by Mike Price
“Have you read them?” he asked Sam.
“Yes, I know what you’re going to say. Lowry’s changed his story, says they went under the subway to the other side of the ring road.”
“Do you think they have been in touch with Carter?”
“I do, and I’m sure one, if not both, are not telling us the truth. Do you want to interview them?”
“Not yet, let them stew a bit, get Angela and Jack to check all the cab firms, and see if anyone can remember picking up three drunks, shouldn’t be that difficult.” Ferguson had a gut feeling that one, if not all, of these young men were somehow involved.
Chapter Thirty-Three
It was a week since the murder and Ferguson was being pestered by the ‘Super’ to come up with something. The press boys were getting restless that no progress seemed to have been made and he needed to issue another statement by Saturday at the latest. Ferguson hated being given deadlines, detective work wasn’t like that, it took painstaking time to check on every little detail. He had not told his chief about Carter and his friends for fear he would order him to bring them in before he was ready.
Sam knocked the door breaking into his thoughts.
“Got the cabbie,” he said.
“Good man. Where is he?”
“At the front desk, do you want him in here?”
“What do you think?”
Sam left before Ferguson could say anymore and phoned through to the desk to bring the cabbie through.
An Asian, about fifty years old, was ushered into Ferguson’s office.
“Mr Asif, sir.” The constable showed the man in and Ferguson pointed to a chair opposite his desk. The man sat down looking around nervously.
“Mr Asif, thank you for sparing your time to help us.” Ferguson used his ‘I’m your favourite uncle’ voice to reassure the man and it had the desired effect as he immediately relaxed in the chair. “I understand you recall taking three young men in your taxi last Friday. Can you tell me where exactly you picked them up?”
“Yes, outside Belgrade Theatre.”
“Can you tell me how they appeared; I mean did they look agitated at all? Were they drunk?”
“Very drunk and one, the biggest, looked as if he had been in a fight, he had a cut on his chin and splashes of blood on his ’T-shirt.”
Ferguson looked at Sam and Sam nodded back; the remarks having been duly noted.
“Did you have any trouble with them? I mean did they pay you?”
“Oh yes. They pay… no trouble.”
“Thank you, Mr Asif, you have been most helpful. We may need you to come to an identification parade and if so, my sergeant will contact you.” Ferguson stood up to indicate that the interview was over.
Sam showed the cabbie out then returned to Ferguson’s office.
“I think we’ve got the bastard, sir.”
"Not too hasty, Sam, but the evidence does seem to be stacking up. Let’s get John Lowry in, the one who changed his story; if we can break him down, then we might be getting somewhere.
Lowry sat opposite Ferguson waiting for him to speak. Ferguson just sat there looking at him, pulling at his chin, watching the man. He could see the fear in Lowry’s eyes, he was visibly crumbling. At last, Ferguson spoke.
“You’ve not told me the truth, have you, John?”
“I don’t know what you mean, I came here of my own free will and gave your girl a statement. It was all true.”
“Strange that when I phoned you about catching a taxi, you said the three of you walked towards the Belgrade and picked up a taxi, but in your statement, you said you walked the opposite way under the subway and picked up a taxi on the other side of the ring road. Can you explain why you changed your mind?”
“I… I… I… was confused, sometimes we do go that way, just depends how we feel.”
“Did you check your story with Mr Carter after I phoned you?”
“No, why should I?”
“That’s what I would like to know. I think I should tell you at this stage that we are conducting a murder enquiry and I have reason to believe that you came into contact with the victim.”
“I never spoke to him…”
“I didn’t say that you spoke to the victim and neither did I say that it was a man,” Ferguson interrupted him.
Lowry looked shocked and his face flushed; his hands started to tremble. Ferguson looked at him with contempt.
“I have some more bad news for you. The cabbie who took you home confirms that he picked you up outside the Belgrade.” Ferguson was gambling that Lowry would not realise that the cabbie could not have identified them at this stage. “I don’t think you are the person who did the killing, but you know who did and in the eyes of the law, you will all be guilty of the murder… that is unless you can help us identify the actual killer… then we can charge you with a lesser offence.”
The words hit home like a thunderbolt, Lowry was now shaking violently, so much so, Sam got out his seat to calm the man down.
He suddenly burst into tears.
“It was Dan, he was pissed and mad with jealousy, we told him to forget it, but he just said he was going to teach the bloke a lesson. He was only a small guy and he would just bust his nose and give him a kicking. We followed the guy out and as he turned into the alley, Dan followed him. He sent us around the back to cut the bloke off if he tried to make a run for it. When we got to the other end of the alley and looked up, Dan was on the floor and the man started walking towards us. Pete grabbed me and said ‘let’s rush him’. We thought we’d catch him off-guard and I think he was surprised to see us. We grabbed an arm each and pushed him back towards where Dan had been doubled up on the floor. Suddenly, the man yelled out in pain and we automatically let go his arms, surprised ourselves. Dan had stabbed him in the back. The man turned ’round then fell to the ground. Dan had stabbed him again. We were in shock and I wanted to run, but Dan said just calm down and walk out down to the Belgrade as though nothing had happened and pick up a taxi. We went back to Pete’s flat and all stayed the night there.” The words had come out in a torrent, Sam having to scribble like mad to get them all down.
