The Marlow Murder Club

by Robert Thorogood

  ‘Shut up, bitch,’ he said.

  He then raised the Luger, pointed it across the room at Judith’s head and pulled the trigger.

  On the other side of the river, Suzie heard the gunshot and saw the window to Judith’s downstairs drawing room blow outwards, glass flying everywhere.

  ‘Oh Christ!’ she said before looking at Emma. ‘Go and save Judith. You’ve got to save Judith!’

  But Emma didn’t move, she was wet through, cold and miserable, and Suzie knew there was no way of communicating to a dog that her friend Judith on the other side of the river needed saving.

  What could she do?

  Suzie’s phone started ringing. She grabbed at it, saw who it was and answered.

  ‘It’s me,’ Becks said on the other end of the line.

  ‘Where the hell are you?’ Suzie asked. ‘You were supposed to be here ages ago! Are you even with Tanika?’

  ‘We’re together, but Ferry Lane’s blocked,’ Becks said on the other end of the line. ‘A tree’s fallen across it. And Tanika’s car is hanging over the river.’

  ‘I think he shot Judith!’ Suzie said, interrupting.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I think Judith’s been shot!’ Suzie shouted against a clap of thunder that rolled through the sky.

  ‘Jesus, then you have to get to her. We can’t.’

  ‘I’m on the wrong side of the river.’

  ‘Cross it!’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘You have to.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘You’ve got to.’

  ‘I can’t swim.’

  There was the briefest of pauses on the other end of the line.

  ‘What do you mean you can’t swim? Everyone can swim.’

  ‘I never took any lessons.’

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding! Look, then stay where you are. We’ll get past this oak tree somehow. I don’t know how, but we’ll do it.’

  Becks ended the call and strode over Tanika, who was in the middle of a phone call.

  ‘Suzie thinks Judith’s been shot,’ Becks said, interrupting Tanika. ‘You’ve got to get someone to her house at once.’

  ‘I’ve called for backup,’ Tanika said. ‘And an ambulance. But everyone’s already out on shouts in this weather. It’s going to take time.’

  ‘We don’t have time! What about the police helicopter?’

  ‘It can’t take off in a storm.’

  ‘But Judith’s on her own!’

  ‘Is there another way to her house other than this road?’

  ‘There isn’t,’ Becks said and desperately looked about herself for inspiration.

  There was nothing.

  She was standing on a blocked road, a police car half hanging over the River Thames. A few dozen or so feet away on the main road, the suspension bridge to Marlow sat in the rain as though Judith’s life wasn’t in the balance. And beyond the bridge, an even more elegant presence against the roiling skies, was the church.

  Her church.

  And it was a Thursday and it had only just gone nine!

  ‘Wait here,’ Becks said as she headed for the bridge. ‘Back in two minutes!’

  Tanika was baffled as Becks started running across the suspension bridge.

  Where was she going?

  Judith had been lucky.

  Although she’d felt Danny’s bullet whistle past her head and blow out the window behind her, it had missed her head by inches.

  Danny was just as surprised that he’d missed, and Judith could sense that in the next few seconds he was going to pull the trigger again.

  She had to keep him distracted. It was her only hope.

  ‘It was you who killed your dog, wasn’t it?’ she blurted.

  Danny blinked.

  ‘What?’ he said.

  Good, Judith thought to herself. Finally, she’d got him talking.

  ‘My friend Suzie said that Liz got a vet to kill your dog, but she was only half right, wasn’t she? It wasn’t Liz who got the dog put down. It was you.’

  ‘So what?’ he spat at Judith. ‘You’ve got no proof, and a dog’s a dog. And I didn’t kill Liz, when are you going to get it?’

  ‘As it happens, I agree with you,’ Judith said, but Danny wasn’t listening.

  ‘Because I was in Nottingham at the time, wasn’t I?’

  ‘I know, and very clever it was. When Liz was last seen alive at nine o’clock, you were a hundred miles away. And you were still a hundred miles away when her body was found an hour later.’

  ‘Then how do you think I did it?’

