The answers certainly sounded plausible.
Sam was reminded of DI Jackson's words.
He was far away by the time we looked for him.
So, if he lived in the vicinity, why hadn't he been picked up?
Sam thought of the false number plates.
A sense of dread began to creep up on him.
He got on the phone to Richie. Waiting for his friend to answer, Sam glanced at the hire agreement. The dates showed Stephen Smith hired the car after Geoffrey's death. In fact, he collected it the same day he tried to break into the cottage. So, if the vehicle was part of the masterplan to murder Geoffrey, this confirmed Smith had been too late. He had wasted his time hiring a car. Geoffrey was already dead.
Richie's phone went to answer machine. Sam left a message asking him to check his emails, then got on his own laptop, scanned the driving licence and emailed it to Richie with a full explanation.
He wanted to find out everything about Stephen Smith.
Sam's thoughts were interrupted by the intercom buzzing. He was surprised to hear Benjamin outside his flat. Sam let him in, closed down the laptop and, almost as an afterthought, stowed the camera away in a drawer.
The two men took a seat in Sam's office, transporting them both back to their first meeting only days ago. So much had happened since.
'Well, this is a pleasant surprise, Benjamin,' said Sam. 'How did the rest of the wake go?'
Benjamin gave Sam a smile. He looked tired but relaxed. More at ease with himself. Perhaps the pressure was off now his father had finally been laid to rest.
'Yes, it went well,' he nodded. 'Most people left about an hour ago.'
'And your mother's cousin, Erica?'
'She left then, too,' said Benjamin, still smiling. 'Her friend took her back to her hotel. I think Erica had worn herself out.'
'She's an interesting character,' remarked Sam.
Benjamin laughed.
'She is that, Sam. It's a shame she lost contact with everyone when my mother died. Still, she seems to have changed my brother's attitude in the short time she's been here.'
'Really?'
'Yes, Arnold seems to be looking at my father in a different light since talking to her. The two of them got on like a house on fire, so much so Arnold's staying another night so we can both see Erica off in the morning.'
Sam could see why Arnold and Erica would be drawn to each other. Two big-hearted personalities with an insatiable lust for life, each carrying a ready smile and a twinkle in their eye. Sam was pleased for them as a family. It was good to see something productive materialise from such a sad day.
'Anyway,' said Benjamin, looking more serious, 'I was wondering what you're going to do now...'
'About what?'
Benjamin pulled a face.
'Oh, you mean our mystery man? Well, I think we're both agreed he's got something to do with your father's death...and I've still got this feeling he isn't done yet.'
Benjamin shook his head. He just wasn't buying Sam's theory that Stephen Smith had unfinished business in Newgate.
'You don't even know if he's still in the area, Sam. He may be gone for good now the funeral is over.'
Sam thought about the local address on the driving licence. He was keeping that information to himself until he had confirmation.
'Just call it intuition, Benjamin.'
'Sorry, Sam, I'm not convinced-'
Benjamin's phone started ringing. As he answered, Sam watched his benign expression change to one of total shock and disbelief. When the call ended, he stared at Sam with a vacant look. He spoke slowly, like a man in a trance.
'Erica is dead. She was found in her hotel room a half hour ago. A heart attack...'
Sam struggled to take it in himself. He knew he should be commiserating with Benjamin, offering his sympathy, but one overriding thought wouldn't go away. He had to speak his mind. He had to put the question to Benjamin. His words were barely more than a whisper.
'Are you still not convinced?'
Chapter 18
'But Detective Inspector Jackson said it was a heart attack!'
'Benjamin, what is wrong with you? Why won't you listen to what I'm saying? You saw this man in action...you told me yourself he scared the life out of you.'
Benjamin shook his head. He didn't even want to contemplate what Sam was suggesting.
'She was an old lady, Sam. A very old lady. The day must have been too much for her. The long flight...the funeral...the wake. Anyway, what would he have wanted with an elderly woman like Erica?'
