Fifth Member

by Claire Rayner

  ‘Well, I was lyin’ down in my usual place, right out there.’ She gestured vaguely. ‘By the entrance where they brings in the heavy goods, right? There’s a hidden place there by a boiler house. Warm, really warm. It’s my special place and I won’t let no one take it from me, though don’t think some of ’em don’t try.’

  She looked brooding for a moment, and Gus said quickly, ‘So, you were there. When?’

  ‘The night before that murder.’

  Gus frowned. ‘The night before? You’re sure? What day was that?’

  ‘Don’t you ask me about days o’ the week, ducks. I don’t know one from another. There’s nothin’ to choose between ’em for me. But it was the night before they found that body. I can tell you that. Do you want me to give yer what I saw or doncher?’

  ‘I do,’ Gus said. ‘I won’t stop you again. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Right,’ Sally said with a somewhat grand air. ‘Now I’m in charge, I’ll get on. All right. There I was, in my place, and it was late. An’ don’t go askin’ me the time on account of I don’t wear a watch, right? But I do know it was well late. So, I’m lyin’ there, an’ suddenly I sees there’s two blokes at the door. I didn’t see ’em comin’ there and I didn’t hear ’em neither, but I was well wrapped up in my stuff so I suppose my ears was covered. But when I sees ’em, I uncovers my ears, very quiet and careful, so I can ’ear, but not so they notice me movin’, like. I don’t want no one interferin’ with me, and I just keep still and I know I look like a pile o’ garbage.’

  She stopped then and gazed at George, and for a brief moment there was a look of utter hopelessness in her reddened eyes. ‘Which is what I am, I suppose.’

  George felt her throat tighten and she reached out and touched the old woman’s hand. Sally looked down and then pulled her own hand away, almost pettishly.

  ‘Well, like I was sayin’, I was very careful not to move an’ they didn’t notice me. I’m in a shadowed place there, anyway. So I sees them because they’re under a bit o’ light in the porch place. And one of them says somethin’ and the other one mutters back and then they open the door and the buzzer – the alarm – starts, then stops, an’ I think, oh, it’s one of them that belongs ’ere, on account of ’e understands the alarm, and I was goin’ to settle back down again and then I thought, it’s bleedin’ cold tonight. It’ll be a sight warmer inside. So I goes after ’em. They’ve shut the door, like, but it’s unlocked, o’ course. So I gets up quietly an’ I follows ’em in.’

  George was hanging on to every word, almost breathless with excitement and Sally Whittaker seemed to understand the effect she was having and began to take pleasure in it. She lifted her voice a little and made gestures as she spoke, adding a touch more excitement of her own.

  ‘I walks behind ’em very quiet, and well away from ’em. I listens, but they was whisperin’. But I ’eard a bit. One of ’em was agoin’ on about wantin’ a fag. He was the Eyetalian one.’

  ‘The what?’ Gus said and she turned to glare at him.

  ‘You got cloth ears? I said the Eyetalian one. ’E ’ad an accent you could cut with a knife. Not that I could ’ear much but enough to know. I used to go out with an Eyetalian once, when I was a dancer. ’E was a musician, and ’e came from Rome. Ever so good lookin’ ’e was, too.’

  ‘And you’re sure that the man you heard –’

  ‘I told you. ’E was goin’ on about wantin’ a fag. Anyway, they didn’t talk no more and the other bloke – not the Eyetalian, the other one – goes up to the storeroom door and I sees ’im fiddlin’. It’s not very easy to see, because he’s got a torch an’ I can’t see much, but anyway, he fiddles and then they sort of squeeze in. I couldn’t see as much as I wanted, because I was well back, o’ course, outa sight. And they sort of shut the door and that was that. I went down the other side an’ found a lovely soft sofa in one of the antique shops and I spent the night there. It was great. Woke up in time to get out of the way into the lavvy and then when the first few in did see me they thought I’d follered ’em in, and never said a dicky bird. And that’s what I told the blokes from the Courier. An’ if that ain’t worth ’undreds I don’t know what is.’

  ‘Would you recognize either of these chaps again?’ Gus asked.

