The Alibi

by Jamie Raven

  He’d already rehearsed in his head what he was going to say to her, but he just knew it was going to make her angry as well as deeply suspicious.

  A vein in his neck started to throb as he speed-dialled her number. She answered after the first ring.

  ‘About bloody time,’ she said. ‘I’ve been trying to get you all morning.’

  ‘I’ve been up to my neck in it. And, believe it or not, Beth Chambers is not my number one priority.’

  ‘Is that right, even though I’ve managed to solve your case for you?’

  ‘Well, that’s the thing, Beth. You haven’t. Not yet anyway.’

  ‘Are you telling me that you haven’t spoken to Peter Kline or Shapiro?’

  ‘There’s no point speaking to Shapiro until we’ve got a statement from Mr Kline. And we don’t have one because I’ve not been able to contact him.’

  ‘So you don’t know where he is?’

  ‘No, I don’t. Earlier this morning I went to the address you gave me. He wasn’t in, but a neighbour told me he went out in his car late last night and hasn’t returned. I also contacted his office and they say he hasn’t shown up for work.’

  ‘Then where the hell is he?’

  ‘How should I know? Maybe you said something to scare him off.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  ‘Well, it seems odd that he took off shortly after you dropped in on him pretending to be a detective.’

  ‘It doesn’t make sense,’ she said. ‘When he told me about Tamara going to his house he didn’t seem overly perturbed about it.’

  ‘Okay, so maybe it’s got nothing to do with you. Maybe he’d been planning to drive off somewhere before you even arrived at his house.’

  ‘That wasn’t the impression I got.’

  Beth fell silent for a couple of seconds, and when she next spoke her voice was more urgent.

  ‘Who did you tell about this after I called you last night, Ethan?’

  ‘Nobody. Why?’

  ‘Are you sure? Only what if Shapiro found out?’

  ‘Now you’re the one being ridiculous. I haven’t told a soul about it yet. Not even Redwood. I wanted to check it out myself first.’

  Lying to Beth had come easily to him during their marriage. But now he was having to force the words out past a knot in his throat. At the same time it felt like his lungs were burning oxygen and his palms were leaking hot sweat.

  ‘So what are you going to do about it?’ Beth said.

  A fierce anger rose up in him. He wanted to tell her to fuck off. That she was to blame for what had happened. That Peter Kline would still be alive if she hadn’t poked her nose where it didn’t belong.

  Instead he held it all in and said, ‘Look, I have to be careful how I play this. If I raise the alarm now then Redwood will want to know what Peter Kline has got to do with anything. And I can’t tell him without dropping you in it.’

  ‘Surely doing nothing is not an option, Ethan.’

  ‘I realise that. But it’s not as if the guy’s been kidnapped or anything. He drove off under his own steam and he could turn up at any minute.’

  ‘Yeah, I suppose. It seems odd to me though.’

  ‘You need to relax, Beth. I’ll check on him throughout the day. I can’t do more than that. There are other things I need to be following up.’

  ‘What about Tamara? Shouldn’t you be talking to her again? Ask her about the note on her calendar. Tell her you know she was in Maida Vale on Friday night.’

  ‘All in good time, Beth,’ Cain said. ‘First we need to hear from Peter Kline. If we question her about the appointment now there’s nothing to stop her saying she cancelled it in favour of a date with Shapiro, which may well have been the case.’

  ‘Okay, I see what you mean,’ Beth said. ‘But promise me you’ll keep me in the loop. This is my story, Ethan.’

  ‘Of course I promise. And meanwhile don’t you do anything more to wind up Shapiro and his thugs. At least for now.’

  ‘Do they know I told you what Frankie Bishop did to me?’

  ‘They do, but I’ve not had any feedback so just be careful. These people are dangerous, Beth, and you really don’t want them on your case.’

  She had more questions for him but he told her he didn’t have time to answer them. She was in mid-sentence when he ended the call.

