(Jonathan Roper Investigates Boxset

by Michael Leese

  “Not forever, but by the end of this century scientists are talking about people routinely living to 150 years old, although they also say that as we cure current diseases new ones will emerge. But this stuff seems very cutting edge, at least from what I can make of it.”

  Hooley rubbed the back of his neck; he could feel the first signs of a headache. Definitely no stopping at the pub tonight.

  “I suppose after his wife’s death he was always going to follow that sort of information. Have you come across any mention of money?

  “Nothing I’ve seen so far. But I thought we had all his financial information anyway.”

  Hooley made a face. “The previous team compiled a lot of information but it’s very complex and I couldn’t begin to tell you if it includes everything he had.”

  Roper nodded.

  “I’ll keep digging away at what I’ve found and Gary can have a look at the emails properly.”

  The day petered out with a sense of anticlimax. The burst of activity had promised far more than it eventually delivered and Hooley decided to call it a day before they both became frustrated. He wanted to make a very early start at the warehouse. He’d heard the forensic team was almost finished at the site so it would be all theirs.

  Chapter 12

  Roper shivered as he and Hooley walked toward the warehouse. It wasn’t the sharp morning chill that had him pulling his coat tight; it was claustrophobia triggered by the sense of the huge buildings pressing down on him. They were in a part of East London that was still waiting for its regeneration boom. The area was home to warehousing once used to store goods that flowed through London’s docks. Built in the Victorian-era, they were imposing, London brick constructions. If developers got their way these would soon be turned into up-market ‘loft-style’ living spaces aimed at the hipsters who had already left their mark in nearby Hoxteth. At present the area was unloved and felt curiously deserted for somewhere so close to the financial centre at Canary Wharf.

  It was just after 7am as they walked up to the building where the body was found. Two white-suited investigators were outside; their faces pinched by the cold.

  “Morning boys. Feeling a bit chilly?” Hooley was wearing a wide smile.

  The older of the two, his bushy eyebrows and glittering eyes giving him a fearsome expression, replied to his bonhomie with a meaningful look.

  “It may be summer out here, Chief Inspector Brian Hooley, but it’s bloody Arctic in there,” he indicated the warehouse with a jerk of his head. “Especially if you’ve spent the night working hard on behalf of the taxpayer.”

  Ted Davies was about the same age as Hooley and looked similar with a round face and an air of broad-shouldered defiance. The pair shook hands and then Davies eyed Roper.

  “I take it this sharp-eyed young man is your famous assistant Jonathan Roper?”

  Roper froze as he tried to think what was famous about him, only a nudge from Hooley snapping him out of introspection. He realised he was being offered a hand to shake and he snatched at it then quickly pulled away.

  “Any thoughts for us Ted? Said Hooley, rolling his eyes in a ‘what can you do’ gesture at Roper’s reaction. The forensic expert shook his head, his face forming into a pantomime of incredulity.

  “Now the man expects miracles. We turn up and then, just like those rubbish TV shows, someone spots a single human hair from twenty feet away and in one swoop solves the case.”

  The forensics expert professed to hate the programmes, but his daughter had let slip to colleagues that one of his favourite things was watching them on cable TV and shout abuse at the way his profession was displayed. A sly expression appeared on his face.

  “Of course, I may have something, only preliminary observations mind, depends what you have for me.”

  Hooley held up the small carrier bag he was holding.

  “Coffee?”

  “That will do nicely.”

  There was a brief delay while the two men took a few appreciative sips and then Davies looked more serious.

  “Someone has done a pretty decent job of trying to sanitise that warehouse. There’s been extensive use of bleach and surfaces have been wiped clean, and that must have taken some serious manpower. We’ve found traces of blood so some people might suspect that our man was killed and dismembered in the same place he was found. Hopefully, we should be able to confirm that once the results come back.”

  “There are also a few fingerprints but don’t hold your breath for anything there. I gather the security guard who found the body was blundering around all over the place so chances are they will be his.”

  Hooley nodded.

  “Thanks for the heads-up and we have the security man on our list of people to talk to. How long before we get the results?”

  “That depends on how hard your boss wants to lean on people, but we’ll be going as fast as we can.”

  ‘Thanks Ted. OK for us to go in and look around?”

  Davies waved his hand at the entrance. “It’s all yours. Just remember to suit up first.”

  He left them to it and walked off with his assistant in tow. Donning their gear, Hooley looked at a uniformed policeman, standing a few feet away and stamping his feet against the cold. He looked at the entrance and then nodded at Hooley in response to the unvoiced question of whether he was there to guard the door.

  Roper, meanwhile, was being driven by a different agenda. “That comment about the ‘famous Jonathan Roper’, was that a joke?”

  Hooley nodded.

  “It was a joke, but not at your expense. That was his way of letting you know he was aware of your talents, so in a way it was also a compliment.”

  Roper looked thoughtful but said no more.