  Sally shook her head. ‘Ain’t you bloody listenin’? It was dark. They ’ad a torch, but they didn’t shine it on theirselves. I did see one of ’em was wearin’ a sort of cap, mind you, a flat one. But that was all.’

  ‘And you’re sure it was the night before the murder?’

  ‘O’ course I am! Because the next night, when I was sleepin’ out in the back again, I was woke up by all the row when the police come and broke in and set off the alarm and found ’im and there’s cars and ambulances and Gawd knows what else everywhere.’

  Gus looked at George. ‘So,’ he said softly. ‘That was how Durleigh got there. The murderer fetched him. Italian? Perhaps Milanese? That was where Alice went a lot wasn’t it? Though it was his companion who knew how to open the door. But could it be that we’ve already found the reason for all these killings? A fashion fraud, for God’s sake? Five killings? It doesn’t seem possible.’

  ‘What you mean five?’ Sally Whittaker said with sudden pugnacity. ‘I told you what I saw about one of ’em. I don’t know nothin’ about five and I won’t ’ave you sayin’ I do.’ She looked alarmed now. ‘I shouldn’t ’ave talked to you. I must be potty. Look, I’m out of ’ere.’ She was shuffling along the seat, getting to her feet, and Gus reached for her.

  ‘No, Sally, don’t go yet, I want to ask you –’

  But she was gone, shuffling off at an amazing speed through the now crowded canteen. Gus rose to go after her, but then sat down again. ‘I suppose I can get her when I need her,’ he said. ‘She won’t go far from here, however much I’ve alarmed her. Listen, George, I’m trying to remember. How long did you say Durleigh had been dead when we found him?’

  She shut her eyes, trying to conjure up in her mind’s eye the report she had written on Lord Durleigh’s body. After a moment, to her relief, her old gift of an eidetic memory kicked in and she could see the page in her mind’s eye.

  ‘Twelve to fifteen hours was the nearest I could get,’ she said. ‘But as I wrote in the report, it’s all very dependent on such things as the ambient air temperature, and the speed with which heat can radiate out of an enclosed space. That was a warm dry storeroom. He could easily have been there longer than I was able to estimate.’

  ‘Up to twenty-four hours?’ Gus asked.

  ‘It’s possible.’

  ‘So we do have a witness, if we can ever get her to court. And if we ever find Chummy to get him to court. Oh, this really is a bugger. Come on, let’s go and look around at the back, anyway.’

  They found the door Sally meant without difficulty. It was a pair of double doors, in fact, that could allow large items ingress, and just inside it, some six feet up on the wall, was a heavy painted black box. Gus peered at it and then pulled on the knob. It opened to reveal a board of keypads and clearly was used to control various internal operations.

  ‘Whoever did this knew the code for setting the alarm and switching it off. So Rupert’s got another major job on his hands. He’ll have to check everyone here to see who knew the code and when it was changed and so on. I’ll get him on to that.’

  He reached into his pocket for his mobile phone and stabbed in the number of Ratcliffe Street station as George went out of the doors to look round outside. By the time he’d finished giving his instructions she had found Sally Whittaker’s sleeping place.

  It was just as she had said; a corner between the main wall and the boiler house, about four feet wide and ten feet long. There was a piece of grimy plyboard leaning against the opening and when George moved it, she could see at once how cleverly Sally had fixed herself up. Sheets of cardboard had been pushed in and shaped to fit the available ground and they in their turn were covered by several layers of newspaper.
Over that Sally had thrown a heavy piece of old carpet she had found somewhere, and to disguise what she had done, had piled in some old black polythene bags bulging with what appeared to be rubbish but was mostly newspaper. The bags had the added virtue of keeping off rain and cats and other undesirables; it was, George thought, probably as snug and warm as a bed could be out of doors in London’s inhospitable climate. Again her throat tightened at the evidence of the struggle that Sally had to keep herself going in a hostile world.

  Gus had come up behind her and was looking at the arrangement as well, and then looked over his shoulder.

  ‘She heard them easily enough,’ he said gloomily. ‘It’s only fifteen feet away. That bit of roof over the porch would collect sound anyway, and she’d hear them better than they might hear any movements she made. It’s a true bill all right. The old girl saw two men come in here, the night before the murder, one of them an Italian – though I have to say that’s a bit flimsy. She says they were whispering and accents are notoriously hard to identify. Still, she saw neither of them leave, so we can’t find out what time they did, or if only one left as we suspect or – Oh, shit. We seem to find something and then it wriggles away almost at once. It keeps on happening.’

