‘Detective Superintendent Goddard mentioned on the phone that there may be someone planted,’ MacTavish said.
‘A woman,’ Isaac said. ‘She’s close to the action, not involved in the murders.’
‘You feel she may be keeping her ear to the ground?’
‘Can you find out if that is the case?’
‘I can try. Do you want her to know we’re on to her?’
‘No, I don’t think so. It may only precipitate another action.’
‘Such as another murder?’ Richard Goddard asked.
‘It’s possible,’ Isaac said.
‘Marjorie Frobisher? Dead or alive?’ MacTavish asked. Isaac wasn’t sure what to say. He saw no reason to trust the man; no reason not to.
‘We believe she is alive.’
‘Then keep her that way. I don’t believe this government or any other government deserves to be in power when they condone murder as a solution.’
‘Is that what’s happened?’ Isaac asked.
‘A can of worms. Anything’s possible.’ Angus MacTavish said.
‘What about the plant?
I’ll check her out for you. May take a few days.’
‘Thank you,’ Isaac replied.
‘What do you reckon?’ Detective Superintendent Goddard asked as he and Isaac drove away.
‘He’s a politician. How would we know if he was telling us the truth?’
‘He could have just been spinning us a line.’
‘Exactly. We keep the news relating to Marjorie Frobisher to ourselves. I’d say she is as good as dead if we don’t find her first.’
‘And if we do?’
‘I’ve no idea. It’s not our function to protect people; our function is to catch murderers, prevent further murders.’
‘With Marjorie Frobisher, that amounts to the same thing.’
‘You’re right, but protect her from whom? Who can we trust?’
‘Nobody, Isaac. Nobody.’ Detective Superintendent Goddard summed up the situation succinctly.
Chapter 33
Farhan was not handling the situation well. On the one hand, he had a wife he did not love wanting a reconciliation, but still the mother of his children. He realised he had not been giving them the attention that they deserved recently. Not because he did not want to, but he was a serving policeman, and now the situation was intense. There had been two murders so far, and the number could rise. And then, there was Aisha, whom he did love, but could not meet, although he had made an exception when it looked as though her cover was about to be blown. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help himself.
He knew the right thing to do, but how? He had been married off in a loveless marriage to a cold and passionless woman as his culture dictated. Apart from Julie Goddard, a casual fling before he had married, he had slept with no other woman. That was until he had met with Aisha. One night in a hotel room with her and he knew he wanted to spend his life with her, but was it possible? He was a policeman, a fine policeman with a good future ahead of him, possibly a detective superintendent as some stage. Not the head of the Metropolitan Police; that seemed destined for Isaac, or, at least, after Richard Goddard had vacated the seat. Farhan knew full well that Isaac was heading to the top and even he was playing a risky game.
Isaac’s penchant for bedding attractive women never ceased to draw admiration from the men in the police force, but the head of such a fine establishment needed to be stable, with a stable family life.
Farhan knew that in time, Isaac would settle down and that he was equally at ease with the man on the street or someone in high office. Isaac had told him how the Government Chief Whip, Angus MacTavish, had acted towards him, magnanimous, friendly. Farhan had not been surprised; it happened all the time.
Farhan knew that he did not possess the innate of charm of Isaac. He knew he was not an unattractive man, but his features were not as easy to the eye. Sure, Julie Goddard had told him he had a good heart, and Aisha told him he was attractive and that beauty is more than skin-deep.
No doubt, they were correct. He did have a good heart, a need to help. Isaac did as well, but he had both the exterior beauty as well as in the inner goodness. No, Farhan admitted openly to himself, ‘I’ll be happy to make Detective Superintendent.’
He also knew that while the unresolved issue of his wife remained, and his involvement with a prostitute, let alone marrying her in due course stayed a possibility, his career was going nowhere.
With no clear direction on how to utilise his day, he phoned Aisha. The important case she had been working on had turned out successfully. The financial officer had been released on a technicality. At least that was the official verdict due to inadmissible evidence, not revealed.
She trusted Farhan well enough to tell him that both of the companies involved in his insider-trading fraud were playing the market themselves, and both were heavily avoiding tax through a complex number of trusts and shelf companies. The previous, almost certain guilty man, had made it clear that his appeal would reveal, clearly documented, proof of their criminal activities. According to Aisha, the man had kept the money, and, now cleared of any wrongdoing, intended to stay in the United Kingdom, even pay the taxes on his ill-gotten gains.
Farhan and Aisha arranged to meet later that day. Important issues to discuss, she said. They met at the same restaurant down by the river, ended up in the same bed. The important issue was that she wanted to be with him. Farhan had suspected as much when he had agreed to the meeting. His protestations at the folly of it, feebly attempted.
After their love-making, she explained the situation. Her career was looking good, her parents were pleased, always telling their extended family back in India as to how well their Aisha was doing. Also mentioning that she had a boyfriend, a senior man in the police force, a man going places.
‘I’m sorry. I had to tell them something. They’re still steeped in the traditions of the home country. They still believe in making a choice as to who I’ll spend my life with.’
