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

by Phillip Strang

  ***

  Richard Goddard sat quietly, while Farhan explained the situation in relation to one of the two escorts being found. He explained his reason for confidentiality. Richard Goddard stated that he was not correct, but Farhan countered that, as a moderate Muslim, it was not open to discussion. He had seen the injustices against women. He was not willing to allow their lives to be prejudiced because of mistakes they may have made.

  Farhan went on to explain that both women had their reasons for indulging in prostitution, and they were decent people, and should be protected from a scurrilous press. They were potentially material witnesses, and it was up to the police department to protect their identities. Detective Superintendent Goddard saw this as illogical.

  Farhan counter-argued that legally in the United Kingdom they had not broken any law except the law of morality, and that was not a punishable offence, except by a higher power.

  Isaac sat back in amazement at the fluidity of Farhan’s argument, the fluency of delivery and in the end, he could only sit back and declare him the winner. Their senior, suitably impressed, thanked him for his honesty and his reasons. He failed to give him his unanimous support.

  ‘DI Ahmed, this is all very well, and assuming I first wanted to give you a kick up the arse as well as a severe dressing down, which I do, how can I protect them and you?’

  ‘Official Secrets Act?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘What has the Official Secrets Act got to do with this?’

  ‘It’s there to clamp information. Why not for these women?’

  ‘I’ll need to meet with my contact; see what we can do.’

  ‘Angus MacTavish?’ Isaac put the name forward.

  ‘I suppose it was pointless trying to keep that confidential,’ Goddard admitted.

  ‘What about the women?’ Farhan asked.

  ‘Unofficially. Can they get out of the country?’

  ‘I’ll ask.’

  ‘Explain that you need to know where they are. Don’t give the details to us or anyone else.’

  ‘Thank you, Sir.’

  ‘Don’t thank me yet. We’re not out of trouble yet, and you’ve still to receive my reprimand. Isaac will explain that I don’t mince words. You’ve been a bloody fool. Whatever you do, don’t go sleeping with the witnesses until this is over. That applies to you as well, Isaac.’

  ***

  Farhan suitably humbled after his admission; thankful that at least there was a potential solution, focussed his attention on the two women. As much as he wanted to phone Aisha first, he decided that Olivia was the person most under threat. As a precaution, he had phoned Marion Robertson, inferred that she had committed a criminal offence revealing the name of a witness. He was certain that she would say no more until he got to her office which he intended to do within the hour.

  Olivia was pleased to hear Farhan on the end of the phone. ‘What can you tell me? What’s going to happen?’ she asked. Her husband was on the phone line as well. Farhan could hear his breathing.

  ‘You’re not alone?’ Farhan asked.

  ‘My husband is here with me. We’re going to be alright.’

  ‘I’d like to thank you, Detective Inspector Ahmed,’ a mild, obviously masculine voice said.

  ‘This must be a difficult time for you both.’

  ‘We love each other,’ Olivia said. ‘My husband will forgive me in time, I hope.’

  ‘A long time as my wife says. I knew what she was before I married her and I know she only did it for the family. It will be hard, but we will survive.’

  ‘Do you want to come to the house?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t think that’s necessary, and besides, I know where you live. I believe it would be best if we don’t meet. Someone might be following me.’

  ‘How do you know my address?’

  ‘I’m a policeman. Your car had registration plates. Caroline, am I correct?’

  ‘Caroline, yes.’

  ‘This matter is more involved than you realise. I’m not at liberty to say more. This goes beyond the death of one person.’

  ‘What can we do?’ Olivia’s husband asked.

  ‘Are you able to leave the country?’

  ‘We’ve discussed it, for the sake of the children,’ the husband responded.

  ‘Any possibility?’

  ‘My father was South African. I’ve citizenship there.’

  ‘When can you go?’

  ‘We had thought in two months. I need to give notice at work, and there’s the children’s schooling.

  ‘It would be best if you leave now.’

  ‘I understand,’ the husband said.

  ‘Are you suggesting we hide, fictitious name?’ Olivia asked.

  ‘Nothing so melodramatic. The press is fickle, short-term memory. You’ll be forgotten in time, and there is still the other woman.’

  ‘Is she leaving as well?’ the husband asked.

  ‘Possibly. I don’t believe Marion Robertson knew how to contact her.’

  ‘She told me she hadn’t, but you better check. She has not come out too well in this.’

  ‘Maybe there are extenuating circumstances. I’ll reserve my opinion until I’ve met with her.’

  ‘We can leave within the week, maybe two days,’ the husband said.

  ‘Keep in contact. I’ll do what I can to protect you.’

  ‘Thank you, Farhan,’ Olivia said. Her husband thanked him as well.

  With one woman hopefully resolved, Farhan turned to the one woman he hoped he could protect. Her phone, barely the first ring before she answered.

  ‘Aisha, where are you?’

  ‘Close to the office. Can we meet?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s not possible. We need to maintain a distance until this blows over.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘They know me. I don’t want them following.’

  ‘You’d know if you were being followed, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Most of the time, but some of them are good. The risk's too great.’

