by Roberta Kray
The thing about the bracelet was odd. Tom didn’t usually make mistakes like that, although in his current state of mind and with everything that had happened he could have got confused. She made a mental note to ask about it next time she saw him. And then there was the stuff about Budapest. Had Denny been there or not? She would ask Tom about that too.
As the Fieldings got into their car, Eden dropped the curtain and sat down at the table. The conversation continued to revolve in her head. Were they hiding something or just trying to distance themselves from any hint of scandal? Perhaps, despite all their words of support, they had started to have doubts about Tom’s innocence. She recoiled at the thought. If his close friends didn’t believe in him, who would? There could come a time when his future would be decided by twelve complete strangers, a jury who might listen to the lies of a villain, who might not be able to see past the web of deceit. And what then? She closed her eyes, unwilling and unable to think about it.
18
The next morning, reluctant to brave the icy roads again, Eden left the car at home and took the Tube into the West End. At precisely five to eleven, she went into the police station, asked for DI Banner and was told to take a seat. She sat down on one of the hard plastic chairs and waited, watching the people come and go in the foyer. The minutes ticked by. The snow melted off her boots and formed a tiny puddle at her feet. Still Banner didn’t show his face. It was a ploy, perhaps, to make her more nervous than she already was.
The first time she’d met the inspector – a less than pleasant experience – he’d turned up out of the blue at the studio and taken her by surprise. But this time she was prepared. She had already decided on her plan of action. Logic and reason were the only way forward; she would make him see that Tom wasn’t capable of the crime he was accused of. She would be cool, clever and calmly persuasive. She wouldn’t lose her rag and she wouldn’t say anything she might later regret.
By the time twenty minutes had passed, Eden’s resolve was starting to fray. It was hard to stay calm and collected when your nerves were strung so tight they were on the point of snapping. Every time a door opened, she jumped a little. All around her the wheels of the law were turning. She took slow, deep breaths. Her heart was beating too quickly. She felt trapped in the spokes of a giant machine, something solid and grinding and scarily relentless.
It was almost half an hour before Banner finally put in an appearance. He swaggered over to her with his hands in his pockets and a grin on his face. ‘Sorry about the wait, love. Bit of a rush on this morning. You want to come this way?’
Eden followed him through a set of reinforced glass doors and along a corridor. Her impression of Banner wasn’t improved by further acquaintance. The smell of sweat and fags floated in his wake, making her wonder how often he showered or even changed his clothes. The odour was partly overlain by a musky aftershave which was just as unpleasant as the smell he was probably trying to disguise.
They went into a small room, sparsely furnished with a table and four chairs, where he gestured for her to sit down.
‘Grab a pew,’ he said, placing a brown folder on the table. ‘Can I get you a drink? Coffee, tea?’
Eden shook her head. ‘No, thanks.’
Banner pulled out a chair and sat down opposite her. ‘Okay. Well, I’ll try not to keep you too long. This is just an informal chat, no tape or anything. You’re free to leave at any time.’
Eden, who was starting to have second thoughts, was sorely tempted to take him up on the offer. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea after all. Had she made a dreadful mistake? But no, she was here now, and nothing would be achieved by running away. She had to grab the opportunity to stand up for Tom before it was too late. She had to try and make this man see the truth.
She sat up straight, pushed her shoulders back and looked Banner directly in the eye. ‘Tom is innocent,’ she said. ‘He’s not an armed robber. He’s not a criminal. You’re in the process of destroying his life when he’s done absolutely nothing wrong.’
Banner smiled indulgently at her. ‘I respect your loyalty – and I understand it. But I’m afraid the evidence suggests otherwise.’
‘And what evidence would that be? A stolen bracelet that was given to my husband and the word of a convicted criminal. Can’t you see that this man is just trying to stitch Tom up?’
‘And why would he do that?’
‘For the obvious reason. If he can shift the blame for everything he did, he won’t have to take the rap for it. He’s turning Queen’s evidence, right? But none of it is true. He’s using Tom as a scapegoat.’
‘And why pick on Tom?’
‘Why not?’ Eden replied. ‘He obviously knows enough about him to make it all sound credible.’ She leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table. ‘I bet the man who’s making all these accusations is the real Jack Minter.’
Banner shook his head. ‘No chance.’
‘And what makes you so sure?’
‘Because that’s not his name.’
Eden gave an exasperated sigh. ‘But he could have used that name in the past.’
Banner inclined his head, a grin hovering on his lips. ‘Well, he could have but he didn’t. Let me explain. For one, our guy doesn’t bear the slightest resemblance to the description your husband gave: he’s twenty years older and six inches shorter. And for two, he’s never been further than the Isle of Wight in his whole sorry life.’