'What did he want with your father?' asked Sam.
Benjamin had no answer for that.
'Look,' he said, 'let's not jump to any conclusions until the police get here.'
DI Jackson was on his way over. He wanted to talk to both Benjamin and Sam.
'Okay,' said Sam, 'but if the police have got any suspicions, we'd better decide now what we're going to do.'
'What do you mean?'
Sam looked him in the eye. He wanted to make this crystal clear.
'Benjamin, if you want to tell the police about everything that's happened...this man breaking into the cottage...terrorising you in your own home...turning up at the funeral...then go ahead, I'll back you up all the way. But what you've got to understand is once we open our mouths, there's no going back, especially for you.'
Benjamin looked mystified. Sam sighed. He was going to have to spell it out.
'You're the one he threatened to harm if the police ever found out. It's you he promised to come after...'
Sam watched Benjamin flinch. The buzzer sounded, signalling Jackson's arrival. Sam let his finger hover over the intercom and raised his eyebrows at Benjamin.
'Well?' he asked.
Benjamin shook his head.
Sam let the detective in.
***
'All the early signs suggest a straightforward heart attack, if there is such a thing, but we won't know for sure until we get the medical report.'
The three men were in the kitchen. Sam was particularly keen to keep the detective out the office, with its loaded handgun and camera proving a breaking and entering offence. Jackson raised his eyebrows at Sam's bruised face but didn't pass comment. The detective was wearing the same shabby long coat as yesterday. Sam wasn't fooled. This was a copper who wanted people to judge him on his appearance.
'Where exactly was she found?' asked Benjamin.
'Sitting in an armchair in her hotel room,' replied Jackson. 'Her friend, the lady who came over with her from the States, had only nipped to the shop across the road. By the time she returned, Erica had passed away.'
'It's a tragedy,' stated Benjamin. 'She was a lovely woman...and she had been in such good form all day.'
Jackson nodded thoughtfully.
'That's exactly what everybody else has said. Apparently, she was still looking as fit as a fiddle when her friend popped out. The attack must have been sudden...almost instant.'
Sam and Benjamin glanced at each other.
'But you're quite satisfied everything was normal?' asked Benjamin.
Sam and DI Jackson both gave him inquiring looks. Sam's was more penetrating, accompanied by a rolling of the eyes. Jackson was simply curious.
'Normal?' he said. 'What do you mean by that?'
Benjamin blushed.
'I, er, mean you're not looking at any other underlying causes...medical-wise. You've got no reason to-'
Sam sidled up to Benjamin and patted him on the shoulder. He threw DI Jackson a sad look.
'Benjamin's had a long day. We all have, to be honest. What with the funeral, then a sudden death like this. It's hit him hard.'
Benjamin went to say something else, tempting Sam to hit him hard, but Jackson interrupted.
'I understand. It sounds like it's been quite a traumatic day for you.'
Benjamin's eyes moistened just the slightest. Sam studied him closely. He didn't appear to be faking. It looked like Erica's
death had re-awakened emotions Benjamin had only just put to rest.
Jackson suddenly looked uncomfortable himself.
'Look, I've just got one more question for you, Mr Compton, and then I'll leave you to it. Do you know the current whereabouts of your brother?'
Benjamin shook his head, puzzled.
'I haven't got a clue, Detective. He left the club at the same time as the rest of us...over an hour ago. I presume he returned to his hotel room. We had arranged to meet up tomorrow to see Erica off.'
Benjamin looked choked again.
'I need some fresh air, gentleman,' he announced, ashen-faced. 'I'll try Arnold's phone while I'm outside.'
Sam and DI Jackson watched him disappear down the stairs.
'He certainly is having a rough day,' stated Jackson.
Sam nodded.
'What was all that about his brother?'
'We'd just like to talk to him,' shrugged Jackson. 'Tie up the loose ends regarding this lady's death. I'm sure he'll turn up.'
