by Paul Gitsham
Grime continued to stare at the table. Eventually he spoke, his voice low and scratchy.
‘I can’t.’
Sutton and Ruskin waited for a few moments longer.
Eventually Sutton gave a big sigh. ‘Well, don’t say we didn’t give you the opportunity, Leon. Interview suspended.’
Chapter 37
Donnie Campbell picked at his collar and swallowed; a slim, dark-haired man, he looked young to be running a hotel, but given the place’s recent problems he might have been the only applicant for the job. He’d been interviewed as soon as the Easy Break Hotel became the focus of the investigation; now he was back at the station.
‘Leon Grime,’ said Sutton, before sitting back and waiting for Campbell to fill the silence. He’d come fresh from the interview with Grime and had teamed up with Karen Hardwick, who had met Campbell previously.
‘Yes, our head of maintenance. I am aware that he has been arrested.’
‘Tell us about him,’ said Hardwick.
Campbell puffed his lips out. ‘What’s to tell? Leon’s worked at the Easy Break Hotel for sixteen years or thereabouts. He started long before my time, obviously.’
‘And how is he?’ asked Sutton.
‘No complaints; in fact, he’s very reliable. The previous manager was impressed with him.’ He paused, clearly choosing his words carefully. ‘That wasn’t necessarily a glowing endorsement. My predecessor wasn’t as hands-on with the details as he should have been. Things … slipped a bit towards the end.’
‘The food poisoning incident,’ said Hardwick flatly.
Campbell winced. ‘Yeah. That happened less than a month after I arrived as deputy manager,’ he gave a short humourless laugh. ‘Fortunately, he did the decent thing and fell on his sword. We sacked the chef, bloody piss-artist, closed for three weeks whilst we deep-cleaned everything, retrained all of our kitchen staff and got the lawyers in. I hadn’t been in the post long enough to blame, so they offered me the job as overall manager.
‘It turns out that Leon was one of the few people who had raised concerns about the chef. But my predecessor just dismissed him – what does the handyman know about food hygiene? Turns out, more than they gave him credit for.’
‘So you’re happy with Mr Grime?’
‘Well, yeah. He can be a grumpy git at times, but I like him.’
‘Were you aware of his history before he worked at the Easy Break?’ asked Sutton.
‘Look, I heard about it on the grapevine, nothing official you understand. I’ll be honest, had I been the one hiring him back then, then bollocks to the Rehabilitation of Offenders Act, I’d have taken somebody different. But he’s worked at the Easy Break for years and nobody has a bad word to say about him. I guess everyone deserves a second chance.’
‘Tell me about the fire exit next to the kitchen,’ said Sutton.
Campbell blinked. ‘I don’t see why … ah, that bloody CCTV camera. It’s been playing up for months.’
‘Have you tried to contact the security company to get it fixed?’ asked Hardwick.
‘Yeah, Leon’s been on at them for ages to sort it … oh. I see.’
Sutton contemplated him for a moment. Unless he was a very good actor, he was only just starting to join the dots.
‘What if I told you that the alarm on that door had also been tampered with, so that it could be opened without alerting the front desk?’ said Hutchinson.
‘But why would …?’ Campbell paused for a second. ‘Well that explains why there are always so many cigarette ends on the floor outside that door.’ He frowned. ‘Are you suggesting that Leon deliberately sabotaged that door so staff could go outside and have a crafty smoke?’
‘That’s what he claims,’ said Sutton.
Campbell scowled. ‘Bloody snake in the grass. I know that some of the staff thought I was being a bit harsh when I banned them from smoking out the front and started timing their breaks, but he was always very supportive of me. I’ll bet he was laughing behind my back all that time.’
‘Can you think of any other reason that Leon may have disabled the alarm and CCTV on the door?’ asked Hardwick.
‘No? Why? Wait, you don’t think that’s how the killer got in and murdered that poor man in 201, do you?’ asked Campbell, his voice rising in alarm.
‘Perhaps. But the door was tampered with long before Mr Patel was killed,’ said Sutton. ‘Were you aware of that door being used in the evenings. Perhaps for deliveries?’
