Now that the scene had been taped off, SOCA could come in the morning and take their time. The duty Forensics officer had made sure Gheeta’s tape extended far enough around the scene to preserve any foot or tyre prints for the morning; although that would be a painstaking job after numerous size eleven firemen’s boots had all but destroyed it. But you never knew.
Chapter 25
Later that morning, after a short four-hour fitful sleep at home, Palmer yawned loudly and stretched his arms above his head.
‘Don’t start that guv, or you’ll have me at it too.’
Gheeta stood in front of the progress chart in the team room and watched as Claire added the latest details of the case. Claire put the top on the felt tip.
‘Finlay dead, Harry Robson dead, as well as Plant and Fenn dead; so all the main players have gone to meet their maker now.’
Palmer sat down and rubbed his eyes.
‘I’m getting too tired now to think straight. What are we missing? Who else is in this little game, eh? Where’s our fifth man?’
‘Fifth man?’
Claire took the top back off her felt tip and drew a head and shoulders outline on the chart with a question mark above it.
‘Sounds like a Le Carré novel.’
‘Well,’ Palmer said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. ‘If Robson and Finlay killed Plant and Fenn, who killed Robson and Finlay? There’s nobody else in the frame, is there?’
‘The Leytons?’ Gheeta said, clutching at straws. ‘She was a bit of a feisty lady.’
‘No, too much to lose. Did we check whether they’d handed the rest of the gold in?’
Claire nodded.
‘Yes, I checked with the War Office. Leyton rang the Defence Ministry and had a word with one of his pals there. They will be having a visit from a couple of high ranking officers tomorrow.’
‘Won’t make the papers, I’ll bet on that,’ Palmer said with a smile.
‘Won’t it?’ Claire said. ‘Why because he’s an MP?’
‘No, the Ministry couldn’t care less about that. But what they do care about is for the past seventy years the British Army has never been tainted with any war looting accusations – not one; while America and Russia have museums full of the stuff and legal actions going on all the time as the families of the rightful owners try to get it back.’
‘Elgin Marbles comes to mind.’
Palmer laughed.
‘Yes but that wasn’t war loot, Claire. That was just plain theft.’
Reg Frome came into the room carrying a printout.
‘Good afternoon, all.’
They all mumbled greetings as he sat at a desk and put on his glasses.
‘I have the initial Forensics report on last night’s little fracas.’
‘Aha!’ Palmer said, leaning forward. ‘Loads of fingerprints from a known villain, I hope?’
Frome scoffed.
‘Would be nice Justin, but no. The killer used paraffin to set the fire, and the can was in the fire too so no use to us for prints. There were tyre prints of the two cars but no others, so the killer was on foot. Footprints – what was left of them after the fire brigade hoses had just about washed the place clean – were of the two victims and one other. And you’ll love this – size six trainer, same as at your place the other night, Justin. A perfect match.’
Palmer clapped his hands.
‘Our fifth man.’
‘More likely to be a lady,’ Frome corrected him. ‘Size six is not a man’s size, Justin – child or lady. Know any children with a grudge against you?’
‘Only the grandkids – I was supposed to take them to Alton Towers last half term, but the Poetic Justice case took longer than I thought and put paid to that little adventure. Grandad was not very popular, to say the least.’
Frome laughed.
‘Hardly a big enough grudge to burn your house down. Anyway, to continue…’
He looked down at his printout.
‘Both men were dead before they were incinerated; heavy blows to the back of the head from the same weapon, probably a steel bar or similar. Harry Robson’s blood was found on the front of the safe, and a few minute splashes on the safe’s inner door edge which was closed and locked. So that would indicate he was killed when the safe door was open, and then it was closed. Nothing in the safe except office papers, but – and you’ll like this too – traces of gold on the shelf inside that indicates one or more bars were slid off that shelf. Both the victims’ mobile phones are being analysed, but they are unregistered pay-as-you-go types, and basically lumps of tangled metal and silicon from the heat so not much hope; although if we can get a number out of them we can trace the calls. So, fingers crossed on that. And so far, that’s it.’
