Palmer looked at Gheeta in silence as he sat down, his brain racing to put the right pieces of the jigsaw in the right places.
‘The Leytons? No, surely not.’
Gheeta didn’t have the same regard for the English elite.
‘Why not? It’s their gold, their passport to financial stability, and their green Jag and shotgun.’
Palmer nodded.
‘It would fit, would make sense.’
He paced the room.
‘Okay, start digging; see what you can come up with on them.’
Claire leant forward again to examine the picture.
‘That’s a crap wig he’s wearing.’
‘Syrup,’ Gheeta said.
‘What?’ said Claire, wondering what syrup had to do with it.
‘Wig, syrup of fig – it’s cockney rhyming slang,’ Gheeta explained. ‘Being a Cockney by proxy I know all the slang.’
Claire was laughing.
‘Cockney by proxy, what’s that?’
‘Our DS lives in that well know Cockney area called the Barbican,’ Palmer answered. ‘So she’s adopting the language in order to relate with the locals.’
He checked his watch.
‘Anyway, I’ve got an appointment in the interview room with Mr Parks in five minutes, so I’d better get down the apples and pears or they’ll be on the dog and bone. Can’t leave the diamond geezer on his Tom Malone sitting on his Khyber pass, can I?’
Chapter 45
Palmer’s interviews with Mooney and Hilton did not reveal anything new, as both had hit the ‘no comment’ button to answer all questions. He had hoped Parks might be more forthcoming; he wasn’t.
‘Mr Parks,’ Palmer said, his exasperation at the no comment answers becoming apparent. ‘Money laundering is a very serious charge. Transporting ingots of gold out of the country without customs or Bank of England clearance is called money laundering. Flying suspects wanted in connection with a murder enquiry out of the country, on a flight you listed as ‘Freight’, is also a serious felony. Both these charges, if proved – and I think you can see how easy that will be – could lead to a minimum jail term of twenty-two years. It would help your case substantially if you were to answer my questions. What was the nature of the phone call you received from Harry Robson, and the one later that same day from Finlay Robson? What did they want?’
‘No comment’.
Palmer reached and clicked off the interview recorder and stood up.
‘See you in twenty-two years, Mr Parks.’
He left the interview room and gave the coffee machine outside a frustrated kick. The coffee machine responded to the assault by releasing a torrent of hot water where a cup should have been waiting but wasn’t, so it splashed out over Palmer’s trousers. The duty officer in the corridor stifled a laugh.
Palmer climbed the staircase to his floor slowly, trying to focus on what move to make next in the case; usually by this time in a case the suspect had been identified and the chase was on. Assistant Commissioner Bateman’s daily report sheet for today was going to be short; very short indeed.
He gave himself a smile and decided to make amends to the coffee machine in the basement by buying three cups from its brother in the corridor outside his team room, and treating DS Singh and Claire to a cup of the dishwater it dispensed under the guise of ‘latte’.
Chapter 46
‘Stupid, stupid people!’
Palmer was angry as he came back into the team room, his hands cuddling the three cups.
‘What the hell does Park’s think he’s going to gain by keeping quiet, eh? He’s going to be listed as a hostile witness and the judge will throw the book at him and send him down for a long time. Here.’
He passed the coffees out to Gheeta and Claire. Gheeta looked up from her screen.
‘I take it Parks was no help then, sir?’
‘None, absolutely none.’
‘Could be that he, Mooney and Hilton think that’s the safest thing to do; especially if they know Robson was connected with Brinks-Mat and he’s been murdered. So if they think the gold’s come from that heist…?’
Palmer nodded slowly.
‘Good point Sergeant, good point. No reason to think they know about the Leytons though, is there? All they know is that a load of gold turns up from Robson and that Robson has previous with Brinks; and you don’t mess about with the Brinks mob. Yes, a good point.’
Gheeta dismissed the thought with a wave of her hand.
‘Anyway guv, I think there’s something else you might want to chat with the Leytons about.’
‘Something else?’
Gheeta nodded.
‘I checked with the Treasury. The Leytons turned in three ingots.’
‘Three.’
Palmer raised his eyebrows.
‘They had ten left after Robson’s visit, didn’t they?’
‘So they said guv, yes.’
Palmer took a long gulp of coffee and pulled a disgusted face.
‘Yuck… You know, I’m trying very hard not to associate one of our English Members of Parliament and his lady wife to a series of murders over stolen Nazi gold bars. I really am trying very hard, but my head is telling me they are in it up to their bloody posh necks.’
‘So is the evidence, guv.’
Palmer nodded.
‘I think I’d better pop upstairs on this one. If we go after one of Her Majesty’s Members of Parliament and we don’t do it by the book, some smart-arsed lawyer will undoubtedly use that down the line as an excuse to get any case we might bring against them thrown out on a technicality.’
Palmer wasn’t going to put himself in the position where, should things go wrong, he would take the hit. If he alerted Assistant Commissioner Bateman to what was happening and cleared it with him, then Bateman – being the senior officer – would take the flack. Nothing should go wrong, but MPs hadfriends in high places; and the public gravy train they all fed off always had a strong old boys network protecting its members.