‘What, like pizza?’ asked Campbell, before he suddenly placed his hand over his mouth. ‘Oh, shit. You mean drugs?’
Sutton gave a shrug. ‘Perhaps.’
The manager shook his head vigorously. ‘No. Not at all. I can’t believe anyone …’ He gave a quiet moan. ‘This job was supposed to be a stepping-stone to better things; turning around a failing hotel would look great on my CV.’ He groaned again. ‘Now all people are going to see is that the kitchen was closed down a month after I arrived, then a customer was murdered in one of the rooms, and to cap it all, an ex-con has been selling drugs under my bloody nose.’
Sutton and Hardwick glanced at each other. It would seem that Campbell really had been absolutely clueless about what was happening in the establishment he had been running.
The young man slumped in his chair. ‘I can’t believe it,’ he muttered. ‘Leon was one of my best employees. Hell, when I first took over, he got me out of a hole. Without his help, we’d never have reopened as quickly as we did.’
‘How do you mean?’ asked Sutton.
‘He pointed me towards Nick Kimpton.’
‘The chef?’
‘Yeah. Obviously, when we let the previous chef go, we had to hire someone new. Unfortunately, we weren’t exactly top of anyone’s list.’
‘And so you appointed Nick Kimpton?’ said Hardwick.
‘Yeah, turns out he and Leon had known each other for years. Leon said he knew what he was doing, and he needed the work. So, I had him in and interviewed him.’
‘How much did you know about him before you employed him?’ asked Sutton, trying to sound casual.
‘I know he’d been struggling to find work since he’d moved to the area. Mostly cash-in-hand, farm jobs, that sort of thing. But he was desperate to get back into the kitchen. Apparently, he’d been pretty good back when he was a lad, but life had got in the way. I think he has a kid and a dodgy ex. Anyway, he checked out and frankly, beggars can’t be choosers.’
‘How has he been?’
‘No complaints,’ said Campbell. ‘In fact, I’ve been pretty impressed. We aren’t exactly the Ritz, but he runs a tight ship and he works bloody hard. I’ve popped in unannounced a few times and he keeps the place spotless; our TripAdvisor ratings have climbed again. Non-guests come over especially for his curry night; he found a local supplier that makes samosas and bhajis and all that. They’re really good. We freeze them, but they cook up lovely.’
Hardwick frowned. ‘What’s the name of the supplier?’ she asked.
Campbell shrugged. ‘Dunno. Sunny’s Sundries or something?’
Chapter 38
Warren opened the team briefing with a summary of the interview he’d just conducted with Kelly Drake, the young woman that Manoj Patel employed to run his shop in the evenings and on the weekends. He’d invited her in on a hunch, and it had paid dividends.
‘Rather than closing the shop as soon as he heard about his brother’s death, Manoj called in Ms Drake and asked her to start her evening shift early. And it seems that the wheels of commerce continued as normal the following day, with Manoj claiming that he was “too busy to waste time wallowing in grief”.’
From the looks on his team’s faces, they were as disgusted by the man’s callous attitude as he was.
‘However, Ms Drake noticed that the cigarette kiosk was unusually empty, despite having been fully stocked the previous day. When she questioned Manoj, he claimed that he’d had a call from the supplier to say that there was a
quality control issue. She thought it strange, as it seemed to affect multiple brands from different manufacturers.’
Grayson snorted his disbelief. ‘Now why would he be so keen to remove those cigarettes the day after we told him his brother died?’
‘It’s almost as though he expected us to stumble across them,’ said Sutton.
Grayson tapped his teeth with a pen. ‘What have Trading Standards said about this?’
‘I spoke to the local enforcement officer,’ said Hardwick. ‘He reckons that there was a problem with dodgy fags being sold at one of Gotam Patel’s other businesses, specifically the one run by Jaidev Patel. They investigated and were – in his words – satisfied that the scam was orchestrated by a rogue, junior employee, who had been fired as soon as Jaidev Patel realised what he was doing. The packets of cigarettes still on the shelves were ones that they missed when they removed the illegal stock.’