“The taxi driver said one of you had blood on their shirt, would that be Dan?” Ferguson did not feel sorry for this pathetic man in front of him, half an hour ago, he had been happy to let guilty man walk free, but he had given his word that he would only charge Lowry on a lesser offence and he would keep that promise.
“Yes, when we got to Pete’s place, he took the shirt and burnt it.”
Ferguson looked up at Sam.
“Sergeant, would you take this man to the desk and charge him? I think it would be wise if he stayed in the cells tonight… for his own protection.”
Ferguson sat back in his chair; he would enjoy his meeting with the Superintendent in the morning. He was not going to call him now, better to wait until tomorrow, by then, he would have arrested the other two and charged them.
Ferguson was pleased that the case had been wrapped up and in record time too, but he still had that niggle in the back of his mind. Why had Kenton stayed in Coventry those extra days? He picked up the phone and dialled Martin De Glanville’s number.
“Mr De Glanville? Inspector Ferguson here, just thought you’d like to know we have caught Kenton’s killer.”
“Really? Can you say who it was?”
“Turns out, it was just a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. A jealous boyfriend, who got drunk and went too far in his retribution.”
“That’s terrible, but thank you for letting me know.”
The phone went dead. Had Ferguson imagined it or did De Glanville audibly give a sigh of relief when he told him how Kenton had died.
Chapter Thirty-Four
It was the first Saturday in a long, long time that Will had missed seeing his beloved Leicester play. He was in Leicester and not far from the Walker Stadium but not at the ground itself. He and his mother were sitting in the day room
at Leicester Royal Infirmary waiting to see his father. The operation had taken place the previous evening but no visitors had been allowed. His mother had wanted to be there first thing in the morning, but Will had managed to persuade her to be patient and wait until lunchtime. Now she was getting frustrated as they had been there thirty minutes already.
Will got up and for the umpteenth time asked the nurse if they could see Mr Shakespeare yet, only to be told the same thing.
“The doctor is on his rounds and no visitors are allowed in until he has finished.”
His mother was getting more and more agitated, thinking the delay was because something must have gone wrong, or there was bad news waiting for them. No matter what he said, Will could not satisfy her and he was getting worried that she might make herself ill.
Eventually, the nurse came up to him and said that the consultant had finished his round, but before they went in would like to see Mrs Shakespeare in his office.
Will’s mother turned pale when he told her.
“It’s bad news, I know it is. The cancer must be worse than we thought. Oh god, Will, what will I do?” She started to cry and Will put his arm around and gave a squeeze.
“Come on, Mum, you’ve got to be brave for Dad’s sake. Would you like me to come with you to see the consultant?”
“Would you, luv? I don’t think I could face it alone.”
The nurse showed them into the consultant’s room and he beckoned them to sit down.
“I’m Mr Shakespeare’s son,” Will said as they sat down in front of his rather imposing desk.
“Fine, good to meet you. Mrs Shakespeare, as you know your husband has had major surgery to remove a cancerous tumour.”
She was gripping Will’s hand as he spoke, trying to fight back the tears.
He continued, “I’m pleased to say that the operation has been totally successful and we’ve caught it in time. Your husband should make a full recovery, but obviously, will have to have complete rest for a week or so before he can leave hospital. I recommend…”
She did not hear the rest of what the consultant was saying. The relief at the news was overpowering and the dam broke tears streaming down her face, but they were tears of relief.
The doctor smiled at her, he had seen many tears shed in this room, but not many tears of joy.
“I’ll ring for the nurse and she will take you in to see him. He’s probably still a bit groggy so try not to wear him out.”
Will’s father didn’t have to ask if they knew how the operation had gone; the look on his wife’s face told him all he needed to know.
They spent half an hour with him before the nurse came in and said she thought he should have some rest. For once, his mother was happy to do as she was told and Will drove her back home, feeling as though a weight had been lifted of his shoulders. He had been dreading the result being negative and had spent the previous night hardly sleeping, worrying how his mother would cope.
He stopped at her house long enough to have a cup of tea and then drove home feeling so happy he never even bothered to switch on the radio to get the football results.
Julie was overjoyed at the news, especially as she had a soft spot for her father- in- law.
“Look, I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to tempt fate, but I bought a bottle of bubbly to celebrate. I just knew it would be good news.” She grinned at Will’s look of surprise and he was supposed to be the optimistic one!
Later that evening, after dinner and with the last drop of red wine poured into their glasses, Julie pushed the Telegraph across the table to him.
“Killer’s Charged with Night Club Murder.”
Will read the story detailing how the police had found Kenton’s killers following a tip off from a member of the public.
“So that’s that then,” he said.
“Not completely, what are you going to do about the cigarette case and the picture?”
“To be honest, I hadn’t given it much thought, too busy worrying about Dad.”