  Chapter 13

  The main door of the warehouse was huge; the solid dark wood reinforced by metal hinges covered in layer upon layer of black paint. It had originally been designed to allow the passage of horse-drawn carriages, while on the right-hand side was a human-sized entrance through which Hooley stepped into the gloom. Even the powerful array of portable lights set up inside could not reach the furthest spaces which remained coated in darkness.

  “Bit spooky in here,” he said. When no reply came he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Spinning around he realised he was quite alone; he hurried back to the entrance and stuck his head out of the door to find Roper studying the lock. As he watched, Roper looked up. “I’ve found a tiny bit of fresh oil on here. Maybe someone opened the doors recently?” He looked for a moment longer checking in several more spots and then followed Hooley inside. Roper had produced a torch and was carefully working his way around the dark outer reaches. The DCI knew better than to disturb him and left him to it. The slow and careful search took about forty-five minutes. Roper was silent the whole time; Hooley knew he wouldn’t speak until he felt he had something to say; there was no time for small talk in Roper’s world.

  Finally, he seemed satisfied with his examination and he gestured towards the shadows. “There’s not a lot to see but I did notice that there is an outline over there.” He walked back to where he had started and tapped his foot on the ground. “I think something heavy may have been here. I can see a sort of square outline.” Then he pointed out several other spots where he could also see an outline.

  Hooley squinted hard but wasn’t sure. “I’ll have to take your word for it. I can’t really see anything.”

  Roper nodded thoughtfully. “I expect that’s because your eyesight is fading. Another way that age affects you.” Hooley practised calm thoughts while Roper carried on talking. “But I think there was a structure here recently. Which is odd, because that security guard told us this had been empty for years and years.”

  Hooley let his breath out slowly; it was too early in the morning to worry about Roper insulting his eyesight and he probably did need a test. He watched Roper carefully walking round to follow a trail only he could see; it was one that took him straight back outside.
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  Hooley followed and watched him carefully examining the bottom of the closest lamp-post. He appeared to find what he was looking for as he stood up and nodded then went back inside, calling out. “I’d like to see the basement where the body was found and then come back to have another look up here.”

  “Fine, go ahead,” said Hooley. “I’ll follow you down but first I want to arrange for that security guard to be brought in today. I think he just went up the rankings a little bit. I’m very keen to hear him explain what made him enter this place on his own and see if he can explain why these doors have been opened recently.

  By the time he’d put the request in Roper was finished and doing another circuit of the ground floor. The DCI went to see where the body had been found and thought the cellar area was worse than the rest of the building. He knew he wouldn’t have wanted to come down here without the lights left in place.

  He climbed back up in time to see Roper leaving. By the time he followed him out the younger man was looking up at the other buildings in the area.

  “There’s no sign of any of these being in use. Do we know if they are owned by the same company?” he said, gesturing at the warehouse they had just examined.

  “No, it’s a good question though. Do you want to head back to Victoria and we can get that in motion?”

  As keen as he was to find out what Roper was thinking about he knew that this was one of the times it was best to give him some space to work everything out. He would tell him when he was ready.

  An hour later and a uniformed Sergeant poked his head round the door of the DCI’s office.

  “We’ve got that security guard you wanted Sir. He’s parked in the interview room next floor down.”

  “That’s great. How’s he behaving?”

  The Sergeant was in his mid-40s, with a military style short back and sides.

  “My old mum always told me ‘Trevor, never judge a book by its cover’. But, with all due respect, I would say your man is guilty of something. He’s as jumpy as the proverbial cat on a hot tin roof.”

  “All the way here he kept wittering on about why we wanted him and how he’d already spoken to the police and didn’t know why we wanted to speak to him again. I’ve left him with a nice cup of tea and told him you will be with him shortly.”

  Hooley nodded.

  “Good to know. I think we’ll leave our friend to sweat a little bit more and then see if we can find out what it is that is making him so nervous.”

  Chapter 14

  Looking through the one-way mirror Hooley thought George Howard’s misery was plain to see as he kept glancing at the door of the interview room, clearly worried about who was going to walk through it. As Hooley and Roper watched they saw a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead and into the corner of his right-eye.

  “He looks a little bit stressed about being here. What do you think Jonathan?”

  “I’d say he was about five feet ten inches, weighs about 175 pounds and does his shopping at Asda.”

  Hooley turned and stared at him.

  “OK Sherlock, the height and weight, I might have guessed that, but how do you know where he goes shopping.”

  Roper didn’t say ‘elementary, my dear Hooley’, but his expression certainly implied that.

  “When he leaned forward just now I saw the label on his t-shirt. It said ‘George’ which is the clothing brand label for Asda.”

  Hooley absorbed this for a moment trying to work out if he was an idiot or was simply in the presence of a superior being. He came to the reluctant conclusion it was both. He decided the only option was to press on.

  “When I said ‘what do you think?’, I meant what do you think about the look of him? Do you think he appears to be showing signs of stress?”

  “I thought you were trying to stop me guessing what’s in people’s minds.”

  Hooley silently chastised himself. He had been hoping that with Howard showing such obvious signs of tension it might be the perfect time for Roper to practise his body language skills. “OK, that’s my mistake. Forget I said that and let’s go and talk to him. Let me speak first and then you jump in if you want.”