‘That’s pretty much what Kelly Drake told me,’ said Warren. ‘Apparently one of their cousins was trying to make a bit of money on the side.’
‘And Trading Standards took that at face value?’ said Sutton.
Hardwick gave a humourless laugh. ‘Their budget has been slashed by a half since 2010; apparently they “don’t have the resources or the time to chase every case of dodgy fags”.’ She gave a tight smile. ‘That being said, they are very grateful for our find in Manoj Patel’s garden shed and will be pursuing it vigorously.’
‘Couldn’t happen to a nicer man,’ said Hutchinson.
‘Well we’ve certainly put a smile on Trading Standards’ face,’ said Grayson. ‘But I want to know why, if Jaidev or Manoj were involved in Anish’s death, they waited until the day that we told them about it to hide the cigarettes? He’d been dead for almost a week by that point.’
‘Well, the killer clearly intended for the body to remain hidden for longer, and when it was found, for us to struggle to identify it,’ said Sutton. ‘Maybe Manoj was looking for somebody else to take the cigarettes off his hands until things settled down again?’
‘So how does the Easy Break Hotel fit into all of this?’ asked Grayson.
‘Leon Grime recommended Nicholas Kimpton for the role of chef and Kimpton sourced Indian side dishes made locally by Suniti’s Sundries, the catering company run out of Reva Vasava’s kitchen that she took over after her mum died,’ said Hardwick.
‘And an analysis of the ANPR data from traffic cameras out towards Cambridge, shows that Jaidev Patel’s Range Rover travelled down the A506 in the direction of Middlesbury, regular as clockwork, once a month,’ said Richardson. ‘He isn’t picked up on the cameras at the traffic lights just past the hotel, which suggests he could have been turning into there.’
‘So now we just need to figure out what role Anish played,’ said Sutton.
‘If Jaidev was delivering trays of frozen samosas in his Range Rover, perhaps he was picking up cartons of dodgy cigarettes at the same time?’ suggested Ruskin. ‘If they used the broken fire exit to hide what they were doing, then Jaidev would have known all about it.’
‘So what was Anish doing?’ asked Richardson. ‘His visits were similarly frequent, but never on the same day as his brother.’
‘Delivering money?’ suggested Hardwick. ‘Presumably they had to pay for the cigarettes. And if Anish was skimming some of the cash off, and his brother and/or Grime and Kimpton found out, that could explain why they killed him.’
‘But why involve Anish at all?’ asked Warren. ‘Surely it would be easier for Jaidev to just hand over an envelope of cash when he picked up the cigarettes? And even if they were letting them have them on credit, with Anish paying for them once they’d sold enough, why would he need to go to all the trouble of booking a room for the night?’
‘Perhaps it was a separate deal entirely?’ suggested Ruskin. ‘Jaidev is sourcing cigarettes for the family newsagents, whilst Anish is picking up drugs; we’re fairly certain Leon Grime was storing drugs in his garden shed before he got cold feet and removed them. Either brother could have introduced the other to Grime or Kimpton and then they did their own thing.’
‘But that takes us back to why was Anish going to the trouble of booking a room for the night? Why not just turn up, take the drugs and go?’ said Grayson.
The room fell silent. What were they missing?
‘Well, we all know who we need to speak to next,’ said Warren eventually.
‘Oh, happy days,’ muttered Richardson.
Gotam Patel was alone when David Hutchinson and a team of detectives and CSIs arrived unannounced at his house to execute a search warrant and interview him. At the same time as they were persuading a shocked Patel to accompany them, a second team were knocking on the door of the converted barn that his daughter, Reva Vasava occupied with her husband, search warrant in hand.
‘Am I under arrest?’ asked Patel. The older man was haggard. Hutchinson detected a faint whiff of alcohol; however, his voice was clear and he looked fit to be interviewed.
‘Not at this time, Mr Patel, but we do need you to help us with our enquiries.’
Hutchinson waited, whilst Patel glared at him. After a few moments’ stand-off, the older man eventually gave a sigh, his shoulders slumping. ‘Let’s get this over with then.’
