Three hours and forty-five minutes in to the interview and Robertson was close to cracking. He was sweating, he was nervous; he was a drug addict.
‘Tell me the truth and I’ll get you out of here. You can get a fix then,’ Alex said.
Barry Robertson, no longer in a position to hold out, started to talk. ‘Okay, she was driving me mad. Wanted us to clean ourselves up, get a job and find a place of our own. She was nagging me. I’d had enough. I decided to end the relationship.’
‘So you decided to kill her?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘You followed her down to the river?’
‘Yes, I was angry. I wanted to tell her it was off. Then she fell into the water.’
‘You seized the opportunity and held her under?’ Alex’s voice was raised, his speech rapid. He knew he had his man.
‘No, it wasn’t like that. I tried to help, but…’
‘You didn’t help. You made sure she couldn’t get out. I’m right, aren’t I?’
‘No, Yes, I’m confused…’ At that moment, Farhan’s phone rang. He had put it on silent previously, turned on the ring when he had exited the room ten minutes earlier. The mood shattered, Alex furious.
Barry Robertson left soon after. There was no reason to hold him further. Alex was convinced he was about to confess. After that and the invective he received from Alex, he always made sure that when he was in conference or an interview situation that his phone was not on silent, it was off.
Chapter 10
‘So what did you gain from Robert Avers?’ Isaac asked Farhan. He was still in a good mood, a leftover from the night before and his romantic encounter with Sophie.
Farhan had had no such romantic encounter, only a lecture from his wife on why he did not spend more time with the children, how he loved his work more than her, and what time of the night do you think this is to come home?
‘Robert Avers. He’s a broken man, seriously worried,’ Farhan said although his focus was distracted. He realised his welcome home of the previous night would only be repeated again once he left the office. He sighed to himself. It was true, he did love his work more than his wife, but then work was exciting whereas she was not, and as for his children, he did have some regrets, although he tried to keep Sundays free for them. Not always successfully, though.
‘Let’s make a clear declaration and state that the woman is dead,’ Isaac said.
‘I thought we agreed on that yesterday?’
‘You’re right, but we still maintained a glimmer of hope. Let’s throw that glimmer out the window and go for broke. No longer do we regard this as a missing person investigation. Now we classify it as a murder enquiry.’
‘Can we do that?’
‘Officially, it may be difficult. Unofficially, I don’t see a problem.’
‘I still think we need to bring the Super in on this. Maybe grill him some more as to what he knows.’ Farhan made the suggestion, realising that Isaac and their boss had an easier relationship, and Isaac would be the better of the two to do the grilling.
‘I’ll phone him now,’ Isaac said. Before he could call, his phone rang. He excused himself from the room. Farhan could hear a muffled conversation, one-sided obviously. Isaac returned sheepishly five minutes later.
‘Important?’ Farhan asked.
‘Jess O’Neill.’
‘Some new evidence?’
‘Maybe, maybe not. It’s more likely a ruse to meet up.’
‘She’s a good-looking woman.’ Farhan had only seen a photo.
‘Good-looking she may be, but we’ve just upgraded this to a murder investigation. It wouldn’t look right if I were playing around with one the potential suspects, would it?’
‘And if she wasn’t a potential suspect?’
‘You know the answer to that already.’ Isaac smiled.
Isaac, no longer making excuses for a possible future romantic encounter, phoned their boss. It was nine in the evening. Isaac knew his phone call at such an hour would not cause any problems.
‘Sir, we want to upgrade this to a murder investigation.’
‘Are you sure about this?’
‘It’s going nowhere as it is. It’s clear that we need to focus on a body, not a woman.’
‘Okay, stay where you are. I’ll be in the office within the hour.’
It was closer to ninety minutes when he arrived, Pizza in hand. Isaac, who had promised to look after his diet better, could only thank him for the food.
Farhan could see that it was going to be a later time than the previous night. Maybe she’ll be asleep when I finally make it home, he thought, but realised it was just wishful thinking.
After the Pizza had been consumed: Isaac ate three slices, Farhan, two, and their boss, the remainder, they sat down to discuss the situation. Isaac was the first to speak. ‘These so-called influential persons, are they critical to the investigation?’ His question was levelled at the detective superintendent.
‘You’re asking questions I’m not able to answer.’
‘But why? If it’s a murder investigation, doesn’t that change the situation?’
‘I don’t see how.’ The detective superintendent appeared to be stalling. ‘There’s no deceased, so how can you call it a murder investigation?’
‘We’re just calling it a murder enquiry. Do you want to make it official?’
‘It’s complicated. The Official Secrets Act is involved.’ Richard Goddard sat upright before he continued. ‘I don’t know the full story, not much more than you. I’m not at liberty to say more.’
‘What’s this got to do with the Official Secrets Act?’ Farhan asked diplomatically.
‘I know this much. Some influential people are worried. I don’t know who, and I don’t know why. That’s the truth.’
‘They are worried that she’s dead?’ Isaac asked.
‘Dead is okay by them. It’s if she is alive that worries them.’
‘What have we gotten ourselves into here?’ Isaac could see them treading where it was not wanted, asking questions certain people did not want asked.