  ‘I’ve already said. You didn’t.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You didn’t kill your wife. You killed Stefan Dunwoody.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That’s right. It was you who killed Stefan. And who then tied the bronze medallion with “Faith” written on it into his jacket buttonhole. I perhaps should have guessed that a rower killed Stefan sooner. After all, only a rower would attach a medallion like that to someone, like you do with your passes to enter the various enclosures at regattas.’

  ‘This is crazy.’

  ‘Oh no, this is the opposite of crazy. It was very rational. Shockingly so in fact.’

  ‘You think I killed that Stefan guy? I didn’t even know him. It was only Liz who knew him.’

  ‘Which is what makes your crime all the worse. You killed him in cold blood. And the thing is, I wondered at the time why Stefan was shot at the end of his garden. I couldn’t work out how he’d got there. You see, Elliot Howard was my number one suspect for Stefan’s death. Stefan didn’t like Elliot at all. In fact, he suspected Elliot of having broken into his house. So if Elliot came to his house, how did they end up at the bottom of the garden? Exactly how had that conversation gone? “Hello, Stefan,” Elliot would have said. “I know you hate me, but could we go for a stroll in your garden?” It made no sense.

  ‘But what if the killer came from the river? Well, that was a different matter. Because you’re right. Stefan didn’t know you from Adam. So when you appeared at the bottom of his garden, he would have been surprised, but not fearful.’

  ‘What do you mean, when I appeared at the bottom of his garden?’

  ‘I’ll be honest, I’m disappointed it took me so long to work it out. But on the night Stefan was killed, when I was swimming in the river, I saw a blue canoe in the bulrushes by the edge of Stefan’s garden. At the time I presumed the canoe belonged to Stefan, and even tried to use it to help me climb out of the water. But it wasn’t his, because, as I found out this afternoon, Stefan hated rowing and everything to do with it. So he was hardly going to be the owner of a canoe, was he? And more than that, I should have realised it wasn’t his anyway, because every time I’ve swum up to Stefan’s house since he was killed, and even when I searched the garden area before I found his body, the blue canoe was no longer there. And if it wasn’t there, then who had removed it, if not the killer?’

  Judith could see that Danny was now hanging on her every word.

  ‘I can well imagine the panic you must have felt after you’d shot Stefan dead and then heard a woman call out from the river. When all along your plan had been to arrive secretly, kill Stefan secretly, and then leave just as secretly, returning with the current of the Thames to the rowing centre. Who’d ever think you were the killer? As you said, you’d never met Stefan before. And who’d kill someone they’d never met?

  ‘Which brings me to your poor wife. Because now we know it was you who killed Stefan, her actions finally make sense. I think there was something about you on the night of the murder that made her fear you were involved. Were you in a panic when you got back? Or did she see you get out of the canoe with the Luger?’

  As Judith said this, she indicated the gun in Danny’s hand.

  ‘But she became suspicious of you. Remember, as you told Suzie and me, Liz knew Stefan to say hello to. His death would have shocked her. So, whatever story you told Liz that nig
ht wasn’t enough to allay her suspicions that you’d been involved. So she went to check up on Stefan’s property the next day. Which was when I saw her and shouted across the river to her. And now I understand why she ran away. She wasn’t acting suspiciously because of what she’d done, as I thought at the time. She was acting suspiciously because of what she suspected you’d done. It’s why she ran away again when I bumped into her in the field a day later. And it also explains why she acted so guiltily when we talked to her. Denying things that were true, tying herself in knots. My heart goes out to her, I can’t even begin to imagine the torment she must have been going through. Suspecting her own husband of being involved in a murder! She was falling apart. Unlike you, it has to be said. Because you were cool as a cucumber when Suzie and I talked to you. Weren’t you?

  ‘More than that, you’d already prepared to really throw suspicion onto your wife. So you told us she was friendly with Stefan. Which was at least true. But how clever you were getting Liz to take a taxi from Iqbal a few weeks beforehand, and how smart to pretend to us that we’d dragged that information out of you when Suzie and I talked to you. You did it quite splendidly, I must say, because in that one conversation you managed to make it look as though Liz was linked both to Stefan and to Iqbal. If she were then to die, as you knew she would, we’d be tempted to jump to completely erroneous conclusions.’

