“I’ll take that as a yes to both questions, shall I?”
“Yes, yes. Just do me a favour, don’t go playing games with Hetherington-Jones when we interview him. His father-in-law is quite influential around these parts.”
“So am I not allowed to make him squirm just a little bit when he tells us about his morning’s entertainment?”
“No, you are not.”
“Shame, I quite enjoy making toffs squirm.”
“You wait here and I’ll go and arrange you a car. I’ll also send someone to fetch Hetherington-Jones.”
Ten yards down the corridor, Chadwick spun round and walked backwards, shouting, “Oh, and by the way, Takis does the best fish and chips for miles.”
“Does he now?” Collins looked in vain for a seat to sit on.
“We have a problem,” said Chadwick.
“And what might that be?” replied Collins.
“Hetherington-Jones will not be back until late tomorrow night. He’s been up in Birmingham on business evidently, and he is staying with friends overnight.”
“Friends?”
“Friends his wife does not have either an address or a contact number for.”
“He’s keeping well out of the way.”
“My thoughts exactly,” said Chadwick. “Or he could even have more than one filly on the go.”
“No, why arrange to see them both, one straight after the other? Besides, they smell each other, don’t they?”
“Irrelevant if the Birmingham bird knows he’s married.”
“Whatever he’s up to as we speak, he is still keeping well out of the way. He’s hoping the dust will settle. Let’s organise a dust storm for early Thursday morning. My only concern is that we have taken away the element of surprise.”
Chadwick laughed. “A police car turning up at his house, and two uniform officers asking to see him, that may have been a bit of a giveaway.”
“It looks like I need a hotel room for the night. I would like to carry on investigating from a point close to the crime scene. Is that’s okay with you?”
“Why should I have a problem with that? And what’s more; we have quite a nice guest room at my place. It even has en suite facilities. There is also a good pub across the road.”
“Now you’re talking, all in the interest of cross-force liaison, obviously.”
“Obviously.”
“It still leaves the possibility of Lady Felicity talking to him before we do.”
“Well, I can’t justify keeping her in the cells for forty eight hours.” Chadwick scratched behind his ear.
“You could if you had to, but just get heavy with her. Confiscate her mobile and tell her it is a murder investigation, so we will be monitoring landlines.”
“It’s a good job she hasn’t got a solicitor with her.”
“Aye, it is, isn’t it,” smiled Collins.
Chapter 3
As Anna climbed out of the back of the van with three other women, she took her first look at a Western European country. In the darkness it looked little different from Riga. There was only a small amount of washing hanging from the windows and perhaps the tower blocks were a little taller and spaced a little further apart, but they looked equally uninviting.
Empty beer cans littered the lobby. The tall man wearing a black leather jacket and blue jeans pressed the lift-call. Anna clutched her small rucksack to her chest and gazed at the dirty tiled floor. She had looked the man in the eye when he was about to shut the van door on the four women back in Warsaw. Her bruised cheekbone was a constant reminder not to do it again.
The lift doors opened, the smell of stale urine wafted out into the lobby. The four women did not need to be told to step inside. They all faced the back of the lift and the man pressed the button marked eight. The lift jerked and then started to creak upwards.
“Aus.” The man held his finger on the button to keep the door open and signalled for them to turn right. Despite the fact that the few words he uttered were spoken in German, Anna believed him to be Russian. His skin was dark and his brown eyes sunken. He did not fit her blue eyed blonde image of Germans.
With their heads bowed, the four women moved quietly out of the lift and down the passageway. A door on the left was already ajar. It opened as they approached. More horrible smells filled Anna’s nostrils. This time it was a vile mixture of cabbage, onions, sweat and worst of all, shit. If she had any choice whatsoever, Anna would not have walked through that doorway. But she had no choice. Anna was second in line behind Karin.
The front door led straight into what was intended to be the living room. Light from the passageway dimly illuminated ten two-inch thick mattresses filling the floor of the room. More than half had curled up bodies lying on them.
“Damen hier, herren da,” laughed the man, pointing a small leather truncheon at a closed door. “Piss da.” This time he waved towards a tiny stinking bathroom that had no door. In the dim light Anna could not tell if the toilet bowl was just dirty or whether it was covered in shit. The smell suggested the latter. Her urge for a pee completely vanished.
Anna looked up to the ceiling. All the light bulbs had been removed.
The door closed behind them, plunging the flat into almost total darkness. There was a double clunk of the lock. All Anna could see were shadows. Both the skinny man who opened the door and their escort of the last three days seemed to have gone. The other three women set about claiming a mattress each.
No one spoke. It was the middle of the night and the need for stealth was understood by all those in the flat.
After clearing empty food cans and water bottles off it, Anna lay down on what, in the darkness, seemed to be the better of the two remaining mattresses. After ten minutes the dampness penetrated her clothing. A cockroach scurried over each leg in turn. She gasped, but she did not yelp or scream.