Eden felt the sting of disappointment – so her theory about Minter had been wrong – but she tried not to let it show. ‘How do I know you’re telling the truth?’
Banner arched his eyebrows. ‘I’m a cop, love. I never lie.’
Eden almost gave a snort but stopped herself just in time. ‘So… so maybe the real Jack Minter told your guy all this stuff, told him about Tom and the bracelet and the rest. And now he’s using it to frame my husband.’
‘You don’t think that sounds a little… er… far-fetched?’
‘That doesn’t mean it isn’t true. And if Tom had committed this robbery and then left the country, why would he ever come back? He’d be free and clear, why take the risk?’
‘You’d be surprised,’ Banner said. ‘Lots of them do. They get homesick. They miss the ordinary things like a decent pint of beer or a jar of Marmite. They want to see their families again or their friends or just be in familiar surroundings.’ He glanced up towards the small snow-covered window set high in the wall. ‘They even get tired of all that sun. Hard to believe, isn’t it? But there you go. Sometimes the great escape isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.’
‘Tom was never an armed robber,’ Eden said firmly.
Banner ignored the comment. He flipped open the file, rifled through a thick sheaf of papers, pulled a couple of sheets out and laid them face down on the table. ‘Let’s talk about the studio.’
The change of tack took Eden by surprise. ‘What about it?’
‘Not cheap, is it, office space in Covent Garden? There’s rent and rates, bills, wages and the rest. How can he afford it?’
‘How do you think? By working hard, by putting in the hours. And by being good at what he does.’
‘I wouldn’t know about that. One photo looks much the same to me as another. He’s had the studio for about four years, yeah?
‘Yes.’
‘Good, that’s something we agree on. And before that he was travelling in Europe for quite a time, getting work where he could find it, flogging a few photos when he got the chance. Not exactly the way to make a fortune.’ Banner scratched his forehead and assumed a puzzled expression. ‘Now you see, this is what I don’t get. Tom comes back to London and before you know it he’s got himself a swanky studio in a prime location. How exactly do you think he managed that?’
Eden, who had never considered it before, gave what she hoped was a casual-looking shrug. ‘Maybe he made more than you think.’
‘Maybe he did.’
She stared at him. ‘What are yo
u suggesting? That the money came from the Epping robbery?’
‘Did I say that?’
‘You didn’t need to. It’s written all over your face.’
Banner touched his chin with his fingertips as if to check out the assertion. He smirked. ‘Actually, what he told us was that he’d taken out a loan.’
Eden felt like she’d been wrong-footed and reddened slightly. But she quickly rallied, determined he wouldn’t get the better of her. ‘What’s wrong with that? There’s no law against it.’
‘Of course not,’ he agreed. ‘Not if it comes from a reputable source.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘What it means is that Tom didn’t go to his friendly neighbourhood bank. He claims he got the money from somewhere else – or rather someone else. A personal loan, if you like.’
‘So?’
‘He refused to tell us the name of his very generous benefactor. Said it was a private arrangement and none of our business.’
Eden stared at him through wary eyes. She didn’t say anything.
‘Did he ever discuss this with you?’
‘No.’
‘Really? And here was me thinking that the two of you were tight. I’d have thought he might have mentioned it.’
‘Why would he? It all happened way before we even met.’
‘And you’re not bothered about how he funds his business or his lifestyle. Is that what you’re saying?’
Eden glared at him. ‘Don’t put words in my mouth.’
Banner grinned. ‘Just trying to get things clear.’ He glanced around the room before his gaze came to rest on Eden again. ‘Now the first thing that sprang into my head was some kind of loan shark. I mean, that’s where people go when they haven’t got good credit and need the cash in a hurry. And those guys, well, they’re not keen on publicity; they prefer to keep a low profile. But then we checked through your husband’s bank accounts, and guess what?’
Eden had a sinking feeling. She knew she wasn’t going to like what was coming next. Her heart was beating with a dull anxious thump as she waited for the inspector to make his revelation.
Banner had a look of triumph as he turned over the top sheet of paper and slid it across the desk. ‘Thirty thousand pounds,’ he said. ‘Transferred from an account in Munich to here.’
‘So what?’ Eden retorted, staring down at the statement. The relevant transaction was highlighted in yellow. She was startled by the amount but careful not to show it. ‘Tom has friends all over the place. He must have borrowed the money from someone in Germany.’
‘It was actually transferred from his own account in Munich. Were you aware he had an account there?’
Eden wasn’t. ‘He probably opened it while he was living abroad. That’s not unusual, is it?’
‘No, not at all. What is odd, however, is that he didn’t bother to close it when he returned to London. You’d think once he was settled, once he had a business up and running, a home, a wife, there wouldn’t really be a purpose for it any more.’
‘He still goes abroad from time to time. I guess it’s useful for that.’
