Brian Gee, a young man in his early thirties, was in charge. He introduced himself and gave the police constable a guided tour of his domain. ‘State of the art, best there is,’ he said.
‘I’m not really into computers.’ She could not help but notice that Brian Gee was a remarkably active man, almost hyperactive. Her youngest son, Brad had suffered from the syndrome as a child but had grown out of it, obviously Brian Gee had not. He was constantly fidgeting, moving from one foot to the other, fiddling with a pen or picking up a piece of paper only to put it down again.
‘It’s not everyone’s cup of tea, I suppose. I’ll admit to being a computer nerd.’
‘Any luck finding the missing woman?’ She had supplied a description earlier before arriving at the station, although it had been suitably vague: green dress, just below the knees, sensible shoes, black in colour, overcoat, dark and a hat, blue with a brim. She had also mentioned the sunglasses and the name of Marjorie Frobisher.
‘With your description?’
‘How many people were on the train that day?’ she asked.
The Station Master responded, ‘probably no more than one hundred and fifty.’
‘So can’t you isolate it to them?’
‘It’s not that simple,’ Brian Gee replied. ‘We’re not looking at the trains per se. We mainly focus on the platforms, the restrooms, the main concourse. There were two trains on the platform at the time of interest. The train we are interested in, and another from the west of the country. In total that’s about five hundred people. We’re looking, could be a few hours yet, and then she could have changed her clothes. Even with all this technology, it’s still a needle in a haystack.’
Wendy could see that it was going to take a while. She determined she would wait it out. Back in the office, it would be political correctness and no smoking in case she offended. At least at the railway station, she could find somewhere to smoke, and she still had the credit card and a police car.
***
Isaac and Farhan had not spent a lot of time in the office after the death of Sally Jenkins. Isaac saw that his best approach was to call in Richard Williams to the station. There was a great unknown to be resolved. If Sally Jenkins was killed because she knew something, then how did she get that information? And if she had that information, did that place the source in equal danger as well?
The situation with the media was also starting to become a nuisance. The disappearance of Marjorie Frobisher had caused speculative interest from them and their probing cameras and microphones. The death of Charles Sutherland, now officially confirmed as murder had taken their interest up to serious. The death of Sally Jenkins, although not a celebrity, but known as the personal assistant to the executive producer, caused them to approach frenzy level.
It was starting to become difficult to focus on the case. All of the main locations were being staked out by at least one or two reporters. Isaac rethought his plan to bring Williams in as his entry would have been seen. He did not want to create added speculation on the television and in the press.
Detective Superintendent Goddard on advice from Charles Shaw, the Commissioner of the London Metropolitan Police saw that the only option was to make a formal statement. He realised he should have done this earlier, at least after the death of Charles Sutherland, but he had been hesitant. Angus MacTavish had been against it, even threatened him or at least his career.
It was clear the commissioner had used his contacts and had cleared the press conference.
The press conference, hastily set up for two in the afternoon had not allowed Isaac to meet up with Williams. He had phoned him, found him to be uncommonly mute and sorry over the death of his former personal assistant. ‘A good person,’ he said. ‘I had a lot of time for her. We had some fun together.’ Isaac wasn’t sure if it was a genuine heartfelt emotion or whether it was for his benefit. He chose the former.
He would force Williams to reveal his true emotions at a later date and to detail every bit of hidden information he possessed to resolve the case. Isaac and Farhan remained convinced that the deaths were not about to cease. People were dying for reasons still unknown, and until they knew that reason, the case was going nowhere.
Charles Sutherland had known something, or did he? Sally Jenkins had died for a similar reason, but she had no way of finding out the information unless it was by eavesdropping or someone had told her. If it wasn’t Charles Sutherland, then who and why?’ Both Isaac and Farhan were nervous when they explained their fears to their boss, Detective Superintendent Richard Goddard.
‘We’re stuck with this,’ he said. ‘Whether we like it or not.’
Chapter 25
‘Ladies and Gentlemen, Members of the Press. Good Morning.’ The assembled audience for the hastily arranged press conference waited impatiently for their opportunity to put questions. They knew they would have to listen to the official police statement first: Detective Superintendent Richard Goddard to give the initial address, Detective Chief Inspector Isaac Cook to follow on. Neither man was excited at the prospect, although Isaac knew his parents would be proudly watching on the television.
Richard Goddard read verbatim from a prepared statement. ‘Charles Sutherland, it is confirmed, died as the result of poisoning. We are treating his death as murder. You are now aware that a subsequent death, confirmed as the murder of a young female is possibly related. Both were involved in the production of a television programme, one as an actor, the other as the personal assistant to the executive producer.
‘I should state that the assumption that both murders are related must remain just that, an assumption. In both cases, there appears to be no motive.
‘What I can tell you is that the disappearance of Marjorie Frobisher still gives us concern. We are anxious to ascertain her whereabouts at the earliest. It is clear that when the floor is thrown open to questions, her name will be mentioned. Let me emphasise that we believe her to be missing, not dead, and that speculation in the media is premature and not helpful.
