Dead Weight

by Frank Smith

  ‘She said the two of them went off to sit in a corner, but later on she saw two young women, both locals, were sitting with Mills and Lerner and they all seemed to be enjoying themselves. It was a busy night, so she didn’t see what happened, but suddenly there were raised voices and some sort of commotion at their table, and the two women were pushing their way through the crowd and heading for the door. A few seconds later, Lerner hurried out after them. Then, a few minutes after that, Sebastian came up to the bar, all serious and apologetic, telling Kelly that he’s afraid his friend had a bit too much to drink and made unwanted advances to one of the girls.

  ‘Kelly says she thought it was decent of him to apologize on behalf of his friend, and thought no more about it. But he stayed there at the bar and started coming on to her. She said she usually takes that sort of thing in her stride, but he was getting quite persistent and suggestive, and he was drinking heavily, so she finally told him she couldn’t serve him anymore, and if it was female company he was looking for, he should look elsewhere, or better still go home.’

  Tregalles paused for effect. ‘Which is when Sebastian said, “Now, why didn’t I think of that? I can do both at the same time.” He laughed and asked Kelly for a bottle of wine to take out. She said by that time she was only too happy to be rid of him, so she sold him a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, and that was the last she saw of him.

  ‘But that’s not the end of it,’ Tregalles said. ‘The following week, one of the women came in and told Kelly what really happened. She said the place was crowded when they came in, so Sebastian offered them a seat and bought them each a white wine. She said he was very nice and quite funny. The drinks kept coming, and they were having a good time, until, suddenly, Sebastian started groping her under the table and whispering in her ear. She said she tried to get him to stop, but he wouldn’t, so she kicked him as hard as she could, grabbed her friend by the arm and took off out of there. She said that Lerner, who had been quiet all evening, followed them out and called to them, but they just kept running.’

  ‘So you contacted Lerner in Israel.’ Paget pointed to the fax in Tregalles’s hand. ‘What did he have to say?’

  ‘He confirmed the girl’s story. He said he hadn’t seen Sebastian for a couple of years, and he realized soon after they sat down that they didn’t have much to talk about, so he was quite relieved when Sebastian offered the two young women a seat. He said Sebastian bought them drinks, and, for the first little while at least, they were having a good time. Sebastian kept them all entertained with stories, and the drinks kept coming. But then, Lerner said, the stories began to get a bit more raunchy, and he was already beginning to feel uncomfortable, when, suddenly, Sebastian gasped, grabbed his leg and started swearing. He said the woman next to Sebastian jumped up so fast that she knocked the drinks over, as well as her chair, and it was only then that he realized what had been going on. He said both women ran out and he tried to follow them to apologize for Sebastian’s behaviour, but he couldn’t catch them.’

  ‘Do you believe him?’ Paget asked.

  ‘I do,’ Tregalles said. ‘Lerner is quite a bit older than Sebastian, and I think he was quite shocked by Sebastian’s behaviour. He said he’s never been so embarrassed in his life, and the only thing he wanted to do was get out of there.’

  He walked over and drew a line under Sebastian’s name on the whiteboard. ‘I think that, after an evening of drinking and two failed attempts to pick up a woman, Sebastian went off home with his bottle of wine and tried it on with Justine. There was a struggle, he hit her, she fell back and hit her head on the mantel, and went down. I think we should have him in.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Paget, ‘so go out there and pick him up. Take Forsythe with you, and make sure she is a witness when you caution him. Arrest him on suspicion of conspiring to conceal a suspicious death, perverting the course of justice, wasting police time, etcetera, etcetera, but not murder. Allow him one phone call, then take his phone away from him. Bag it and turn it over to the custody officer when you bring him in. I want the Lorrimers to see that they are no longer protected and it will only be a matter of time before it’s their turn.’

  TWENTY-TWO

  It was stuffy in interview room number three. It was the smallest of the interview rooms – properly ventilated, but windowless – and some people found it claustrophobic … which was why Paget chose it. Sitting beside Sebastian Mills was Arthur Williams, the solicitor sent in by Sebastian’s mother when Sebastian had scoffed at the need for one.