  The conversation had drained him mentally. He now felt even more tired and fractious. He was also struck by the unsettling realisation that Beth wasn’t going to respond to any threats or warnings from him or anyone else.

  This was going to put her on a collision course with a man who would have no qualms about having her killed.

  32

  Beth Chambers

  Ethan’s reaction to Peter Kline’s disappearance left me confused. Why was he not more concerned? Why was he not doing more to find out if something had happened to the man?

  I could appreciate that my posing as a copper was an issue for him. But surely the problem could easily be overcome. There were any number of ways to skirt around my involvement and the truth about how he’d discovered that Shapiro had lied about his alibi. He could say he’d received an anonymous tip-off, or been given Kline’s name by an underworld contact.

  So why was he holding back, especially with a press conference looming? The timing couldn’t be more perfect. The Met could flag it up by saying there was going to be a major announcement – and then I could break the story a couple of hours before.

  The Post can reveal that events in the Megan Fuller case have taken a surprise turn. Danny Shapiro, her former husband and an alleged gangland figure, has been arrested. A Scotland Yard source has told this reporter that new evidence has come to light blah, blah, blah …

  That was the story I should have been writing. Instead we were going to be carrying a rehash of the facts without telling our readers anything new. It was so bloody frustrating.

  I let out a sigh of exasperation. I should have been on a high now but I felt unsettled and deflated.

  On impulse, I called Kline’s company again and got the same woman I had spoken to earlier. No, she said a little frostily, Peter still hadn’t arrived at the office and they hadn’t heard from him. And yes, they were becoming increasingly concerned.

  I asked her if she could give me the names and contact details of any of Peter’s friends or relatives, but she said that was out of the question. She did say, however, that his parents lived in Spain and were retired and he had a sister in Cornwall.

  ‘We’ve spoken to the parents and the sister,’ the woman said. ‘And they have no idea why he can’t be contacted.’

  I then spent half an hour ringing round all the main London hospitals to check if a man named Peter Kline had been admitted. But that drew a blank. There had apparently been no fatal accidents in the capital since yesterday afternoon.

  That did it. I decided I couldn’t just sit on my arse waiting for something to happen. What if he didn’t turn up at all today? Or tomorrow? Or the next day?

  A shudder of unease ran through me as I tried to work out what to do. The press conference wasn’t due to take place until five o’clock. That gave me ample time to get out there and try to make sense of what was going on. But where to start? That was the question.

  There was no point rushing out of the office with no idea where I was going and who I was going to speak to.

  Then suddenly the answer came to me. I’d start in the obvious place – Peter Kline’s house in Maida Vale. Maybe I’d get lucky and one of his neighbours would be able to offer up a clue to his whereabouts.

  I told Grant I was going to meet a contact and that I would call in if I came up with a new line on the story.

  That was the good thing about being a specialist reporter. You were left to your own devices most of the time. The newsdesk was happy to let you get on with it so long as you came up with the goods on a regular basis. And I did.

  The sky was still a grey blanket over the city and ther
e was a lot of moisture in the air. Despite what the weather forecasters had said I was pretty sure it was going to rain again.

  I jumped into a cab outside the building and told the driver to take me to Little Venice. I wasn’t wildly optimistic about what I would achieve when I got there. But at least I was being proactive.

  My thoughts were all over the place, though, and a cold weight had settled in my chest. I kept seeing Peter Kline’s face in my head and going over the conversation we’d had. It had been very short, and he hadn’t said anything to suggest that he was going to perform a vanishing act soon after I’d left his house.

  That worried me because according to his work colleagues it wasn’t something he usually did. It was out of character. He wasn’t the type of person to fail to turn up for a business meeting without giving an explanation.

  So where had he driven to last night and why had he dropped off the radar this morning? These were questions I was desperate to know the answers to, if only for my own peace of mind.

  33

  Ethan Cain

  Cain was in for a surprise when he got back to the incident room. There had been a development, and as DCI Redwood briefed him he let his breath out in a low whistle.

