Deadlock

by Graham Ison

  ‘About half past nine, I suppose. Being a Saturday, I didn’t have to go to work.’

  ‘Did Rachel have a job?’ asked Harvey.

  ‘I don’t know, but I suppose she must’ve done.’

  ‘How much did you pay her for your night of passion?’ asked Kate, in matter-of-fact tones.

  ‘Pay her? I didn’t pay her,’ protested Miles. ‘In fact, I’ve never paid for it in my life.’

  But Kate knew men, and knew that it would hurt the ego of a man like Miles to admit that he’d paid for sex. In any case, she was more inclined to think that Rachel had been a tom, something that was later proved to be the case. ‘Where did she live?’ persisted Kate.

  ‘I don’t know that either,’ said Miles.

  ‘Did you see her again, after the night she spent with you?’ Kate asked.

  ‘Only the once. It was a week later, I think. Yes, it was the following Friday.’

  ‘And was that in the Talavera wine bar?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And did she sleep with you that night as well?’ Kate posed the question with unemotional candour, rather like a doctor discussing a sexually transmitted disease with a patient.

  ‘No. As a matter of fact, she cut me dead,’ said Miles ruefully, ‘and went off with another guy. I never saw her again.’

  ‘What did this other man look like?’ Kate imagined that for Miles to have been superseded by another man must have injured his ego.

  ‘He was about fortyish, I suppose, wearing a rugby shirt and a pair of jeans. Oh, and he had a moustache.’

  Kate shuffled the prints and selected one. ‘Is that him?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s the guy. What’s his name?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ admitted Kate. ‘It was on the thirty-first of May, which tallies with what you just said. Have you ever seen this man in there again?’

  ‘No, I haven’t, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t there. I usually go in on a Friday straight from work, as I said, but he might have been in on any other night of the week. I’ve never seen him getting off the train that Max and I are always on.’

  ‘Are you and Max Roper good friends?’

  ‘Sure. As I said just now, we work together and play together. We even went on holiday together. He brought his girlfriend, and I took my wife. When I had one,’ he added, without any show of regret.

  ‘When you say Max Roper took his girlfriend on holiday, would that have been Sophie Preston?’

  ‘Good Lord, no. Sophie’s only a recent acquisition, eight or nine weeks, I suppose. No, I think the girlfriend Max brought with him was called Maggie. Quite a stunner.’

  ‘Where were you on Monday the tenth of June, Mr Miles?’ asked Harvey suddenly.

  ‘Er … the tenth? Hell, I can’t remember what I was doing.’

  ‘It was only last Monday,’ said Harvey.

  ‘Last Monday … oh, yes, I remember now. Well, I was at work all day. I got my usual train from Waterloo and arrived back at Richmond at about twenty past seven. I was supposed to play squash with a guy at about eight o’clock, but he cried off at the last minute. I went to the wine bar instead.’

  ‘Did you speak to anyone at the wine bar?’ Harvey was being thorough in discovering Miles’s movements. ‘Is there someone there who can confirm that you were there that night?’

  ‘God, I don’t know. I didn’t stay long. Come to think of it, I don’t think I saw anyone I knew. I only stayed for one, then came home and watched the telly.’

  Given the ease with which most programmes can be recorded and played back, or even viewed an hour later on another channel or on catch-up, Harvey knew there was no point in asking what he’d watched. As alibis went, that was a non-starter.

  ‘Who was this man you were supposed to play squash with?’ asked Kate, taking up the questioning again.

  ‘Just a guy I met in the wine bar.’

  ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘Jason something.’

  ‘You don’t know his surname?’

  ‘No, I’m afraid not.’

  ‘Was he in the wine bar when you went there, instead of playing squash?’ Kate sounded sceptical about Miles’s story.

  ‘No, but I wouldn’t have expected him to be.’

  ‘Have you seen him again since?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I require you to give me a sample of your DNA, Mr Miles.’ As the law stood, Kate had no legal right to take Miles’s DNA at that stage, but she made it sound as though she did.

  ‘Hey, now just a minute, Inspector. What are we getting into here? I think it’s time I rang my solicitor.’

  ‘Is he the solicitor dealing with your divorce?’ Kate took another wild guess, but she was a good judge of character, especially when dealing with men like Miles.