  ‘So, Mr Mills,’ Paget said, ‘as I’ve explained, in the light of what we now know about your movements that Saturday evening, I’m sure you can see how a judge or jury might look at it. You’d been drinking heavily; you’d been rejected by one young woman at your table, for good reason according to her and your friend, Mr Lerner. And your attempt to chat up the woman behind the bar didn’t go too well, either, did it? But suddenly you buy a bottle of wine, saying you might do better at home. And, since Justine Delgado was the only one there, apart from your mother, it isn’t hard to see the connection.’

  ‘That’s bullshit!’ Sebastian said. ‘The woman was drunk, so her word means nothing. Her word against mine. And Simon’s somewhere at a dig in Israel, so I know you haven’t been talking to him.’

  ‘Believe it or not, Mr Mills, they do have phones in Israel,’ Tregalles told him. ‘And fax machines.’ He slid a paper across the table. ‘Mr Mills is being shown a copy of a fax received this morning from Simon Lerner,’ he said for the tape.

  Sebastian read it, then tossed it aside. ‘That’s bullshit as well,’ he said scornfully. ‘In fact, he was the one who was almost slavering over Jane something or other. I don’t think the poor bugger has had a woman in years, if ever. Now he’s trying to put the blame on me. Some friend!’ He slouched back in his chair. ‘And as for the barmaid, chance would be a fine thing if she thought I was chatting her up. God! Give me some credit for taste!’

  ‘Nevertheless,’ said Paget, ‘she remembers clearly what you said about going home to find a girl, and buying the bottle of wine. Add to that your track record with young women at Leeds, it’s not hard to see a pattern forming here, is it, Mr Mills?’

  Sebastian flinched at the mention of Leeds.

  ‘You don’t take rejection well, do you?’ Paget continued. It was a statement rather than a question. ‘So, when you arrived home in your inebriated state, and Justine turned you down, I can see how one more rejection might be the last straw and cause you to lash out. You may not have intended to kill her, but, unfortunately for you, that blow caused her to hit her head on the corner of the mantel, and that was it. Suddenly, you had a body on your hands, and the only other person in the house was your mother. So, either you ran to her for help or she heard the commotion and came to see what was going on. Which was it, Mr Mills? Because you certainly didn’t do all that cleaning up yourself.’

  ‘Are you quite finished?’ Arthur Williams asked in a pained voice. ‘Because, from where I sit, you have nothing. As for the barmaid’s testimony, it was a busy Saturday night, and it simply isn’t credible that she would recall exactly what was said when my client asked for a bottle of wine before leaving.’

  ‘And the wine was for …?’

  ‘His mother, who is partial to that particular wine,’ Williams replied blandly. ‘Once home, Mr Mills went straight to bed, and his mother will testify to that. As for the rest, you can’t even prove when Miss Delgado was killed.’

  ‘Oh, I think we can, Mr Williams. Mr Mills and the Lorrimers spent so much time establishing alibis for their whereabouts after Justine supposedly left the house on Sunday morning that the only time she could have been killed in her room was late Saturday night or very early Sunday morning. They’ve boxed themselves in with alibis for the wrong period of time. I put the case to the CPS and they agree with me that we certainly have enough to charge Mr Mills with conspiring to conceal a suspicious death, and I’m confident that there will
be more serious charges to follow. As I said before, apart from his mother, Mr Mills was the only person in the house when Justine Delgado was killed.’

  ‘Then go ahead if you really think you have a chance,’ said Williams airily.

  ‘Now, just wait a bloody minute!’ Suddenly alert, Sebastian glared at Williams. ‘I’m not having this. You’re supposed to be defending me, and I wasn’t the only one in the house that night. I went straight up to bed. My mother met me at the door and helped me up to my room and dumped me on my bed. She’ll tell you.’

  ‘Really?’ said Paget softly. ‘So, who else was in the house?’ He knew, of course, that Bradley was in the house because they had the evidence on the CCTV tapes, but he wanted to hear what Sebastian had to say.

  ‘Jim,’ Sebastian said sullenly. ‘Jim Bradley was there.’

  Paget shook his head. ‘Now, why would Mr Bradley be there at that time of night, Mr Mills?’