‘Isaac,’ his senior ventured a suggestion, ‘drop the case. Just declare that she has gone missing.’
‘But why? I thought we were meant to find her.’
‘That’s true, but this is getting nasty, potentially dangerous. I don’t want you and DI Ahmed mixed up anymore with this.’
‘Are you suggesting we should walk away from a potential murder?’ Isaac sensed the trepidation in his senior officer. It was something he had not seen before.
‘We must. I’ll tell my contact that we’re pulling out. I’ll tell him that the leads have gone cold. She’s disappeared of her own free will and will no doubt reappear when she feels inclined.’
‘Do you believe what you just said?’ Isaac looked the senior officer direct in the eyes.
‘Not for one minute. Think about it. If her reappearance frightens some people, then what will happen if you manage to find out the reason.’
‘Is that a reason to pull back?’ Isaac asked. He realised what their boss was trying to say; Farhan did not.
‘There are people who have a reason to wish her dead. Have we considered what they might do to keep it that way?’
‘Do you think it’s as bad as all that?’ Isaac asked.
‘Official Secrets Act? What do you think?’
‘I believe you're probably right.’
‘Then we pull out?’ Richard Goddard posed a rhetorical question.
Isaac looked at Farhan. ‘What do you reckon?’
‘We continue.’ Farhan was resolute. He was up to the challenge; he wanted the challenge.
‘I was told by my contact that if you get close, I was to communicate with him, and he would supply further information. Before you continue, I should talk to him further.
‘We’ll agree to that.’ Isaac looked at Farhan, who nodded in agreement.
The detective superintendent excused himself and exited the room.
He returned five minutes later. ‘I’m meeting with my contact tomorrow at eight in the morning. I will brief you on my return.’ It was two in the morning. Fifteen minutes later, all three left the office: Isaac to an empty bed, Farhan to a complaining wife and Richard Goddard to a comfortable house in a pleasant suburb. Detective Superintendent Goddard was a worried man. He knew he would not sleep much that night.
***
Angus MacTavish showed none of the affability he had shown the detective superintendent on his previous visit. Richard Goddard assumed it was on account of the dull and overcast weather outside. He was wrong. The weather inside MacTavish’s office was decidedly duller and more overcast. The man was not in good humour. ‘I told you to keep your people out of this, Detective Superintendent Goddard.’
‘I was under the impression that the investigation was to continue.’ The detective superintendent’s hackles raised by the tone of the man in front of him; the man who had purposefully failed to shake his hand.
‘I thought I made it clear that they were to focus on finding the woman, not delve into speculation as to her importance.’
‘It’s a police investigation. How do you think it’s conducted? They pry, probe, ask awkward questions and dive into the dirty laundry that everyone carries around as baggage.’
‘Don’t get smart with me, Goddard. I know how the police work. It was for you to monitor and steer them away if they started getting close.’
Richard Goddard assumed the changed attitude came with being the Government Chief Whip: when all was going well, magnanimous and affable; when it wasn’t ‒ exactly what he was experiencing now. He saw no reason to let the man ride roughshod over him. He had not become the senior officer of the Homicide and Serious Crime Command at Challis Street by allowing aggressive and bombastic individuals to take control.
‘Sir, your attitude is now conducive to this meeting. Last time I was here, you were more agreeable.’
‘That was different.’ It was clear that Angus MacTavish was used to putting other people on the spot, making them feel uncomfortable. He did not enjoy the policeman’s comment.
‘What was different? The fact that you fobbed me off by appealing to my good nature?’
‘No, of course not, maybe. Apologies, this is placing me in an awkward position.’ MacTavish acquiesced.
‘And my people in possible danger?’
‘That’s about right.’
‘I can call them off,’ Is that what you want?’
‘I’m not sure. The problem is that I don’t know the full story, just some parts of it.’
‘Are you saying there may be some validity in them continuing?’
‘We still need to find out the truth. It was one thing to be out looking for this woman, but if we find her murdered, then by whom? The answer may have repercussions that none of us can comprehend.’
With both men more relaxed, MacTavish called for some tea. Mrs Gregory, after a suitable delay entered the room and placed the tray complete with a teapot, some cups and cakes on a small coffee table. Both men had moved from their formal seating arrangements to a couple of more comfortable chairs to continue the discussion.
Mrs Gregory, polite and agreeable, indulged in the usual harmless banter with her boss. She must have heard the raised voices, Richard Goddard thought. Must be used to it, I suppose.
With the tea poured, MacTavish spoke again, this time in an agreeable manner, ‘Have your people seen any unfamiliar faces?’
‘Should they?’
‘They’re being watched. I’m sure of it.’
‘By whom? Or is that secret?’
‘I would say the security services. MI5, probably.’
‘What does this woman know that’s so important?
‘Detective Superintendent, I’ll level with you. ‘Initially, I thought this was about an affair she had when she was young with a senior member of the government.’
‘What’s so wrong about that? We live in liberated times. It’s hardly a case for murder.’
‘That’s what I would have thought, but there was a child.’
‘And, the child?’
‘I don’t know. It was a different time, the baby adopted out.’
