by Paul Gitsham
Leon Grime looked decidedly impatient when he was led into the interview room. After the formalities had been completed, Tony Sutton and Moray Ruskin got down to business.
‘We’ve had the results back from the DNA test on the blood that we found in your car,’ started Sutton. ‘It seems that you are correct and that it is your blood.’
Grime smiled and leaned back his arms folded. ‘Good, can I go now?’
‘Not just yet,’ said Sutton. ‘We have a few more questions that we wish to ask you.’
Grime gave a big sigh. ‘Fine, whatever. Can we just get on with it?’
‘What were you doing on the evening of Thursday the 24th of November?’ asked Ruskin.
‘I’ve told you before, I ain’t got nothing to say about that night,’ said Grime.
‘You were first arrested on Saturday the 3rd of December,’ said Ruskin. ‘Where did you go when you left here the following morning?’
‘Straight back to bed for a kip.’ Grime’s voice was aggressive.
‘Any witnesses?’
‘Just my wife. Ask her.’
‘And how long were you there for?’ asked Sutton.
Grime gave a shrug. ‘Until I went to work the next morning.’
Ruskin looked over at Sutton. ‘He’s right, Sir. According to his mobile phone records, he never left home.’
Grime smirked. ‘There you are.’
Sutton looked at his notes and frowned. ‘And you definitely didn’t leave the house until the following morning?’
‘Nope. Stayed in with the missus, watched a bit of telly, had something decent to eat and got an early night.’
‘Do you have a brother, Mr Grime?’ asked Ruskin.
Grime blinked. ‘No, I had a sister but she died years ago. Car accident.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Sutton. ‘Do you have kids?’
‘No. Look, what is this all about?’ asked Grime.
‘I’m beginning to wonder that myself,’ interrupted the solicitor.
Sutton ignored him. ‘So, if you were at home and you don’t have any siblings or kids, who was it that was down your allotment on Sunday morning, about an hour after you left the station?’
Grime opened his mouth, before closing it again. After a few seconds he tried again. ‘That’s nonsense. I never went anywhere near my allotment that day.’
‘Are you sure? We have a witness that saw you.’
Grime’s right eye twitched. An interesting tell that Sutton noted for future reference.
‘They must be confused.’ He licked his lips. ‘You’ve seen them up there, coffin dodgers the lot of them. Reckon they haven’t got a clue what day of the week it is half the time.’
‘The witness was pretty confident about the day,’ said Ruskin. ‘He asked if you’d watched the match the night before.’ He looked at Grime. ‘Your old man was a Chelsea fan, wasn’t he? That’s why you’ve always supported them, even when you lived in Newcastle. Three-one against Man City; he was surprised you’d missed it, but you couldn’t really tell him that we don’t have Sky TV in the custody suite.’
Grime’s eye twitched again.
‘So, what was so urgent about your allotment that you needed to race down there, barely an hour after a night in the cells, leaving your phone at home?’ asked Sutton.
Grime was silent for a few seconds. ‘No comment,’ he said eventually.
‘Well whatever it was, it didn’t seem to involve much gardening,’ said Ruskin. ‘According to our witness, you were there for less than ten minutes. What was it you were doing?’
‘No comment.’
‘What did you take away in that blue sports bag he saw you with?’ asked Sutton.
‘No comment,’ repeated Grime.
‘Well, I’m sure we’ll figure out what it is sooner or later,’ said Sutton. ‘You’d be amazed how sensitive the noses are of those sniffer dogs.’
Grime swallowed but said nothing.
‘More importantly,’ said Sutton, ‘what did you bring in that bag?’
‘No comment,’ said Grime.
Sutton opened the folder on the desk next to him and took out a series of colour images. He pushed them across the table, one by one, as he drove his point across.
‘Do you recognise these, Leon?’
Grime looked at the picture in front of him and shook his head. ‘No, I’ve never seen them before.’
‘Really? They were hidden between the water butt and the wall of your shed.’
‘I told you, I’ve never seen them before.’
‘Are you sure? This was the hoodie that Anish Patel was wearing the night he was murdered. The same hoodie that somebody other than Anish was wearing the morning after he was killed.’