Just like his sons, Patel insisted on having a solicitor, and there was a delay whilst Patel was booked in. That suited Warren and the team fine; it gave them time to plan an interview strategy.
Warren had decided to take a lead on the interview – he was keen to speak to the patriarch of the Patel family himself, after watching interviews with the rest of his family. He paired himself with Moray Ruskin; it would have been cruel to inflict the man on Richardson again.
Patel was already present in the interview room with his solicitor, a sharply suited young man Warren hadn’t met before. The Patel family used a Cambridge-based firm; he hoped that there wasn’t too much discussion between the firm’s lawyers, although there wasn’t much he could do about that. After Ruskin had finished the formalities, Patel nodded curtly.
Warren started. ‘On the day that we informed you of Anish’s death, you alluded to his “lifestyle” and expressed your disapproval. You claimed not to have had contact with your son. However, when giving us your formal statement, you declined to give us any more details. Since then, we have spoken to your family and neighbours, who have given us their version of events. I realise that this is a sensitive subject, but I am inviting you to describe, in your own words, your relationship with Anish and help us determine any motive for his murder.’
Patel stared over Warren’s shoulder; his jaw moving as he ground his teeth. Finally he spoke, his voice quiet.
‘You must think me a very bad father, DCI Jones.’
Warren said nothing.
‘I loved my son – I love all of my children – very much. But sometimes, the choices that they make can be … disappointing.’
Patel’s back was rigid, his voice betraying no emotion, but Warren could see the pain in his eyes.
‘Anish was a homosexual. I know that it is not a fashionable view these days, and perhaps I am out of touch, but I was brought up to believe that is against the natural order of things. I still believe that.’
Beside Warren, Ruskin’s face was a mask. For a moment, Warren regretted bringing the young officer with him, before pushing the feeling aside. Ruskin was an experienced and professional police officer who regularly dealt with individuals who viewed his life and marriage as illegitimate. In the months after Gary Hasting’s death, Tony Sutton had accused Warren of being over-protective towards Ruskin, seeing in him the man he felt he had failed to protect. Sutton had been right, of course, and Ruskin had proven himself to be more than capable of handling himself. Warren wouldn’t patronise the man by excluding him from an interview just because the person they were speaking to might say unpleasant and hurtful things.
‘When did you last have any contact with Anish?’ asked Warren.
‘Do you know where he moved to?’ asked Warren.
Patel gave a tiny shake of the head. ‘I didn’t ask, and he didn’t tell me.’
‘What about your other children? Did they have contact with Anish?’
There was a long pause. ‘Yes. I told them not to. I forbade them to contact him, until he changed his ways.’ Patel sighed. ‘But I know that Reva still spoke to him. Maybe Jaidev also.’
‘But not Manoj?’
‘No. I don’t think so.’
‘And how did you feel about that, Gotam? About them going against your wishes?’
This time the pause was even longer, and Warren wondered if he had pushed the man too far.
‘I will not lie. I was angry at first, but then I thought about what Suniti would have said.’ The man’s voice caught slightly. ‘She would not have approved of me seeking to divide our children. So, I decided not to speak of it. If they wished to talk to their brother … well, they are adults.’ Patel’s face turned hard. ‘Is that all you want to ask me, DCI Jones? Have you dug deep enough into our family’s pain, or do you want more?’
‘I’m very sorry for any distress that this might be causing you, but we need to find your son’s killer. Anything you can tell us might help. Why do you think Anish’s sexuality might have contributed to his death?’
Patel said nothing, his teeth grinding. Warren prepared himself for a sudden termination of the interview.
Finally, Patel relented. ‘I know that you will probably dismiss my views as foolish. As out of touch, even, but that lifestyle … the people he would come into contact with when he fulfilled his … needs. I worried about who he might meet; you read about these things. And our family is wealthy. Anish was so naïve.’ He paused, and for the first time Warren caught a glimpse of a frightened father. ‘If the wrong person found out about how much money our family has, I worried what they might do. It seems I might have been right.’