  ‘These are all lies,’ Danny said.

  ‘You know that’s not true,’ Judith said. ‘Your presence here proves it, wouldn’t you say?’

  Judith held Danny’s gaze, and she was willing herself to stay strong, but what Danny didn’t know was that Judith hadn’t a clue what else she could say to keep him talking.

  She’d completely run out of ideas, her mind was a terrifying blank.

  All she could think was how Danny was still pointing the Luger at her. Still pointing, and still looking as though he was about to pull the trigger.

  Where the hell were Becks and the police?

  Becks burst through the double doors of All Saints’ Church and ran into the aisle, her hair all over the place, her dress filthy with mud and drenched in rainwater from top to toe.

  The choir were breaking up after their rehearsal, and they all looked over in shock at the bedraggled and wild-eyed appearance of the vicar’s wife.

  ‘Darling?’ Colin asked, thoroughly embarrassed.

  ‘I need your help!’ Becks said. ‘The killer’s about to strike again. And there’s a tree we’ve got to get out of the way.’

  ‘The killer?’ Colin asked as he went to calm his wife down. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’

  For her part, Becks was scanning the choir and was relieved to see that Elliot Howard wasn’t present. But then, Judith had told her that he was at a football match in London that evening.

  ‘The killer’s in Judith Potts’ house!’

  ‘You know who the killer is?’ Major Lewis said, emerging from the row of tenors, the self-appointed voice of sanity as he headed over, leaning heavily on his brass-topped walking stick.

  The last time Becks had seen Major Lewis, she’d cooked him and his wife a fennel-rubbed belly of pork.

  ‘We’ve got to save Judith!’ Becks said, looking from Major Lewis to her husband and then at the rest of the choir. They were all looking deeply uncomfortable.

  ‘Isn’t that a matter for the police?’ Major Lewis said.

  ‘They’re down by the oak tree right now. It’s blocking Ferry Lane. We need to help them move it.’

  ‘Well, I think they know what they’re doing, we should let them get on with it.’

  ‘But that’s what I’m saying, there’s nothing for them to get on with, there’s a bloody great tree in the way!’

  As she said this, Becks grabbed the walking stick from the Major and dashed over to one of the displays on the church wall that honoured the fallen of the local regiment. Before anyone could stop her, she swung the heavy stick high in the air and brought it down on the glass case, glass showering everywhere.

  ‘Becks!’ her husband called out.

  ‘Don’t just stand there!’ Becks said as she reached in and pulled down a sword that had been used by a subaltern during the Charge of the Light Brigade.

  ‘She’s gone stark raving mad,’ the Major called out. ‘Someone call the police!’

  ‘When are you going to get it? I’m with the police!’ Becks called back as she ran to the bell tower and started up the rickety staircase as fast she could. As her legs pumped, and despite the seriousness of the situation, she briefly congratulated herself on her fitness regime, her core strength coming from a punishing weekly programme of spinning, boxercise and yoga classes.

  The choir, led by Major Lewis and her husband, drifted up the aisle, their heads upturned as they watched the vicar’s wife running up the stairs of the belltower waving a sword above her head.

  Halfway up, Becks stopped on the mezzanine floor where the bell-ringers stood to ring the eight church bells in the tower. She grabbed at a rope for the largest bell and started pulling hard on it, the bell ringing out over the town. She hoped the people of Marlow would realise it would only be tolling in the middle of a storm because there was an emergency and would head to the church.

  After she’d rung it a number of times, she grabbed at the one rope that ran all the way down to the floor far below. This was the one bell that could be rung by someone at ground level. Becks took the rope in her left hand and started to saw across it with the sword in her other hand.

  After pulling and pushing the sword a few times, she was through, the rope was cut!

  ‘Mind your heads,’ Becks called and let the fifty feet of now-severed rope fall in a snake to the floor.

  ‘Someone get hold of that rope,’ she said as she started to run back down the stairs. ‘Come on, pick the bloody rope up!’

  By the time she got back to the ground, Becks realised that the twenty or so people of the choir were looking at her as though she’d lost her mind, her husband included.