Sobbing quietly, she stayed awake until the dawn sunlight shining through the curtains illuminated the room with a green glow. Anna looked around. The squalor was awful, much worse than that she had spent two years planning to get away from back in Latvia. Anton had told her in his letters that the journey would be horrendous, but she would be glad she had made it. Anna clung to that hope. She also clung to the hope that the whole thing was not a scam. Perhaps the fact we are here is a positive thing, she thought. There had been nothing to stop their couriers from just taking the large sums of cash each of them were carrying, and then kicking them out of the van back in Poland, without ever getting them through Germany and into France. They had kept their word so far. Hopefully they would keep their word and get them to England.
Two days later, and her time was getting close. Five women and four men had been ushered out during the early hours the day before. From the eighth-story window she could see the port of Calais in the distance. Ferries came and went almost every thirty minutes. When she was not dreaming about meeting Anton for the first time in ten months, she was fantasising about running the two miles or so, and jumping onto one of those ferries.
Her daydreams were interrupted by the arrival of their food consignment. It was her new found friend, Rashida, who passed Anna her ration; a tin of peeled plum tomatoes, a plastic bag half filled with cold stewed cabbage, and a half-litre bottle of water. She needed to eat, even though she knew the food would only aggravate her diarrhoea, which in turn would lead to more trips to the vile toilet. Every person in the flat had diarrhoea, that was not their fault. What Anna could not understand was why half of them could not even be bothered to flush the toilet after they had sprayed all over it.
She settled her mind to forcing down the food and then reading To kill a mocking bird for the fifth time. Her English was good, it had to be; otherwise she would never have been allowed into the back of the van. In his letters Anton had said; the better your English, the better chance we have. He always wrote half of each letter in Latvian and half in English. Anna had committed herself to reading the paperback book as many times as it took u
ntil she could do so without stalling over a single word. Maybe twice more, she thought.
By late afternoon, Anna was over half-way through her book. Rashida was standing at the window watching the Sun go down. Anna stood and went over to join her.
“We must avoid prostitution,” whispered Rashida.
Anna looked at her without speaking.
“They will try to get us into prostitution.”
“My boyfriend will be there for me. You can come with me. Anton will keep us both safe.”
“No. Your boyfriend may be a pimp. I will look after myself.”
“At least let me show you where he lives.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
Anna looked down to the pavement below. Her eyes tracked a woman carrying four bags of shopping with two young children in tow. To her, that woman had everything a woman could desire. Enough money to buy the food she wanted, two beautiful children and a loving husband to cook dinner for. Thoughts of being just like her when she got to England filled Anna’s head.
The night drew in and the curtains had to be closed. Anna could not finish her book, all she could do was wait and listen to every footstep out in the passageway. The trouble was; none of the footsteps trod a path to their door.
Lying on her mattress, she whispered to the ceiling: “They will come for us, they will come for us.”
“They will have to.” The quiet reply sounded like Rashida, but she could not be sure.
Maybe the voice was right, thought Anna. If they left us here for too long, someone would break out, others would soon follow, and they would risk being caught. Yes, they will come for us.
Anna estimated it was about midnight when Rashida and two other women were taken away. She thought she was going with them, but the man held her by her hair and yanked her head back. After letting go he shone a torch into her face and then at a passport he was holding open.
“You stay here,” he said, and pushed her towards the window.
Anna tripped on a mattress and fell to the floor, still clutching her small rucksack to her chest.
“Rashida, Islington. I will see you in Islington.”
“Quiet,” said the man sharply. His torch shone in her face once more.
Anna shielded her face and then looked away.
The door shut, the lock turned. Anna crawled onto her mattress and cried into her rucksack.
Chapter 4
DCI Chadwick led the dawn raid to pick up Phillip Hetherington-Jones. It was done as discretely and quietly as possible, but there was no way of doing it without his wife knowing. He was given time to get dressed and then taken to Reading police station in an unmarked car.
Soon after he was shown into the interview room, Collins made his entrance. “Good morning, Mr Hetherington-Jones, I hate early starts to the day, don’t you?”
“What do you want, Inspector?”
“I’m a Chief Inspector. And what I want is some answers to some questions.”
“Not without my solicitor present.”
“If you like, but that will just add to the time you are away from your wife. I am not about to caution you. There are a few things that need clearing up.”
“Why not just phone and ask me to come in then? Why involve my family?”
“Ah, just in case. Just in case you are not innocent. How would we look if we gave you the opportunity to skip the country?”
Hetherington-Jones shook his head. “Felicity was right. We should have just left the body there without reporting it.”
“How would you sleep at night? Would such a deed not haunt you forever?”
“Not as much as the consequences of being dragged in here will haunt me. Have you any idea how much I stand to lose?”
“Explain.”
“Katherine and I have very little wealth of our own. All we have is a couple of houses, five cars and two horses. That’s it. If she divorces me before her father croaks, I live in poverty. If she divorces me after he dies, I get half the entire estate.”
