Devil in the Detail

by Leo McNeir

  … whose identity remains a mystery.

  “Bingo!” Ralph exclaimed. “Anne, you’re a genius.”

  … and it is not clear how the assailant could have known about the BFP base, which was a closely-guarded secret. Only a handful of Brandon’s inner circle of associates knew its location. We are still trying to obtain a statement from the police, but so far no-one has been available.

  Here’s a recap on the dramatic events that have taken place in the past half hour. Garth Brandon appears to have returned to his HQ on foot after addressing a mass rally on the racecourse. As always, he was protected by supporters wearing the distinctive all-black clothing that Brandon himself favoured. It was when he reached the front door that a shot was heard and a man shouted to everyone to get down. More shots were fired and Garth Brandon was hit. The attacker ran off while everyone was on the ground. It’s thought that he might have had an accomplice, as he vanished from the scene leaving no trace behind him.

  “This is amazing.” Marnie sat back, anxious but relieved. “Whoever it was must’ve been in Brandon’s outfit.”

  “Or part of New Force,” Ralph suggested. “If it’s true there were rivalries, anything might be possible.”

  “But you don’t kill a colleague over a policy dispute, surely?” said Luther, “Even if you are rivals.”

  “Who else could get near enough? Who else would be able to get them all to hit the ground like that?”

  Marnie stroked her chin. “That must’ve come from an eye-witness. It sounded authentic.”

  Luther leaned forward. “Then the eye-witness would surely have known who did it. That’s the part I don’t understand.”

  “Perhaps it was just someone who looked like one of them,” Anne surmised.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I dunno, just a thought. Who could get close to Brandon? Luther couldn’t. He’s the wrong colour. So it might’ve been a BFP or New Force person, or someone like that.”

  “That’s logical.” Marnie turned on the ignition. “But they’d have to know where to go to find Brandon at his secret HQ. I think it points to an insider from a rival faction.”

  “I rather agree with Marnie,” said Ralph. “It would have to be a pretty sophisticated infiltrator for it to be an outsider.”

  “An undercover police agent?” Luther speculated.

  Anne gazed out of the window as Marnie performed a U-turn and drove back to the main road. She was composed again, and Luther took his handkerchief from her lap and tucked it back into his pocket. They travelled in silence, listening as the news reports on the Brandon incident came in, each one regurgitating the same facts. The BBC eventually interviewed a police officer who was only able to confirm the earlier story.

  … no word yet from the hospital on the extent of Mr Brandon’s injuries, though it is believed he was wounded in the attack.

  Thank you, Superintendent. We’re now going live to our reporter Lance Macey, at the General Hospital, who I think has some news for us.

  The Discovery was filled with the crackle of static.

  “It’s all a bit chaotic,” Marnie murmured, pulling out to overtake a lorry.

  Ralph agreed. “Probably just arrived there in the radio car. They’re having to cobble it all together as best they can.”

  … just made this statement. “Mr Garth Brandon was admitted to the Accident and Emergency department a short while ago. He was suffering from gunshot wounds to the head and neck and was immediately taken to the operating theatre for emergency surgery. Before any treatment could be administered, however, he died without regaining consciousness.”

  “Bloody hell!” Marnie made a supreme effort to keep her attention focused on the road.

  “He’s dead!” Anne exclaimed. “He’s really dead. What will happen now?”

  Ralph summed it up in one word. “Trouble.”

  *

  Back at Glebe Farm, Marnie dashed into the office to phone Serena. Luther was invited to eat with them that evening and went to the cottage to shower and change clothing. Anne was still feeling stunned when she climbed out of the car and slammed the door and she was walking stiffly towards the spinney when autopilot cut in. She remembered she had to note the car’s mileage for her accounting records.