‘No, I’ve never seen it,’ said Grime, shaking his head violently.
Sutton passed over another picture. ‘These were also found at the scene. We’ve taken imprints of the keys and they match Anish’s flat.’ He pushed another picture across the table. ‘And this wallet belonged to Anish. There’s no money in it, but as you can see it contains his driving licence and his credit cards.’
‘No, no, no,’ Grime was shaking violently. ‘I’ve never seen them before. They’ve nothing to do with me.’
‘These jeans and shoes match those that he was wearing that night,’ said Ruskin. Grime continued shaking his head.
Sutton placed a final photograph on the table, this one a composite of two images.
‘What about this grey backpack? Everything else was inside it.’
He pointed to a black logo on the rear of the bag, then pointed to a similar looking logo on the one slung across Patel’s shoulder as he entered the hotel lobby. ‘It looks very much like the bag that Anish Patel used for overnight hotel stays.’
Grime turned to his solicitor. ‘Can’t you do something? They planted that evidence.’
‘Now why would we do that, Leon?’ asked Sutton.
‘I don’t fucking know, do I?’ shouted Grime.
‘OK, calm down, Leon,’ said Sutton.
‘No, I won’t fucking calm down. This is a stitch-up. You’ve just decided to pin it on the ex-con. You’ve looked at my record and thought, I know, he’s got form. He’s spent time inside. No need to bother looking any further.’
Grime had turned an alarming shade of red and was breathing heavily.
‘Perhaps a break would be a good idea,’ suggested Sutton, beating the solicitor to it by seconds.
‘Why, so you have time to plant more evidence?’ Grime started to stand up and Sutton braced himself.
‘Sit back down, Leon,’ ordered Ruskin getting to his feet. At six feet five inches, he towered over the handyman.
Grime dropped back into his chair, but Sutton could see that it wasn’t because he was intimidated by Ruskin’s size.
‘Shit,’ he muttered, jumping to his own feet. ‘Somebody get a first-aider in here,’ he shouted towards the video link.
This was not how they wanted the interview to end.
‘Looks like it was a panic attack, rather than anything more serious,’ said Warren as he passed Sutton a glass of water. Sutton nodded his thanks.
‘But what about you?’
‘I’m good,’ said Sutton, the colour having finally returned to his face.
‘Are you sure you don’t want to go home?’ asked Warren.
‘I said I’m fine,’ snapped Sutton. He took a sip of his water. ‘Sorry, didn’t mean to be rude.’
Warren perched on the end of his desk. He’d been friends with Sutton too long to let it go at that.
‘Your hands were shaking, and you were grey by the time we got down to the interview suite. Poor Moray didn’t know who to go to first,’ said Warren.
‘It’s nothing. Seriously, I just got a bit excited is all,’ he stuck out his arm. ‘Feel my pulse, steady as a rock.’
‘I know, I spoke to Sergeant Subramanian after she checked you over,’ Warren waited until Sutton met his eyes. ‘
No bullshit, Tony, it’s just us in here. How are you really?’
Sutton leaned back in his chair. ‘I’m OK, really I am. The pills keep my blood pressure and pulse rate down, and sometimes that makes me a little light-headed,’ his voice strengthened. ‘It’s nothing I can’t handle. I had a check-up less than a month ago, and my consultant told me to just take it easy. No running around, light exercise only, try not to get too stressed.’ He raised a hand to stall Warren. ‘She’s not worried, so I’m not worried. And neither should you be.’
Warren looked at him for a long moment, before finally nodding. ‘OK, we’ll play it your way. But for Christ’s sake, if you are feeling ill, stop and take some time out.’
Unbidden, the memory of Sutton collapsing, his tongue flopping around and his eyes rolling sprang to mind. Felled by a mini-stroke as they chased after a serial killer, Warren still felt that he’d let his friend down, even though there was nothing he could have done. He pushed the image away, although he suspected it would make an unwelcome return in his dreams that night.
‘Well I’ll say one thing, that panic attack put the kybosh on our questioning,’ said Sutton.