‘I will ask those present to ask questions. Please announce your name, the organisation you represent and to whom you are directing the question. Please do not expect us to indulge in idle speculation.’
A quick flurry of hands in the air, a flashing of cameras as the individuals in the throng attempted to be first with their question.
‘Barbara Halsall, Sky News. Detective Chief Inspector Cook, is it not a fact that you are looking for Marjorie Frobisher’s body and that the police believe her to be dead?’
Isaac’s reply, predictable. ‘Unless we receive information to the contrary, we will continue to believe that she is alive and well,’
‘Is it not clear that she is dead?’ Barbara Halsall was entitled to one question; she had taken two. It was not unexpected. She had been on the television almost as long as Isaac had been alive. Few would stand in her way when she was asking questions. Richard Goddard attempted to remind her that she was only entitled to one question. She ignored him totally.
‘There is nothing to indicate that Marjorie Frobisher’s disappearance is related to the current murder enquiries.’ Isaac knew it was a weak response.
‘Stuart Vaughan, BBC. It must be obvious to anyone, even the man in the street, that her disappearance is related.’
‘It is a consideration,’ Isaac conceded.
‘Are you able to confirm that Sally Jenkins was naked when found?’
‘Please announce your name and organisation first, please.’ Richard Goddard attempted to wrest control of the proceedings from the media flock. He knew he would not be successful.
‘Claude Dunn, News Corporation. Is it true she was found with no clothes on?’ The media had become sensationalist.
‘That is not the focus of this press conference,’ Isaac said. He assumed Dunn must have paid someone at the crime scene for the information.
‘Geoffrey Agnew, ITV. Charles Sutherland had intended to reveal certain details about Marjorie Frob
isher. Can you let us know what those details were?’
Richard Goddard answered. ‘No details were revealed.’
‘So it was a hoax on his part.’ Agnew ignored the other questioners in the room; his raised voiced drowning out the others.
‘I did not say that.’ Richard Goddard felt cornered. Angus MacTavish was watching as was Commissioner Shaw on the television in Downing Street. The detective superintendent did not want his career to go down the drain due to an ill-chosen rebut. ‘Both murders are ongoing investigations. All avenues of enquiry will be investigated in detail. It would be inappropriate for either myself or Detective Chief Inspector Cook to speculate.’
‘And the prostitutes?’ Agnew interrupted. Isaac realised that someone had paid money for that information. Farhan watching from the rear of the room hoped it wasn’t Christy Nichols or Aisha, and if it was Olivia, why? It seemed more likely to have been one of the staff in the hotel. He knew he had to find out.
‘Ladies and Gentlemen, I believe we have informed you as to the current situation. Regular press statements will be posted as new information becomes available. I thank you for your time.’ Richard Goddard wrapped up the conversation and exited the room, followed by Isaac.
‘How do you think it went, Sir?’ Isaac asked.
‘Hopefully well enough to save our careers.’ It seemed a pessimistic reply to Isaac. He chose not to comment.
***
With the Press Conference concluded, Isaac took the opportunity to meet up with Richard Williams. It was after six in the evening when he arrived at his office in the city. Williams personally opened the door, the new personal assistant nowhere to be seen.
‘DCI Cook, tragic business.’
‘I may need to bring you into the station at some stage.’
‘I thought it would have been today. Why didn’t you?’
‘Media scrum down there, too many people sticking their noses in. Did you have a similar problem?’
‘I don’t follow you,’ Williams replied.
‘Sally Jenkins had a tendency to listen in.’
‘I believe I told you that the other week.’
‘You did. Now the question is, did she hear or know of something that people would have killed for?’
‘Not from me.’ Richard Williams seemed a little too nonchalant for Isaac.
‘I’ll level with you,’ Isaac said. ‘We have two bodies, a missing woman and no motive, other than several women who were pleased when Sutherland was murdered, one was even delighted.’
‘Sally wasn’t one of them. She didn’t like him and his leering remarks. She only met him once to my knowledge.’
‘And when was that?’
‘Some months back. We were wrapping up production for the year. We all met at a hotel near the production lot and had a decent meal and a few too many drinks. Sutherland was drunk as usual, making suggestive remarks, but I don’t remember him going near Sally.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Not totally. It was, after all, a party. Left the Ferrari here, took a taxi.’
‘Sally left the party with you?’
‘She went with me, left with me. Not that she would have known about the leaving.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘Mixing her drinks, totally out of it.’
‘And she said nothing?’
‘About Sutherland?’
‘Yes.’
‘She didn’t say anything that night; the next day, she could barely remember the previous night.’
‘You were with her?’
‘Out at the place where she was found dead. I paid for it, the renovations as well.’
‘The night she died?’
‘I told you before that I had sacked her.’
‘And you let her stay in the place?’
‘Why not? I’m not a total bastard. As I said, she was a good person.’