  She took the notebook from her back pocket as she opened the driver’s door of the Discovery. Despite the air-conditioning, the inside of the car was warm and smelled of hot bodies. It would be a good idea to open the windows to let it cool and freshen up. Marnie had taken her keys so Anne hopped round to the wheel arch and found the spares in their magnetic hiding place. Turning the power on, she pressed the buttons for the electric windows, then read the mileage and added the numbers to the appropriate column of the notebook.

  *

  “Sorry it’s only pizza.” Marnie was squatting to look through the glass door of the oven in the galley on Sally Ann. “I was relieved to find these two in the freezer.”

  Luther, looking cool and fresh in white T-shirt and cream slacks, was picking up a tray. “I don’t think we expected a four-course chicken dinner, Marnie, not after all we’ve been through today. It’ll be good just to sit down and put it all behind us.”

  It was a day for making false predictions.

  Outside, Anne was sitting at the table, tossing a salad. She was resting her foot, which was now less swollen but still ached. Ralph was opening a bottle of red Rioja.

  They had barely taken their first mouthful when they heard movement in the spinney. To their collective dismay, Chief Inspector Bartlett and Sergeant Marriner emerged from the trees and approached the table. Something inside Marnie was close to snapping. She took a few deep breaths staring down at her plate before looking up at the visitors.

  “Good evening. I’m sorry to interrupt your meal.”

  Bartlett did not look sorry. He looked grim, and Marnie had the good sense to remain silent.

  “What can we do for you, Mr Bartlett?" Ralph sounded as courteous as ever.

  “You will have heard about the incident involving Garth Brandon.”

  “On the radio, yes.”

  “We’re pursuing a number of enquiries, following up some leads, connections with the deceased.”

  “Then I’m the person you’re looking for,” said Ralph.

  Marnie made a startled sound. Luther shifted uneasily in his seat. Anne’s mouth dropped open.

  Ralph continued. “Can we discuss this perhaps tomorrow? We’ve had rather a tiring day. I appreciate you need to make progress but –”

  “Why do you think we need to talk to you, sir?” Bartlett cut in.

  “I’m the only one here who’s ever met Brandon. I interviewed him for an article I wrote when he was a minister, saw him several times at meetings. No-one else here has ever seen him in person.”

  Bartlett turned his gaze on Marnie, who was looking tense.

  “In fact, it’s you I wanted to talk to, Mrs Walker.”

  She put down her knife and fork. “Surprise, surprise. Although actually I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You usually come to see me when you’re looking for a suspect.”

  “I really don’t want to take up your time, but I do have a couple of questions.”

  “Fire away.” She grimaced. “Sorry. Go ahead.”

  “Can you tell me where you were this afternoon at around five o’clock.”

  “I was in Northampton.”

  “You can prove that?”

  Marnie raised her hands indicating Ralph, Anne and Luther.

  “Any other witnesses?”

  “Serena McDowell, her mother, her children, a Starcabs taxi driver called Colin.”

  “And earlier in the afternoon, say between noon and four?”

  “These four plus a Mrs Battams who lives opposite the racecourse. We saw her in the morning and were then at Serena’s house in the Eastern District all afternoon.”

  Marnie became more relaxed. This was the easiest interview she had ever had with DCI Ba
rtlett.

  “Thank you, Mrs Walker.”

  “Will that be all? Our pizzas are getting cold.”

  “Just two more questions, or probably three. Did you drive your car out of town at around lunchtime?”

  “No. I’ve already told you. I was at Serena’s house all afternoon and in town all day.”

  “So can you explain why it was spotted on closed-circuit television cameras on the main road at that time of day? Did you lend it to someone, perhaps? Or does anyone else have use of it with your permission?”

  Marnie tensed again. “I think you must be mistaken, inspector. Discoveries are not uncommon. Mine was parked all day outside Garfield Primary School.”

  “And no-one could have used it without your knowledge?”

  “Definitely not. I think you asked more than two or three questions there. Is that everything?”

  “Those counted as only one, perhaps two, including the supplementaries.”

  Ralph spoke again. “Mr Bartlett, we’ve had a very long and exhausting day.”