  They opened the door to the interview room and Howard leapt to his feet. Hooley, who was a little less than six feet, realised that Roper’s estimate of his height was spot on and he was most likely right about his weight. Although only in his twenties, he was already carrying a spare tyre around his middle and showing signs of a double chin. Close up his hair was greasy.

  “Are you arresting me? ‘Cos if you are I want a lawyer.”

  The words, spoken in a sharp South London accent, tumbled out so fast it was difficult to make out what he was saying.

  Hooley decided ‘Good Cop’ was the best approach - for now.

  “Mr. Howard, please sit down. Just so we are all clear, you are most certainly not under arrest, there are just a few questions we would like to ask you and see if you can clear up a couple of things that are puzzling us.”

  As he said this, a look of fear flashed across the man’s face and he sat down heavily on the chair and resumed staring at the floor. Looking at the top of his head Hooley could see he was already going bald.

  “I’m sorry to have to go through this again but orders from the top and all that.”

  He leaned forward as if he was sharing a confidence.

  “To be honest, we are under a bit of pressure on this one. Apparently, Sir James had some powerful friends and they’ve pulled strings to get us on the case.” He looked around pretending to check there was no one eavesdropping. “Apparently the Prime Minister is interested.”

  Howard let out a small sigh. He looked up at Hooley with a pleading expression.

  “Look, I already told them other blokes.”

  Hooley debated upping the pressure but decided it might terrify him into silence, the priority was to get the man talking first, and they needed to confirm details from his statement. Then he could find out what he was hiding.

  For the next 20 minutes, he led him through his previous statement, which Howard stuck to without much deviation. Roper sat quietly, listening closely but saying nothing. Hooley decided it was time to up the tempo.

  Raising his voice, he said, “You nicked something, didn’t you? Did you take something from the body? That would have been a disgusting thing to do, the state he was in.”

  Howard looked like he’d been slapped in the face and was gasping for breath.

  “No, no, no. It was nothin’ like that.”

  “So, what haven’t you told us? You do know this is a murder investigation? If you’re concealing important evidence I’ll make sure you go down for a very long time. I don’t think a bloke like you would have a very good time if you were banged up. Because it’s a murder case you’d end up in a category A prison with the real hard men. A soft little git like you is going to have a very bad time.”

  Howard started shaking violently. “I can’t tell you, I can’t.” He had his head in his hands.

  Hooley slammed his hand on the table, speaking very loudly.

  “Too late for that. Tell me what you’re keeping from us. One way or another you’re in big trouble and you need a friend. Talk to me and maybe I can help you.”

  For a long moment, the man sat there holding his head and then he started talking in a rush, like he had when they first came in.

  “Two geezers jumped me. They was wearing masks and told me to stay away from that warehouse for a week. They said if they saw me around they’d shank me. One of ‘em stuck the top of ‘is knife up me nose and said he’d slice it off, just for starters. Then they gave me a bit of a goin’ over, not too bad, just to show they could I suppose.”

  Hooley looked at him for a while. He’d bet his pension he was telling the truth.

  “So, when did this happen?”

  “It was May 24, my bleedin’ birthday. Some present that was.”

  “Suppose I believe your little story. Why on earth did you go
there later if they had threatened you?”

  “I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about what they might ‘ave been doin’. I thought I’d better ‘ave a little look and it was long past when they told me to keep me nose out.”

  Hooley snorted.

  “You don’t strike me as a concerned citizen, more like you thought there might be something worth nicking.”

  Howard’s miserable expression confirmed he’d hit the spot. Hooley looked over at Roper and indicated the door with a nod of his head. Getting up he said, “You need to stay here for a bit, while we decide what to do with you. I’ll organise some food and a cup of tea.”

  Howard said nothing, just returned to staring at the floor.

  Chapter 15

  Hooley and Roper were mid-briefing to Mayweather when she had to break off to take a phone call, giving Roper time to study her office. It was more than twice the size of the one he and the DCI were sharing, and was full of things he found distracting. The walls were covered in pictures and photographs; she had four televisions side-by-side showing national and international news while underneath them was a table for two printers and a shredder. There was also shelving for books and files, plus a few personal items. While the windows were shrouded by thick net curtains and blinds to deter prying eyes.

  The room was also big enough to house a small conference table with eight chairs and on the wall to the right of where Roper sat was a huge and detailed map of London. Glancing down he looked at the alternating squares of blue and grey carpet tiles, rather than the plain blue that Hooley opted for. To cap it all there was a steady stream of messengers delivering reports and documents. He was glad he didn’t have to spend too much time in here.

  She finished the call and switched back to the conversation. “So, what do you want to do with our friend Mr. Howard? If we play it by the book we should charge him with withholding information.”

  “My temptation is to leave that for a moment,” said Hooley. “We can always do it later but if we charge him now he will clam up and I’d like to be sure he has told us everything. I suppose the other consideration is could he be in danger?” Turning to Roper he asked. “Do you have any thoughts on that Jonathan?”