‘Have you made that choice?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
‘I’m not sure about the senior policeman.’
‘You will be; I’m sure of it.’
‘I won’t be anything if this crime is not solved.’
‘Maybe I can help.’
‘I know we discussed this before, but how?’
‘A different perspective. I’m a criminal lawyer.’
‘A successful criminal lawyer now,’ he joked.
‘As you say, successful.’
It seemed strange to be conducting a discussion while they both sat on the bed naked, but neither cared. They were just glad of the opportunity to spend time together. He knew the trouble he would be if anyone found out that he had slept with her again. Murder enquiry or no murder enquiry, he would almost certainly be suspended, pending a disciplinary hearing. The only hope of redemption would be if he came up with a new take on the murders.
‘Can we come back to Sutherland?’ He was aware of her wish not to discuss the matter.
‘If you must.’
‘Someone was able to induce him to take a drink while he was naked.’
‘It can only be a woman.’
‘If it wasn’t either you or Olivia, then that leaves the woman who let you in.’
‘Christy?’
‘I wasn’t aware you knew her name.’
‘She introduced herself when we first met. Timid sort of woman. Just good manners, I assume.’
‘I’ve ruled her out,’ Farhan said.
‘Any reason?’
‘Motive, or at least a motive that would tie her in with Sally Jenkins.’
‘Are the two murders related?’
‘That would be the assumption. The disappearance of Marjorie Frobisher seems related as well.’
‘All three could be unrelated. Have you considered that?’
‘Initially, we did, but it seemed to be going nowhere.’
‘And now?
’
‘About the same. We believe Sutherland’s murderer to be a woman, purely because there is no sign of violence. Sally Jenkins, we’re not sure. She was naked, but that could have been a man. In fact, more likely to be a man. Probably someone she knew, but who? Her previous lover doesn’t seem to have a reason to kill her, and his alibi is cast-iron.’
‘Cast-iron, why do you say that?’
‘He was in bed with another woman.’
‘Proven?’
‘On her say-so?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you believe her? Maybe she’s protecting him out of some misguided loyalty, maybe love. The same as you’re protecting me.’
Farhan could see the reasoning. He would discuss with Isaac, failing to mention where the discussion was held. Maybe they should just focus on one murder at a time, treat it in isolation and not try to tie it in with the other.
It was eight in the evening when they left the hotel. Farhan back to a cold and miserable house, Aisha back to her proud parents. How she wished she had met such a good man, before she had become a prostitute, but then she would not have met him. How he wished he was free to make the choice he wanted to, but there were the children to consider, his culture to consider. He knew the road ahead was far from clear. At least, for tonight, he was pleased they had met, had made love, had discussed the case.
***
Isaac intended to meet with Richard Williams at the earliest opportunity, but he did not want to barge in and then find the man’s QC submitting a writ for police intimidation. It was best to wait until Wendy had found the missing woman.
Possibly then, he could knock on the door. Hopefully, talk to her, calm her fears and gain her confidence.
Bridget, as always, was pleased to see Wendy when she popped her head around the door. ‘What can I do for you?’ Some quick gossip and then down to work, cup of tea in one hand, a biscuit in the other. Wendy knew the cost of assistance would be a pub lunch washed down with a couple of strong drinks.
‘The woman’s somewhere. We need to find her and soon.’ There was no need to explain to Bridget as to which woman, Wendy was referring. The woman had occupied a large part of their gossip for days.
‘She could be in a hotel. Almost impossible to find,’ Bridget replied.
‘Let’s assume it’s not a hotel. Let’s work on the assumption it’s a property somewhere. We know where Williams lives; it’s not going to be there.’
‘Why?’ Bridget asked.
‘Too obvious. Besides, he needs somewhere to bring his women.’
‘Romancer, is he?’ Bridget, always eager for some salacious gossip.
‘Sugar daddy, more like.’
‘Flashes his money around?’
‘Ferrari. Gives them a good time. Mid-life crisis, although he should be passed that by now.’
‘Sounds my kind of guy,’ Bridget joked.
‘Unfortunately, you’re not his kind of woman.’ They knew each other well enough for Wendy to tease her.
‘Mature and experienced?’
‘Your skirt’s not short enough for one thing.’
‘And my breasts are not pert and upright, just dangling.’
‘We both suffer from that complaint. Let’s get back to Williams.’
The joking over, both women focussed on the task. Wendy felt sure the woman was ensconced in a property somewhere. It would be comfortable and secure.
‘If she’s not at his house, then maybe he has other properties, flats he rents out. Can you find them?’ Wendy suggested.
‘I can search the records.’
The results of two hours searching and a pub lunch identified three properties: a house in Twickenham, a flat down near Canary Wharf and another flat not far from Hackney. Wendy relayed the news to Isaac; she would check them the next day.
***
Isaac, severely angry with Farhan, did not mince his words. ‘How many times you’ve been told to keep away from this woman. If you’re seen, it’s the end of your career, mine as well. And what about our boss?’
‘You’re not going to tell him, are you?’