  “Then one last question and I’ll leave you in peace. At least, I hope so. Do you own or know anyone who owns a gun, a pistol, 9mm?”

  “No.” Marnie’s voice was firm.

  “You’re quite sure?”

  “Absolutely certain.”

  “Then that will be all, thank you.”

  “I hope you’ll find whoever’s responsible for the killing,” said Ralph.

  “We will, sir. That kind of gun shouldn’t be hard to trace.”

  “Oh? I thought guns were becoming more common nowadays, sadly.”

  “Not this type, sir. This was a Luger. You know the sort?”

  “I’ve seen them in films. I know roughly what they look like. I didn’t realise they were still being made.”

  “The one in question probably dates from the second world war. It’s rare to find one in working order with ammunition these days.”

  Anne started coughing, and Luther pushed a glass of water towards her. As she sipped she was praying they would not check the surveillance cameras in the hospital.

  “You’re sure it’s that kind?” Ralph asked.

  “Oh yes, sir, no doubt about it. They removed three shells from the body. We know exactly what we’re looking for.”

  “So it probably was an inside job,” Ralph suggested. “A Luger would be the status symbol for a neo-Nazi.”

  “Possibly, sir. Or it could be the trophy for an anti-Nazi. We’re keeping all our options open, as always.”

  *

  While Ralph showered that night, Marnie walked through the spinney to see Anne in her attic room. She sat on the corner of the bed.

  “How did you manage climbing the ladder?”

  “Slowly.” Anne produced her ankle from under the sheet. “See? It’s gone down a lot and it’s not too painful any more.”

  Marnie ran cool fingers lightly over the bruised skin. “What a day it’s been! Did you notice Donovan wasn’t there?”

  Anne’s eyes widened. “Wasn’t where?”

  “On his boat. It’s all locked up. Do you think we should worry about him, Anne?”

  “How should I know? Sorry, I mean, I don’t know where he is.”

  “We know he must’ve got his film to the newspaper.” Marnie chewed her lip. “Those were his photos in the late edition. But where did he go after that?”

  Anne shrugged. Marnie looked up at the roof beams. She could see tiny holes where woodworm had been at work.

  “He’s resourceful, isn’t he, good at taking care of himself. Did you notice if he was credited with the photos?”

  Anne shook her head. “There was no name, only the pictures and the captions.”

  Marnie began to rise. “Ah, well.”

  “Marnie? Do you think the police will come looking for me? I mean, I was sort of in custody when I made a break for it in hospital.”

  “They hadn’t taken your name?”

  “No. There was a lot going on, with Buzz and everything.”

  “And you said they weren’t the local force?”

  “I think their badges said they came from Leicester.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I expect they had enough on their hands without bothering about one girl in all that crowd, especially after the murder.”

  After Marnie left, Anne was about to put out the light when she remembered the car windows. She debated with herself whether she could leave them open all night, but concluded that Marnie would want them closed and the doors locked. London habits died hard, and there were some odd people about these days.

  She pulled on her jeans and sandals and crept carefully down the ladder, stepping gently onto the floor with her ‘good’ foot. Outside it was cooler now, and night was gradually descending. She rummaged by the wheel for the keys and turned them in the ignition to switch on the power. The instrument panel glowed in the darkened barn. While the windows were sliding up, Anne’s eyes strayed over the dials and readings. The Discovery was more complicated than her Mini, with an onboard computer and air-conditioning, instruments giving fuel consumption and how far you could go with the diesel remaining in the tank. Even the trip gauge looked high-tech. She stared … the trip gauge. It mesmerised her.

  They had used the Discovery for one trip to Garfield and back. The other journeys had been in the cab. The trip gauge showed more than double the routine mileage. Had Marnie forgotten to reset it to zero that morning? Anne pulled the notebook from her back pocket, flicked on the interior light and checked the figures for yesterday’s total mileage. It tallied. Had they made an extra journey that she had forgotten?

