Luck and Judgement
Page 28
If Aves had wanted to talk, of course, Smith would have been more than willing to listen, but often a period of silence is no bad thing. Aves had no criminal record, had not, as far as they knew, ever been arrested and so they had the effect of novelty on their side; even if he was a big fan of crime fiction or TV detectives, those would not have prepared him for what was coming. He was not stupid and would know perfectly well that he would not have been detained as he had been unless the police had significant evidence, but the nature of the evidence had not been disclosed to him – letting him worry about that for an hour or two was standard practice as far as Smith was concerned.
He turned away as they reached the T junction onto the main road and reminded Waters to turn right rather than left. Waters said OK and carried on driving very sensibly; Smith simply raised an eyebrow to himself in the rearview mirror. Perhaps it was too late in the day even for the lowest form of wit. Behind, he saw the lights as Murray swung out behind them, having resisted the temptation to take the four-wheel drive across the fields. It would be morning now before they could get forensics into the back of it, and that would be half of the twenty four hours gone. They could have one short session with Aves tonight before he was allowed some sleep, or at least the chance of it, so that must be made to count. Alison Reeve had already told him that she was staying on and he would do the same – it was one of those nights when, just a few years ago, he would have called Sheila and have got halfway through his opening apology only to be interrupted by ‘I’ll leave something cold in the fridge – don’t have a whisky that late, it’ll give you indigestion…’
His mobile buzzed a message. Serena Butler – ‘I waited as long as I could, just found out how late you’ll be back. Something you should know about 3S, ring me before you interview, S’. Their first text. Much better – she was almost part of the team now. He wouldn’t ring from the car with Aves in the back, but he was curious to know what Butler and Dunn had found. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly and rhythmically for a minute or so, the breath a swinging door that opens and closes in a breeze. It was going to be a long night.
‘Yes, we’re back now. Thanks for the text. What did you get at 3S?’
Serena Butler was not at home; Smith could hear voices and music in the background – a bar or a club. Presumably she hadn’t taken up the offer of a membership at the Velvet MSC.
‘It’s not a big operation. We asked to see Stuart Aves’s locker if he had one and any workspaces that he uses. Then two or three people came in one after the other and had a word before disappearing. Eventually we ended up with a Mr Catling, in his office. As far as I could make out, he runs the show if he doesn’t own it. This all seemed a bit like over-kill to us - we hadn’t told them any details at that point, just general inquiries.’
‘Agreed. What happened?’
‘He was obviously worrying about something, so I fed him a bit – I said that Aves probably was under arrest by then and that the charge was a serious one but I didn’t say what it might be. Catling wanted to know if this was connected with Stuart Aves’ work and I said that it might well be. He had to sit down at that point.’
Smith himself sat down at his desk then, and pulled a sheet of paper towards him. Aves was downstairs being processed – Waters was with him and Murray had gone home to Maggie. He should have fetched the mug of tea and bacon sandwich before he made the call to Serena Butler.
‘Go on.’
‘The short version is that the contract with Nordco is about to end and they’re in the middle of signing a new one for three years. I didn’t ask but I expect that’s a lot of dosh. Catling was frightened that this could upset what he called delicate negotiations.’
‘Why? Aves isn’t a businessman, is he? He’s not a director or something?’
‘No. But he must be popular because, as far as I can make out, he’s part of the deal. Nordco have said that they are so pleased with 3S’s present personnel on the Elizabeth that they’ll renew the contract if those people are retained.’
Smith was making notes, but he could not make them quickly enough to keep up with his own thoughts. He put the pencil down.
‘At that point, I would have asked Mr Catling whom he was dealing with at Nordco.’
‘I did. He gave me a couple of names I didn’t know. Then I gave him a name, just in a chatty sort of way. Oh yes, he said, obviously the company man’s word has a lot of weight in these matters, as he sees all the day-to-day security operations.’
After a pause, Smith said, ‘Nicely played,’ and then, ‘Very nicely played.’
‘Thanks.’
Smith was still thinking it through, pencil poised over the paper again, as well as trying to make out what sort of music that was in the background.
He said, ‘Can I ask you just one more thing?’
‘Go ahead.’
‘Where the hell are you?’
Chapter Twenty Two
As they approached the interview room, Charlie Hills was coming towards them. When he saw Smith, he shook his head, stopped and waited for the two of them to reach him.
Smith said, ‘Alright – what is it?’
Charlie nodded towards the interview room door as he answered.
‘This isn’t going to make your day, DC.’
Smith took the required half a dozen more steps and looked in through the window – then he walked back to Alison Reeve and Charlie.
‘Don’t tell me she’s the only duty solicitor available.’
‘No. It’s worse than that.’
Smith wondered what could be worse than having Christine Archer as the only duty solicitor available in an interview like the one they were about to hold. Alison Reeve had guessed from Smith’s last remark who was sitting in the room with Stuart Aves, and now she guessed again as to what Charlie was telling them.