  ‘Are you saying a woman’s life is in danger?’ her husband asked.

  ‘It’s Judith Potts. The killer’s in her house.’

  ‘And that rope will help how?’

  ‘Just get it across the bridge. There’s a policewoman on the other side, Detective Sergeant Tanika Malik. She’ll tell you what to do with it. Colin, I need your help right now!’

  There was a tone to Becks’ voice that finally got through to her husband.

  ‘Of course, darling,’ he said, snapping into focus. ‘Come on, everyone,’ he said to the choir as he bent down and started to pick up handfuls of rope. ‘Let’s get this rope to the detective sergeant.’

  As Becks joined in, she dared to hope. With this many people, and with the rope, surely they’d be able to move the oak tree? And with it out of the way, then maybe there’d still be time to save Judith?

  For her part, Judith was sitting in panicked silence, her mind spinning, still unable to think of what to say next.

  Fortunately for her, it was Danny who broke the silence.

  ‘You said I didn’t kill Liz.’ It was a statement.

  ‘That’s right. I did.’

  ‘And there’s no way you could ever prove I killed Stefan. Someone I’d never met. Someone I had no motive to kill.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Judith said, thankful that Danny had prompted a further line of conversation. ‘It’s quite the puzzle, isn’t it? But like a lot of puzzles, the solution’s simple, when you know how to look at it. Like “Two girls, one on each knee”.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter, but I agree. You had no motive to kill Stefan. But Elliot Howard did. So, seeing as you’re the person who killed Stefan, it’s logical to presume you must have done it for him.’

  ‘This is just fantasy talk.’

  ‘Oh no, it’s real enough. You killed Stefan for Elliot.’

  ‘Why would I do that?’

  ‘You tell me.’


  Danny frowned, trying to orientate himself within Judith’s logic.

  ‘All I can think is, you’re going to say I killed Stefan for Elliot so he could kill Liz for me. But that’s crazy. He was on a webcam running an auction when Liz was killed.’

  ‘How do you know that?’ Judith asked, pouncing.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Danny said to buy himself time. ‘The police told me.’

  ‘Poppycock! But you’re right. While you killed Stefan for Elliot, he didn’t kill Liz for you. He killed Iqbal.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He killed Iqbal.’

  ‘But how did that help me?’

  ‘It didn’t. It helped Andy Bishop. Because that’s how your plan went, wasn’t it? You killed Stefan Dunwoody for Elliot Howard. Elliot then killed Iqbal Kassam for Andy Bishop. And, finally, Andy killed Liz for you. To complete the round. It has a mathematical simplicity to it that’s really rather clever when you think about it. I mean, if you’d killed Stefan and Elliot had then killed Liz, well, I think it wouldn’t have taken the police more than two minutes to work out that you’d swapped murders. But add a third person? Suddenly it’s not so obvious, is it? You kill Stefan, a man who’s a complete stranger to you. And Elliot, the person who wanted him dead, makes sure he’s at a choir rehearsal when it happens. Even though he couldn’t stop himself from looking smugly at the CCTV as he left. He was so proud of how clever he was being. But Elliot’s in the clear, he has to be. He was elsewhere at the time.

  ‘And that gives him the space to slip out of bed at five o’clock on a Saturday morning and murder Iqbal. Again, a man he’d never met. So how could he ever be the killer? What’s the motive? As for Andy Bishop, the man who actually wanted Iqbal dead, and who gave Elliot the key he’d need to get into Iqbal’s house, he made sure he was in Malta at the time, and also in Malta for when you killed Stefan, so he’d have a double alibi, just for good measure. Although he had no choice but to be back in the UK when he killed Liz for you. Which he did even though, once again, he’d never met her before.

  ‘And clever though your plan was, your masterstroke was the Luger and the medallions saying “Faith”, “Hope” and “Charity” that each of you left at the scene. You see, there was only one weakness in your plan. Using the same antique Luger helped misdirect the police from that weakness. After all, if it was the same gun that killed all three people, surely they must have been killed by the same person? Who’s ever heard of three different murderers sharing the same gun?