  ‘How the hell did you know that?’ Miles was now thoroughly disconcerted. The woman he thought might be amenable to what he saw as his considerable charms was proving to be anything but.

  ‘I would remind you again that I am investigating the murder of a woman you freely admit having slept with. You have a very weak alibi for the evening of the tenth of June, the night that Rachel was most likely murdered. Now, we can do this one of several ways. You can provide me with a sample of your saliva voluntarily, or I can arrest you on suspicion of Rachel Steele’s murder and obtain a superintendent’s authority to take a sample. It’s up to you, really.’

  Miles sighed loudly. ‘You don’t leave me much choice, do you? OK, you win, Inspector. What d’you want me to do?’

  By way of a reply, Steve Harvey took a DNA kit from his briefcase. Taking an oral swab, he ran it around the inside of Miles’s mouth.

  ‘Is that it?’

  ‘That’s it, Mr Miles.’ Harvey put the swab into a phial, bagged it, labelled it and signed it.

  ‘We’ll very likely have to see you again, Mr Miles.’ Kate stood and walked towards the door.

  Miles rushed ahead of her to open it. ‘I look forward to it, very much,’ he said, shaking hands and attempting to hold her hand longer than necessary, but immediately relinquished it when he realized that he was in danger of having several of his fingers broken. ‘Perhaps we could meet for a drink sometime. When you’re on your own.’

  ‘Wait in the car, Steve,’ said Kate, and when Harvey was out of earshot, she turned to face Miles. ‘Now just you listen to me, you half-baked, self-opinionated little upstart,’ she began. ‘You might think you’re God’s gift to women, but the last mongrel who tried anything on with me finished up in a cell at the nick.’

  ‘I’ll take that as a no, then,’ said Miles.

  ‘Everything all right, ma’am?’ asked Harvey when Kate joined him in the car.

  ‘Why wouldn’t it be?’

  Kate Ebdon had decided to go straight to the Talavera wine bar from Miles’s flat, but she knew that DCs Nicola Chance and Terry Gibbons would be there already. She rang Nicola’s mobile and told her about the man in the rugby shirt who Miles said he’d seen hugging Rachel Steele.

  ‘He’s in one of the photos that you should have on your mobile, Nicola. He’s about fortyish with a moustache, and was wearing jeans and a rugby shirt in the video. See if you can identify him. If he’s there, ring me back and we’ll come in and deal with him without compromising you. We’re right outside in our car.’

  ‘Might even help us if you come in doing the coppering thing,’ said Nicola. ‘We can sympathize with the customers who think the Old Bill’s being heavy-handed.’

  ‘Just watch it, mate,’ said Kate.

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ said Nicola.

  Five minutes later, Nicola rang Kate’s phone. ‘He’s here, talking to a girl who looks young enough to be his daughter.’

  ‘We’re in luck, Steve,’ said Kate. When she and Harvey entered the wine bar, one or two of the habitués nudged their partner and whispered a warning, having recognized Kate from the previous evening. Max Roper, Kate noted, was not there, but he was probably trying to patch up his falt
ering engagement to Sophie.

  The man in whom Kate and Harvey were interested was wearing a colourful Hawaiian shirt and a pair of khaki combats, both of which seemed out of place in Richmond, or at least in this wine bar. As Nicola Chance had said, the girl he was talking to, and clearly trying to impress, appeared to be no older than twenty, but what had attracted the man was obvious.

  ‘I reckon all her brains are in her boobs,’ said Kate in a cutting aside to Harvey. ‘Ah well, tough though it is, now’s the time to break up their romantic tryst.’ She crossed the floor of the bar and when she was next to the subject of her inquiry pulled out her mobile phone and stared at the picture of the man now sitting in front of her.

  Kate’s close proximity obviously annoyed the man. ‘Can I help you?’ he demanded.

  ‘I hope so,’ said Kate, turning the phone so that the man could see the photograph. ‘Is that you? And before you come up with some smart answer, I’m a police officer. Detective Inspector Ebdon.’

  The girl slid off the stool she was seated on and, with an apologetic smile, said, ‘I’m just going to the ladies’ room, Jason.’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ said the man, and turned back to Kate. ‘Yes, that’s me, and that’s Rachel Steele with me in the photo.’

