Luck and Judgement: A DC Smith Investigation

by Peter Grainger

  ‘Obviously not. I have already said that I have had no contact with him at all. It is possible that he had recognized me, of course, and tried to use that to his advantage. Though I have no idea where he might have seen me before he went onto the platform.’

  Smith said, ‘Yes, I’d thought of that, and I’d go along with it if it were not for all the other things.’

  ‘Other things, sergeant?’

  Smith shrugged and looked a little bemused.

  ‘To be honest, sir, it’s difficult to know where to begin.’

  He seemed to make up his mind, though, and leafed through the open folder until he had the right page. McFarlane’s eyes went there too, but Smith knew that the print was too small and dense for him to read upside down.

  ‘Do you recall making a visit to the Eastern Shires Building Society on Monday the 10th of March, sir?’

  Surprise for the first time, which McFarlane then smoothed into an appropriately puzzled smile, as he answered that he did. Smith confirmed with him the amount that had been taken out in cash, commenting that four thousand pounds was a sizeable sum.

  ‘Well, sergeant, eighteenth birthday presents do not come cheap.’

  ‘It’s a while since I had to buy one. Please tell us what you did with the money. We have a very good reason for asking.’

  It was for Alicia, his niece, his brother’s daughter. He and his brother had agreed to go halves to buy her a car for her eighteenth. McFarlane had driven down to Northampton and given his brother the money the day after he had taken it out. When Smith asked why he had not simply carried out a bank transfer, the answer was ready – his brother had made an excellent deal, in a hurry and for cash; McFarlane said that he hoped that that didn’t mean anything illegal had been done.

  ‘What does your brother do, sir?’

  ‘He’s a financial advisor.’

  ‘I see. And naturally he will confirm everything you have just told us.’

  There was no doubt of that – they all knew it. McFarlane asked what any of that had to do with James Bell.

  Smith said, ‘That’s a very good question. Just before he disappeared, Bell came into a sum of money. He gave some of it to his wife, and some to his father, and some of it was stolen from him. We can account for most of it, though. We reckon it amounted to about four thousand pounds.’

  In the silence they could hear the faint humming of the fan in the recorder, and voices far-off in the building.

  Reeve continued, ‘The really odd thing, Donald, is this. Because the money was in new notes, we were able to trace it. The cash that James Bell gave away and spent, and the cash that was stolen from him, passed over the counter of the same branch of the Eastern Shires Building Society that you visited, on or about Monday the 10th of March.’

  Now they were both looking at him intently.

  McFarlane said, ‘I don’t know what I can say to help you. It is odd but there aren’t that many banks and building societies in the town when you think about it. I didn’t spend any of the money in Lake, it all went to Northampton-’

  Smith said, ‘Don’t worry, sir, we will follow that up, see if we can find any of it, just for your peace of mind.’

  McFarlane’s lips tightened into a small smile.

  ‘And you say that some of this money was stolen from him? Was this before he disappeared from the platform?’

  ‘As it happens, we don’t think so. We believe that it was taken after Mr Bell was attacked in his flat. During this attack he sustained injuries which led to his death shortly afterwards – the money was taken at that point.’

  Smith’s delivery of this had been matter-of-fact, as if he had been giving details of a minor traffic offence. McFarlane looked at both of the detectives in front of him, frowning.

  ‘Attacked? I don’t understand. How did he get onto the platform, if…’

  ‘He didn’t, sir. His id tag did, and one or two small personal items – someone went to a lot of trouble to make us all believe that he was there, but he never left his flat alive.’

  Another pause, one which had to be well-judged; too long and the suspect appears to admit guilt by their inability or unwillingness to speak – too short and they seem to be giving prepared responses without really listening to what they have just been told. McFarlane timed it to perfection.

  ‘Are you sure this isn’t some kind of joke, sergeant?’

  ‘We like to think we have a sense of humour – but it doesn’t extend to making up stories about violent attacks that lead to death, depriving a woman of her husband and a daughter of her father, sir.’

