“Hello again, chaps,” he said.
The man in blue looked sensible enough but the man in green had a moody look to his eyes and the angle of his mouth. Hogarth addressed him first. He raised a finger and pointed at him.
“You! Don’t cause any more trouble, sunshine. You’re in my bad books already.”
The fight left the man’s eyes, and he looked to his neighbour, for a lead.
“Which one of you is Igor?” said Hogarth.
The man in blue nodded. “Yes. It’s me,” he said, with furtive eyes. His accent was strong, but his English was good.
“Igor. Yours is the name I keep hearing. This is a murder investigation. You must know that. I know you found Nigel Grave. So why the heck did you run? Go on. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t have you arrested for assaulting a police officer, as well as suspicion of murder.”
The man raised his hands in frustration and threw them to his sides.
“Murder?”
“Yes, murder.”
“But we didn’t kill him!”
“But you were the first to see him. The vet told us so. He saw you with the body and your boot prints were all over the murder scene… do you understand?” Hogarth pointed at their big cheap wellington boots.
Igor nodded, but the other man looked confused.
“You’re strong capable men. And you can run fast enough. You could have easily picked up that old man and thrown him into that machine, couldn’t you?”
Palmer drifted into view behind Hogarth, closing off the rest of the gap in the greenhouse doorway.
“But why? Why would we do that?”
“That’s what I want to know, Igor. Because there couldn’t have been anyone else in there before you two. And we have no evidence of anyone in that barn after you until Mr Venky saw you. You were there. You had the opportunity to do it and you had the means. You know the farm and the equipment very well… so tell me why did you do it?”
Igor and the other man looked at each other. Hogarth folded his arms.
“Come on. Out with it. Was it the past?”
The men spoke rapidly in their foreign tongue.
The moody looking one barked a response and shook his head.
“What did he say?” said Hogarth.
“He says you’re one of those English who doesn’t like foreigners. A racist.”
“Bullshit. You can tell him I say foreigners are welcome. It’s just the killers we don’t want.”
Igor translated Hogarth’s words and the man shook his head.
“We didn’t do it.”
“Convince me,” said Hogarth.
“Nigel looked after us. He was our means of safety here. Now he’s dead, what are we to do? There is no guarantee of work here now. There is nothing at all. The farm will probably close, yes? We’ll be in bad trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?” said Hogarth.
“Trouble is why we run from you…”
Palmer cottoned on first. “Oh…sir” she muttered. Hogarth wasn’t far behind.
“Damn it. You’re not from the European Union, are you?” said Hogarth.
Igor shook his head.
“We’re not from Europe at all. We’re from Syria. But the people who helped us get here, they said to use European names. They said it would be easier for us.”
“Well you could have chosen a better bloody name than Igor, couldn’t you?” Hogarth sighed. “Where’d you get that one? An old horror film?”
The man didn’t answer him. “So… you ran because you were afraid of being deported?” said Hogarth.
The men nodded.
“Syria…” he said. Igor nodded again. “Then you people have nothing to do with Grave Farm’s past history.”
“We know nothing of the farm. All we know is that Mr Grave helped us. He didn’t care that we were Syrian. He didn’t write us off as terrorists as everyone does.”
“Yes, old farmer Grave was a good old stick. Shame someone had to go and kill him. But your nationality doesn’t exclude you for the crime. You were first on the scene.”
Igor explained shook his head.
“No, that’s not true. We weren’t,” he said.
Hogarth stiffened. “What? What do you mean?”
“We saw footprints on the barn floor before ours. We even talked about it afterwards. They were wet shoe prints which led all the way to the chipper machine. Wet prints from the path and they were nothing like Mr Grave’s shoes…”
“You saw that, and you didn’t tell us?”
“We were scared, you understand,” said Igor.
“And then you messed those prints up with your own boot prints.”
“Mr Grave was stuck inside the machine. We had to try and help him. We ran to help him.”