Jackson wasn't giving anything away. Sam was impressed by his poker face and consistently even voice. Fine traits in a detective.
'Anyway, while I'm here, Sam. Richard Brown...'
'Have you got him?'
Jackson shook his head.
'No, but we're closing in on him. We tracked him down to a dingy hostel close to the beach, but he was gone when officers went in. Missed him by two hours, apparently.'
'Do you think he's still in Newgate?'
'I'm certain of it,' nodded Jackson. 'We've checked his record. It's not the first time he's got obsessive about a woman.'
Sam closed his eyes. He dreaded hearing this.
'Seven years ago, a long-term girlfriend tried to end her relationship with him. He'd cheated on her, too. She didn't even get as far as the front door when she tried to leave him. He left her with a broken eye socket, perforated ear-drum and a hairline fracture of the skull. He got three years for it.'
Sam thought of the car driving at him. The jealous rage that must have been behind it.
'Three years?'
'Out in two,' spat Jackson. 'We want this man badly, Sam. We need to get him before he does the same again.'
***
Benjamin shook his head as he re-entered Sam's flat, having passed the departing Jackson on the stairs.
'Arnold's not answering. I don't even know if he's aware of what's happened to Erica yet.'
Sam never even heard Benjamin's words. He was distracted by other things. Stephen Smith, for starters. Sam could do with Richie getting back in touch. He needed to know more about the man. Then there was Richard Brown. Sam hoped the police got another sighting of him soon. Get him off the streets and give Alice her life back.
'Sam?'
He looked up. Benjamin was gazing at him with concern.
'What was that? Oh, Arnold. I wouldn't worry. He's probably sleeping off the wine he was drinking.'
It was Benjamin's turn to look deep in thought.
'I've told the police which hotel he's staying at, so they should be able to get hold of him. Did you hear what the detective said about Alice?'
'I heard,' said Sam. 'One minute she's fine, then a few minutes on her own and she's-'
'Quite,' grimaced Benjamin. 'I know what you're thinking, Sam. You think that man sneaked into Erica's room and caused her death.'
'I don't think it, Benjamin. I know it.'
Benjamin lifted his arms in exasperation.
'But how can you know? The police haven't found anything suspicious-'
'They wouldn't tell you if they had,' said Sam. 'Not yet, at least. Anyway, Jackson's not looking for a crime scene. He's got no reason to believe Erica's death was suspicious.'
Sam reached for his jacket and pulled it on. He needed to get out and make something happen. Benjamin was still in his ear, trying to make sense of it all.
'But how can you make someone have a heart attack?'
Sam collected his car keys and slipped them into his pocket.
'Benjamin, listen to me. Remember when you first came to me for help?'
Sam got a hesitant nod in reply.
'You told me how your father's death was a nailed-on suicide...how you had no argument with the medical verdict.'
Another nod.
'Yet you were still insistent something untoward was behind it. You had no evidence, nothing at all to back up that view except your own gut instinct. Now, I have to admit, I probably didn't take you seriously at first, but you were right, there is something going on here...'
'And it still hasn't finished,' whispered Benjamin.
Sam was surprised. Not because Benjamin finally understood what he saying, but because he had just read his mind.
This hadn't ended.
Erica wasn't the last.
Chapter 19
As Sam drove past Moira's apartment, he wondered where Richard Brown was right now. Was he loitering somewhere on this road, hoping to catch Alice returning to the apartment? Or was he skulking somewhere else in Newgate, keeping his head down? Sam realised it mattered little. Jackson had increased the number of officers in the vicinity of the Barton Arms, meaning Alice was safe in there for now. Anyway, it was surely only a matter of time before the police picked Richard up.
He parked a couple of roads away from Sherbourne Close and got out. The layout of the area meant it was impossible to keep a vigil on the cul-de-sac from a parked car. It had to be straight up to the front door of the property and take it from there. As he started walking, he glanced back at the Capri, glad to have traded his white model for the less conspicuous black version. It meant he didn't have to park in shady corners anymore while out on a job.