  ‘You say that you believe this is what happened. Based on what, if I may ask?’

  Reeve said, ‘Based on good forensic evidence, and a full confession from one of the men involved.’

  ‘You say that he died? What happened to – where is he? The-’

  ‘The body, sir?’

  Smith was wearing his full and most helpful smile as he interrupted. Depending on one’s point of view, the interviewee had just made his first tiny mistake – they had given no indication as to whether or not they now had the body of James Bell but McFarlane’s question might imply that he knew they could not or should not have found it.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘The men involved disposed of the body quite effectively. Lots of people are under the misapprehension that without a body, there can be no trial but that’s a mistake. And now that one of them has admitted what they did, again supported by the forensic evidence, it’s a formality, really.’

  ‘An extraordinary story. And you say he was killed for the money in his flat?’

  ‘Oh no, sir. We don’t think that was the motive at all.’

  Reeve turned over another page in her folder before she spoke.

  ‘As I was saying earlier, Donald, James Bell seems to have links to you that you seem to have been quite unaware of. Let’s move on to more of those. Can you tell me when you last visited the private members’ club in Silver Street, Kings Lake, known as Velvet?’

  It was impossible to know exactly how much Marian McFarlane had told her husband since the interview at their house; Smith had decided to work on the assumption that she would by now have told him everything. Even so, and though he must have been prepared for that question, it made him more uncomfortable than any they had asked before it. This was the most dangerous area for McFarlane, and they all knew it – if he was going to win the most-dissembling-suspect-of-the-year award, it would be in the next few minutes.

  ‘I do not see why you are asking questions about my private life.’

  Smith said, ‘That’s easy enough to explain, sir. James Bell was a member as well.’

  ‘I am not a member.’

  ‘And we haven’t said that you are. Inspector Reeve asked when you last visited the club, that’s all.’

  ‘But when you said “as well” just now, you were implying that-’

  He stopped himself, aware that his own temper had caught him off-guard. The detective sergeant was looking at him expectantly, and the eyes that did so were cold and acute, almost predatory – they were not at all the eyes of the bumbling, rather shabby policeman who had sat in his office less than a fortnight ago, asking irrelevant questions and more interested, it seemed, in a good cup of coffee than the disappearance of a roustabout.

  Smith saw him re-grouping and frowned.

  ‘Mr McFarlane – you are aware that we have already interviewed your wife?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Only she was very forthcoming, if you see what I mean. We believe that she told us everything that she knows about this matter, and I was just assuming that she had told you what she had told us – if that’s not a bit too convoluted. So, we’ll go to the bottom line – when did you find out that your wife was having an affair with James Bell?’

  ‘About an hour after she told you that she was. She telephoned me, and asked me to come home from the office. I did so, and she told me what had happene
d.’

  Reeve said, ‘Did you know that she was having an affair with someone, Donald?’

  ‘Yes. But “affair” is the wrong word.’

  Smith said, ‘Is it? We’re not here to judge you, Mr McFarlane, that’ll be someone else’s job, but I do like a bit of etymology. What’s the right word for it?’

  There was something highly irritating about the sergeant now, something almost jaunty, and the questions felt more and more like left jabs flicked out into his face, landing on the same spot time after time and beginning to sting.

  ‘They had a sexual relationship, that’s all. “Affair” suggests something underhand and secretive – the whole point about an adult club is to make it not like that but to be open about people’s needs.’

  ‘Ah, yes, open. That’s what Marian said about your marriage – an open marriage. Your wife is regular a visitor to the Velvet club, isn’t she?’

  McFarlane was certain to see the question as a jibe, as mocking his masculinity in some way, and Smith left it hanging in the silence. How far should he go? He could wound the man on the other side of the desk time and again, he could do it easily, and he was aware that he wanted to do so – for at least two reasons. He didn’t like the man very much, and the more he questioned him, the more he disliked him. But beyond that was his knowledge that McFarlane had only to keep his nerve and be a little lucky, and he would get away with what he had done to James Bell, to Lucy Bell and to Leah Bell. Smith knew that this knowledge was making him angry enough to affect his own judgement, and that might ruin the small chance they had of charging McFarlane with what he had done. And so he drew back, and looked at Alison Reeve.

