Murder is a Tricky Business (DCI Cook Thriller Series Book 1)

by Phillip Strang

  Chapter 19

  Richard Goddard was in a verbose mode when he met up with Isaac and Farhan. ‘What do you have? he asked.

  ‘It’s not what we have, it’s what you have?’ Isaac said. Farhan would not have been as direct.

  ‘I’ve met with my contact.’

  ‘And?’ Isaac said.

  ‘There’s a child.’

  ‘We know that. That appears to be the clue to this whole sorry mess.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Charles Sutherland was using it as a bargaining chip with Victoria Webster,’ Farhan said.

  ‘Did she know who it was?’

  ‘No, but she’s scared that she may be a marked woman.’

  ‘Is she?’

  ‘Potentially,’ Isaac said. ‘If this is dynamite, then anyone even remotely involved is at risk.’

  ‘Including us,’ Detective Superintendent Goddard said. ‘You have considered that?’

  ‘We’ve considered it.’

  ‘Any more tails on your cars?’

  ‘I’ve not seen one for the last day or so. How about you, Farhan?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘I’ve not seen anyone, but if they’re professional, then we shouldn’t.’

  ‘Detective Superintendent, your contact. What’s he got to say for himself?’

  ‘He’s not willing to reveal who the child is. I believe he doesn’t know.’

  ‘So who does? Did Marjorie Frobisher and if so, how?’

  ‘My contact did reveal that the child is looking for the mother. They can’t hold him off for much longer.’

  ‘Are we looking for a male?’ Farhan asked.

  ‘A slip of the tongue. The assumption is male, but there’s no reason to believe that it could not be female. Marjorie Frobisher would have known.’

  ‘And the father, presumably,’ Isaac stated the obvious.

  ‘Maybe, maybe not. The birth could have been hushed up, remote location, remote hospital, probably private. Even the adoption records could have been falsified.

  ‘Let’s come back to your contact, Sir,’ Isaac said. He was sure there was something else, something vital.

  ‘You want more information, correct?’

  ‘Correct.’ Isaac had stood up. He aimed to hover close to his senior until something more forthright was revealed.

  ‘I believe my contact is being honest when he said that the person he is reporting to would not condone murder - even if the child could be responsible for the collapse of the government.’

  ‘Are we saying that Charles Sutherland was not a sanctioned murder?’

  ‘Not at all. My contact stated that the revealing of the child would have more severe repercussions than a change of government.’

  ‘And he doesn’t know who it is?’ Isaac persisted.

  ‘I don’t believe he does.’

  ‘Someone does.’

  ‘Who then?’ Farhan asked.

  ‘The father would be a fair assumption,’ Richard Goddard admitted.

  ‘Then why don’t we talk to the father?’ Isaac suggested.

  ‘I’m not sure who he is.’

  ‘You’ve a fair idea.’

  ‘I’m pretty certain who it is.’

  ‘Then why don’t we make an appointment and go over and meet with this person.’

  ‘Not so easy.’

  ‘Why not?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘He does not answer his phone, at least not to us. It would need at least the Commissioner of the London Metropolitan Police.’

  ‘Then ask him.’ Isaac saw no issue. He had met the Commissioner on a couple of occasions; thought him a reasonable, approachable man.

  ‘If we tread on too many toes, we could find ourselves back on the street directing traffic.’

  ‘If we don’t tread a little harder, we may as well let a murderer get away free and easy. Is that what you want?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘Okay, I’ll talk to the commissioner, ask him to coordinate.’ The detective superintendent could see his career plateauing just as he started to get on the ladder up towards the commissioner’s office. He wanted the job in the London Metropolitan Police, although it was still ten years away at least. He had no great wish to broach the subject with the commissioner and he certainly did not relish fronting the father of the illegitimate child.

  ***

  Marion Robertson had been on the phone to Farhan. The other escort was ready to meet with him. He scheduled the meeting for the next day at four in the afternoon. Marion said that would be suitable and that Olivia would meet him out in Richmond, close to the park. He allowed himself forty minutes to get there.