He removed his glasses and placed them in his pocket.
‘The receptionist lady turned up for work when we were there. She got a shock, I can tell you. Anyway, we took her fingerprints so we can discard them from the ones we’ve lifted off the safe and door. And that’s about it so far.’
‘Well done, Reg. At least that gives us one lead to pursue,’ Palmer said sarcastically. ‘Somebody wearing size six shoes.’
‘Good luck with that,’ Frome laughed as he rose to leave. ‘Cuts the possibles down to about forty million people I should guess. I’ll email our reports for your file, Justin. I’m sure you’ll want to add them to your daily report sheets for Bateman.’
He shot Palmer a big smile, and Palmer returned it.
‘Piss off.’
They all laughed as Frome left.
‘This is a real teaser, isn’t it?’ Palmer said, rubbing his tired eyes again. ‘Two bodies in sacks, two witnesses disappear, two suspects get whacked; so that’s four bodies and no names in the frame. I think we’d better have a word with that receptionist – Cherry or whatever her name is. I can’t believe she doesn’t know a bit more than meets the eye.’
Claire tapped her keyboard.
‘Real name Angela Rathbone. I’ll print off her address.’
‘We’d better check her shoe size too while we are at it,’ Gheeta said with a knowing nod. ‘And Mrs Fenn’s, and Mrs Leytons.’
Palmer leaned back in his chair, stifling another yawn.
‘This case is turning into a bloody Cinderella pantomime, checking shoe sizes…’
‘You’d make a lovely Buttons, guv – curly wig and tights.’
Claire and Gheeta giggled.
‘Oh yes? Well, guess what parts you two would have then, eh?’
He had the last laugh.
Chapter 26
‘A very nice lady, very respectable tenant, never any problems – I wish they were all like her. I hope nothing has happened to her? Is she alright?’
Angela Rathbone’s landlord seemed genuinely worried as he led Palmer, Gheeta and a uniformed officer to the second floor flat he rented out to her. Being of a portly size he was puffing with the exertion of two flights of stairs as he fumbled for the keys while mopping his brow.
‘Yes sir, as far as we know nothing out of the ordinary has happened to her.’
Palmer gave him a relaxing smile. He didn’t like landlords.
‘We just need to take a statement from her. Trivial matter really – four murders.’
‘What?’ the landlord said, turning visibly white. ‘Oh My God.’
They stopped outside the flat’s door.
‘This is it,’ he said, offering Palmer the key. ‘You can open it. Oh God, what if there’s a body inside?’
Palmer shrugged.
‘Or two or three.’
Gheeta smiled to herself as the landlord turned very pale. She was very aware of Palmer’s dislike for the ‘establishment’ types, which in his mind included private landlords. He half opened the door and called out to anybody inside.
‘Hello, anybody home? Hello? This is the police… anybody here?’
No reply, so he pushed the door fully open and looked inside.
‘You sure this i
s her flat?’
He turned to the landlord, who had retreated a few yards away down the landing in expectation of something very nasty being found in his property.
‘Yes, yes of course I am.’
He ventured forward timidly and stepped inside.
‘What the…?’
The flat was empty except for the landlord’s furniture; no sign that it had ever been occupied by a tenant other than a few old newspapers on a sofa and crockery in the kitchen sink.
‘When did you last see Miss Rathbone, sir?’
The landlord was confused.
‘Just last week. She gave me her rent for the month.’
‘Not since then?’
‘No, no I don’t think so. But I tend to only see the tenants when something needs doing – repairs and things like that. We all keep ourselves to ourselves.’
Gheeta was snooping round the cupboards.
‘How did she pay the rent, sir – by cheque?’
‘No, cash; always cash. All above board. She had a rent book.’
He sat down in one of his deep, well-battered armchairs.