Banner let a brief silence fall before continuing. ‘So why would this “friend” put the money into the German account? Why not transfer it straight to England?’
Eden was beginning to feel less than comfortable. She hadn’t been exactly calm when she’d entered the room and now she was more on edge than ever. She suspected that Banner was leading her into a trap and knew she had to be wary. ‘I’ve no idea. Because it was easier? More straightforward?’
‘They must have been a good friend.’
‘People have them.’
‘Do you have a name?’ Banner asked.
‘What?’
Banner sat back and folded his arms across a chest. ‘Surely if this person was such a good mate – and trusting enough to lend your husband thirty grand – Tom must have mentioned him or her to you.’
Eden took a moment to think about her response. What she came out with was disingenuous but the best she could come up with. ‘I don’t think it’s up to me to say. It’s Tom’s decision as to whether he tells you or not.’
‘Not,’ Banner said.
Eden gave a light shrug. ‘Then I can’t help you.’
Banner smiled at her, a snake’s smile. ‘Now why doesn’t that surprise me?’ He looked her up and down in much the same way as he’d done at the studio, his gaze lingering where it shouldn’t.
Eden decided that she’d had enough. ‘Well, if there’s nothing else…?’
‘Actually, there was one other thing.’ Banner flipped over the remaining sheets of paper, looked down, pretended to study them for a few seconds and then looked up at Eden again. ‘We’ve gone through Tom’s English bank accounts, personal and business, and guess what?’
Eden, who wasn’t there to play guessing games, decided to keep quiet. She kept very still, her hands in her lap, her fingers tightly entwined. Only her eyebrows lifted slightly in the faintest gesture of a query.
‘It’s another of those oddities, but there don’t seem to have been any repayments made. Not one in the last four years. Now I’m no expert or anything, but I believe the basic premise of a loan is that you eventually have to pay it back. A little or a lot, depending on the arrangement you come to, but always something. There’s nothing going out of either of these accounts that could possibly be construed as any kind of repayment.’
‘I’m sure there’s an explanation,’ Eden said, although she couldn’t think of one off the top of her head. ‘Maybe you’ve made a mistake.’
‘You see, if I was an innocent man, trying to convince the police that I hadn’t stashed a fortune from an armed heist sixteen years ago, I’d be doing my best to come up with a credible explanation. But your husband doesn’t seem to share that point of view. In fact, if I recall correctly, his exact words were “No comment”.’
‘He must have his reasons.’
‘And here’s an even weirder thing,’ Banner continued, piling on the pressure. ‘A year ago, just before you got married, in fact, there was a further transfer from Munich of five grand. And hey, you know what’s coming next – no repayments on that either. So, either Tom has got a very generous benefactor – who doesn’t care about when they get their money back – or he’s not being entirely honest with us.’
‘Well, I’m sorry,’ Eden said, pushing back her chair and standing up, ‘but I can’t help you with any of that.’ Her mouth felt dry, as if she hadn’t had a drink in a week. She ran her tongue quickly over her lips. ‘All I can say is that I know what Tom is and isn’t capable of. He’s a good man.’
‘He’s a rich man,’ Banner said sneeringly.
Eden knew what he was implying, but didn’t rise to the bait. She didn’t care what he thought about her. It didn’t matter. All she cared about was Tom. But now she had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach because she knew there were things her husband hadn’t told her.
‘You need to have a good long talk with that old man of yours,’ Banner said.
And with that, at least, Eden couldn’t disagree. She left the room with as much dignity as she could muster, keeping her head held high even though her spirit was in tatters. She had come with the intention of putting Banner straight, of making him realise he’d got it all wrong, but was leaving with more questions than answers.
19
Max Tamer found a café down the road from the police station, bought a mug of tea, and sat down at a table by the window. There was steam on the glass and he wiped it off with the back of his hand. From here, with a good view of the entrance to West End Central, he could view everyone who went in and came out. If his own experiences were anything to go by, Eden Chase wouldn’t be leaving in a hurry.
Even after three years, Max still had a bad taste in his mouth from all the hours he’d spent in those small stuffy rooms. When a wife goes missing, the number one suspect is always the husband. He understood that, bu
t the vehemence with which they’d tried to prove his guilt had driven him almost to the edge: interviews that had been interrogations, the questions that went on and on. While he was grieving – he’d known that Anne-Marie was dead, felt it right in the depths of his soul – they had plunged in the knife and twisted it, provoking him, accusing him, challenging everything he said until all that remained was exhausted despair.
‘Let’s talk about Ann-Marie. She’s younger than you, isn’t she?’
Max had heard the underlying implication. Younger wife, jealous husband. Affairs, perhaps. Or just suspicions. ‘She’s thirty-three.’