  The next day he was late. She was angry. ‘I agreed to give you thirty minutes of my time, and you arrive late,’ she said. Farhan remembered Samantha and how pleasant she had been. He could not say the same about Olivia. She was plainly dressed, her hair pulled back tight. She wore an old raincoat, and clothes that looked neither fashionable nor modern.

  ‘My apologies, traffic.’

  ‘I don’t have much time,’ she replied brusquely.

  ‘This is a murder investigation. You must appreciate that I may need longer.’

  ‘That may be, but I’m the designated mother. I’m picking up my two children as well as next door’s.’

  ‘If we can’t conclude today, then maybe another time,’ Farhan said.

  ‘Secrecy is paramount. You do understand?’

  ‘I understand,’ he said. She gave a weak smile, the first sign of friendship. He had to admit her smile changed her whole persona, so much so, that the dowdy clothes and the severe hairstyle faded into the distance.

  ‘You’re not going to ask me why I prostitute myself, are you?’

  ‘I’m not here to offer an opinion. I’m here because a man was murdered. A man you were intimate with.’

  ‘I would hardly call screwing a man for money “intimate”.’

  ‘What would you call it?’

  ‘A financial necessity.’ She kept looking at her watch.

  ‘How long have you got?’

  ‘Twenty minutes’ maximum. I’ve been working all day, explains the clothes.’

  ‘What type of work?’

  ‘I work in a factory, manual work. It’s dusty and not very pleasant.’

  ‘Why do that if you can work as an escort and make decent money?’

  ‘There you go, the same as the rest, aiming to reform me. Mind you, most want to tell me to work in an office, find a decent husband. At least you’re original.’

  ‘Believe me. I have no intention of reform. I need to find out what I can about the death of Charles Sutherland. Your background is relevant if it removes you from suspicion.’

  ‘Or makes me more likely to be the murderer of that horrible man.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right.’

  ‘Of course, I’m right.’

  ‘Then maybe you can answer the question as to why you work in a factory.’

  ‘You’ll need to know something about my life story.’ They both sat on a bench by the side of the road.

  ‘I led a troubled existence up until I was about eighteen. No abuse, good family environment, but I was wild. Something in my genetic make-up, I suppose. I had moved out of home and into a small apartment with a couple of other girls. We always had men over, more like boys on reflection. Anyway, the two girls moved in with their boyfriends, and I was left with the rent to pay. I was too proud to go home and ask for money and jobs were hard to come by. I saw an ad in the paper, women wanted. I assumed it was prostitution.’

  ‘Did you have a problem with that?’

  ‘Some, but it wasn’t that much of an issue. The woman I met, upmarket part of the city, took one look at me and told me I was a lot better than the usual women that came through the door. She took me under her wing and soon I was working as an escort. Great money and the men were invariably kind and gentle. A few were a little kinky, wanted tying up, that sort of thing. I worked like that for about eight years.
/>   ‘One day, I’m out walking through a park, idly minding my business when a man comes up to me, a good and decent man. He just wanted to say hello. He meant nothing by it, and he certainly was not attempting to seduce me. We started meeting on a regular basis. He had no idea as to what I did to earn a living.

  ‘Anyway, I realised that I loved him, and I wanted a life, similar to my parents. We married, and all was fine, two healthy children and a mortgage. A few years ago, the economy tightened, and my husband was unable to make the payments on the house and the schooling. I said I would go out to work, so I took the job at the factory. It was purely a cover.

  ‘Each day I would go off to the factory, bring some money in, but it wasn’t much. I saw no problem with going back into escorting. Most men like an older, more experienced woman anyway and I knew I was still attractive, even if a little rounder. Marion Robertson, I found through an ad. She’s been a godsend, and she always pays promptly.’

  ‘Your husband doesn’t know?’

  ‘He must never know. I do this for him and my children. Not for any other reason.’