‘Is Miss Rathbone suspected of being a murderer, Inspector? I can’t believe that.’
‘Chief Superintendent,’ Palmer corrected him. ‘And we don’t know yet, sir. The investigation is at an early stage. Unfortunately, I’ll have to have our forensic people give the flat a good once-over, so you won’t be able to rent it out until you get the okay from us.’
‘Rent it out?’
He gave Palmer a doleful glance and shook his head.
‘I’ll be lucky… I only hope Miss Rathbone isn’t involved in these murders. If she is, and it gets out that a murderer lived here, it will never rent. Look at that chap in Gloucester, they had to knock his council house down and pave it over. No one would take it – not even the homeless.’
‘West, Fred West. He was a serial killer too.’
Palmer wasn’t helping to calm the landlord’s fears.
‘But the lady may have a perfectly good answer to our enquiries when we find her sir, so let’s wait and see, not jump to conclusions. We will need to take a statement from you, I’m afraid. Just the usual questions: how long was she here, anything unusual about her, any regular visitors – nothing to worry about. My Sergeant will arrange a time to suit you.’
‘Can do it now if you like sir, and get it over with?’
Gheeta wanted to get any information while it was fresh in the landlord’s mind. He shrugged.
‘Nothing to tell you really. Lovely lady, must have been here for about two years by now; I can check, no trouble at all. Her boyfriend was a damn nuisance, though – revving his motorbike up in the early hours when he left.’
Palmer and Gheeta exchanged glances.
‘Don’t remember his name do you, sir?’ Gheeta asked, hoping against hope.
‘No, we were never introduced.’
Gheeta took her iPad from her shoulder bag and tapped on the photo app, then scrolled down to a prison mug shot of Mooney. She showed it to the landlord.
‘Is this him?’
‘Yes, yes I think so; he looks familiar. Noisy sod. It was always dark when he left, and he would put a helmet on as soon as he got onto the bike; but I did catch a glimpse of his face a few times. If that’s not him, it’s somebody very similar.’
Chapter 27
Mooney’s motorbike was still outside his door, a large wheel clamp secured it; the curtains in his upstairs maisonette were closed. It was a long shot that he and Angela Rathbone would be there; but now, armed with the knowledge that they were ‘an item’, Palmer thought it was one that had to be played. They’d come from her empty flat more in hope than expectation.
‘Odds on he won’t be in and the place is bare, eh?’ Palmer said, pressing the bell for the third time.
The front door of the downstairs part of the maisonette opened, and the pensioner they’d met on their last visit stood with it half open. The sight of a uniformed officer with Palmer and Sergeant Singh this time sent warning signals to his brain that this was a bit more serious than the last call.
‘Haven’t seen him for a couple of weeks,’ he said. ‘Or heard that bloody bike coming and going at all hours. What’s he done?’
Gheeta gave him a nice smile.
‘Has anybody else been round looking for him, sir?’
‘Not that I know of; been nice and quiet. What’s he done?’
‘We don’t know that he’s done anything. We just want to ask him a few questions.’
‘What about?’
Palmer had had enough.
‘Nothing for you to worry about sir, and nothing that concerns you; so just go back inside if you wouldn’t mind, and let us get on with our job.’
‘I can stand here if I want to, it’s my doorway. Anyway, makes a change to see a copper round here; you can’t be bothered to come out when I ring in about the little bastards kicking their ball against my wall can you, eh?’
Palmer had really had enough. He turned to the uniformed officer.
‘Officer, take this person and put him in the back of the car. Read him his rights and charge him with obstructing the police in their line of duty. He can spend a night in the cells.’
The pensioner’s door closed very quickly as he sensibly retreated inside and gave a V sign to Palmer through the frosted glass door panel.
‘Another one for the fan club, sir.’
Gheeta and the officer smiled. Palmer shook his head in disbelief; sometimes nosy neighbours were a bonus in an investigation, but not this time.
‘Right then, let’s have a look inside.’
