The DI Tremayne Thriller Box Set

by Phillip Strang

  Clare and Tremayne were now based at Mavis’s house, a couple of bedrooms set up for them. A neighbour had agreed to look after Clare’s cats. The primary contact was Mavis’s phone and now Clare’s, as she had taken the lead role in the negotiations. Moulton had wanted to bring in a trained negotiator from London; Tremayne had resisted. Clare had met Barbara Winters and Archie Garrett; a professional would not have.

  Tremayne knew he was putting on weight, the difference between snatched pub meals and a cook on hand keeping everyone fed.

  The Bentley was outside and ready. It had been agreed that Clare would drive the car to the retrieval point; the money was to be deposited elsewhere. Clare had been adamant that no money would be handed over until Rachel was confirmed to be free and was inside the car. Archie had not liked the idea, which took up another day of negotiations.

  Clare’s phone rang. She was in the kitchen. She moved to the other room with Tremayne and Mavis.

  ‘Is it?’ Mavis whispered. Clare nodded her head.

  ‘Sergeant Yarwood, the money is to be deposited in cash at a location in Southampton. I suggest you leave now.’

  ‘And Rachel?’

  ‘We will discuss that later.’

  Tremayne looked over at Clare, gave her a clear sign to follow instructions. Clare walked out of the front door of the house and settled herself into the Bentley, her phone on hands-free, a location device fitted inside the car. She pulled out of the driveway and headed towards Southampton. There was an explicit instruction to all police vehicles to report if they saw the car, but not to hinder its progress.

  Clare arrived in Southampton. Her mind was focussed on handing over the money, expendable as far as all were concerned, and taking Rachel back to her mother.

  She headed for the dock area, as per the instruction received. Her phone rang. ‘You will leave there and drive to Southsea. You can use the car’s GPS to find the way.’

  ‘I know the way,’ Clare said. ‘Is this going to continue?’

  ‘It will until I am satisfied that you are alone.’

  ‘We want Rachel, not you.’

  It was twenty miles; the traffic was heavy. She arrived in Southsea on the Hampshire coast. She parked the car near the South Parade Pier. Her phone rang. ‘Proceed to the corner of Nightingale Road and Kent Road.’

  Clare followed instructions, saw a police car not far away, its number plate recognition technology picking up the Bentley. Clare knew that her phone’s location, as well as the car's position, would be confirmed as one and the same. She could only imagine the situation at Mavis’s house, the assembled family waiting for news. She knew that Tremayne would be smoking more than usual.

  ‘You will see in front of you a rubbish bin. You will place the money in there and leave.’

  ‘Rachel?’

  ‘Until you remove that police car from the other side of the road, she will not be freed.’

  Clare phoned Tremayne. ‘Please keep all vehicles away from the area,’ she said.

  One phone call and the police car left.

  ‘Now, put the money in the bin and leave.’

  ‘Rachel?’

  ‘She is here with me.’

  ‘I need to talk to her.’

  ‘Clare, I’m fine. Do what he says,’ Rachel said in the background.

  With the money placed where instructed, Clare waited. Five minutes later, an open-bed truck pulled up alongside the bin. A man got out of the driver’s seat, picked up the bin and put it in the back. The truck then drove off. Clare noted the number, although she did not inform anyone of it.

  ‘Good, I can see that you’re following instructions.’

  ‘Rachel?’

  ‘You will drive to Buckler’s Hard on the Beaulieu River.’

  ‘That will take me nearly two hours,’ Clare said. ‘You have reneged on our agreement.’

  ‘Not at all. I will wait for the truck to come to me. Once I have the money, you will have Rachel.’

  Clare phoned Tremayne, told him of the situation. ‘You’ve no option,’ Tremayne said.

  ‘What about Rachel?’ Mavis asked.

  ‘I’ve spoken to her,’ Clare said.

  ‘And?’

  ‘She said she was fine. Let me carry on with what I’m doing.’