  ‘I will give you the promise that I gave Samantha. I will maintain your confidentiality. I cannot guarantee that I will be able to indefinitely, but I will try.’

  ‘Thank you. You seem to be a good man. Marion said you were.’

  ‘I try to be. Charles Sutherland?’

  ‘There’s not much I can tell you. We went there a couple of times, put on a show for him, gave him the threesome he wanted and left.’

  ‘Your husband, wasn’t he concerned that you were out at night?’

  ‘Nightshift at the factory.’

  ‘And he accepted it?’

  ‘He’s a trusting man, even thought I was a virgin when we first met.’

  ‘Thank you, there’s not much more I need for now. Hopefully, we will not need to meet again.’

  ‘I hope we never do,’ she said.

  ***

  The Murder Investigation Team was now in full operation: collating, investigating, researching, in the hunt for whoever had killed Charles Sutherland. The forensics report had come through. Death due to a combination of alcohol, cocaine and arsenic poisoning.

  Coupled with the dead man’s obesity and heart condition, death recorded as manslaughter, possible murder. It was ambiguous. Isaac phone Gordon Windsor. His statement: the arsenic may not have been of sufficient quantity to kill an average healthy male, but Charles Sutherland was obese with a heart condition. This raised the question as to whether death was the objective. Regardless of the reason, it was imperative to find the person responsible.

  Prior to the murder, Isaac and Farhan’s activities had been kept relatively low-key, due to the sensitivity of Marjorie Frobisher’s disappearance. With Isaac now juggling two jobs, one as the SIO of the MIT, the other as part of the team with Farhan looking for the missing woman, it became clear that another person was required to supplement.

  Both of them knew Wendy Gladstone. Farhan in passing with a cursory ‘hello’, ‘how are you?’ Isaac knew her better as they had worked on a couple of cases together in the past. If you needed someone finding, then she was the best person for the job.

  She came into the office early. When Farhan arrived just after seven and Isaac fifteen minutes later, she had already found herself a desk and put it close to Farhan’s. She could not be described as a beauty. She was close on fifty, with a blotchy face and a well-rounded body. Not firm as Samantha and Olivia’s; hers was sagging. Regardless of all her deficiencies, she was a team player, Isaac attested to that. She was highly competent and persistent.

  ‘If anyone was missing, they didn’t stay missing for long,’ Richard Goddard had said when told that she would be joining the team.

  She had given Farhan a firm handshake when he had walked into the office. Isaac received a bear hug and a kiss on both cheeks.

  ‘Who do you want to find?’ she said in a firm voice. She was also a smoker and the smell of stale tobacco, anathema to them. If it became a problem, Isaac resolved to talk to her about it, but not today.

  ‘Marjorie Frobisher,’ Farhan said.

  ‘My favourite actress, my favourite programme.’

  ‘You like the programme?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘Why not? After a day in here dealing with misery and violence, a bit of nonsense does no harm. You don’t like it?’

  ‘Neither of us like it much,’ Farhan said. He liked the woman, although he was more sensitive to the smell of tobacco than Isaac.

  ‘Each to their own,’ she said. She had brought her own coffee mug and was seated comfortably at her desk. Farhan didn’t like his desk being moved, but it was not a big deal.

  ‘Where was she last seen?’ Wendy asked.

  ‘A hotel in Malvern, up north,’ Isaac replied.

  ‘Positive I.D?’

  ‘The receptionist said it was her, and she had been picked up on a street camera.’

  ‘How long ago?’

  ‘In Malvern, about three weeks ago.’

  ‘That’s seven weeks missing. Where was she?’

  ‘No idea’ Isaac replied.

  ‘Probably hiding out in the woods,’ she said.

  ‘Is that possible?’

  ‘It’s always possible. Unlikely. More likely she’s rented a remote cottage in some non-descript village and kept a low profile.’

  ‘Why would she do that?’ Farhan asked.

  ‘I don’t know. Where she is now is what’s important,’ Wendy said.

  ‘Wendy, we’ll bring you up to speed,’ Isaac said.