Hogarth rubbed his chin and looked at Palmer.
“This is a right bloody mess.”
Palmer frowned. “We’ll need to verify what they’re saying is true.”
“Yeah. And we’ll need prints and everything on these two just in case.” And we’ll need them secure too, thought Hogarth, knowing that it was the thing they feared most.
“Call the nick,” muttered Hogarth to his sergeant. “Get some uniforms down here. Tell them to send Dawson for backup, in case these two get frisky.”
Hogarth faced them again while Palmer made the call. He saw the men now wore an air of despair and defeat.
“Boys, I’m afraid you’re going to have to come in with us.”
“But you’ll send us back…” said Igor.
“To Syria? It’s a bloody war zone. I doubt it. Worst case is you’ll end up with refugee status.”
“You don’t know that, Mister Policeman.”
Hogarth met the man’s eye and said no more. It was true. He didn’t know for sure. But he still had no choice. The men had to be prevented from running until the case had been cracked. And it wasn’t about pleasing Melford, not at all. The only thing that mattered was catching the killer.
“Did you see anyone in that shed, Igor? Did you see the killer?”
The man shook his head. “That, I would have told you.”
“Tell me, who do you think did it?”
A bitter laugh slid from his lips and the man shook his head.
“Truth?”
Hogarth nodded.
“The truth is it could have been any one of them. The old woman hated him. His son wanted him gone so he could have the farm now, and the other man is a shark.”
“What about Venky the vet?”
The man shook his head. “No problem. All he cares about is animals. Venky is a nice man. Like Mr Grave.”
“You’ve forgotten one of them. What about Neville Grave’s girlfriend.”
“I didn’t forget. Just did not include her. If she was strong enough, I would say she did it.”
“Why?”
“That girl looks like an angel. But I know a dangerous woman when I see her. That one could be worse than them all.”
“But you say she didn’t do it?”
“It is not possible for her,” said Igor.
“Not without help…” said Hogarth. He looked at Igor’s friend. Both seemed to understand the implication of his glare.
“I told you. It wasn’t us, Mister Policeman. If you want to catch the killer, you need to find the person who wears those shoes.”
And those gloves, thought Hogarth.
Hogarth looked around the area and aimed a thumb over his shoulder to the ramshackle bungalow. “You live in there, right?”
The men nodded. “Does anyone else use this area at all? Neville? Venky? Anyone else?”
They shook their heads. “This is ours alone.”
“Then make yourselves useful. Help me search it. Then we can rule you out. Understand?”
“We didn’t do it,” they said.
“Then help me find who did. They could have stashed evidence here when you weren’t looking. Come on. We’ll start right here in the greenhouse.
”
When Palmer returned, she found Hogarth and the two men rifling through sacks and stacks beneath the potting shelves.
“Dawson is on the way, guv.”
“Look here – I’ve found myself two new deputies, Palmer. Who said there was a manpower problem on the team?”
“Melford would just love that.”
“Don’t I know it? And that only adds to the fun.”
***
Hogarth watched as PC Dawson and PC Jordan put Igor and Borev in the back of a police car. He waved them off before crossing the fields back towards Grave Farm. By now, Hogarth’s clothes looked as if he’d worn them on a ten-mile cross country run. Somehow, Palmer’s clothes still looked crisp and neat. Palmer smirked as she noticed Hogarth’s self-conscious glances.
“We’ll have to talk to Marris about those trainer prints,” said Hogarth, changing the subject. “If he can split those prints apart somehow, or separate the timings of the prints, that would be a start.”
“Maybe he can,” said Palmer. “If one set of prints obliterates another, even that must tell us something,”
Hogarth marched through the field with his hands in his pockets, brooding. They found his car where he’d left it, parked at an odd angle on the verge just before the blind bend. All sign of the earlier chaos was gone. Hogarth opened the car door and saw his phone lying face down on the back seat. He remembered the stopwatch timer and picked it up quickly and looked at the screen.