  It was the CCTV footage from the Flying Dutchman pub in Tooting, where Sam Jones had spent Friday evening. The disc had arrived a short time ago and an officer had just finished viewing it.

  It confirmed that Megan’s ex-boyfriend had been telling the truth about going there for a drink with his mates to celebrate the pub’s fiftieth anniversary, and that he left there just after one in the morning.

  But it seemed he had neglected to mention that he’d popped out during the evening for about an hour.

  Cain went with Redwood to view the footage and there was no mistake. Sam Jones could be seen arriving at the pub at just after seven. He was clearly visible on the camera covering the public bar as he drank and laughed with his friends.

  Another camera covering the pub’s exterior then picked him up stepping out of the main door at 10 p.m. He walked out of shot and did not return until 11 p.m. He then stayed knocking back pints until the pub closed after one in the morning.

  ‘I’m having him brought back in,’ Redwood said. ‘He could have walked from the pub to Ramsden Road in about fifteen minutes. By car it would have taken him just a few minutes.’

  ‘What about CCTV cameras between Balham and Tooting?’ Cain said.

  ‘We’re checking them now.’

  There followed a team briefing at which Redwood told the troops about Jones.

  ‘It doesn’t mean he’s our killer,’ he said. ‘But he’d better have a bloody good explanation.’

  Cain then announced that Nigel Fuller had agreed to attend this afternoon’s press conference. He also told the team that he’d left a message with Megan’s psychiatrist, Drew Bellamy, and was contacted by his secretary.

  ‘He’s flying back from the States so I won’t be meeting him until tomorrow,’ he said. ‘His secretary says he won’t divulge information about his patients over the phone.’

  ‘That’s about par for the course with those blokes,’ Redwood said. ‘Anything else, Ethan?’

  Yes, sir. There’s actually plenty more to report. I’ve found out that Danny Shapiro has lied to us. He did not spend Friday evening with his prostitute friend. Oh, and the man who the woman was actually with was murdered last night by Shapiro’s mad enforcer Frankie Bishop. And I happened to be there to witness the whole thing …

  That was what he should have been saying, but instead he swallowed back the bile that was forcing its way into his mouth and said, ‘There’s nothing else, guv.’

  He felt a knot twist in his gut as he walked back to his desk. It was as though the full enormity of what he had done had only just hit him. His body was steaming under his clothes as he sat down, and when he reached for his computer mouse he realised his hand was shaking.

  Cain was yanked out of his self-destructive reverie when DC Rachel Fisher dumped a thick wad of documents on his desk.

  ‘I was told to give these to you, guv,’ she said. ‘They’re Megan Fuller’s old phone records going back five years. I’ve gone through them and checked out most of the numbers.’

  ‘Anything interesting?’ he asked.

  ‘Not in the recent past. Most of the ingoing and outgoing calls were between her and Sam Jones. Others were to and from Danny Shapiro, her agent and her stepfather. But going back further I did come across a bunch of calls and text messages which reveal that Megan had an affair while married to Shapiro.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yep. And it seems to have carried on for a while after she and Shapiro separated three years ago. I’ve listed all the calls and text messages on a separate sheet, along with the name of her lover.’

  ‘Is the guy known to us?’

  She grinned. ‘He is, guv. And you’re in for a surprise when you see who it is.’

  With that she turned around and walked away. Cain frowned as he reached for the documents, but before he could read any of them Redwood came up to his desk to tell him that officers were bringing Sam Jones back to the station.

  ‘He’ll be here in fifteen minutes,’ Redwood said. ‘I want you with me in the interview room.’

  ‘No problem. I’ll be there.’

  Cain decided to grab a coffee first. He left Megan’s phone records unread on his desk and walked over to the vending machine.

  He wasn’t sure what to make of the Sam Jones development. Did he lie during the first interview or did he genuinely forget that he left the pub for an hour – giving him plenty of time to go to Megan’s house and kill her?