  ‘Fine, let me get another mug of coffee. You want some?’ Both Isaac and Farhan declined. Isaac could see that they would need to buy more sugar for the office.

  Once she was sat down again, Isaac commenced. ‘Marjorie Frobisher’s disappearance has caused some concern.’

  ‘I know. Her fans are distraught,’ Wendy said.

  ‘It is not her fans that concern us. Marjorie Frobisher led a colourful life. In her earlier years before she became a major star she was involved with some very influential people. Those people need to know if she is dead or alive.’

  ‘Do they care which one?’

  ‘Not really, but this is confidential, subject to the Official Secrets Act.’

  ‘Don’t worry about me. I can keep a secret.’

  ‘We realise that.’

  ‘What’s the tie-in between Sutherland and Marjorie Frobisher, then?’

  ‘Apart from appearing on the same programme?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘Apart from that.’

  ‘We believe he had some knowledge relating to her.’

  ‘Enough knowledge to get him murdered?’

  ‘It seems likely.’

  ‘I better get up to Malvern. Is this dangerous, by the way?’

  ‘How are you fixed for security?’

  ‘Pepper spray and a kick in the groin. Should I take more?’

  ‘It’s up to you. If you want a weapon, we could organise one.’

  ‘No, thanks. I’ll be fine.’

  Later that day with a cash advance, a police issue credit card and a car, Constable Wendy Gladstone was heading north. Isaac and Farhan felt comfortable that she would find Marjorie Frobisher, dead or alive. Until then they had to carry on probing, asking and hoping for a breakthrough. So far their results had been dismal. One murdered actor, one hidden child, one missing woman and a thousand questions unanswered, or as Isaac had succinctly put it, the one question that hasn’t been asked.

  Chapter 20

  With Wendy in Malvern dealing with the disappearance of Marjorie Frobisher, both Isaac and Farhan were at a loose end. It had been so quiet the previous night after she had left, that Isaac had left early to meet up with Sophie. Farhan had gone home to an empty house, although his wife was talking about coming back. He was pleased for the children, not for himself as the conflict between what she constituted as love was not how he saw it. It was a dilemma for which he had no solution.
/>   He was a Muslim, a proud Muslim, and what he was contemplating was contrary to all he had been brought up to believe. His family would not understand, his children would probably not as they grew older, but he had become a contradiction, a contradiction to his faith. He knew what he must do. He was not sure how it would turn out. He needed to sow his wild oats and then maybe… Maybe then he would go back to the all-encompassing traditional family.

  Isaac arrived refreshed in the office the following morning; Farhan, the opposite, as he had not been sleeping well since his wife had left. Samantha, although she preferred him to call her Aisha, had phoned him once or twice, exceedingly friendly, but he had to remind her that as it was an ongoing murder investigation, he was not in a position to meet, other than on official business. She understood or, at least, she said she did. Maybe she was like Olivia, looking for a good man. Could he be that man? he thought. Could he forgive her for all the men she had slept with? He was not sure, but it concerned him, kept him awake at nights thinking about her, imagining what it would be like to be with her.

  ‘Farhan, coffee?’ Isaac asked, temporarily bringing him back from daydreaming.

  ‘Yes, please.’

  Both sat at their desks. Farhan had managed to move his closer to where it had been before Wendy had given it a nudge to the left.

  ‘You’re satisfied the women that Sutherland had in his room are not involved,’ Isaac asked.

  ‘I’m certain they were only there for sex.’

  ‘Then someone must have gone in after and given him the drink and that someone must have been willing to sleep with him as he was naked.’

  ‘A fair assumption, Isaac.’

  ‘It doesn’t help, though. Security cameras. Any at the hotel?’

  ‘Not in the rooms and not on the floor.’

  ‘So someone could have entered without being spotted.’

  ‘That’s correct.’

  ‘And it must have happened after the women left and before the maid found the body.’

  ‘We know that he died around three to four in the morning.’

  ‘Any record of him phoning for another woman?’

  ‘None has been found.’