  ‘How well did you know her?’

  ‘Only casually. We slept together that night, and she stayed the weekend, but then I saw her cosying up to Max Roper. She was like that, though: she played the field. I heard she got murdered.’

  This was not quite the reaction that Kate was expecting. ‘When was the last time you actually saw her, Mr …?’

  ‘Skinner. Jason Skinner. Like I said, it was the Sunday when she left. What was the date of that photograph?’

  ‘The thirty-first of May, a Friday.’

  ‘That’d be right, then. To make it absolutely clear, she stayed with me that night, and the Saturday and Sunday nights as well. It was the Monday that I saw her in here, wrapped around Max.’

  ‘Why did you cry off a squash match with Tony Miles on Monday the tenth of June, Mr Skinner?’ Kate took another wild guess purely on the basis that the man’s name was Jason.

  Skinner gave a derisive laugh that was more like a snort. ‘He was the one who cried off. He said he had something spoiling, by which I assumed he had a bird lined up. No woman is safe since Miles’s wife left him.’ He suddenly realized what he’d said. ‘Heavens, I didn’t mean that literally, Inspector. I didn’t mean he’s the sort of guy who goes about murdering women.’

  ‘I should hope not,’ said Kate drily. ‘Do you know where Rachel Steele was living, Mr Skinner?’

  ‘No. I did ask her, in a casual sort of way, but she dodged the question. Perhaps it was a flop she wasn’t proud of. She wouldn’t tell me where she was working, either.’

  ‘I take it you live locally.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Skinner, and after a moment’s hesitation provided his address.

  ‘D’you work in Richmond, Mr Skinner?’ asked Harvey.

  ‘I work all over the place. I’m a locksmith.’

  ‘Yes, but I presume you must have business premises somewhere.’

  Skinner laughed. ‘That’s yesterday’s way of working. I advertise online – I’ve got a website – and all my equipment’s in a van. I take my workshop with me.’

  ‘You said just now that Tony Miles stood you up on Monday the tenth of June,’ said Kate, taking up the questioning again. ‘What did you do instead of playing squash?’

  ‘I went for a workout. I belong to a health club.’

  ‘Can anyone vouch for that?’ asked Harvey.

  ‘Dozens of people, I should think. Anyway, they log you in and out on their computer.’ Skinner glanced around. ‘Where’s that girl got to, I wonder?’

  ‘She just left,’ said Harvey.

  Skinner had been sitting with his back to the entrance of the wine bar, but Harvey, and indeed Ebdon, had seen the girl come out of the ladies’ room and make a rapid exit.

  ‘I don’t think we need to trouble you further, Mr Skinner. We’ll leave you to get on with your evening.’

  ‘What’s left of it,’ muttered Skinner.

  ‘I seem to have a habit of ruining people’s evenings whenever I set foot in this place, Steve,’ said Kate, completely ignoring Nicola Chance and Terry Gibbons, who were in conversation with a man in a white shirt and jeans.

  ‘What now, ma’am?’ asked Harvey.

  Kate glanced at her watch. ‘Half past eight. Time to visit Miles again, Steve, and find out why he’s been lying to us.’ She took her mobile phone from her shoulder bag in response to its distinctive ringtone. ‘Ebdon.’ And then, ‘That’s all we need, guv’nor. Yes, I will.’

  ‘Problems, ma’am?’ asked Harvey.

  ‘Yes, for one thing stop calling me “ma’am” just because I’m a woman. It’s “guv”, same as for the men. Got it?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am – er, guv,’ said Harvey.

  ‘As for the second thing, that was Mr Brock. The team has just got itself a second murder. Looks like the same MO as Rachel Steele. For a start, we’ll find out where Miles was last night, and then we’ll speak to Max Roper again. Damn, I don’t think I brought his address with me.’

  ‘I did, guv,’ said Harvey. ‘Sergeant Wilberforce gave it to me. He said we might need it.’

  ‘Why am I not surprised?’ said Kate.

  ‘Have you come to take me up on my offer?’ Tony Miles opened the door of his flat wide. It seemed that there was no way of suppressing the man’s conceit about his perceived prowess with women. ‘Oh, you’ve brought the same officer with you. Come in. I suppose it’s no good offering you a drink?’