  ‘Not really,’ George said. ‘One of the things that most puzzled us was how the body got there. Now we know. The victim was enticed first here, and then through a door – a narrow opening, admittedly, but he used it of his own free will. And was killed there. So this isn’t any sort of a locked room killing of the fictional type. It was straightforward breaking and entering.’

  ‘No, it wasn’t,’ he said. ‘Not breaking. They walked in with a key and presumably he – the killer – got out the same way. Otherwise we’d have seen signs of entry. That was what made it seem so – so magical. And I doubt we’d ever have known, at least until the body began to stink, if the bastard hadn’t sent that fax to show us where he’d left his fourth victim. Christ, but I hate him, whoever he is. Arrogant bastard.’

  ‘You could call him that,’ George murmured. ‘Well, honey, now what?’

  ‘Back to the nick,’ he said. ‘I have to feed all this info into the system and see how it fits in. I also want to check as far as I can all the timings we have. Who was where and when.’

  ‘Whose timings?’ She had fallen into step beside him as he hurried round the building to where they’d left the car.

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘I said, whose timings? I mean, who are your suspects?’

  ‘I wish I knew!’ He was explosive. ‘Every one and no one. I’m going to see to it we confront Alice Diamond with what she’s been up to, for a start, now I’ve got Roop’s report on his talk with her. That has to be done now, no hanging back any longer. And I think I might check the times and whereabouts of some of those politicians in the Whips’ offices – they’re the ones who are supposed to know where everyone is, aren’t they? That’s their job. Well, we’ll make use of their knowledge. Anyway, for all I know, one of them could be involved. That chap Marcus whatsit, I wasn’t struck with him and he’s a close friend of one of the victims, which puts him in the frame. That’s worth a bit of time. And –’

  ‘This isn’t like you, Gus,’ she said as they reached the car. ‘You’re not being concise. You’re just thrashing about looking for anyone and everyone.’

  ‘Weren’t you listening to what I was saying?’ he snapped. ‘It’s the only thing we can do. I prefer line fishing, going out with the right lures for a particular fish because you know all you can about him, but sometimes you have to go out with bag nets and trawl everything and everyone. This is one of those cases.’

  He let in the clutch and moved in to the traffic and now was driving as fast as he could. George held on to her seat belt and said no more. Gus was angry now. This had stopped being just another case in his professional life but had become more of a personal vendetta. He wanted this perpetrator very badly indeed. And she shivered a little as she glanced at the way his jaw muscles were working over the side of his face.

  The best thing she could do, she thought, was go on behaving like a line fisherman. There had to be, somewhere in all she had heard and seen in the case, something that would point to the killer more accurately than Gus’s net-’em-all-and-drag-’em-all-in approach. All she had to do was find it. Somehow.

  30

  George knew that Gus had not set out to push her into the background, but that was what it felt like. He ran up the steps into the nick, barely noticing whether she was behind him or not, and into the incident room like a gust of cold wind. The people at the computer consoles looked up, startled, and Mike Urquhart, who was at the fax machine reading an incoming sheaf stared at him wide eyed, suddenly looking surprisingly young.

  ‘Wha’s happened, Guv?’ He sounded hopeful.

  ‘Not a bloody thing,’ Gus said. ‘Except I’ve found an eyewitness who tells me that victim number five walked into Spital-fields Market of his own free will, and went into the storeroom just as willingly.’

  ‘Guv, that is fantastic!’ Mike said, his face lighting up but Gus just bared his teeth at him in anger.

  ‘Great nothing! She’s a bloody wino who’d be as much use in the witness box as – as the bundle of rags she looks like. All we can do with her is use her as a lead. She says one of the men she saw was Italian …’

  He explained, fast and reasonably coherently, and sent them all bustling: Mike to the House of Commons to talk again to Mary Bodling in her Whip’s office; one of the constables to search out Rupert Dudley to send him there too, but to talk to the Opposition Chief Whip; and – here his voice became grim – Tim Brewer to bring in Alice Diamond for questioning.

