They drove in silence for a while and eventually Paul asked from the back seat if they thought they had gained anything from the Chapmans’ household that was of interest.
‘Only the fact that Sammy was hammering on the door in a bit of a state and it’s around the time he went missing six months ago,’ Williams said abruptly.
‘What about her husband being an American?’ Anna asked.
‘Doesn’t pull my strings, Kansas. If he’d been Colombian I might have been interested. Anyway, I can check him out. In fact, I’ll do it now.’
True to his word, Williams rang the station as they drove, asking them to contact Mr Chapman and arrange for them to see him as soon as possible.
He next asked his team if there was any news from the pilot regarding the helicopter trip, but there wasn’t. The weather was still very blustery, the rain now lashing down.
Anna was frustrated. Williams being so dominant put her off her stroke and she considered asking for the car he had arranged so that she and Paul could work by themselves. Williams’s priority was obviously tracking down Sammy Marsh whereas hers was Alan Rawlins. She felt that she would make more headway without him.
The small terraced house was on the outskirts of Newquay and Mrs Flowers, a robust woman in her late sixties, was expecting them. She ushered them into a small sitting room, where thankfully a fire was lit as Anna was now freezing. Anna didn’t waste time, but began asking about the rental property.
‘I’m there twice a week, should be three times but she told me they didn’t need me so I do what I can while I’m there. It’s not the way he would like it as he’s ever so particular.’
‘When you say “he”, Mrs Flowers, who are you referring to?’
‘Mr Matthews. He’s got a flat as well which I used to clean, but that’s too far for me to go now.’
‘Is this Mr Matthews?’ Anna showed her the picture of Alan Rawlins.
‘Yes. Lovely young man he is.’
Anna’s pulse-rate jumped. ‘When did you last see him?’
Mrs Flowers licked her lips and then got up to fetch a thick notebook.
‘I can tell you exactly. He said he was here on a flying visit as he was not going to move into his new house, but rent it out. I’ve known him for quite a while now – about four years.’ She sat thumbing through her book, then passed it over to Anna.
‘It was seven months ago. He said he would arrange for me to keep an eye on the property. I’ve made notes for him of the damage. They’ve broken the gates, the kitchen is a real mess, and him being so particular everything was brand new. I can’t shift the grease on the cooker and the microwave is always filthy. They never wipe around it after they’ve cooked in it.’
‘Tell me about him.’
‘Well, as I said he was a lovely chap. I often used to do his washing and ironing when he was down here.’
‘Did you ever meet his fiancée?’
Mrs Flowers flushed and folded her arms.
‘Her name is Tina Brooks.’
‘Look, I don’t like to gossip, but I didn’t think he liked women.’
‘Why do you say that?’
She flushed again and glanced at Williams.
‘When Ed here was asking me about him, I told him that a few times Mr Matthews had guests – men – and he only had one bedroom.’
‘Did you ever hear him being called a different name?’
‘Who?’
‘Mr Matthews.’
‘No, but you know I just went in to clean, take his laundry back and forth. It was just a small place and he often wasn’t there. He always left me my money, not like some of them, and when I last saw him he said if I did a good clean-up as he was leaving, he—’
‘Wait a minute. Was this when you last saw him, when he told you he had rented out his house?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘So when you cleaned, did you find anything left by him?’
‘No. He was very methodical. However, I did find . . .’ She stood up and walked to the door. ‘I never use the stuff myself, but my daughter-in-law when she stays has tried them out and says they’re very good.’
Mrs Flowers returned with half-filled bottles of shampoo, conditioner and moisturiser and all had Tina’s Salon labels on them.
‘It’s not as if I was stealing – he’d left them in his bathroom cabinet.’
Anna smiled, looking over the items.
‘When he said he’d rented out this house he had here, did you find that odd?’
‘Well, yes, I did. It had taken so long to be fixed up I presumed he was going to be living there himself. He had books of fabrics and magazines. I took some of those, but I’ve thrown them out.’