‘She is Stuart Aves’s solicitor?’
Charlie nodded, unable to resist half a smile as he saw it dawn upon Smith’s face. But instead of the suitably restrained but pithy language that might have accompanied that realization, Smith’s mind had moved rapidly in another direction entirely.
‘What is he doing with a solicitor at all, never mind one like that?’
Reeve said, ‘People do have solicitors, DC.’
‘Yes, ordinary people when they’re selling a house or writing a will, and criminals when they know it’s only a matter of time before they end up back here. But Aves has never been arrested before and when I called earlier today, his house wasn’t on the market. Not that Mrs Archer would be handling that if it was – she’s far too busy getting up my nose to take on any bloody conveyancing. So I say again, what is he doing with a solicitor like that?’
Put that way, it seemed like a good question, to which neither had an immediate answer. Reeve looked at her watch and said, ‘How long have they had now, Charlie?’
He checked his own watch before answering.
‘Twenty five minutes or so, ma’am.’
‘Right, we’ll go in now, that’s pretty generous.’
Smith did not move.
Instead he said, ‘And I wonder how long she has been his solicitor. I don’t suppose there’s any way of finding that out… But she’ll have a PA, won’t she? They all have PAs now. A new PA might let that slip.’
Reeve said, ‘Five minutes or five years, it makes no difference. We can’t use it as evidence of anything, can we?’
‘No, but it would be a useful bit of intelligence… Never mind. Let’s get to it.’
Smith had not seen Aves clearly without his security uniform cap or a fishing hat before the moment when he sat down and faced him across the table. He stared fixedly until Aves at least had noticed, while Mrs Archer made the usual opening manoeuvres. When she paused he said, ‘Stuart – I’ll call you Mr Aves if you’d prefer, just let me know – can you tell us how you got that bruise on the right side of your head?’
‘You do not have to answer that question, Mr Aves.’
‘Mrs Archer, I think everyone in the room and his mother knows that Stuart does not have to answer that question. However, I do have to ask questions like that one, and I do have to give Stuart the opportunity to answer them.’
He looked back at Aves then, his head slightly on one side.
Aves said, ‘It happened in my garage when I was sorting some stuff out.’
‘How long ago?’
Smith glanced at the solicitor then, as if to say, yes, yes, we know… Aves didn’t answer immediately, and Smith thought, you’re counting backwards and working it out, making it fit.
‘About ten days, maybe a fortnight.’
‘Really? And it still looks like that? It must have been quite a bang, then. Were you unconscious at any point? Did it give you a headache?’
Christine Archer said, ‘Detective Inspector Reeve, this is nonsense. My client has been detained on a serious charge. If you have any serious questions to ask him, please do so, so that he can respond and then be released.’
Smith watched the two women locking eyes across the desk – Reeve taller, paler but composed, Christine Archer small, dark and intense behind her designer specs. It didn’t look like it was going to end any time soon, and so Smith stepped in again.
‘I would like the injury to Mr Aves’ head to be photographed, in addition to the images that have already been taken when he was logged in this evening.’
Archer said, ‘My client does not have to agree to that.’
Reeve said, ‘No, he does not. But then we can take the photographs anyway if we have grounds to believe that the injury might have been sustained during the committal of a criminal act; section 5.4 of PACE. As an inspector, I can authorize that – as I’m sure you are aware.’
Smith said, ‘Stuart, if we can possibly take it from you best side, we will.’
After that, however, events took a surprising turn. Yes, Aves said, he knew Philip Wood, they had met during work and Scanlon’s had been servicing the Elizabeth platform for years – part of his job was to visit service companies on a regular basis to check their security procedures. Yes, he had been out on Wood’s boat, just doing a bit of fishing in the Wash. Where had he been on Saturday the 15th of March? He couldn’t be certain but he had probably had a drink in The Wherryman, he often did when he wasn’t carp fishing… When Smith prodded him on that he said, ‘Yes, I think was in the pub that night, I remember now – so was Philip Wood, and James Bell was there as well.’
Smith said, ‘Really? You were drinking with him the weekend before he disappeared, but you never mentioned that when I spoke to you on Thursday the 20th, five days later. When you knew that the only reason we were on the platform was to look into James Bell’s disappearance. Why didn’t you mention it?’
Aves looked back at him steadily, not the same man who had panicked a little on the Elizabeth on Smith’s second visit, trying to blame Bell’s disappearance on a missing padlock. Someone had done some work with him.
‘I didn’t say I was drinking with him. I said he was there.’
‘Did you speak to him in the bar?’
‘Just to say hello.’
‘And where did the three of you go after you left the bar?’
‘I went home. I’ve no idea where the others went.’
‘Did you go to James Bell’s flat that evening?’
‘No.’
‘Have you ever been to James Bell’s flat?’
‘No.’