  ‘We trust you, Clare.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  It was over thirty miles to Buckler’s Hard, now a tourist attraction. In the past, it had been a busy shipbuilding community that had built ships for Horatio Nelson, the great naval hero of Trafalgar.

  After an hour and twenty minutes, another phone call. ‘I have the money. I will need another three hours.’

  ‘This is not the agreement.’

  ‘It is the only agreement if you want the young woman returned.’

  ‘Is she unharmed?’

  ‘She is well.’

  ‘That’s not what I asked.’

  ‘She will be returned in one piece. Be thankful for that. And do not phone Detective Inspector Tremayne again. If your phone rings, check it is my number.’

  ‘Your number keeps changing.’

  ‘To stop you tracing it.’

  ‘Then how will I know it is you?’

  ‘The last three digits will be 346.’

  Clare arrived at Buckler’s Hard. It was late in the day, and the tourists had left. She found a café open and ordered two sandwiches and coffee. She had to admit the village was attractive. Her phone rang, it was Tremayne. She cancelled the phone call and sent an SMS instead.

  No more contact until Rachel is free. Garrett’s instructions.

  Tremayne understood; Mavis did not.

  After two more hours, Clare’s phone rang. She checked the last three digits: 346. She pressed the answer button.

  ‘At the top of the village, there is a park bench. Can you see it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Underneath the left-hand leg there is an envelope with a key. Inside you will find an address. Rachel Winters is there.’

  Clare walked up to the bench, felt underneath the leg, found an envelope. She opened it and then phoned Tremayne. ‘It’s a five-minute walk from where I am.’

  ‘We’ll get down there as soon as possible.’

  ‘Don’t. We’ve played this his way so far. Let me get Rachel first.’

  The road up to the farmhouse was not in good condition; it was quicker to walk, although Clare ran. At the farmhouse, rundown but still with a rustic charm, she found the main door. She inserted the key; it opened. She moved quickly through the house, checking the downstairs, then upstairs. In a bedroom at the top, she found Rachel, restrained, her mouth covered with tape. She was conscious and alive. Clare quickly removed the ropes securing her, and the tape from her mouth.

  ‘Clare, thank you, thank you.’

  Rachel had her arms around Clare; both women were in tears. Clare called Tremayne, barely able to operate the phone. ‘I’ve got her.’

  Rachel spoke to her mother who was hugging Tremayne. After five minutes, while everyone calmed down, Clare was able to talk to Rachel. ‘What happened?’

  ‘They left this morning. Barbara treated me well, especially after…’

  ‘After what?’

  ‘I tried to escape. Archie went mad, beat me the same way he had beaten Uncle Dean.’

  ‘How are you now?’

  ‘With you here, I’m fine.’

  A police car from the local police station pulled up outside, as well as an ambulance. Clare spoke to them, informed them of the situation. She was taking Rachel back to her family home.

  Chapter 25

  Archie Garrett boarded the plane at Heathrow. He had made contacts over the years; a false passport and the necessary documentation were his. He knew that where he was going, life would be excellent, although without Barbara it would not be the same. He had given her enough to survive, and she had been guilty of no other crime than kidnapping. He knew that it would be Dean Winters who would care for her, whether she was in
prison or not. The man was weak, whereas he, Archie Garrett, was not. He would never fly for British Airways again, never see England, but the one thing he regretted most of all was that he would never see his beloved sister, the only person who could understand what had happened when they were children.

  Once Archie’s plane had left, Barbara Winters phoned Tremayne. She was arrested the day after Rachel had returned to the family home.

  ***

  Tremayne had not expected to hear from Barbara Winters unless it was as a result of the search for the woman, and there she was, on his phone. ‘Archie’s gone.’

  ‘Gone where?’

  ‘He’s left the country. I’m willing to hand myself in.’

  Not willing to take the risk, Tremayne phoned a local police station in London close to the address that the woman had given as her location. Fifteen minutes later, she was in their custody. Three hours later, she was in the back seat of Clare’s car. Clare was driving, with Tremayne in the back handcuffed to Barbara Winters. ‘I’ll not cause you any trouble,’ she had said.