  Sebastian snorted. ‘You’re not much of a detective if you can’t work that out,’ he said disdainfully. ‘He’s often there when Stephen’s away, and he was there that night.’

  ‘You saw him? Spoke to him?’

  Sebastian shook his head. ‘I saw his car when I drove in,’ he said. ‘My mother met me at the front door and steered me upstairs to bed. I think Jim must have been in her bedroom, but I heard him and my mother talking in the hall afterwards.’

  ‘Did you hear what they were saying?’

  ‘It was muffled. It sounded as if Jim was upset about something, and I wondered if it was because I’d come home and caught them together. Not that I was bothered. I like Jim, and I’ve had an idea for some time that he and my mother were … well, you know. But then I must have fallen asleep, because next thing I knew, daylight was coming in the window.’

  ‘Who told you to lie about seeing Justine leaving the house on Sunday morning?’ asked Paget.

  ‘No one,’ Sebastian said stubbornly. ‘I saw her.’

  ‘Justine was dead long before that, Mr Mills. You lied and so did your mother. Are you protecting her or is she protecting you?’

  Arthur Williams stirred in his seat. ‘I don’t think you have a case against my client,’ he said, ‘so I suggest you let him go.’

  ‘And I suggest he remain exactly where he is,’ Paget replied, ‘because I don’t believe him, and he is still under arrest.’

  Julia Lorrimer was arrested on suspicion of conspiring to conceal the death of Justine Delgado, perverting the course of justice and wasting police time. The arrest was carried out by DCI Paget and a uniformed WPC, and she was taken down to Charter Lane in a patrol car. She’d protested that she couldn’t leave the office because her husband had gone out to the farm to spend the day with Michael, but Sylvia Lamb had piped up to say, ‘No problem, Mrs Lorrimer. I’ll call Mr Lorrimer and tell him what’s happened, and I can manage till he gets back. It’s quite quiet here today.’

  Julia Lorrimer’s solicitor, a woman by the name of Rita Thurlow, who was clearly a friend as well as Mrs Lorrimer’s solicitor, was amazingly quick to respond to Julia’s call. She arrived at Charter Lane while her client was being processed by the custody officer, and Paget wondered if she’d been alerted earlier to the possibility of Julia Lorrimer being arrested.

  Dressed all in black, except for a dove-grey neck scarf tucked into the top of the jacket of her two-piece suit, Rita Thurlow couldn’t have been much more than a couple of inches over five feet tall, including her three-inch heels. Long, dark hair framed a rather pleasant face, but there was a stubborn set to her mouth, and the eyes gave no secrets away.

  Now, she and Julia Lorrimer were sitting in the same two chairs that had been occupied by Stephen Lorrimer and his solicitor the day before. Julia had been cautioned, both at the time of arrest and a second time for the record in the interview room, so Paget wasted no time in getting down to business.

  ‘Mrs Lorrimer, according to what you told me on the third of April this year, and confirmed in the missing person report you signed on that same day, the last time you saw Justine Delgado was when she spoke to you in the kitchen at approximately twenty minutes to eight on Easter Sunday morning, before going off to mass. Is that correct?’

  ‘Yes, it is.’

  ‘And yet you knew that to be a lie,’ said Paget. ‘Because we now know that Justine was killed either late Saturday night or early Sunday morning. We know this because, having verified your movements and those of your family over the Easter weekend, that is the only possible time it could have happened.’

  ‘Except for the time we were all away from the house on Sunday morning,’ Julia pointed out.

  ‘You’re suggesting that Justine was killed by someone who came in from outside?’

  ‘Of course. We were gone for almost three hours.’

  ‘Someone who knew where to find another rug to replace the blood-soaked one?’ Paget suggested. ‘Someone who also knew where to find a bedspread, bleach, cleaning materials and lavender spray? The same kind of spray that you use, Mrs Lorrimer. And someone who was not only able to do all that, but managed to spirit the body away from the house in broad daylight without detection? I don’t think so, Mrs Lorrimer. Tell me, what time did your son Sebastian come home the previous evening. Do you remember?’