‘Did he ever tell you where he was going to be living, if not at his house?’
‘No.’
‘Did he seem like his usual self on the last time you say he saw you? You said he told you it was a flying visit.’
Mrs Flowers shrugged. ‘I put it down to the fact that he was renting out that lovely property. I mean, I never asked about his financial situation, but I reckoned it was because he was short of money.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Well, for one he was in a terrible hurry, a bit agitated, and kept on looking at his mobile phone as if he was expecting a call.’
‘Did he have any luggage with him, as if he was going away?’
‘No, just his briefcase and a small overnight bag. He said he would be out of touch with me for a while and to liaise with the estate agents if anything went wrong at the house. He said they would handle everything.’
‘And you’ve not heard from him since?’
‘No, dear, not a pip.’
Back in the car, Anna leaned her head against the headrest.
‘Not a pip,’ she repeated.
‘The time he was down here arranging the house coincides with him taking a holiday break from his work. It sounds to me as if he was planning on doing a runner,’ said Paul from the back seat.
Anna made no reply, but simply stared ahead before addressing Williams. ‘You interviewed her before, right?’
Williams nodded, explaining that Mrs Flowers had also at one time cleaned for Sammy, but he was always late paying her. He then said that it was possible Sammy had recommended Mrs Flowers to Alan Rawlins.
‘Christ, he kept up using Daniel Matthews’s name for years!’ Paul exclaimed.
‘Maybe he was planning to do a runner for that length of time,’ Williams suggested.
Anna disagreed. ‘Maybe he was planning to leave Tina and London to live here, but something changed his mind, and it had to have happened around the time he arranged to rent out his house.’
She looked out of the window. ‘Where are we going now?’
‘I thought you would like to have a coffee and meet the team at the station.’
‘I would, but do you have access to Sammy Marsh’s place? You said he’d upped and left it as well.’
‘Yes, and legally, as he’s wanted, it’s still in our possession. You want to go there now?’
‘Yes, if you don’t mind.’
Williams gave her a sidelong glance and then put in a call for an officer to be at Sammy’s flat with the keys.
It took almost three-quarters of an hour to get to the flat, which was in a modern block with small balconies overlooking the beach, and lock-up garages to one side. The place looked in very good order. Williams parked, and as they headed towards the entrance a patrol car drew up with DC Harry Took driving. He didn’t get out, but dangled the keys out of the open window. Williams took them, and they headed into the apartment block.
‘Sammy also had numerous rented flophouses, plus the caravan,’ he told them, ‘but he bought this place a few years ago. We’ve checked out all the other places and they’ve been let out since he disappeared – apart from the caravan obviously, because it was trashed.’
‘So Mrs Flowers also cleaned for Sammy?’ Anna mused.
&
nbsp; ‘Apparently a few years ago she did, but like I said, he was always late paying her and the rentals were always left in a terrible state.’
Williams used an entry code that opened the glassfronted reception door. There were eight flats and Sammy’s was the large one on the top floor, which they reached via a small lift. Anna was impressed. It was all well decorated, and Williams observed it would have cost about four hundred grand, and was probably worth even more now. Most of the tenants were retired elderly couples who lived in the flats all year round, but a few moved out and rented their homes for the summer, to make some money.
Williams used two keys to open up the front door. There was no hallway; it opened into a huge lounge with spectacular views across the bay.
‘It’s pretty much left as we found it,’ Williams said.
‘How did you get the keys?’
‘From the caretaker. He doesn’t live on the premises so couldn’t give us any details about who came and went.’
Anna looked around the tasteful room. There were huge floral-fabric sofas and matching armchairs, a glass-topped coffee table and a small bar close to the sliding doors to the balcony.
‘Best place I’ve ever seen a drug-dealer live in,’ she said.
‘Yeah, compared with the other shitholes. He had places all over the main beaches that he rented, mostly just bedsits. You can see from here, the boat is moored at the dock in front of the property.’