Sam found himself taking in the atmosphere of a seaside town on a fine summer night. The sun had made a late re-appearance in the sky, adding to the closeness of the evening. Couples strolled along with their arms linked, their young children leaping about them excitedly. Groups of teenagers rushed in and out of amusement arcades, eager to spend their money, keen to make an impression on the opposite sex. Sam remembered bringing his own daughter to such places. He had loved every minute of it.
Sherbourne Close was a short road containing no more than a dozen council-owned houses. The properties backed on to Sherbourne Boulevard, a rather extravagant name for a tired-looking row of shops. Turning into the close, Sam noticed Stephen Smith's house was the first one along, handy for Sam if he needed to make a quick exit. He walked up to the front door, conscious of the weight in his inside pocket. This time he had brought the gun. He hoped he wasn't going to need it.
Seconds after knocking on the front door, Sam saw movement through the frosted glass. The door opened revealing a man in his mid-forties. That's where the similarity to Stephen Smith ended. The man facing Sam was short and balding, with a generous stomach protruding over his jeans and thick-lensed glasses on his nose.
Sam introduced himself as an employee of Lexbury Car Rental, asking to speak to Stephen Smith. The man shook his head in puzzlement.
'Stephen Smith? I don't know-'
Suddenly, his expression changed.
'Hold on, that's the bloke who lived here before us. Where did you say you were from?'
'Lexbury Car Rental,' replied Sam.
'Good. I can get this sorted out once and for all. Wait there a minute, mate.'
With that, he went back inside, leaving Sam scratching his head. It was several minutes before the man re-appeared. He had a white envelope in his hand.
'Here it is. I keep getting these letters from your lot. This one came yesterday. I usually throw them in the bin, but seeing as you're here...'
Sam took the envelope of him and opened it up. It was a letter from Lexbury Car Rental, addressed to Stephen Smith, offering him a discount on car hire as reward for his loyal custom.
Sam groaned inwardly. Another wild goose chase.
'Can I verify your name, Sir?' he asked. 'Just for our records.'
'Rogers,' rep
lied the man. 'Barry Rogers.'
'Well, I'm sorry about this, Mr Rogers. There appears to have been some sort of mix-up.'
Barry shrugged easily.
'It's my fault. I should have let you know the bloke doesn't live here any more. It would have saved all those wasted letters.'
'You wouldn't happen to have a forwarding address for Mr Smith, would you?'
Barry broke into a wry smile.
'Hardly, mate. He died ten years ago.'
***
Sam got back into his car feeling deflated. Not only was the man he was chasing using false plates on his hire car, he had rented that vehicle with bogus paperwork. He had adopted the identity of a dead man. That meant Sam was dealing with more than the average criminal here. This was a man capable of hacking into utility bills and changing the account holder's name. This was somebody computer savvy as well as street-wise.
However, nobody was perfect. The man hadn't bargained on junk mail being sent to the address he had used for his scam. How long had Barry said those letters had been coming through his door? Three to four years? That meant this person had been hiring cars from Lexbury Car Rental for some time. The thought actually shook Sam. What was he dealing with here? Some kind of serial-
Sam's phone rang, shaking him from his thoughts. It was Richie returning his call.
'Sorry to take so long getting back to you, Sam.'
'No problem, Rich. What have you got?'
Richie had checked out the name and address first, confirming Barry's story that Stephen Smith was deceased.
'You don't sound surprised?' remarked Richie.
'That's because I'm not,' replied Sam glumly. He was hoping for more positive news on the photo. There could be no fixing that. 'Let's hear some better news on the picture, mate.'
'I, er, haven't got any, Sam.'
'Okay, well give me what you have got.'
Sam heard Richie hesitate.
'No, I mean I haven't got anything at all.'
'What are you saying?'
'I'm saying I've cross-checked the photo and come up with nothing. This man doesn't exist, Sam.'
***
Death in July Page 10