“Eleven minutes, twelve seconds.”
“So, does that leave any spare time at all for Goodwell to kill Nigel Grave?” said Palmer.
Hogarth frowned. “No. It leaves hardly any bloody time at all. And look, we’re not even at the door of the farmhouse yet. That butter run puts our friend Trevor Good Life in the clear as well. Come on, Palmer. Who the hell did do this thing?”
“The only set of people we haven’t questioned properly yet are Neville and Nancy.”
“Yes, we need a result there,” said Hogarth. “I think we’d better get some coffee and food down our necks before that. We need to be on our A-game with those two.”
“But is it really possible that she could have done it?” said Palmer.
“Who knows? Marris. We need Marris to come up with the goods on those trainers – and we need more on those neoprene fibres. It’s the trainers and gloves, Palmer. They’re our way in.”
Hogarth ran a hand over the streaks of dark brown mud on his chinos and the spatters to his navy blazer.
“Do you mind if I do a fly-by to my place before lunch?” he said. “I could do with getting changed before DCI Melford accuses me of staging a dirty protest.”
“If it helps.”
“It’ll help stop Melford and all the wise-arses at the nick. I’ve had about as much piss-taking as I can stomach.”
“At least it shows you can handle the dirty work. I wonder when DCI Melford last saw any action?”
“Action? What, Melford? I didn’t have him down as your type, Palmer.”
Palmer shook her head and tried not to blush. “Guv, you know exactly what I meant.”
Hogarth grinned and started the engine of his Vauxhall. But the smiles didn’t last long. His phone started to ring and vibrate on the dash. Hogarth grabbed it and saw the name on screen said ‘A’. He felt Palmer looking and was glad he had chosen not to add Ali’s full name on his contact list.
“Don’t mind me if you need to answer it.”
“No, it’s okay. I’ll deal with it later,” said Hogarth, and he hit call reject, but his heart was thudding fast. He hoped Palmer didn’t notice. Thankfully, she was busy staring out of the windscreen.
Palmer tried hard not to notice Hogarth’s sudden tension, and the way he refused this call when he had answered the others. Maybe it was the mysterious fancy woman the uniforms had guessed about. Or maybe it was nothing at all. Deep down, Palmer couldn’t help hoping it was the second option.
Chapter Eleven
Alone in his house, Hogarth pressed his mobile phone to his ear while he hopped around his living room with one leg still in his trousers. He dragged his chinos to the floor and shrugged off his jacket. When the phone call was answered he was down to his shirt, boxer shorts and socks
“You called me,” said Hogarth, careful to say no more in case the call was a trap.
He peered out of the window towards his Vauxhall. Palmer was idle in the front seat, quiet and serious-faced, her head turning his way. She might have seen him at the glass, but thankfully the net curtains hid his modesty. By rights he should have invited Palmer in for a polite chat and a coffee, but he didn’t want her to get the wrong idea. And he needed to make this very private call. Now Palmer would think he’d been rude. Life was a balancing act and it was always difficult to make the right call. Especially when one was having an affair with the wife of a local MP.
His heart thudded harder as he waited. Finally, a voice came on the line.
“Joe.”
So, it was her. But Ali sounded odd. Hogarth forgot his chinos and dropped into an armchair with an open copy of The Record on it. He kicked last night’s whisky tumbler over on the carpet but didn’t care. The glass was empty.
“Ali, I wanted to see you. I tried to see you. I needed to know you were okay.”
“Joe. You really, really shouldn’t have come round last night.”
“But your husband’s car wasn’t there. What with all this Brexit malarkey going on at Westminster, I was sure he’d be there voting or doing whatever else he can get away with.”
“But you were wrong, Joe. Badly wrong.”
“His car wasn’t there, Ali! How was I to know? Look… I’m sorry.”