  Upon arrival at Bemerton Road, Dean Winters was waiting. He rushed up to his wife, threw his arms around her and kissed her. She turned away. ‘I’m guilty of kidnapping Rachel.’

  ‘I’ll wait,’ Dean said. Clare could see romance in the scene; Tremayne thought the man a whimpering fool.

  Superintendent Moulton was delighted; a murderer in custody, waiting to be charged. Tremayne felt that the man was premature. It was clear that Barbara Winters had crimes to answer to, but homicide was still far from certain.

  The scene at the Quidhampton home the previous day, when Clare had driven in with Rachel, had been jubilant. Tremayne was there, proud of his sergeant, not willing to show it other than to offer his congratulations for good policing, although wanting to give her a hug.

  No such reluctance to show emotion inhibited Rachel’s mother. She grabbed hold of her daughter who winced from the pain, her mother easing off, not letting her go. Once the initial tender moment was over, Mavis embraced Clare, even lifting her off the ground. ‘Thank you for bringing my daughter back to me,’ she said. ‘Anything you want, just say the word.’

  Clare wanted to say give me the Bentley. She knew she’d be back to driving a police issue car, nothing compared to the elegance of the car she had just been driving. Inside the house, Gerry and Cyril were pleased to see Rachel back, Dean was apologetic for his wife, and Bertie struggled to say anything.

  A doctor was on hand to check Rachel out. ‘I need a bath first,’ she said. Mavis almost bounded up the stairs to run the water, Rachel sat downstairs. Tremayne wanted to ask questions but decided that could wait.

  Tremayne phoned Stan and Fred Winters to update them; both men were appreciative of the call. A police commendation was due for Clare, too, for the manner in which she had dealt with the woman’s rescue, a satisfactory outcome for all concerned.

  Once Clare had released Rachel from the cottage, the local police established a crime scene. Jim Hughes and his crime scene investigators were dispatched to check out the cottage, reporting nothing untoward other than that three people had been there, their fingerprints all on record. A local shopkeeper remembered Archie Garrett when she was shown a photo.

  ***

  Barbara Winters, after being formally charged with the kidnapping of Rachel Winters, had been taken to the interview room. Dean had wanted to employ a lawyer; Barbara had declined. And besides, she had no intention of denying the charge.

  Outside the interview room, Dean waited. Inside, Tremayne and Clare sat on one side of the table; on the other, the charged woman.

  Tremayne followed the procedure, informed Barbara Winters of her rights. Once that was over, the questioning began. ‘Mrs Winters, you have been charged with the kidnapping and holding for ransom of Rachel Winters. Is there anything you want to say in your defence?’

  ‘I am offering no defence. I’m guilty as charged.’

  ‘Your brother, Archie Garrett, is no longer in the country, is that true?’

  ‘I have already told you this.’

  ‘Do you know where he has gone?’

  ‘I do not know.’

  ‘But you could have gone?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Clare looked at the woman, could only see someone oblivious to the seriousness of her situation. If she had been on drugs, the police sergeant would have said she was high.

  ‘Why didn’t you go?’ Clare asked.

  ‘I could not agree with what he did to Rachel.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘My father had treated me that way.’

  ‘And you were reliving it?’

  ‘I liked Rachel. She was my friend, and I allowed her to be hurt.’

  ‘And your brother?’

  ‘He has become what our father was. I no longer want to be with him. I want to be with Dean.’

  ‘You will go to jail.’

  ‘Dean will wait,’ Barbara Winters said.

  ‘We have contacted Interpol, the overseas police agencies, to keep a watch out for your brother. We will find him in due course,’ Tremayne said.

  ‘You will not. He knows his way around the world.’

  Tremayne knew that the woman was probably telling the truth, although two million soon goes, or one million five hundred thousand, as he had given his sister half a million at Heathrow. Once the man had exhausted his money staying hidden he would eventually tire of exile and would return.

  ‘We need to know about Stonehenge. How and why you and your brother killed Alan Winters.’