Smith glanced at Christine Archer. She was watching Aves carefully, listening and making occasional notes on a pad in handwriting even smaller and more cryptic than Smith’s own. When she became aware of Smith’s glance, she returned it, her own eyes narrowing slightly, and her expression seemed to say, is this it? What have you really got? He doesn’t need my help with this.
‘Apart from seeing Bell on the platform and in The Wherryman, have you ever had any other contact with him?’
‘Yes, once.’
It was too easy, too straightforward.
‘Would you tell us about that, please?’
‘I gave him a lift back into town from East Denes. That must have been after his first trip out, he didn’t know that you need to book a taxi most times.’
Reeve said, ‘Was that in the vehicle that we have in the pound tonight?’
‘Yes.’
Smith felt Alison Reeve shift beside him as they heard that. He knew why she had asked it, and had the same sinking feeling. Unless there were pools of blood soaked into the upholstery, any trace of James Bell in the Nissan Patrol had just been accounted for.
Smith said, ‘Were there any witnesses to Bell getting into the vehicle on that occasion?’
‘Probably scores of them, at the airport and at the market square where he asked me to drop him off. But I can’t name anyone – I mean, you don’t think of it when you’re just doing someone a favour, do you?’
Smith looked directly at him with almost a smile, and Aves seemed to take it as a sign of grudging respect.
Aves said then, ‘I realise I should have mentioned some of this but I don’t suppose it really changes anything, does it?’
It was a little after ten o’clock that same night. Smith and Alison Reeve sat in the incident room, facing up to the fact that they might as well go home now. Christine Archer had pushed hard for Aves’s release once they had declined to disclose; when they refused for the third time, the solicitor had said that they were “pushing at the boundaries of what was proper in these circumstances”, and Smith had struggled with the impulse to tell her to write to her MP.
They could hold onto Aves until tomorrow evening but Reeve was certain that Allen would not grant another twelve hours based on what they had at the moment – which was only Wood’s assertion that the two of them had left The Wherryman with James Bell, had travelled in Aves’ four-wheel drive to The Towers, had gone into Bell’s flat on the pretext of holding some sort of party because his wife was away, and then “roughed him up a bit” once he was sufficiently under the influence. Wood did not know why they were to do this, but he said it was premeditated, he was sure of that; Aves had said in The Wherryman, when they first saw Bell, that he had been told he would find him there. That story fitted the facts that they had so far but Aves was of previous good character and Wood, well…enough said. The answers that Aves had given them threw doubt not only onto Wood’s claims but onto their own ability to prove anything against Aves, and without some sort of proof they would have to release him.
Disclosing Wood’s allegations was tempting – Smith would like to have watched the man’s face as he heard all that – but the solicitor would quickly have seen the absence of evidence, and they would have played that card for nothing. As soon as he was released, Aves would be able to establish that Wood was in custody but he would not know exactly what had been said; he would guess that Wood might have named him – why else had he been arrested on suspicion? – but he would know nothing for certain. Once released, of course, Aves would assume that the case against him was weak, that his carefully prepared answers had done their job. Smith had told him that his vehicle and home would be searched in the morning – were they likely to find anything that Aves would do better to tell them about now? No, was the answer, given in the same understated but confident manner.
Smith had looked at Christine Archer then. She could not have coached Wood to this extent in the twenty five minutes before the start of the interview, but he doubted whether she had been involved at all; she was the bane of their lives at times but his instincts told him that she was not one of Lake’s little coterie of suspect lawyers. More than once during the interview he had seen the surprise on her own face as Aves accounted for his presence in the lives of James Bell and Philip Wood. When Smith had said that they would examine his phone to see if Phi
lip Wood’s number was present and whether there were recent calls between them, Aves had said that there would be – they had been arranging to go out in the boat after spring codling.
Smith upended the mug and drank the last of the cold tea. It had been a frantic sort of day, so much so that he had only smoked one cigarette, and he could do with one now.
Reeve said, ‘OK. We’ll do the searches anyway. Even if Sally is in early tomorrow, we’ll know nothing before his time is up and he can walk. I’m not even going to bother asking Allen with what we’ve got at present.’
‘Agreed. It might even be worth letting him go early with a little apology.’
‘Why?’
‘If he thinks we’re embarrassed because we were too hasty or whatever, he might not put his guard up any higher, even if he doesn’t lower it. He’ll certainly conclude that we don’t have much evidence.’
‘We don’t…’
She looked up at Smith. He didn’t seem too concerned that they appeared to have lost this round. In fact, he looked pretty relaxed considering that he had just spent an hour in Christine Archer’s chilly company.
She said, ‘We are struggling here. Aves has accounted for anything we find on the boat and in his car, unless, as you say, there are some convenient bloodstains belonging to Bell. He hasn’t denied meeting Bell in the pub. He has explained away any contact that weekend with Wood. We can’t tie any of the money to him unless some turns up tomorrow morning-’