  She said, ‘I hope that you can see why we had to speak to you, Donald. We have to look for motives in any crime, but especially so when someone is violently assaulted, as James Bell was. Your wife was in a relationship with him, and it’s pointless bandying words about what sort of relationship that was – we’re all adults here. But that does give you a motive, doesn’t it – it gave you a reason to have Mr Bell threatened and then attacked? It went too far, there was a freak injury and he died as a result. I have to put these things to you. Is that what happened?’

  ‘Some of it might be – but how should I know? It was not until yesterday that I knew of their relationship, when my wife told me that she had met him. How could I have had him threatened and attacked when I didn’t even know who he was, let alone where? I accept, inspector, that you are only doing your job, but the idea is absurd.’

  McFarlane paused and looked at them, and then he even glanced up at the camera.

  ‘And you say someone has confessed? You have him in custody, obviously. Ask this person if he has any connection to me. Perhaps you already have. I can only assume that the answer was no, or I would have heard about it by now.’

  Well, thought Smith, they don’t pay you ninety grand a year for nothing. McFarlane had worked it all out some time ago, and he had rehearsed that little speech or something like it plenty of times.

  Smith said, ‘Oh, I’m sorry, sir – we should have made it clear. We have two people in custody now but only one of them has owned up to it yet.’

  McFarlane could not have known that Aves had been re-arrested but little could be read into the surprise that he showed.

  ‘Two of them? Well, ask them both the same question. Do either of them have any connection to me? Is anyone saying that I was in any way involved?’

  Smith looked across to Alison Reeve, and she nodded.

  He said, ‘As it happens, the answers to your first question is yes – one of the people that we have in custody has a clear connection to you.’

  Another silence as the company man went through the pantomimes of first surprise and then puzzlement – who could it possibly be? In the end he simply shook his head.

  Smith said, ‘Could you tell us about your relationship with Stuart Aves, sir?’

  ‘You are not suggesting… That is beyond absurd, inspector.’

  He had known, he said, Stuart Aves for a little over two years. Aves had taken over from the previous head of security about a year into the contract, and had done a much better job. As he talked, McFarlane stopped periodically to tell them again that he did not believe for a moment that Aves had anything to do with all this. When asked whether they would find Aves’ phone number on his mobile, McFarlane offered it up immediately, saying yes, of course they would, and when asked when was the last time that he called it, he said that he honestly had no idea but it wasn’t recently.

  Smith said, ‘The security contract is up for renewal, isn’t it? How much say do you have in that?’

  ‘It isn’t my decision, sergeant.’

  ‘With respect, sir, that isn’t what I asked, is it?’

  It was fairly obvious to both of them by now that they had long passed the point of sending each other Christmas cards. McFarlane’s sigh was an impatient rather than a wistful one.

  ‘Obviously I am consulted about how I see security in the day-to-day running of the platform.’

  ‘And I imagine that your word would carry a lot of weight then, sir.’

  ‘Imagine what you will, sergeant – I would not know how to measure it.’

  ‘Have you discussed the contract’s renewal with Stuart Aves?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Has he tried to discuss it with you?’

  ‘No.’

  The curt answers made it clear that the man in front of them now was not the smiling, slightly puzzled but more than willing to help citizen of an hour ago. Reeve made a note of the time on her pad, and Smith knew that she was going to end this soon – and he knew how she was going to end it as well.

  He said to McFarlane, ‘One more thing, sir. On the evening of Saturday the 15th of March, you went to a Rotarians’ dinner?’

  ‘Yes. Good God, don’t tell me you think they are involved as well.’

  ‘Was it a long-standing engagement, sir?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, I imagine these things are known about months in advance, aren’t they?’

  ‘Yes, obviously.’

  Smith looked into the notebook for one last time.