  ‘We did not kill him.’

  ‘But you hated the man and what he represented.’

  ‘I hated his family and the money he had stolen.’

  ‘Gambling is perfectly legal in this country.’

  ‘Not to my brother and myself.’

  ‘Yet you are willing to accept two million pounds for returning Rachel?’

  ‘It was only the money that Dean had signed over to Archie before…’

  ‘Before we broke up your little tête-à-tête. Your brother nearly beat Dean to death for that money, and you say it was illegal money. Why did you want it when you would not accept the hundred thousand? Were you holding out in the hope of a bigger payout? Did you murder Alan Winters because you couldn’t control him, assuming his wife would be more generous? I put it to you that you contrived a plan to take him up to Stonehenge, to point the blame away from you and your brother.’

  ‘It’s not true. We’re innocent of his murder. That would be against God’s law.’

  ‘Isn’t kidnapping?’

  ‘Yes, but…’

  ‘But what? Mrs Winters, you and your brother murdered Alan Winters. Who did you think to place the blame on? His wife, his children, his brothers? Mrs Winters, you and your brother killed Alan Winters solely for the sake of getting two million pounds. How do you plead?’

  Clare thought that her senior had gone too far, but said nothing.

  ‘We did not kill Alan Winters.’

  ‘Then who did? Your brother has the anger, the ability to inflict violence, and you both had a motive. Why have you handed yourself in? Are you hoping to make a plea bargain?’

  ‘We are innocent.’

  ‘Then why take the two million? And don’t give me that baloney that you were going to use the money for good.’

  ‘That is what it was for. We had great plans.’

  ‘And what happened? You and your brother saw the money, decided it was better in your pockets than in those of a starving child in a refugee camp, is that it?’

  ‘No, yes. I’m confused,’ Barbara Winters said.

  ‘I suggest a ten-minute break,’ Clare said. Tremayne took the hint.

  ‘You were tough in there, guv,’ Clare said once the two of them were outside the interview room.

  ‘I need to break through. I need to know the truth.’

  ‘And she’s not giving it?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘
She could be telling the truth.’

  ‘If it’s not them, then who else could have killed Alan Winters?’

  ‘Polly Bennett and Liz Maybury?’

  ‘But why? Alan was the sugar daddy, not Mavis.’

  ‘They’ve still achieved their aim.’

  ‘Okay, what about the brothers? Alan’s given them a hundred thousand each; they want more.’

  ‘Stonehenge?’

  ‘Concentrate on the murderer, not the location.’

  The interview recommenced. Barbara Winters looked composed. ‘I wish to make a statement.’

  ‘Very well,’ Tremayne’s reply.

  ‘I am genuinely sorry for what was inflicted on Rachel Winters. My brother, Archie, as a result of what we both suffered as children, holds sway over my life. For many years, he was not around, or at least not on a regular basis, as he was based overseas. My marriage with Dean was troubled, although I still loved him, even if I could not like his family. Rachel, I realise in the time that I spent with her in that farmhouse, is not the same as the other Winters. She is a lovely woman, who I allowed to be beaten by Archie.

  ‘Archie, who suffered more than me as a child, has become what our father was. A man who could be charming, yet held inside him dark secrets and dark thoughts. I instructed Dean to refuse the one hundred thousand pounds initially offered; I saw it as the proceeds of gambling. Dean agreed with me, and besides, we were financially sound. The money was not vital.

  ‘Archie returned to our lives. He became aware of the two million. He said it would be used for good, but now I know that was not the case.

  ‘After Rachel’s release, I drove Archie to Heathrow. He boarded a plane and left. There was a ticket for me in a false name; I declined the offer. I am certain that I will not hear from him again. I spent several hours deliberating my future before phoning Detective Inspector Tremayne. My brother was overseas at the time of Alan Winters’ death. Neither he nor I were involved, although it is clear that we are the most likely suspects. Regardless of that fact, we are innocent. I will admit my guilt in the kidnapping of Rachel Winters; that is my only crime.’