‘Not unless I have to,’ Isaac replied. It was good that their office was well-enough insulated for his voice not to travel. He was not a man given to anger, rarely a raised voice, but Farhan’s admission that he had met with Aisha again, this time clearly in public had upset him greatly.
He had gone out on a limb to protect him. Even asked their boss the last time to keep it to a severe verbal reprimand, not to put anything in writing. If it turned out, that the woman was involved in the murder? Isaac shuddered at the thought of the repercussions.
He knew that Farhan had led a sheltered life; no seducing the willing females in his later years at school and then sowing his oats after a night down the pub. Farhan, he realised was easy prey to an experienced woman with no inhibitions about initiating sexual congress.
‘How am I going to protect you?’ Isaac continued. ‘Look, you’re a fine policeman, and we work well as a team, but meeting with this woman again. I thought we agreed that you were going to talk to her, ask her to leave the country.’
‘I did meet with her, but she wants to stay.’
‘They’ll find her eventually; you know that?’
‘We both know that.’
‘Both, do you mean you and her?’
‘Yes.’
‘This is going to end badly. She has to disappear if you want to protect her.’
‘She has just been involved in a prominent legal case. Only as the junior, but the man got off: inadmissible evidence. She’s elated; she wants to stay.’
‘She may be the most brilliant legal mind in the country, but she’s also a prostitute – sold herself for sex. Do you think there is any chance for her? Her past history will surface. If not now, at some stage in the future. These things can’t stay hidden forever. She must know that.’
‘We both know that?’
‘Have you been sleeping with her again?’ Isaac asked, quickly adding. ‘Don’t tell me. It’s better if you don’t answer that question.’
‘She’s a smart woman; she had some ideas.’
‘You’ve been discussing the case with her?’
‘She was indirectly involved in one of the murders. It’s hardly discussing, more like questioning.’
‘At least that’s true. What did she have to say, your girlfriend?’ Isaac ventured some humour. Farhan chose not to respond. Of course, Isaac was right, but in the case of Aisha, Farhan knew his judgement was clouded. It was even making the decision relating to his estranged wife and his children difficult.
‘We’re assuming that the murders and the disappearance of Marjorie Frobisher are related.’
‘What else do we have?’ Isaac asked.
‘According to Aisha, what if we are wrong? What if they are unrelated?’
‘It’s a possibility, but how do we ascertain that?’
‘Instead of trying to make the connection, we isolate them totally from each other.’
‘Sutherland’s death could be unrelated, but Sally Jenkins? Why would anyone kill her?’
‘Other than she knew something about the missing woman?’
‘I suppose so,’ Isaac replied.
‘What if there was no missing woman? How would we approach the case of Sally Jenkins?’ Farhan asked.
‘We would look for a motive; for someone who had a reason to want her dead.’
‘She wasn’t raped.’
‘And not a break-in that went wrong, judging by the condition of where she lived.’
‘So, it must have been someone she knew.’ Isaac said.
‘DI Hill, the crime scene officer, is intimating that someone had come in the front door and that the break-in may have been a subterfuge.’
‘Only Richard Williams had a key.’
‘But why would he want to murder her? And, anyway, he was in bed with Linda Harris?’
‘She’s an unknown,’ Isaac admitted.
/> ‘What do you mean? I know you have your suspicions, even took her out for a meal. What was your intent there, professional or personal?’
‘Both, I suppose, but she’s not involved. At least, I assume she’s not. She was not around when Marjorie Frobisher disappeared, nor when Sutherland was murdered.’
‘So, that means she’s innocent of all crimes?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Isaac admitted.
‘Why do you say that?’
‘What do we know about her?’
‘We are aware she’s working for Williams, sleeping with him.’
‘I asked MacTavish to check her out.’
‘And…’
‘I’m still waiting for his reply.’
‘Did you fancy her?’ Farhan asked.
‘At first.’
‘And after?’
‘She became upset when I started probing. The evening ended badly.’
‘What about the other woman? Are you still in contact?’
‘Not for some time. It may be a good idea to maintain contact seeing that she’s a witness.’
‘And potential plaything?’ Farhan jested.
‘So far, I’ve managed to keep it under control. I’m not the lothario that you are, obviously.’
‘You know we’d both be in trouble if Richard Goddard found out.’
‘I’ve not done anything wrong yet,’ Isaac regrettably announced.
‘Would you have slept with Linda Harris if your night had turned out differently?’
‘Probably.’
‘What do we really now about Linda Harris?’ Farhan asked.
‘I think she’s a fellow government employee.’
‘And if she is?’
‘Then she’s clear of any involvement in the murders?’
‘I’m not certain she is.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘If she’s willing to indulge in sexual relations with a man, purely because it’s her job, what is she capable of?’
Isaac had to agree, disturbed that a woman he almost slept with, probably would if the opportunity presented itself again, was clearly a person who regarded fidelity and common decency as a disposable quantity. She was no better than the two woman who had sold themselves to Charles Sutherland.
Murder is a Tricky Business (DCI Cook Thriller Series Book 1) Page 29