‘Yeah, hell of a reaction,’ mused Warren.
‘We had him by the bollocks. He’s looking at a long stretch inside,’ said Sutton.
‘Yeah. Maybe,’ said Warren.
Sutton eyed him carefully. ‘You don’t sound convinced.’
Warren gave a sigh. ‘We’re a long way from closing this. If nothing else, he can’t have been acting alone; it would probably have taken at least two people to manoeuvre Anish’s body in and out of the boot of his car, and who went to his flat to send those text messages from Anish’s phone? A phone that is still unaccounted for? We’ve got CCTV and witness statements that place Grime at work when the texts were sent.’
‘Well, we thought that anyway,’ said Sutton. ‘There were two sets of shoeprints at the dumping site.’
‘So, who has he teamed up with?’
Sutton thought for a moment. ‘I suspect we won’t know that until we figure out a motive.’
‘Exactly. And why kill him at the Easy Break Hotel, wrap him in a sheet and use his own tools to mutilate him? That just leads us back to where he works.’
‘True, it’s shitting in your own nest,’ said Sutton. ‘But you’d think if he was innocent, he’d be falling over himself to tell us what he was doing that night.’
‘Which brings us back to Anish’s brothers,’ said Warren. ‘What the hell were they doing that means they left their phones at home so they couldn’t be tracked? Is it too much of a coincidence that both they and Grime are lying about their whereabouts that night? How are they linked?’
‘Maybe his family aren’t involved,’ said Sutton. ‘They’re arseholes, and clearly up to something, but maybe it is just a coincidence?’
‘In which case, what’s Grime’s motive?’ asked Warren. ‘We know that he removed something from that shed of his, but whatever it was, it only half-filled a gym bag.’
‘In which case, the obvious conclusion is drugs,’ said Sutton. ‘A few tightly wrapped bricks of cocaine or heroin would not only be worth a few grand, he’d be in a whole heap of trouble if we’d found them, and not just from us. I doubt he’s at the top of the totem pole.’
‘Which makes more sense,’ said Warren. ‘If Anish and his brothers were shifting drugs through the hotel and got greedy, then there’s no way those above Grime are going to let that go.’
‘But there’s more bothering you, isn’t there?’ said Sutton.
‘Yeah. And when Leon Grime’s ready to be interviewed again, it should be the first question his solicitor asks.’
Sutton though for a second. ‘He’ll want to know why, if Grime had the presence of mind to go and remove whatever dodgy gear was stashed in that shed, he left a bag containing Anish’s belongings where it could be easily found?’
Chapter 34
Manoj Patel, and his wife, Lavanya, were brought to Middlesbury station separately, having both been picked up from their places of work. The officers that fetched them were careful not to allow the couple to contact each other, although they allowed Lavanya to call her sister-in-law, Reva Vasava, to arrange childcare for later.
To minimise any chance of the two brothers getting their stories straight, DSI Grayson had persuaded Cambridgeshire police to make a couple of their interview suites available for Jaidev Patel and his wife, Kamala. Warren had despatched Richardson and a small team to see if either of them were willing to shed light on the brothers’ Thursday night outing.
Not wanting a repeat of his previous encounter with Manoj, Warren delegated David Hutchinson and Moray Ruskin to interview him, and assigned Rachel Pymm and Karen Hardwick to speak to his wife. Both interview suites were fitted with video feeds and Warren settled down with the team to watch the interviews in the briefing room.
The first to be interviewed was Lavanya Patel.
‘Thank you for attending today, Lavanya,’ started Pymm.
Patel looked nervous.
‘Why am I here? The kids will be wondering where I am.’
‘We won’t keep you any longer than necessary,’ said Pymm, in a tone that managed to sound both reassuring and firm.
Pymm opened her notebook. ‘You spoke previously to my colleague, DC Hardwick.’
Patel nodded. Hardwick smiled politely.
‘We’re just trying to clear up a few details from that interview,’ continued Pymm, ‘now that you’ve had a chance to think about things.’
She let the statement hang in the air. Patel swallowed.