“His car might not have been there because he could have gotten suspicious. He asked me why I was shopping at Rochford Airport when the attack happened. He knows I wouldn’t shop there. That retail park is bloody awful. There’s nothing there.”
“How did he know about Rochford?”
“The Record reported it. I must have blabbed an excuse to someone when I was dizzy and hurt.”
“I wanted to see you, Ali. I needed to know you were okay. You are okay, right? Tell me you’re okay.”
“I’m okay. I do look like a dummy from the Egyptian exhibit at the National Museum, but apart from that, I’m well enough.”
“He hit your head?”
“He punched me, the bastard. He punched me as hard as if I was a man. Then I lost my footing on the doorstep, slipped, and my head hit the wall of the house. I honestly thought I was going to die, Joe. The man had a knife in his hand. I saw it. I was convinced he was going to kill me, but I was so dazed from the fall there was simply nothing I could do.”
Hogarth’s face darkened. A vicious light crept into his eyes.
“Did you see his face… do you know what he looks like?”
“Oh, it was so quick. But I think I might remember if I concentrated hard enough. I should write it down. Or maybe draw him. But the thing is…” Her voice started to break with emotion. “I don’t want to remember any of it, Joe. It’s all so real. I’m scared, and I never get scared. That’s just not who I am.”
Swear words raced through Hogarth’s mind in a long vitriolic chain. Thinking about Ali being hurt made him furious. He stood up, a fist clenched at his side. “If I saw that man, Ali… if I could spend ten seconds with him, alone, nothing bad would ever happen to you ever again. I’d make damn sure of it.”
“I know you would…” she said. Her voice was quiet. He could hear she was still weeping.
“How injured are you, Ali?”
“He didn’t stab me, thank God. But he kicked me a few times when I was down. He kicked me in the stomach, Joe. I thought this stalker was twisted before, but now I know he’s a very, very evil man.”
“Why? What do you mean?”
“Joe… he told me this was the least I deserved. He called me a whore. He called me all kinds of things, but he kicked me in the stomach and said if
I had a whore’s baby inside me, that his kicks would kill it dead. The sick bastard doesn’t seem to have worked out why James and I never had any children.”
Hogarth stayed silent. It was a topic they had never discussed but Ali carried on. She seemed to read his mind.
“I can’t have children, Joe. Even if I wanted them, I just can’t do it. As if I needed that horrific man insulting me like that, reminding me, as he kicked me in the guts…”
Hogarth began to shake with anger and upset. He’d never asked about children. And although they’d never used a condom – and he hadn’t complained about that either – he had always imagined that Ali had taken care of the contraception angle. The truth made him feel bad for her. And it made him feel a deep new hate for the stalker, and her husband too. The stalker had tried to kill a child they never had. The thought was like a fire in him. Hogarth felt like he could kill.
“When you’re ready, you must tell me what this man looks like. I need a description, Ali. I need something to work with.”
“Joe… you can’t do that. You’ve done enough.”
“Ali?”
“You came here – and you threatened James, didn’t you?”
“I did no such thing. He was there, in your house, while you were in bed sick – he was there with his secretary, Ali. In your home.”
“I know. But I have to play the long game, Joe. I have to be the smart one and wait for him to put a foot wrong or ask for the divorce. You coming here just gave him everything he needs to turn this thing against me. He’s suspicious of you, Joe. Of us.”
“How?”
“You made it plain you had a personal interest in my wellbeing. It doesn’t take much to work out what that might be now, does it?”
“Ali…”
“No. Listen to me. You crossed a very serious line which I asked – which I pleaded – you not to cross. If there’s any chance of me coming out of this marriage with a life at all, I have to put the brakes on this now. I can’t give him any more ammunition to use against me. He can have his suspicions, but that’s all.”
The Darkest Lies: A Gripping Crime Mystery Series - Two Novel Boxed Set (The DI Hogarth Darkest Series Boxed Sets Book 1) Page 38