“Well, I think you should hand it back to its owner and then we can forget it and move on.”
“Yes, I think you’re probably right. I’ll ring him on Monday and ask if I can pop round.”
“You don’t know where he lives.”
“No but I know where his campaign office is, so I’ll call in there and get his number. Now can we forget about that bloody photo and concentrate on something far more important?”
“And what might that be?” she said grinning from ear to ear.
“Making babies.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Martin had made breakfast in bed for Maddy. It was a special treat and unusual for a Monday, but as he was leaving to go to Kenilworth and would be gone all week, he wanted to make it a bit different. It was election week and he would be campaigning every day right up until the polls closed on Thursday night at ten o’clock.
Maddy was not really awake as he brought the tray in with her favourite Eggs Benedict and a glass of champagne.
“My, you have been busy,” she yawned.
“Well, I won’t see you until Friday so I thought you deserved something special for putting up with me being away so much. Anyway, it’s back to normal from next week onwards.”
She smiled and reached up and pecked him on the cheek.
“Thank you, darling, it’s very thoughtful of you.”
“Look, I’m sorry but I’ve got to go, Tony’s arranged some sort of conference call for ten thirty so I must dash. See you Friday, bye.”
Even at eight in the morning, the roads were already busy and he found himself caught up in one traffic jam after another, before finally reaching the M1. It had taken him the best part of forty-five minutes to get to the start of the motorway, so he would have to put his foot down if he was to make it in time.
He had just passed Milton Keynes as he glanced at his watch, it was nine thirty and he estimated that if he kept to about ninety he would make it on time, providing he didn’t get pulled up by the police on the way. The car phone rang and he slowed slightly as he answered it.
“Martin, hi, it’s Tony. Sorry to bother you while you’re driving, but I’ve just had a phone call from a man called David Shakespeare, asking for your mobile number, says he wants to come and see you about some lost property. I asked if I could help him but insisted that he wanted to speak to you. Can I give him your number?”
Martin felt a chill run down his spine. He remembered the name that Kenton had given him, David Shakespeare.
“Can you ring him back and give him my number, but ask him if he can ring me at five. We should have some time to spare then, shouldn’t we?”
“Yes, no problem, this evening’s meeting starts at six thirty and is due to finish about nine. It’s the only early one this week.”
“Right, I’m racing up the motorway so will see you soon, bye.”
Martin could feel the knot in his stomach. Did this man intend to blackmail him, was the nightmare starting all over again, wanting to see him this week of all weeks? Jesus, why, oh, why!
Try as he might, he could not get the man’s name out of his mind. It was a Shakespearian tragedy all right.
All day, Martin found it hard to concentrate and Tony had to correct him a couple of times when he was talking to people. Tony wondered if he was ill and had asked if he could get him anything, but was brusquely told that there was nothing the matter.
For Martin, five o’clock could not come soon enough. He wanted to get this thing sorted out, even if it cost him money. He could not risk an exposé at this late stage.
The phone vibrated in his pocket and he stabbed at the receive button. He had left the office and was sitting in his flat having just made a cup of coffee when it went off.
“Hello, Martin De Glanville speaking”
“Mr De Glanville, my name is David Shakespeare I rang your office this morning.”
“Yes, how can I help you, Mr Shakespeare?”
> “I wondered if I could come round and see you. I believe I have something that belongs to you.”
“When did you want to meet? I don’t know if you are aware but I’m standing in this coming election and I’m rather tied up all this week.”
“I’d like to see you as soon as possible if you can spare me a few minutes,”
“Well, I’m free right now, I have to be at a meeting at six thirty, do you have far to travel?”
“I live in Kenilworth, not far from you as a matter of fact; I could be with you in five minutes.”
“In that case, do come ’round, I can spare half an hour if that’s okay.”
“Be right there, bye”
Martin sat looking at the phone wondering just what this man would want. He got up and poured himself a scotch. He had not intended to drink before the meeting, but right now felt he needed something to steady his nerves.
It seemed like only seconds before the buzzer sounded.
“It’s unlocked, come on up, second floor,” he said into the intercom.
Martin waited until he heard a tap on his front door.
“Mr Shakespeare? Please come in. Would you like a drink?”
“Thank you, I’ll have a whisky if I may.”
Martin pointed to a chair and Will sat down while his drink was being poured.
“Have we met before? I seem to recognise your face,” Martin asked as he passed the glass to Will.
Will looked slightly embarrassed.
“As a matter of fact, my wife and I came to one of your meetings. I’m afraid we rather rudely left before it was over.”
“Ah, yes I thought I recognised you. I thought at the time you were the opposition on a spying mission.” Martin forced a laugh.
“On the contrary, we were most impressed with your presentation and your manifesto. I have to say I am in agreement with most of your views.”
Martin relaxed a little; he had not expected to meet a supporter.
“What made you leave early then? Did I go off message?” Again, he gave a half-hearted laugh.
“No, it was just… we had a bit of a shock… I’ll explain later if I may.”