“Aye, I can see it could be tough for you. Not that it really concerns me, but have you thought that if someone else is cited in the divorce, you might not get half?”
“I am not daft Inspector. Sorry, Chief Inspector. I have evidence of misdemeanours on the other side.”
“Not the happiest of marriages then? Anyway, even though you don’t have a solicitor with you, do you mind telling me where you lived when you were, say, fourteen?”
As expected, he did not object to such a simple question. “I spent weekends at home in Chigwell, and weekdays at St Joseph’s.”
“Ah, St Joseph’s. Is that where you learnt to ride?”
“Good God, no. I was put on a horse at the age of two.”
“Did you ride when you were at St Joseph’s?”
“No. Father and I used to ride at the weekends sometimes. I became obsessed with rugby in my teens. So I am afraid my riding took a backseat. It was a bit of a shame really, I often wonder if I might have made the Olympic team if I had given it my all.”
“Were you any good at rugby? You have a good physique.”
“School team captain. First fifteen at Cambridge.” He smiled proudly.
“Quite impressive. The ladies must have loved you.”
“Well, I never had any trouble in that department.”
“How many women do you think you had at university?”
“Oh, I don’t know, forty, maybe…” He pulled himself up. “Why are you asking?”
“Just getting to know you, that’s all.”
“I am starting to think I need my solicitor.”
“Not a problem. I could do with some breakfast.”
“Get to the point, Chief Inspector.”
“Your father and yourself, did you ever ride in Epping Forest?”
“Once or twice, yes. Father decided it was a good place to explain about the birds and the bees.”
“And did you find the lesson helpful?”
“Cosmopolitan and television dramas did a better job.”
Collins chuckled, “Good old Dennis Potter.”
“Dennis Potter? I thought the little chap’s name was Harry.”
“Sorry. I guess I am a little older than you.”
“More than a little, I would say.”
Good, he’s talking again, thought Collins.
“So, relatively speaking, it was not long ago that you rode in Epping Forest?”
“I guess not.”
“All that riding around those tracks, you must get to know these places quite intimately.”
“Are you referring to Epping Forest?” Hetherington-Jones leant back and put his hands behind his head.
“Yes.”
“And you’ve found another body there?”
“A while back we did.”
“I want my solicitor.”
“Call him. Would you like a cup of tea while you wait? Can’t offer you breakfast I’m afraid.”
“I’ll have coffee. Milk, no sugar.”
“I will have an officer bring it to you.”
The interview resumed eighty minutes later. Hetherington-Jones had his solicitor and Collins had had his breakfast. He also upped the stakes by starting the tape machine and going round the table for formal introductions.
“Okay,” Collins picked up from where he left off. “We have established that as a teenager you did ride in Epping Forest.”
“Correct.”
“Have you been there since then?”
“No.”
“Not even with any of the ladies from Cambridge?”
“No.”
“Okay, let’s move on to your affair with Lady Felicity Wilkinson. You do admit to having an affair with Lady Wilkinson?”
“I do. It’s been about four months now.”
“How often do you meet up?”
“Did, Inspector. We have decided to put it on ice for now.”
“How often did you meet up?”
“Once a week.
Tuesdays usually.”
“Usually, or always?”
“It was always a Tuesday. Most often during the day, but there were a few occasions when we met in the evening.”
“And had you taken her to the spot in the forest before?”
“Do you mean the spot where we found the body?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Had you been to that spot before?”
“No.”
“Would you like to reconsider that answer?”
“Oh dear. Have you been asking around?”
“It’s a rather unique location, isn’t it? Well off the beaten track, ideal for a bit of topless horse riding. Maybe even bottomless for all I know. When I went back there yesterday, I thought this would be a lucky random find. It got me wondering if some reconnaissance had been done beforehand.”
“So you spoke to Sarah?”
“So I spoke to Sarah. And she was not a happy bunny rabbit. She assumed Felicity was up to some funny business with Rosemary. Why did she assume it was Rosemary and not you? I asked myself. The answer was that Rosemary had once hit on Sarah, but more importantly, she didn’t dream that you would have two affairs on the go at once. But that is right up your country lane, isn’t it?”
“I like women and women seem to like me.”
“Tell me, how many times had you been to that part of the forest?”
“The first time was a couple of months ago while on the lookout for such a place. Then with Sarah last Friday, and this Tuesday for the third and final time.”
“Did you take the dead woman there?”
“No, absolutely not.”
“Why didn’t you discover the body earlier?”
“I just didn’t go over to where it was. It was Felicity that went that way. It was Felicity that discovered the body, not me.”
“Maybe you were hoping Sarah would discover it. What better way to distance yourself from your crime? No one would suspect you if you were party to the discovery.”
“No one except you.”
His solicitor took hold of Hetherington-Jones’ arm and shook his head.
“Sarah doesn’t find it, so you take your other mistress there to see if she can do any better. And bingo, she comes up trumps.”
Down in the Woods Page 3