‘The night she died?’ Isaac returned to the standard question. The question that invariably invoked, ‘I didn’t murder her’ or ‘my alibi’s watertight.’
‘I was with my personal assistant, the new one. In her bed, if you must know.’
‘She will testify to that.’
‘I don’t think she’ll be very happy about it, but I’m sure she will.’
Williams ordered in some food. Isaac after a long day saw no reason not to eat with him. Isaac had tried to moderate his intake, do a little exercise, and it had had some effect. The paunch had reduced a little, he felt more energy, but the unbalanced lifestyle was not conducive to total fitness. He realised that it was either the lifestyle or the fitness; he knew which he was going to choose.
Williams had a beer; Isaac kept to orange juice. As congenial as the environment had become there were still questions to be answered. Isaac could not see Williams as being responsible for either death, especially Sutherland’s.
Sutherland would not have been naked for Williams, although Sally Jenkins would not have had an issue. And then there was the forced entry at her place. Richard Williams had a key; he could have used it or just knocked on the door.
Larry Hill, the investigating officer at the crime scene, had phoned through a couple of times: a clear sign of forced entry, professional, no fingerprints. Forensics had shown that she had drowned and that she had not been sexually assaulted. The conclusion was that it was either a woman ‒ that would explain the lack of sexual violation ‒ or, it was professional.
Larry Hill preferred professional, Isaac wasn’t sure, but it was clear that it was not Richard Williams as he had no reason to kill her, although that was not an automatic exclusion of guilt.
As Isaac thought about it some factors came into his mind: She had not been sexually violated ‒ no reason for Williams to take advantage as he had taken advantage of her many times in the past. She was naked ‒ yet again she would have felt no shame in parading her body with him. She knew something ‒ where else but from her boss’s office, an overheard conversation between two people. Isaac realised that maybe he had been too hasty in discounting Williams as a potential suspect and as for his alibi, he needed to speak to the new personal assistant, and soon, in case she knew something.
Maybe Williams spoke in his sleep. What if he had said something aloud when lying next to Sally Jenkins after an arduous bout of lovemaking? What if had repeated a similar exercise with the new personal assistant? And if he had, was she at risk? He realised that he had to conclude the meeting with Williams and head over to the potential victim, although he thought he was being dramatic. Before he left Williams’ office, he decided to try one more time to see if he would talk.
‘Sally Jenkins knew something. If it didn’t come from Sutherland, it must have come from you.’
‘I don’t know of anything that would warrant murder.’
‘You argued with Marjorie Frobisher before she disappeared. Was anything said in the heat of the moment, anything unexpected?’
‘How many times have we discussed this?’
‘How many times have you evaded the answer?’ Isaac responded, his voice raised.
‘Marjorie may have mentioned about the child she had when she was a lot younger, but she never mentioned the name, even if she knew. That may be good enough for a gossip magazine, but it hardly seems sufficient to justify murder. If you wish to discuss this matter again, I will make sure my legal adviser is present.’
Isaac left soon after. The briefest of handshakes as they parted.
***
Angus MacTavish and Richard Goddard met at a pub some distance from Downing Street. The detective superintendent was anxious to be updated as to the current situation and to ascertain how his career was progressing. He was not naïve; he knew that the years of loyal service, the innumerable courses and qualifications and unblemished service record counted for nothing if people at the top, often nameless, disapproved of the nominee. He saw that his future revolved around a missing woman, not the two murders. He also knew that he may be forced to make deci
sions that would affect the ongoing investigations. A major celebrity in the country was impacting his career; he did not like it.
There was no point in discussing the matter with Commissioner Shaw as he was no doubt feeling the pressure as well. His reappointment was due for renewal and questions were already being raised as to his viability. The detective superintendent, a political animal, knew why the questions were being asked. They were political in nature, lacking in substance and were there to apply pressure to Commissioner Shaw to rein in his people. He also knew that Commissioner Shaw was not a man easily swayed. Neither was he. It was a dilemma he would face if the pressure came. It was clear that Angus MacTavish would have no trouble applying the pressure.
‘Goddard, it’s good to see you?’ The meeting started well. The Red Lion, a short distance from MacTavish’s office, hardly seemed the ideal place as it was well frequented by politicians from both sides of the house. MacTavish had arranged a private room on the first floor.
‘Change of location?’
‘Somewhere private.’
‘I saw some from the other side of the house downstairs.’
‘Don’t worry about them. They’re as thick as two short planks.’
‘You saw the broadcast?’
‘You handled it well. You had to make a statement of some sort. Otherwise, the media would have started sticking their noses in more than they already are.’
‘They’re a damn nuisance.’ Both had ordered a pint of Fuller’s London Pride, on tap, and a meat pie, a speciality of the house.
‘What do you have?’ MacTavish asked. He had already downed the first pint, ordered another.
‘Two murders and a missing woman.’
‘Apart from that. Are they related to Marjorie Frobisher?’
Murder is a Tricky Business (DCI Cook Thriller Series Book 1) Page 21