Chapter 47
Palmer sat opposite Assistant Commissioner Bateman at the large modern desk in the AC’s office.
‘It’s very circumstantial, Justin; no sightings of the Leytons at any of the crime scenes, no fingerprints or phone records.’
He raised his eyes from Palmer’s file of daily reports.
‘But it’s very damning as circumstantial – very damning. I think there’s enough there to at least have an official chat with them under caution and see what they say. Keep it low key; if the tabloids got wind of it, all hell would break loose.’
Palmer nodded. He’d never known Bateman back him before; but then he’d never asked him to before. He’d always thought of the AC as an administrator, not a copper. This was a different side of the AC, and a side Palmer liked – much to his annoyance.
‘DS Singh has checked with the MP’s office and he’s at the House all day today, sir. I think I’ll get an appointment for this afternoon and see what happens.’
‘Okay, but softly, softly; and keep me in the loop.’
Chapter 48
‘Bit cramped in here, isn’t it?’
Palmer and Singh followed Stanley Leyton MP into his official House of Commons office; a small cramped room with four desks, several bookshelves all unevenly stacked with files, and every surface covered with various papers and more files. Leyton laughed.
‘Three of us share this office Detective Superintendent, plus our researchers. I was all for taking over the Athletes Accommodation block at the London Olympics Park, as were most MPs; but the Treasury blocked that in their financial cuts, so this is where we work.’
He squashed himself behind a desk, using one hand to steady his wig as he ducked below a wall shelf and waved an offering hand at two rather old plastic and steel chairs.
‘Do sit down. I would say ‘make yourself at home’, but I have no doubt your homes would put this place to shame, eh?’
He laughed at his own joke and
sat down.
‘Right then, what can I do for you? I’ve asked the other members I share with to give us half an hour.’
He sat back in his chair and made a steeple with his fingers, like a headmaster waiting for Palmer to explain his bad behaviour. Gheeta quietly pressed the record button on her laptop, guessing what was coming. Palmer was not one for beating about the bush, and hit hard straight off.
‘Well sir, you do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you rely on in court. Anything you do say can be given in evidence.’
He paused for a second as Leyton’s expression relayed shock, and the finger steeple collapsed.
‘What have you done with the gold, sir?’
Leyton stammered out a sentence.
‘I, err… what the… Err, hang on – the gold?’
‘Yes sir, the gold.’
Gheeta noted Palmer was in cold steel mode – direct attack, and no prisoners taken.
‘You said you had ten bars when we visited you, which you were going to deposit with the Treasury.’
‘We did.’
‘You deposited three bars, sir. What happened to the rest?’
‘The Treasury people came and took them. I wasn’t there, I was in the House the rest of that week; haven’t been back since. We are very busy here at this time of year, rushing things through before the break. I have a London flat, I’ve been staying there. The wife and I moved into a hotel the day after your visit – didn’t want the mother-in-law to know about all this; and when I spoke to Margaret she told me they had collected the bars.’
‘They collected three bars, sir. Do you know a company called City Concrete and Demolition?’
‘No, no I don’t think so.’
‘Or a lady called Angela Rathbone, or two chaps called Mooney and Hilton?’
‘No, no I don’t know them. What is all this about?’
‘It’s about five murders all connected to your gold. Do you have a double-barrel shot gun, sir?’
‘Yes, used to shoot the grouse in Scotland. I have a shotgun licence for it, I haven’t used it for… oh, at least four years.’
‘And a green Jaguar car; do you own a green Jaguar car?’
‘No, no that’s Margaret’s; her pride and joy. I’m not allowed to drive that.’
He paused as his brain took in the implications of Palmer’s questions.
‘Has something happened? Has it been stolen? Why are you asking about my gun?’
‘The car has been caught on CCTV at several points during our investigation of the murders, sir – one of which was executed with a double-barrel shotgun. I’m waiting for the results of an ANPR trawl, which I believe will verify that the car was at the crime scenes beyond any doubt.’
‘ANPR?’
‘Automatic Number Plate Recognition. We have thousands of cameras all over the country, noting every car that passes.’
Leyton visibly slumped in the chair as the reason for the questions slowly became apparent.
‘Oh my God. Margaret, what have you done? Oh my God, you stupid woman…’
Palmer and Singh exchanged a glance, before Leyton regained his composure.
‘I think I’d better ask for a lawyer, don’t you?’
‘We will arrange it for you at the Yard, sir. Is your wife in London?’
‘No, no she’s in Brighton; she rarely comes up here.’
‘Okay, so if you’d like to give Sergeant Singh your mobile phone and put anything you might need together you will accompany us now please.’
‘Do I have to?’
The MP’s bluster was returning.
‘Am I under arrest? Have you a warrant?’
Palmer’s eyes re-adopted their cold steel mode and bore into Leyton’s.
‘At the moment sir, you are helping us with our enquiries in a voluntary way. If you would prefer to be handcuffed and frog-marched out of here by a couple of uniformed officers then I can arrange it, and arrest you as a suspect in a serial murder case involving stolen gold. From what you have told us in response to my questions so far, I would advise you to keep quiet until we get you a solicitor at the Yard.’