  If that was what happened then it meant that Danny was telling the truth. It also meant that he wouldn’t have needed to concoct an alibi, and that Peter Kline would not have had to die.

  Cain shook his head and gulped down some more coffee as he returned to his desk.

  There was just too much to think about. Too much to process. It felt like his mind was coming apart.

  He sat back down at his desk, finished off his coffee and decided to get another one. But first he pulled Megan’s phone records towards him and glanced at the note that Rachel had put on the top of the pile.

  When he saw the name of the man Megan supposedly had an affair with he felt his heart bang in his throat.

  ‘Fuck me,’ he said aloud to himself. ‘I don’t believe it.’

  It was yet another shock to the system. Another thing for him to think about.

  Another development that was going to have serious repercussions.

  34

  Beth Chambers

  When I got to Maida Vale the first thing I did was go to Peter Kline’s house. There was no car on the driveway, and when I rang the bell there was no answer.

  I pushed open the letterbox and shouted through it. Then I tried the side gate. It wasn’t locked so I opened it and went through to the back. From the rear patio I could see into the living room and kitchen. They were both empty.

  ‘Excuse me. Are you looking for Peter?’

  The voice from behind startled me. I spun round, saw a man peering over the fence from the neighbouring garden. He was in his sixties with a bald head and dark glasses.

  I felt a thud of dread in my gut as I walked towards him, but then I relaxed when he smiled at me.

  ‘Yes, I am actually,’ I said. ‘I’m a friend and I expected him to be in this morning. That’s why I took the liberty of coming round the back when he didn’t answer the door.’

  ‘Well, I hate to disappoint you, young lady, but he’s out.’

  ‘I don’t suppose you have any idea where he is?’

  ‘He should be at work, but I gather he didn’t show up.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘There was a man here about half an hour ago.’

  ‘Was he a police officer?’

  He furrowed his brow at me. ‘Heavens, no. He was one of Peter’s work colleag
ues. I saw him out front when he arrived in his car. I told him I hadn’t seen Peter this morning and he gave me his card.’

  So Kline’s colleagues were getting seriously worried. Why else would they dispatch someone to see if he was still at home? Surely it was only a matter of time now before they raised the alarm and reported him missing.

  ‘Why did you ask if he was a police officer?’ the neighbour said. ‘Is Peter in some kind of trouble?’

  I shook my head. ‘Not at all. It’s just that he seems to have gone missing.’

  His eyebrows shot up. ‘My God. That’s awful.’

  ‘He’s probably perfectly okay,’ I said quickly. ‘The problem is he’s not answering his phone. Apparently one of his neighbours said he went out in his car late last night.’

  ‘Well, it wasn’t me. I was in bed before eight. And I haven’t seen him since the day before yesterday.’

  I took out my notepad and jotted down my mobile number.

  ‘Would you mind giving me a call if he turns up? My name’s Bethany. Peter and I have known each other for years.’

  I didn’t give him my card because I didn’t want him to know that I was a reporter. He took the note and promised to call me.

  I went back out front and made a beeline for the house on the other side of Kline’s. Just as I stepped onto the empty driveway the front door opened and a woman and a small boy emerged.

  She didn’t notice me walking towards her until she’d closed the door behind her and taken the boy’s hand. I smiled at her and she responded with a hesitant smile of her own. I guessed she was somewhere in her late thirties and the boy was about 6 or 7.

  ‘I’m going to the shops,’ she said. ‘So if you’re a Jehovah’s Witness or a sales rep I’m really not interested.’

  I stopped just in front of her and shook my head. ‘I’m not a cold caller. I’m a friend of your next-door neighbour Peter Kline, and I’m trying to find out where he is.’

  Her eyes narrowed slightly. ‘Oh, well, I expect he’s gone to work.’

  ‘Actually he didn’t turn up at the office this morning and nobody can contact him.’