  ‘Tell him to take Julie Bentley with him, and to be careful. It’s the first time we’ve asked her in any hostile sense, and she’ll be tricky. I can promise them that. This bloody woman’s been dancing jigs under our noses and so far we’ve let her get away with it. But enough is enough. And I want to talk to Jasper Powell, too. But not until after we get her sorted. We’re going to blow this fashion scam as wide open as a tart’s drawers. Now get on with it!’ And he slammed into his office and reached for his phone, leaving George in the incident room outside.

  ‘Getting angry now, is he?’ Mike said unnecessarily but sympathetically, and she grimaced.

  ‘Tell me about it. This has really got under his skin. Anyway, I wish you joy of talking to Mary Bodling again. I hear she’s a tough nut.’

  ‘The toughest,’ he said happily. ‘But I’m no’ scared of that one. I can give as good as I get. Now, who’s coming with me?’ He looked round the room consideringly. ‘Gil, what do you think? Are you up to a bit of high-level interrogation?’

  DC Gil Morley grinned and came round his desk with alacrity. ‘I’m in the mood for anything but this Godawful paperwork. Lead me to it.’

  Colin Twiley hovered unhappily outside the closed office door and blinked at Mike Urquhart. People passing in the corridor looked at him with huge curiosity, a fact of which he was painfully aware. The Opposition Chief Whip didn’t usually show himself anywhere near this particular office door, as everyone knew. There were, Colin was sure, a few muffled shouts of laughter as people went on their way. He was a deeply wretched man. ‘I don’t see why you need to talk to us again at all, really. And now to say you want to talk to me at the same time as Mary Bodling, well, it –’

  Mike looked sympathetic. ‘I know she can be a bit difficult.’

  Twiley straightened his back in a painful attempt to look strong and resolute. ‘Oh, I’m not scared of Mary Bodling!’ he said, almost twitching with terror as he said it. ‘It’s just that we’re on opposite sides of the House, you see, and we don’t generally –’

  ‘This is police business, not party politics, sir,’ Mike said with a somewhat stern air, and Gil Morley, beside him, nodded his agreement. ‘I’d ha’ thought you’d be anxious, even eager, to help with our inquiries, seein’ as it’s five Members of this House that have
been murdered.’ He allowed himself the luxury of an extra Scottish burr on the word, making it sound even more horrid.

  ‘Does that no’ make your people a touch nervous?’

  ‘Hmmph,’ Colin Twiley said, himself clearly much alarmed by the whole affair. ‘Of course we’re distressed to see honourable friends … though in fact it’s only been two of our people, the rest come from the Other Place.’

  ‘And so don’t matter?’ Gil said over Mike’s shoulder.

  ‘Oh, no, I don’t mean that, it’s just that …’ His misery deepened.

  Mike wasted no more time and tapped sharply on the door, and then ushered Colin in ahead of him. ‘We’re here to see Miss Bodling,’ he said to the young man sitting at a desk. ‘You’ll remember me, no doubt. I’m Sergeant Urquhart from Ratcliffe Street. This is DC Morley.’ He showed his warrant card briefly, as did Gil. ‘And you’ll know Mr Twiley, o’ course.’

  The young man looked a touch scornfully at Twiley, who was doing his unsuccessful best to look relaxed and insouciant, and then at Mike. ‘You didn’t say you were bringing anyone with you when you made your appointment with Miss Bodling.’ He sounded as accusatory as if Mike had committed some major act of insurrection.

  ‘No, I didn’t, did I?’ Mike said sunnily. ‘But there you go. Changed our minds. We were going to talk to you two sides of the House separately, but then we thought that was a waste of expensive police time, which you’d not like at all, of course, so it was agreed that after all Inspector Dudley would not come and that DC Morley and I would do the interrogations.’

  ‘Interrogations?’ Colin Twiley almost squeaked it. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Oh, just a few questions,’ Gil said. ‘Miss Bodling in there, is she?’ He jerked his head at the door of an inner office and, without waiting for confirmation, marched over and opened it, and held it wide for Mike and Twiley. The young man, scandalized, leaped to his feet, but it was too late. Mike and his now almost visibly shaking companion had followed Gil in there.