‘There are large swathes of the public that would see that as unacceptable.’
‘Which part? Having a child out of wedlock or the adopting out?’ MacTavish asked.
‘Depends on which public we’re talking about.’
‘The voting public.’
‘A child out of wedlock, thirty plus years ago would have been seen as sinful. Necessary to cover up at all cost, but the younger generation, the majority of the voting public nowadays would have no issue. Virginity until marriage and then children is hardly the vogue now.’
‘Sure, ‘the Chief Whip said. ‘Adoption would be frowned on by the younger generation, though.’
‘Even so, would this being revealed affect the outcome of an election?’
‘It could make a difference if the parties were running neck and neck, but now the assumption is that she’s been murdered, or, at least, that is what you want to call this investigation.’
‘That’s how my detectives see it. It’s the only conclusion.’
‘I don’t believe the government would condone murder. Silence the woman; prevent publication of her life story, but murder?’
‘Are you saying that if she is found to be murdered, it has more sinister undertones?’
Angus MacTavish paused for a while. He seemed to the detective superintendent to be doing mental calculations, analysing the pros and cons of the situation. ‘If it is found that she has been murdered, it can only mean one thing,’ he said.
‘Yes?’
‘It’s not because of an illegitimate birth and an adoption.’
‘So what is it about?’
‘I don’t know, and I need to know. We all need to know if we are to make rational decisions.’
‘And whether it will impact of the result at the forthcoming election?’
‘I think an electoral result, for or against the ruling party, may be a minor issue if people are willing to commit murder, and on the face of it, officially condoned murder.’
‘An assassination, is that what you are saying?’
‘I believe that is what I am saying.’ Angus MacTavish’s affable manner had changed, not to anger against Richard Goddard, but to worry as to what this all meant.
‘Detective Superintendent, your two men. Brief them as you see fit, and put them out in the field. Make sure they are carrying weapons. This is possibly going to become nasty.’
‘Who will you inform?’
‘The Prime Minister, in the strictest confidence,’ MacTavish replied.
‘The young father, you mean?’
‘Information on a need-to-know basis. You know that.’
‘On a need-to-know basis. That’s correct.’
Chapter 11
Isaac and Farhan, not clear in the direction to take and temporarily out of leads had taken the morning in a leisurely manner. They saw no reason to continue until their senior had returned from meeting with his contact. Isaac never asked the name, although he had a shrewd idea who it was.
Farhan had managed to take the children to school for the first time in a month; Isaac just laid in bed for an extra hour and thought about Jess O’Neill. He could not see her as a murderer. However, he had learned a long time ago that the least likely, especially in a murder case, often turn out to be the culprit. Jess O’Neill seemed to have no connection to Marjorie Frobisher, other than they were work colleagues, and that Jess had told Marjorie that her starring days were drawing to a close. There was still the issue of Jess and Richard Williams. Could she have screwed Williams, just because he drove a Ferrari and was rich? He resolved to find out.
Just as Isaac intended to roll over for another five-minute nap, the phone rang. ‘Two o’clock, your office. Make sure DI Ahmed is there as well.’ Richard Goddard had made the call as he
exited MacTavish’s office.
Isaac and Farhan ensured they were in the office well in advance of the nominated time. Richard Goddard, a stickler for punctuality, arrived on the dot. He had not brought a Pizza this time; Isaac was thankful.
‘If she has been murdered, then the situation has changed,’ the detective superintendent commenced hesitantly.
‘Let’s assume she has,’ Isaac said.
‘Her death would be advantageous.’
‘Are we condoning murder here, sir?’ Farhan asked.
‘That’s a preposterous statement.’ Goddard was not amused.
‘Your statement was ambiguous. Farhan was right in offering a comment,’ Isaac had almost made the same comment.
‘DI Ahmed is right. I did phrase the sentence badly. Let me clarify. It is clear from my contact that certain people would not be sorry to hear of her demise.’
‘And why?’ Isaac asked.
‘She has or had information that would prove both embarrassing politically and personally.’
‘Would they be willing to kill the woman to prevent that information being revealed?’
‘My contact ensures me they would not.’
‘And others?’
‘I don’t believe they would have given the authority for her assassination.’
‘Are you certain?’ Farhan asked.
‘I can’t be sure of anything. I may have been fed a line. Have you seen anyone suspicious?’
Isaac answered first, ‘I’ve not seen anyone.’
‘DI Ahmed?’
‘Sir, I thought it was suspicious at the time.’
‘What was?’
‘The two times I went to the Churchill Arms with Robert Avers. There was one man. I assumed he was a local propping up the bar and then today when I dropped the children at school. I could swear I saw him across the road from the school.’
‘Are you certain?’ Isaac asked.
‘I believe I am. What does this mean?’
‘We’re treading on toes, and they don’t like it. This is where it gets complicated. We’re possibly upsetting powerful and dangerous persons.’
‘What kind of persons?’ Isaac asked.
‘The type who carry guns and MI5 identification. They may just be surveillance, but who knows?’
Murder is a Tricky Business (DCI Cook Thriller Series Book 1) Page 8