  She pondered. Ideas floated through her mind … Marnie thinking she had left the Discovery in front of Serena’s car … her telling Donovan about the magnetic box and spare keys … the traffic cameras spotting a Discovery leaving town that afternoon … the day’s mileage. There had been no other trip in the car that she had forgotten. She stared at the glowing instruments and understood.

  29

  Marnie felt leaden when the alarm woke her on Friday morning and she overslept by half an hour. It was gone seven when she stepped into the shower on Thyrsis and felt the jets of the power-spray easing her body into life. Ralph was sitting on the side of the bed trying to persuade his feet into slippers when the mobile rang. He spoke for two minutes with Serena, gratefully agreed to her suggestion and wished her a good morning.

  He had the kettle on the hob and was taking cups and plates from a cupboard when Marnie arrived at the entrance to the galley, dabbing her hair with a towel, to announce that the shower was free.

  “That was Serena on the phone.”

  “Oh?”

  “She said there was no need for us to come in this morning.”

  “Why not?”

  “She thought it best if we all stayed away and left it to Jackie and the other colleagues to get everything sorted out.”

  “Did she give any reason?”

  “She thought Greg Roberts and his scouts were quite capable of getting the right kids on the right coaches. She thought we should let them get on with it for today.”

  “What do you think, Ralph?”

  “Actually, I think she has a point. And don’t forget, George Stubbs is going along with Angela Hemingway and Dorothy Vane-Henderson. It’s their turn on duty. No need to go mob-handed.”

  “But we’ve got things to talk about, especially after everything that happened yesterday.” Marnie looked out of the window at the still-calm water. Donovan’s boat lay at her mooring. But where was Donovan? “I suppose we don’t have to go into town to have a talk. We can use the phone or …”

  “Or what?”

  “Maybe Serena would like to come here for a change of scene. I frankly feel like a zombie. I wouldn’t mind taking it easy for at least part of today.”

  *

  Instead of her usual jog, Anne walked slowly through the spinney that morning testing the damaged ankle. The swelling had subsided and only a
light bruising remained as evidence of her accident. The constant throbbing had given way to an occasional twinge. She was delighted to see that Ralph had laid breakfast on the table on the bank and gladly accepted his invitation to sit down and let him handle everything.

  Marnie was in the saloon making a series of hurried phone calls and she emerged into the early sunshine, smiling and relaxed.

  “That’s it, all sorted, more or less. We’re staying here this morning, the others are dealing with the coaches at the school. Serena’s coming to join us late morning in Cosgrove. We’ll have a sandwich lunch in the pub garden and complete the final arrangements for the fete on Sunday.”

  “Why Cosgrove?” Ralph asked. “Why not here, or in The Two Roses?”

  “Serena’s idea. She wanted to meet on what she called ‘neutral ground’, somewhere we’d be less conspicuous. And in view of the numbers involved she didn’t want to impose on our hospitality. We’re running low on supplies, so I just agreed.”

  “Who’s coming?”

  “The three of us plus Luther and Serena. I’m trying to get hold of George, Angela, Dorothy and Ronny.”

  “You think Luther needs to be involved? With Estelle due back tomorrow, I can’t see them getting up much before Monday.“ Marnie flashed him the heavy eyelids. “She’ll probably be jetlagged,” Ralph added innocently.

  Anne was already pulling the notebook out of her back pocket. “Do I need to draw up an agenda?”

  “Nope. Dorothy’s in charge. But don’t panic, I’m sure you’ll have plenty of lists to write before the day’s out. This morning you can take it easy.”

  Marnie was right … for at least half an hour.

  *

  The day was rapidly warming up, and Anne wanted to change from trainers to cooler sandals after breakfast. Thus it was that she was in her attic room when Bartlett and Marriner returned to Glebe Farm. Marnie called softly up the ladder.

  “Visitors, Anne. Can you see them?”

  Footsteps overhead as Anne went to the window slit. “What do they want, d’you think?”

  “Dunno. Following up from yesterday, I expect.”