It was pretty clear by Leyton’s answers that he was not a serial killer, but Palmer had no intention of letting him contact his wife who, it appeared, could well be.
The journey to the Yard was made in complete silence. Leyton was processed by the duty officer in the Custody Suite, given access to a duty solicitor, as his own personal lawyer was in court all day, and was refused bail as his freedom could give him the opportunity to influence others in the case.
Palmer followed DS Singh into their office and flipped his trilby onto the hat stand like James Bond; only unlike Bond he missed and had to pick it up off the floor and hang it up by hand.
‘Well, well, well…’
He sat at his desk and pushed his chair up on its back legs, so the top settled nicely into the groove in the plaster wall he’d made over the years, and swung his legs onto the desk before saying it again: ‘Well, well, well...’
DS Singh flopped into her softer desk chair, unslinging her shoulder bag.
‘It all happened today, guv. This morning we started with nothing, and this afternoon we have a chief suspect and enough evidence to make an arrest.’
‘And tonight we’d better get down to Brighton and make that arrest, before Mrs Leyton cottons on that we’re onto her.’
Palmer put on a Cockney accent.
‘Funny old game, ain’t it.’
‘What, guv?’
‘Jimmy Greaves.’
‘Who, guv?’
‘Never mind.’
He pulled open a desk drawer and searched for some change.
‘Fancy a coffee? I’m parched. Then we’d better get moving down the A3 to Brighton. Give the Sussex boys a call and ask for a couple of uniforms and a Tactical Firearms Unit to meet us somewhere near the Leytons’ place – not too near though, don’t want her getting jittery with that shotgun. And I’d better give Mrs P. a call and tell her to expect me when she sees me. What about you? Anything planned for tonight you need to call anybody about?’
‘Nah, nuffink planned mate. Was going to get on the old dog and bone and order up a Ruby Murray and then get off to Bedfordshire a bit early.’
She gave him a wide grin, which he returned.
Chapter 49
‘Is this a sea mist?’
Palmer waved his arms to waft away the dank light fog that hung over them in the evening gloom. He’d been driven down to Brighton with DS Singh and was standing beside their unmarked squad car with two uniformed officers from the Sussex Force, DS Jones from Sussex CID, plus a Tactical Firearms Commander called Handly and two of his armed officers. Handly and the firearms officers were head to toe in combat dark uniforms and helmets with visors, but they’d left their weapons inside their unmarked van. They all listened intently as Palmer explained the situation.
‘So,’ he concluded. ‘She might well just be an easy arrest; no problem, just in and out. We do have the element of surprise on our side. Or, on the other hand, she might flip and start banging off that shotgun in a panic. The entrance to the Manor is five hundred yards down the road here, so I will go in by car with DS Singh and the uniformed constables, and hopefully come out with Margaret Leyton without any trouble. But just in case it goes pear-shaped, I want close back up from your lads please, Commander.’
Handly nodded.
‘We’ll keep out of sight by the gate, sir. Hopefully you won’t need us, but at the first sign of that shotgun hit this.’
He handed Palmer a pressurized air horn the size of a felt tip.
‘Press the button and hit the floor; it’ll scream loudly, and we’ll come in fast shooting at anybody standing, so hit the floor.’
Palmer took it and put it in his pocket.
‘Right then, let’s go.’
He got into the front passenger seat as DS Singh got i
nto the back, and the driver took the car slowly towards the Leyton’s drive, followed by the uniformed officers in their panda car.
They turned into the drive slowly and cut through the fog, seeing the eerie shape of the Manor House emerging from it in the distance.
‘Looks like its empty, sir.’
Gheeta leant forward between the front seats, peering intently through the windscreen.
‘Not very inviting, is it?’ Palmer noted. ‘Like one of those places from a Hammer film.’
‘What film, sir?’
‘Hammer… Never mind, you’re too young. No lights on, so perhaps she’s out.’
Gheeta grimaced at the weather swirling around them.
‘Mad to go out on a night like this.’
Palmer checked the facts.
‘They have moved back from the hotel, haven’t they?’
‘Yes guv, I checked,’ Gheeta assured him. ‘They left it the day after the Robson’s murders; must have seen all about it on the news and thought ‘Whoopee! We’re safe now’ and come back here’.
The driver pulled up in front of the imposing stone porch, with the panda car stopping behind them. They all got out. Palmer pulled the lapels of his coat together.
‘Blimey, that sea breeze cuts through you doesn’t it, eh?’
DS Jones laughed.
‘Healthy for you, sir. Blow away the big city cobwebs.’
‘More likely to blow away my hat,’ Palmer said, grabbing the brim of his trilby before the wind made off with it. ‘Right then, let’s see what we can find here. You take a constable and go round the back, in case anybody tries to slip out that way. I’ll take Sergeant Singh and the other uniform and try the front. Remember, if anything goes off, no heroics – hit the floor. This lady could be a killer already. Understand?’
Jones nodded and crunched over the gravel, with a constable disappearing round the side of the Manor.
‘Constable, have you got a torch amongst the stuff they load pandas with these days?’ Palmer enquired of the driver.
‘Got two sir, good ones.’
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 15