  ‘In that case – why did you only invite your wife to go with you on the Saturday afternoon? If you had known about the dinner for months? Why leave it so late?’

  ‘I honestly cannot remember. I expect that I thought she would prefer it to sitting at home in front of the television.’

  Smith’s smile was a sad one, as he closed the Alwych.

  ‘But that’s not what she had planned for the evening. She told us that. She was going to meet James Bell before you, at the very last minute, asked her to accompany you to a Rotary Club dinner.’

  McFarlane also knew that they were close to the end of the interview. He shifted his weight a little in the seat.

  ‘Obviously I could not have known that at the time. But I will say this, sergeant. Despite your assumptions about people who lead lives different to your own, my wife is an excellent one. She is supportive and loyal. Without her, I would not be where I am today.’

  Smith looked around the interview room, and then back at McFarlane.

  ‘I don’t doubt that for a moment, sir.’

  Chapter Twenty Six

  “And remember, two out of three isn’t bad!’

  That was the culmination of Superintendent Allen’s congratulatory pep-talk to the assembled team of detectives in the incident room at nine thirty the following morning. As ever, it was followed by a short and awkward silence before Alison Reeve thanked him, and he left the room.

  Half an hour earlier, Allen had quizzed the two of them about the strength of the case against Aves, who had continued to deny any involvement despite the disclosure of further forensic evidence and the likelihood of more to come. In a jury trial, one can never be certain of the outcome, and much depends on the quality of the defence team – Smith said then that he had suspicions that the defence team
in this case would be a strong one. Allen had asked why. Smith had said that with a solicitor like Christine Archer, it was unlikely that they would get a soft barrister; he also then said openly to the two senior detectives what had been in his mind from the moment that he saw that solicitor through the interview room door – that there had been a promise made to Aves that if things went badly, he would be taken care of in return for his silence.

  Allen had said, ‘Really, Smith? You think that Donald McFarlane has that sort of criminal mind? That he planned this whole thing as meticulously as that?’

  ‘Yes, I do, sir.’

  Allen had considered it.

  ‘Well, I suppose it is not inconceivable… But there is no evidence at all. I know that you will check out all that he told you in the interview but unless something concrete turns up, we cannot pursue McFarlane. I want that fully understood. In the past there have been occasions when you have used the tactic of, what do you call it – getting in people’s faces – but there is no call for it here. Of course, if Aves does change his story, that’s a different matter.’

  ‘He won’t, sir, if I’m right about a deal being made.’

  Alison Reeve had said, ‘What makes you so certain, DC?’

  ‘If he sticks with his innocent plea, he cannot name anyone else. A good barrister might stay with that almost to the trial and then advise a late change of plea. But by that point, Aves would not be able to do any sort of deal, not enough to affect a likely sentence if he’s found guilty. My guess is that it will reduce to manslaughter, and a good QC will focus attention on Wood as the low-life, career criminal. It will be one’s word against the other as to what happened in the bathroom, if Aves does plead in the end. Aves might do a few years, that’s all.’

  Allen had said, ‘For a policeman, you don’t have much faith in our criminal justice system, do you, Smith?’

  ‘On the contrary, sir, I do – I think it’s the best in the world. But I don’t have much faith in the people involved in it today.’

  ‘Well, I have to say I think that’s a pretty fine distinction.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  When Allen left the room, the tension disappeared. Smith found a ten pound note in his pocket and sent Waters down to the canteen; John Murray went with him, saying that he wanted to take a picture of the tray of drinks for Maggie – there was no way she would believe him otherwise. When Waters returned, they all sat and talked for twenty minutes, half about the case and half not, relaxed, chatty, even Serena Butler, who now seemed to have a regular seat next to Mike Dunn. The sergeant in charge will need to keep a weather eye on that one, thought Smith, acknowledging again to himself that after this afternoon, it might not be him. At the end of the twenty minutes, neither he nor Reeve had to get them back to work. They all knew that the investigation was not over, that days of paperwork lay ahead, and that there were still lines of inquiry to pursue. Waters asked first what he should do next.