  ‘Why did you lie to me, Mr Miles?’ said Kate, as she led the way into his sitting room.

  ‘What d’you mean?’ Miles sounded disconcerted, first because Kate had completely ignored his childish attempt at an advance and second because he had a nasty suspicion that she knew something that he’d rather she didn’t.

  ‘You know damned well who Jason Skinner is.’ Kate remained standing, forcing the pseudo-gallant Miles to stay upright too. ‘You told me that he’d cried off a squash match, but it was you who opted out. Where were you? And you’d better tell me the truth this time because my patience is wearing extremely thin. You got that, mate?’

  ‘Oh, God! Look, could I talk to you alone, Inspector?’

  By way of reply, Kate turned to Harvey. ‘Have you brought handcuffs with you?’

  ‘Yes, guv,’ said Harvey promptly. He hadn’t, of course, but he knew the game that Kate was playing, and was prepared to play along with it.

  ‘All right, all right.’ Miles raised both of his hands in an attitude of surrender.

  ‘Right, we’ll start again,’ said Kate. ‘Where were you on the night of Monday the tenth of June?’

  ‘I was with a girl. It was a last-minute thing, but I met her in the wine bar earlier that evening. She was drinking alone and she told me that she’d had a bust-up with her fiancé and walked out on him. I suggested that we brought a bottle of wine back here, so that I could console her.’ Miles emitted a lascivious chuckle. ‘And, well, one thing led to another.’

  ‘The name of this woman?’ demanded Kate.

  ‘Oh, I say. It could cause no end of grief if the guy in her life found out.’

  ‘Nothing like the grief you’ll be in about ten minutes from now.’ Kate turned to Harvey once more. ‘Ring Richmond nick and tell them we’ll be coming in with a prisoner very shortly.’

  ‘Well, if you must know,’ said Miles hurriedly, ‘it was Sophie Preston.’

  Kate threw back her head and laughed. ‘Don’t tell me you were stupid enough to screw your best mate’s girlfriend.’

  For once, Miles was silent. He just nodded.

  ‘Well, that’s that out of the way. Now you can tell me where you were last night.’

  ‘That’s easy. I stayed in London and took a girl to the theatre to see Motown at the Shaftesbury Th
eatre. I’ve got the tickets.’ Miles nearly tripped over in his rush to reach a bureau on the far side of his sitting room. After a few seconds’ rummaging, he produced the tickets. ‘There you are, Inspector.’

  Kate glanced at the tickets. ‘Who was the woman you went with, Mr Miles?’

  ‘Oh, no! Do you have to?’ But seeing the expression on Kate’s face, he offered up the woman’s name, address and phone number.

  ‘Thank you. Good night, Mr Miles.’ Kate turned when she reached Miles’s front door. ‘One other thing, Mr Miles. It’s not a wise move to take me for a fool.’

  For once, Miles made no attempt at a flirtatious riposte.

  SEVEN

  ‘Is that Sophie Preston?’ asked Kate Ebdon when a female voice answered her call on the Friday morning following her interview with Tony Miles.

  ‘Yes. Who’s this?’

  ‘The police. Detective Inspector Ebdon. I need to speak to you as soon as possible, Miss Preston. Where are you at the moment?’

  ‘I’m at home.’

  ‘And where’s that?’

  Sophie Preston gave Max Roper’s address.

  ‘Are you two reconciled, then?’ asked Kate.

  ‘On and off. But if you wanted to talk to him as well, he’s not here. He’s gone to work.’

  ‘Don’t you work, Miss Preston?’ asked Kate.

  ‘Yes, but not on a Friday. Anyway, what’s this all about?’

  ‘As I said, I need to talk to you. I’ll be there in about an hour.’

  Not having been in at the start of the investigation into the Lisa Hastings murder meant that I was at a disadvantage. Although Seb Mould had passed across everything he had, it was not the same as viewing the body in situ; that always seemed to me to be the logical place to start. Nevertheless, we had to do the best we could.

  That said, it’s a different technique entirely if you’re dealing with a murder where there is no body, and there have been several convictions in such cases despite the lack of that fundamental and most useful piece of evidence. But we weren’t dealing with a suspicious missing-person inquiry that finishes up as a murder.