  ‘Then it’s good that we spent time together yesterday,’ she said.

  ‘I wish we could repeat it today, but your safety is more important than my lust.’

  ‘Don’t you mean love?’

  ‘Of course, but I need to protect you now.’

  ‘That’s what people who love each other do, isn’t it?’

  He had to agree. ‘Yes, that’s what they do.’

  ‘What do you want me to do?’

  ‘Maintain your normal routine. Go to work, go home, act normal.’

  ‘I’ll try. It will not be easy.’

  ‘It will not be easy for either of us, but your protection is all that matters now.’

  ‘It will kill my father if the truth came out. He has a weak heart.’

  ‘Then follow my advice. Is that clear?’

  ‘It’s clear, but this is a time we should be together, not apart,’ she said.

  ‘That may be, but it’s not possible. Believe me, I will be thinking of you. I can only hope that this is concluded soon.’

  ‘So do I. Will it?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. We’re floundering at the present moment, not sure what the significance of the missing woman is.’

  ‘You’ve never mentioned that before.’

  ‘I’m talking out loud, that’s all.’

  ‘Are you saying Marjorie Frobisher is the key to this?’

  ‘She worked with Sutherland, knew Sally Jenkins, and she disappeared before the murders started. It’s suspicious.’

  ‘Maybe she knew she was being targeted?’ Aisha said.

  ‘Until we speak with her, assuming she’s still able to speak, we’ll not know.’ He realised that he should not be talking to her in such a manner, but no doubt Richard Goddard went home and spoke to his wife about cases he was working on, gained a fresh perspective. He had spoken to his wife in the early days, but she was not interested, and the only useful information she had come up with that Marjorie Frobisher was buri
ed in a church somewhere, and that looked unlikely. He discounted his wife’s opinion; Aisha’s he valued.

  ‘There’s something about her early history,’ Farhan said.

  ‘Maybe I can help?’

  ‘Maybe you could.’

  ‘Give me some details,’ she said. Farhan realised that he was in error, but Aisha was a smart woman, legally qualified and she may find something the experts had missed.

  ‘Until we know what this information is, I don’t think we are any closer to solving it.

  ‘Send me what information you have that is relevant, some dates and I’ll scurry around. That way we can keep in touch, even if only by phone.’

  ***

  Two minutes after ending his conversation with Aisha, Farhan arrived at Marion Robertson’s office. ‘I need to put my case forward before you judge me out of hand,’ she said.

  ‘I’m here with an open mind. If you help me, then maybe I am able to help you. Are we agreed?’ he said.

  ‘I had no option but to give one of the names.’

  ‘Olivia?’

  ‘Yes.’ Farhan could see the woman was not as relaxed as on their previous meeting. She was moving around the office, unable to sit down. Farhan had chosen to sit on a chair close to her desk. He needed her to be calm.

  ‘Please sit down.’ He took the initiative and made two cups of tea using the machine in the corner. For several minutes, nothing was said.

  ‘They threatened to expose me.’

  ‘Who did?’

  ‘The two men who came here.’

  Farhan realised that if the woman had been threatened, then maybe she had no alternative. She certainly seemed less sure of herself, almost demure as she sat behind her desk. The assuredness, the inner calm, no longer apparent. He invited her over to some more comfortable chairs.

  ‘It may be best if you tell me the full story,’ Farhan said in a calm voice.

  ‘I am ashamed of what I did?’

  ‘You had no problem with supplying women for sex.’

  ‘I’ve never had any qualms about this business. There has never been any serious trouble. I always reasoned that it was a necessary service, and no one was hurt.’

  ‘Were you an escort once?’

  ‘For many years. It’s a long story, but I never sold myself on a street corner, and there were never drugs involved.’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘The mobile phone, the one with the gold case that you observed last time. That was given to me for services rendered, not some other woman. He is a wonderful man, very decent, very generous.’

  ‘Why did you give Olivia’s details?’ Farhan realised that he had not been shocked by Marion Robertson’s revelation. She was a good-looking woman, mature yet still desirable. He could imagine a man of taste finding her delightful company.

  ‘Is she alright?’ She seemed genuinely concerned. Farhan was certain it was not a pretence. Some of her self-assuredness had returned. She sat easily in the chair. Farhan in charge of the situation made another cup of tea for the two of them.

  ‘Hopefully, she will be all right.’ He was unsure if he should elaborate just yet. He was aware that Olivia and her husband had bought the airline tickets and were planning to leave within two days. If Marion Robertson had been pressured, then maybe she could be pressured again. What she did not know, she couldn’t tell.

  ‘I can only hope she accepts my apologies.’

  ‘Maybe, in time.’ Farhan said. Olivia did not seem a vengeful woman, a little contrite as to what she had put her husband through, but it was clear that she had no great issues with selling herself if it looked after her family. Farhan was certain she would do it again, but it was not for him to offer an opinion.

  It made him temporarily reflect on Aisha. I hope she does not think of prostitution in the same way as Olivia, he thought. He determined to ask her the next time he saw her. He felt he could forgive her for past sins, but future sins? That seemed too much to consider.