Shielding his actions with his body, he deftly selected a key from a dozen on a ring from his pocket and on the second attempt the door opened.
‘Oh look, he left the door unlocked. What a stroke of luck.’
Gheeta and the uniformed officer exchanged glances.
‘That was a real stroke of luck, sir.’
Inside, an immediate staircase led up to Mooney’s flat, which was the absolute opposite to Angela Rathbone’s. It was a mess; clothes strewn over the furniture, crockery in the sink, half empty take-away food trays on the table with grey green mould taking hold, and an unmade bed in the bedroom.
‘It looks like he left in a hurry, sir. Halfway through his meal.’
Gheeta pointed to the food trays.
‘Yes, and I bet we know when that quick exit was. Harry Robson gave him the tip that we were on our way when we left City Concrete the first time we went there; for some reason, Harry just didn’t want us to talk to Mooney or Hilton. I wonder why?’
‘Perhaps they knew too much.’
‘You bet they did. And if Harry Robson thought they might save themselves and do a deal with us, he would get them out of the way. Fast.’
‘That sounds ominous.’
‘Yes, I told you he was a nasty man. No signs of a struggle or anything like that here though, so I think Mooney got out quickly under his own steam.’
He opened the wardrobe in the bedroom.
‘And it looks like Angela Rathbone spent a lot of time here too.’
Gheeta walked over and saw the wardrobe’s hangers; empty except for a pair of men’s jeans, various female tops, skirts and a lady’s full length coat. She hoisted up the bottom of the coat from the floor; three pairs of ladies shoes and a pair of trainers came into view.
‘Three guesses what size they’ll be, sir.’
‘Six?’
She used the tail of a nightdress to pick up the trainers and look.
‘Correct.’
Palmer turned to the officer.
‘If you wouldn’t mind hanging on here until we get a SOCO team over I’d appreciate it.’
‘No problem. sir. I’ll radio in right away.’
Chapter 28
Patrick Mooney took a spoonful of sweet and sour chicken from his plate.
‘I was in the middle of eating one of these when Finlay rang and to
ld me to get out quick ‘cause the fuzz were on their way. Rest of it is probably still there on my table.’
He looked around the Chinese restaurant table at his fellow eaters and raised his wine glass.
‘To us.’
Mark Hilton and Angela Rathbone raised their glasses in unison.
‘To us.’
‘And what about me?’
Dennis Parks – otherwise known as the ‘magician’, who had been to the men’s room – joined them and took his seat. Mooney raised his glass again.
‘To Dennis, without whom we probably wouldn’t be here.’
‘To Dennis.’
Angela Rathbone raised her glass and whispered: ‘To Harry and Finlay, may they rot in Hell.’
They all drank to that. Hilton sat back in his chair.
‘So, what’s the plan now then?’
Parks spoke quietly to keep the conversation within the table; the restaurant was busy, and walls have ears.
‘Well, we sit tight for a bit – let it all cool down. You can stay at the Airfield for a while; it’s not the most comfortable place I know, but at least you’ve separate rooms, a shower room and a kitchen at the back of the hangar.’
Hilton laughed.
‘That’s better than a cell, eh?’
Dennis agreed.
‘Yes, we don’t want any of that again, do we?’
Angela wanted to know something.
‘Patrick said you knew each other from Wandsworth, Dennis?’
Dennis nodded.
‘We were neighbours, adjacent cells.’
They all laughed.
‘When Finlay turned up at the Airfield, with Mark and Patrick as the two parcels I was supposed to fly out over the ocean with and come back without, I couldn’t believe it.’
Mooney nodded.
‘Nor could I when I saw it was you. I knew what your trade was, from our conversations while resting at Her Majesty’s Pleasure.’
‘Trade?’
LOOT & I'M WITH THE BAND: The DCS Palmer and the Serial Murder Squad series by B.L.Faulkner. Cases 5 & 6 (DCS Palmer and the Serial Murder Squad cases Book 3) Page 9