The boat was covered in a tarpaulin. It was amongst numerous others and yet the size of it was impressive.
‘Cost two hundred grand and is very fast.’
Drawers had been left open in a fitted cabinet.
‘You find anything of interest in there?’ Anna asked.
‘Nope. Lot of bills for his furniture, and wait until you see the kitchen – cost a fortune and looks like it was never used.’
They looked into the high-tech, very well-equipped kitchen. As Williams had said, it didn’t look as if anyone had ever used it. New crockery filled the glassfronted cabinets and some of the cutlery still had the prices attached.
‘He must have come into a lot of cash to own a place like this,’ Paul said, looking around.
‘How many bedrooms?’ Anna wondered.
‘Just the one. Follow me.’ Williams led them to one side of the immense lounge and pushed open a door. The room had white carpet, white walls, the bed was unmade and clothes were strewn around with the wardrobe doors left open. The clothes were mostly designer jeans and flash T-shirts, rows of trainers and boots with Cuban heels, and there was even a drawer dedicated to thick gold bracelets and chains.
‘Left in a hurry, wouldn’t you say?’ Williams said as Anna fingered the heavy gold bracelets. There were a few empty boxes and a gold Rolex watch.
‘You know how much these cost?’ Paul asked, opening the case.
‘We do, and . . .’ He turned as Anna was drawing the sheet away from the bed.
‘Have Forensic checked out the bedlinen?’ she asked.
Williams shook his head.
‘We would like this done, if it’s possible, to check for any DNA.’
‘I can organise that, but basically we’re only just beginning to consider that he might have been bumped off. If he hasn’t been, I’d like to get my hands on him. I told you we found a few fake passports – good ones.’
They opened the bedside drawers, which were full of gay pornography and lubricants. There were also numerous DVDs with lurid titles. Paul entered the en-suite bathroom and after a moment he came out and gestured for Anna to join him.
There was a mirrored cabinet beside the huge Jacuzzi bath with gold dolphin-shaped taps and a glass screen around it. White towels were stacked on a shelf beside the bath and hung on gold rails. Paul had opened the cabinet to reveal fake tanning lotions, bubble bath, bath oils, shampoos and conditioners.
‘What?’ Anna asked, looking around the bathroom.
Paul held up the shampoo container. It was identical to the one shown to them by Mrs Flowers. Tina’s Salon labels were on the shampoos, the conditioners and massage oils.
Anna turned to Williams. ‘This is confirmation that Alan Rawlins knew your drug-dealer.’
Chapter Seventeen
Coffee was served with fresh pastries in the Newquay incident room. The pilot had called in to say that they could take a flight in the helicopter to get an aerial view of all the various beaches, and Paul couldn’t wait to pass on the good news to Anna, who’d been busy ringing Helen.
‘Good – although you might be on your own, Paul. I need to do a few enquiries and without Williams breathing down my neck.’
‘Oh, right.’ Paul was puzzled. He hadn’t felt that Williams had been anything other than helpful.
Anna was introduced to everyone and accepted her coffee gratefully as four members of the Drug Squad also joined the team. With one eye on the wall clock she listened as they outlined their investigation into the whereabouts of Sammy Marsh. They were certain that over the past eighteen months, Sammy had joined forces with some heavy hitters. The boat, the flash apartment and his cars all flagged up that Sammy was moving from smalltime dealing along the coasts to large amounts of cocaine and heroin. The Senior Investigation Officer from the Drug Squad stood by a wall map of the beaches earmarked as Sammy’s playground. He was a burly six-footer who introduced himself as Ted Brock and he had the same tough, no-nonsense attitude as Williams.