  ‘Will they find her out where she lives?’ Farhan decided not to answer the question, but he had found Olivia’s home address. He realised that anyone else determined would find it with little trouble.

  ‘I said to both women that I would protect their identities to the best of my ability. I intend to do that if it is indeed possible.’

  ‘And is it? she asked.

  ‘I’m not certain yet.’

  ‘Are you able to protect me?’ Marion Robertson looked unsure of herself again. She had moved forward on her seat, dangerously close. Farhan felt uncomfortable. After his admission, firstly with Isaac and then with Richard Goddard, he did not intend to commit another indiscretion, and besides, there was Aisha to consider. It seemed ironic that he was silently pledging faithfulness to a former prostitute, while he had a wife.

  ‘Do you need protection?’

  ‘The two men.’

  ‘What can you tell me?’

  ‘They threatened me.’

  ‘It’s best if you detail the full story of their visit here. It was here, I assume?’

  ‘Yes, in this office.’

  ‘I’ll record this conversation. Is that okay with you?’

  ‘Yes, that’s fine.’

  Farhan placed his mobile phone on the table, on record. He knew he would have to write a report afterwards - easier to record now and then playback later.

  ‘Marion, please commence. Take your time and take a break if you need.’

  ‘I could do with a glass of water.’ Farhan poured one for her.

  ‘Last week, Thursday, mid-morning, I was in the office. I had just arranged for one of my girls to meet up with an overseas client. He’s a regular when he is in the country. He always treats the girls well, so I had no problem fixing him up. It was close to eleven o’clock when two men walked into the office.’

  ‘Just one question before you continue.’ Farhan interrupted. ‘Why the office? Surely you could run this business from home.’

  ‘I have a husband. He’s a considerate man, understands what I do and why. As long as he doesn’t know the details, then all is fine. At home, I’m the dutiful wife; here, I’m the Madam.’

  An unusual arrangement as far as Farhan could see, but he saw no reason to judge. At least the husband did not have a cold bed and a cold wife in it.

  ‘The two men came in,’ she continued. ‘Normally, I keep the door locked, but for some reason, I had failed to do so.’

  ‘You assumed they were looking for you to arrange some women for them?’

  ‘Not at all. There is no sign on the door. That’s all strictly done online or by phone.’

  ‘Understood.’

  ‘They came in, polite and well-mannered. One sat where you are sitting now, the other one stood. It seemed as if he was there to intimidate. He succeeded. I felt very insecure, but I maintained my composure. I gave them coffee after they explained that they wanted to talk to me about a matter of the gravest seriousness. I was unsure what to think. There have been a few well-known clients over the year: one the son of a dictator in the Middle-East, although he was a gentleman.’

  ‘Did they introduce themselves?’

  ‘The one sitting said his name was Howard Stone. He even showed me a business card.’

  ‘Do you still have the card?’

  ‘He said it was his last one and would I mind if he kept it. The other one did not offer his name and apart from a few words, said little.’

  ‘How long were they here?’

  ‘About twenty minutes in total.’

  ‘What did they say that made you reveal Olivia’s details?’

  ‘They were both well-dressed, spoke with educated accents. If they had been looking for women, I don’t think I would have had too much trouble referring them to my girls.’

  ‘Not heavies, then?’

  ‘Heavies. If by that, you mean gangsters, then no.’

  ‘So, what did they say or do that scared you.’

  ‘The one sitting spoke calmly. He
told me that they represented some clients in town, influential clients, who were seriously disturbed that a senior member of society has been potentially embarrassed, personally compromised due to his involvement with one of my girls.’

  ‘Did they say who this senior member of society was?’

  ‘No, they were cagey when I asked.’

  ‘Who do you think they were talking about?’

  ‘I assumed it was a politician. The rich usually don’t care unless the wife is likely to take half the assets if their dalliances became public knowledge. The politicians always worry about their reputations.’

  ‘Has that happened in the past?’ Farhan asked.

  ‘It’s happened, although I was able to keep the woman I supplied out of the newspapers. Luckily, the wife came to a confidential agreement with her husband, so no more was said, at least to us.’

  ‘Let’s assume it a politician. What happened next?’

  ‘The one sitting down told me that it was imperative that this person remains free of any indiscretions.’

  ‘Did he say why?’

  ‘He would not elaborate. I told him that my girls were specially chosen for their discretion and that they would not speak to anyone, or cause trouble.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘His manner changed. He became surly, accused me of running a house of ill-repute, and his client would ensure that firstly, I would be out on the street where I belonged, letting any derelict fuck me for the price of a decent meal. Apologies for the bad language. I’m just repeating verbatim.’

  ‘No need to apologise.’

  ‘And secondly, he would ensure that my husband would be publicly disgraced as the consort of a whore. I could not allow that.’

  ‘You care that much about your husband?’ Farhan could not see his wife making such a statement. Marion Robertson, an escort, supplier of women for sex and in his society, a person to be condemned was more honourable than all those that professed piety. He liked the woman immeasurably.

  ‘I love him. He’s a good and kind man who accepts my peccadilloes with a forbearance that many would not.’