, nice to see you again. Do you always have to turn up with him?”
She smiled back at Dr Bell, no one could dislike him he was an ‘old school’ charmer.
“Yes, male early twenties probably, blue eyes, fair skinned, oh and murdered.” Replied Bell in summoning up.
“Murdered, any ideas?” Simpson probed.
“Marks around the throat, strangled and before you ask been dumped here anything up to four, six months, hard to tell at the moment.”
“Any idea who he is, by any chance?”
“Hey Paul I’m not going to do your whole job you know, and the answers no, nothing on him. Good, well I’m off it’s nearly lunchtime. Come and see me tomorrow afternoon earliest, bye you two!”
Giving one of his best regal waves, he moved off slipped under the tape and straight into his car in a flash.
“Right!” Simpson confirmed doing an about turn. “Get the lads to do a finger search of this whole area, you know, and lets do his fingerprints now, get the ball rolling!”
“Yes Gov!” Ash replied as she ran back to the car to get the fingerprint kit.
She passed Simpson on her way back. “What you going to do? You waiting for me?”
“Yes I’ll be by the car, probably having a smoke, as that’s all I do!”
They had only just returned to the police station, when fingerprint recognition came through on the body; it was that of Peter Chandler.
Ash and Simpson first grabbed a sandwich and a can of drink from the canteen to consume on the way down to see Alice Chandler.
It was nightfall when they arrived at the locked gates to the house. Alice let them in.
Immediately the front door was closed, Simpson spoke. “Perhaps we could go and sit down, in the drawing room.”
His sombre tone instantly made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.
“What is it, what have you got to say? - just say if it’s awful news, please.” She was pleading.
“Please take a seat Mrs Chandler.” Ash said softly.
“There’s no easy way to say this,” Simpson continued. “I’m afraid it’s bad news. Your son was found dead in an area called Howe Dean, on the outskirts of Bournemouth.”
“Oh god no, you’re mistaken, he is in Brazil, you can’t be right, sorry you can’t!”
She collapsed onto one of the armchairs knowing he spoke the truth, covering her face with her hands, as if to ward off his evil words.
She dropped her hands to her mouth and whispered through her fingers. “Please how do you know it’s my Peter, you could be wrong?” she implored Simpson her eyes flitting uncontrollably between him and Ash.
Simpson sat down on the settee facing her while Ash went over to comfort her.
Alice looked up into her eyes, almost pleadingly. “Please it’s not him, it can’t be he’s away in Brazil....”
“I’m so sorry Mrs Chandler, fingerprints were a positive match to his.”
“His, what do you mean why have you got his fingerprints, why?”
Simpson cut in, his voice surprisingly gentle but authoritative. “He was fingerprinted two years ago, when he was charged with causing an affray at an anti-capitalist student rally.
“What, what now are you accusing my son of doing?” she shrieked back at him, before breaking down at that stage and sobbing uncontrollably into her hands.
Ash handed her a couple of tissues from her pocket, while Simpson sat on the edge of the settee watching unable to say or do anything and dying for a cigarette.
After what seemed an age to Simpson, who had always been uncomfortable with other people’s emotions, Alice stopped crying, sniffed, and glanced up at him. “What happens now Inspector?” she said softly.
Ash sitting on the arm of her armchair leaned forward towards her. “Is there someone we can call for you, you shouldn’t be alone.”
“I’m not!” she replied testily. “What about Peter, please?”
“We will need you to come down to Bournemouth, as soon as you can, to identify the body.” Simpson explained. “I’m sorry.” He added.
She nodded, “Yes, yes, I’ll be down tomorrow.”
She stood up, ran a hand gingerly through her hair and walked purposely towards the door. “I’ll see you both out, and thank you.... thank you I need to be alone now, tomorrow.”
Back at the car Simpson stayed outside and lit up, while Ash got in and had a drink of water. Simpson joined her and they set off for the long journey back to Bournemouth.
Ash was the first to speak. “She really didn’t know her son wasn’t in Brazil, did she.”
“Yeah I’ll give you that. We, well you need to see her again, perhaps after she has identified the body. Need to find out who was sending those emails to her, right!”
“Ok Gov.”
“Now what about our dear friend Tomas Phipps, I still have him in the frame for this though I don’t quite know how or why.” Simpson conceded.
“Shall I start doing a financial check on his business activities?”
“Yup good idea. Right I’m knackered, so if it’s alright with you I’m going to have a little kip while you get us back.”
Secretly Ash was pleased to be given some time to quietly think about this case, and what needed to be done.
While this drama was being played out at Alice’s home, Tom was out playing a few miles away in the neighbouring town of Esher. Esher is a bustling and upmarket town, in other words expensive, on the main road to Hampton Court, and the Palace of King Henry the Eighth, although Esher is probably better known for its Horse Racing Course, Sandown Park.
Tom had spent the evening in one of the pubs, on the edge of the green. He had learnt that many younger men frequented this pub and he hoped to be lucky. It had been too long since he had tasted the delights of a fit young man, and he was eager to tonight.
By buying a round of drinks for a group of youths in the pub, he had managed to befriend them and quickly chose his prey.
After several more drinks and much chat, he was sure a young man named Ben was interested.
Tom proposed going for a drive and Ben willingly accepted, suggesting they head out along Copsem Lane in the general direction of Oxshott Village. It was a dark road with no road lighting, and there were several car parking areas along this road, so Ben informed him. They picked one almost hidden from the road, and parked somewhere on Arbrook Common.
Tom started with a gentle kiss but violent lust took over, out of control he lunged wildly at Ben, ripping off his shirt and tearing at the youth’s trousers in his desperation.
Tom dropped the sad faced and sore youth b
ack at his house afterwards, and sped off back to Alice’s; he felt satisfied and invigorated. It amazed him how outdoor sex stimulated him so much. Was it the danger of being intimate with a stranger, or more the thought of possibly being caught with his trousers down that really turned him on? Either way these unplanned fumbles gave him the strength to deal with the likes of Alice.
She was sat at the table in the kitchen, her head in her hands, a mug of coffee at her fingertips, and a box of tissues nearby. She had obviously been crying for an age as her normally clear blue eyes were now red rimmed and puffy.
He went to her, fearing the worst, and she told him they had found Peter. He tried to console her while his mind was in turmoil holding her close and whispering sweet nothings in her ear. It gave him precious seconds.
She finally managed to stop crying and he quickly suggested she should try to lie down. He would use one of the spare rooms if she wished to be alone. She said she would, and he helped her up to her bedroom. He tucked her up in bed, said he would only be next door and to shout if she needed anything.
She lay down and he closed the door.
He was so relieved she had wished to be alone; he was exhausted. Making his way next door, he threw himself fully clothed onto the bed and stretched out on top of the luxurious duck down duvet. It was bloody annoying Peter’s body had been found but she hadn’t said anything else so obviously he was not in the frame. She hadn’t even questioned why he had gone out for so long or where he had been when he should have been with her. Within seconds, he was asleep and snoring his head off.
Alice stayed awake the remainder of the night, deeply saddened and confused. But by morning she had made up her mind, so rising early she had a quick shower and slipped into her skinny jeans and chose a mushroom coloured smock tunic. She couldn’t face any breakfast, and was rather pleased Tom was still asleep. Leaving him a note, she slipped out of the house.
It was a harrowing day for Alice and after seeing her darling son, she was in a state of near collapse. Simpson told his Sergeant to take her for some lunch; she needed food no matter how much she protested. She was surprised once the food arrived just how hungry she actually was, and managed to eat half her meal.