‘Sammy has been well-known to us over a long period, but it is only in the last few weeks that we’ve had some factual evidence against him. The three teenagers all dying of heroin overdoses have been DCI Williams’s priority, but obviously linked with us. We have now been able to learn that each one of the victims was supplied with drugs by Sammy or one of his henchmen. They scored the heroin from different locations, but it’s taken time to get the poor kids formally identified. The Forensic Department have also ascertained that the heroin had been cut with ketamine and was very pure, so we’d back up DCI Williams to get Sammy charged with murder.’
‘But if they scored the heroin themselves and injected themselves,’ objected Anna, ‘won’t it be difficult to make such a charge?’
‘It won’t be if we can prove he dealt the heroin,’ replied Brock.
‘We have witnesses and we also have his fingerprints on the hypodermic needle,’ Williams told her. ‘By the time we got all the evidence together he had disappeared before we could arrest him.’
‘Do you have any idea who Sammy was purchasing the drugs from?’ Anna asked.
‘Not yet,’ Brock admitted.
‘Have you had any sighting of Alan Rawlins over recent weeks?’
‘No, but we have some surveillance shots. Your guy was caught with him on numerous occasions.’
‘How long ago?’
Ted Brock gestured to the incident board which showed that the last sighting of Alan Rawlins was seven months ago.
‘We’ve been trying to get him identified. When DCI Williams passed on your enquiries to us and the photograph of him, we thought we’d got a major breakthrough, but that was until we knew he had also disappeared. All we’ve come up with is that Rawlins went under various names and was a known associate of Sammy.’
Williams took over, pointing out the amounts of money they had calculated Sammy was splashing out.
‘The pair of them were flush with cash.’
Anna came to stand beside Williams.
‘Wait a minute,’ she said. ‘We know that Alan Rawlins was getting big money from the sale of vintage cars, and the cash was accumulated over a long period – not necessarily from the sale of drugs.’
‘Unless he was financing Sammy.’ Ted Brock drew a red arrow between the two suspects.
Anna shook her head. ‘Not enough. Could I see the surveillance photographs, please?’
Ted Brock passed them to her and she sat with Paul thumbing through them. They were black and white and obviously taken over a quite lengthy period. There were shots o
f Alan Rawlins heading into Sammy’s block of flats. Another was of him standing at the dock as Sammy was taking off the tarpaulin from his speedboat. Rawlins was wearing dark glasses and a baseball cap pulled low over his face. Two further pictures showed him in the passenger seat of Sammy’s Ferrari, again wearing dark glasses and the same baseball cap. They had included an enlargement of the same picture and ringed in a red felt-tipped pen was Alan Rawlins’s head. It was definitely him, Anna was certain of it. The date was two days before Mrs Flowers had said he called on her.
Anna looked up as Ted Brock listed the known hang-outs for his team to revisit and a slew of names of people that he wanted questioned again.
‘This guy Alan Rawlins could well be connected to the drug-dealing, so we spread the net.’
Anna began to feel as if the carpet was being tugged from beneath her feet. She raised her hand and Brock looked over.
‘You mind if I give a few details about the reason I’m here, because if you do trace him, I want him.’
She stood up.
‘I am here on a murder enquiry that could also involve your man Sammy Marsh.’
She spoke quickly and in brief explained her enquiry to date, describing their inability to get DNA evidence to identify if the blood belonged to Alan Rawlins or whether it was someone else who had been murdered in his London flat. The questions came thick and fast: why had she been unable to acquire the DNA to match with Rawlins, why had Tina Brooks not been arrested, and why had it taken her investigation so long to establish that Rawlins was in Cornwall and involved with Sammy Marsh? She answered every point, but found their manner antagonistic and sarcastic.
‘We have only recently discovered that Rawlins used the names of his friends, Daniel Matthews and Julian Vickers, and we also found no passport and no evidence that he had property in Cornwall. This has taken a lot of time, and we did send an email days ago asking why Sammy Marsh’s DNA wasn’t put on the national database when your force first arrested him.’
‘His mouth swab was rejected due to an administrative error,’ Ted Brock snapped.
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