‘You told me that Thursday the 24th of November, your husband, Manoj, was at work during the day and then home for the evening,’ said Hardwick, consulting her own notes.
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘What time does Manoj finish work typically?’
Patel paused for a moment. ‘Usually he works from about nine until half past five.’
‘He works at the Everyday Essentials on Perry Road?’
‘Yes, he’s the manager.’
‘I see. So he closes the shop and comes home at about five-thirty?’
‘No, the shop is open until ten. We have a sales assistant who works there in the evening. Manoj gets home between five-thirty and six.’
‘And that’s it for the evening?’
‘Yes. Manoj keeps his phone on in case there are any problems. It’s only a ten-minute drive.’
‘What about the Thursday night? Was that a normal evening?’ asked Pymm.
‘Yes, I’d say so.’
‘I know it’s some time ago, but can you remember what you did when Manoj got home that evening?’
‘I don’t know. I guess we had dinner, then bathed the boys and put them to bed.’
Patel took a sip of water.
‘And what then? What time do you go to bed?’
‘Look, what is this about?’
‘We’re just trying to get a feel for what happened that night, Lavanya. It helps us build a timeline.’
Pymm’s tone was reassuring, but it was clear that Patel was uncomfortable.
‘We go to bed between ten and eleven, I guess. Sometimes we watch a movie.’ She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘We have two small children, our days of late-night partying are behind us.’
Pymm returned the smile. ‘I remember it well.’ She leaned forward. ‘Trust me, in a few years you’ll be glad that you know where they are and what they’re doing.’
‘So, neither of you went out again that evening?’ asked Hardwick.
Patel paused and took another sip of water. ‘No, hang on. Manoj popped back out to the shop. We got a call; the till was playing up. He nipped over to reset it.’
Upstairs, Warren clapped Sutton on the back. ‘Excellent, she’s starting to panic. She’s making lies up on the spot, she won’t be able to keep her story straight.’
Back in the interview suite, Pymm and Hardwick sensed
the shift. Pymm decided to give her a little more rope to play with.
‘How annoying, does that happen very often?’ she asked.
‘Now and again.’
‘I’ll bet it happened right in the best part of the film, that’s usually the way,’ commiserated Hardwick.
‘Yeah, I had to pause it whilst he was gone,’ said Patel, her shoulders relaxing slightly.
‘How long did you have to wait?’ asked Hardwick.
‘Umm, not long. Twenty or thirty minutes, I suppose. I loaded the washing machine and the dishwasher and made the boys’ lunches. Saves a bit of time in the morning.’
‘And he took his own car?’
‘Yes, his is parked in front of mine on the drive.’
‘What film were you watching?’ asked Hardwick.
‘Err. Something on Netflix,’ said Patel. ‘Some Bollywood musical, you probably wouldn’t know it,’ she added hastily.
‘You’re probably right,’ said Pymm, turning over a page in her notepad. ‘The sales assistant at the shop – her name’s Kelly, I believe?’
‘Uhm, yes, I think so.’
‘It’s strange, because we had a chat with her, and she didn’t mention Manoj coming back to work Thursday night.’
Patel swallowed again. ‘She must have forgotten. It happens all the time.’
‘I thought you said it only happened “now and again”,’ said Hardwick.
Patel glanced down at the table. ‘I guess she must have been confused. Not a lot happens in the shop in the evening, it’s pretty boring. She probably got her days muddled up.’
Pymm carefully placed her notepad on the desk. She looked squarely at the woman in front of her, the woman now picking at a loose thread on her sleeve and tapping her foot on the floor.
‘OK, Lavanya, time to stop playing games. We know that your husband’s car returned to the house at 17:49. It then left three hours later and didn’t return until five past two. One or both of you were out of the house the night that Anish was killed. I want to know which of you left that night, where you went and what you were doing.’
Patel’s eyes were starting to shine.
‘Did Manoj go out that night?’ asked Hardwick, her tone softer than Pymm’s.
Patel’s lower lip trembled and she shook her head slightly. Whether it was a denial, or she didn’t want to speak, was unclear.