  ‘Of course I remember,’ Julia said tightly. ‘It was about eleven thirty. I was on my way to bed when he came in. I was annoyed with him because he’d obviously had too much to drink, and I had to help him up the stairs to bed.’

  Tregalles looked up. ‘Did you actually see him go to bed, Mrs Lorrimer?’ he asked.

  ‘As I said, I was annoyed with him, so I left him on his bed, fully clothed, then I went to bed myself.’

  ‘Where was Jim Bradley while this was happening?’ asked Paget.

  Julia Lorrimer’s mouth opened and closed, but she recovered quickly. ‘What on earth does Jim have to do with this?’ she asked, as if genuinely puzzled.

  ‘Well, for a start, he was in the house, and I suspect he was in your bedroom,’ said Paget. Tregalles slid a sheet of paper across the table. ‘The CCTV camera on Edge Hill Road shows him arriving at Simla House at twenty minutes to ten that night,’ he said. ‘Could you tell us the reason for his visit, Mrs Lorrimer?’

  Julia sighed. ‘He dropped in because he thought Stephen would be back from Worcester by then, and he was curious to know how things had gone. He didn’t stay long; he left about …’ Belatedly, she remembered the CCTV camera.

  ‘Twenty-one minutes past four on Sunday morning, to be precise,’ Paget told her with a nod to Tregalles. The sergeant slid a second piece of paper across the table. ‘And Jim Bradley didn’t just “drop in” expecting to find Stephen there,’ he said. You rang Bradley yourself only minutes after your husband telephoned to say that he would be staying in Worcester overnight.’ Tregalles produced another sheet of paper. ‘This shows the time and length of both telephone calls,’ he explained. ‘And we believe that Justine Delgado’s body was in Mr Bradley’s SUV when he left Simla House that morning,’ he added deliberately.

  Julia Lorrimer ran the tip of her tongue around her lips as she stared at the papers in front of her. The silence between them lengthened. Lips compressed, she closed her eyes tightly and hung her head. She remained in that position for several seconds, then lifted her head to look at Rita Thurlow.

  ‘I can’t do this,’ she said simply. ‘I thought I could for Stephen’s sake, but—’

  ‘Don’t say any more!’ The first word came out like the crack of a whip, startling Tregalles, who had been rather taken with the diminutive solicitor facing him across the table. But it had the desired effect. Julia Lorrimer stopped speaking, and Rita Thurlow turned to Paget. ‘I’m advising my client to say no more until we’ve had a chance to talk about this in private.’

  ‘Thirty minutes?’ Paget suggested.

  The solicitor nodded. ‘I’ll let you know if I need more.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ said Paget, with a nod to Tregall
es.

  ‘Interview suspended for thirty minutes at solicitor’s request. DCI Paget and DS Tregalles leaving the room. The time is fifteen fourteen.’ He turned the recorder off.

  ‘We’ve had a break,’ Ormside greeted him when Paget walked into the incident room. ‘As I told you earlier, Kajura has scanned every inch of the CCTV footage from midnight to daybreak on Easter Monday, and there’s no sign of Bradley’s SUV. But that girl just doesn’t give up, so she started to look for any car that had gone up River Road after midnight, and had come back down again within an hour or so, and she found one.’ He tapped the notebook in his hand. ‘She identified a Kia Picanto going up the hill at twenty minutes to two, and coming back down again at two thirty. The Picanto is registered in the name of the late Theresa Bradley, Jim Bradley’s mother. She died last November, and there’s no record of the car or her house being sold.’

  Bless the girl! Paget felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Finally, something they could get their teeth into. ‘Thank you, Len,’ he said, ‘that is good news. I want that car found; I want Bradley brought in, his house searched, and, depending on where we find the car, I want a door-to-door around the neighbourhood asking if anyone saw or heard the car leaving or coming back that Monday morning. You shouldn’t have any trouble getting a warrant, so—’

  ‘All in hand,’ Ormside assured him when he could finally get a word in. ‘DS Forsythe and DC Falkner are on their way to Bradley’s house as we speak; a second team is on its way to Bradley’s mother’s house, and SOCO is on standby.’

  ‘Excellent! And please thank DC Kajura for her good work. This could be the turning point in the investigation.’