DCI Isaac Cook Box Set 1

by Phillip Strang

  ‘Are you still protecting that other woman?’

  ‘If you mean Jess O’Neill, I’ve kept my distance, at least until this case is resolved.’

  ‘Make sure it stays that way. This is becoming too complicated, and no one knows why.’

  Isaac still felt that his boss knew more than he did. It seemed critical for him and Farhan to know as much, but how? If their boss did not want to tell them, there wasn’t much that he could do to prise it out of him. He decided to try again.

  ‘Sir, I need to know. We’re chasing around after a woman who is directly or indirectly related to the deaths of two people. What if there is another murder? A murder we could have prevented with additional knowledge.’

  ‘I understand what you’re saying.’

  ‘We need to meet Angus MacTavish,’ Isaac said.

  The detective superintendent quickly exited the office and made a phone call.

  ‘Midday at his office,’ he said on his return. ‘If he tries to talk you down, stand your ground.’

  ‘I believe I can handle him,’ Isaac replied.

  ***

  Wendy, before she continued the search for the Marjorie Frobisher in London, went into the office at Challis Street. It was empty. Isaac, she knew, was meeting Detective Superintendent Goddard. Farhan, she had no idea where he had gone. She made a strong cup of tea, extra sugar, and raided the biscuit jar. As no one was around, she opened the window and lit a cigarette, careful to ensure the smoke and ash went out of the window. She vowed to cut down.

  The cigarette dispensed with, she phoned Bridget Halloran. She knew she would be able to assist. ‘I need to find Marjorie Frobisher,’ Wendy said.

  ‘What did you find out?’

  ‘She met a friend. Someone we know. We need to find out possible locations where he may have taken her.’

  ‘Couldn’t you just ask him?’

  ‘DCI Cook will deal with that, but the situation is complicated.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Bridget asked. It wasn’t necessary for her to know, but Wendy reasoned that she had gone out of her way to assist, and besides she was a friend who she trusted.

  ‘We need to find her before other people do.’

  ‘What if they find her?’

  ‘We’re not sure. She could disappear again.’

  ‘And not come back this time?’

  ‘That’s a possibility.’

  ‘Then, for all our sakes, we’d better find her first.’

  ‘Strictest confidence.’

  ‘You can trust me, you know that,’ Bridget replied.

  ‘I know. I just had to say it, though.’

  ***

  It came as a complete surprise to Isaac how agreeable Angus MacTavish was when he met him. Richard Goddard had expected him to be gruff, unpleasant, but here was the firm handshake, the pat on the shoulder, and ‘pleased to meet you’.

  Mrs Gregory had dealt with the tea and cakes. She took a shine to Isaac as well.

  With all three men seated comfortably and Mrs Gregory in the other room, Angus MacTavish spoke. ‘DCI Cook, you want to know about Marjorie Frobisher.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘You realise that Detective Superintendent Goddard and I have met several times to discuss this matter.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘DCI Cook, are you aware of a child?’ MacTavish asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And how important it is that the child does not find out who the mother is?’

  ‘As well as the father?’ Richard Goddard said.

  ‘Detective Superintendent Goddard is right,’ MacTavish said. ‘In fact, the father is more important than the mother.’

  ‘Who is the father?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘That’s the problem. I just don’t know.’

  ‘You have a shrewd idea.’

  ‘That’s all I have. I know that Detective Superintendent Goddard thinks it’s the prime minister.’

  ‘Could it be someone else?’

  ‘It’s possible.’

  ‘It may help if I have some names,’ Isaac said. ‘We’re chasing shadows, coming up with blanks at the present moment.’

  ‘Tell me what you’ve got. How about the two murders? Any leads there?’ MacTavish asked.

  ‘We know how they died, but why is unclear.’

  ‘Tied in with this damn woman’s disappearance?’

  ‘Circumstantial,’ Isaac said, ‘but failing any other motives, it seems more than likely. Charles Sutherland was threatening to say something, and Sally Jenkins had a tendency to eavesdrop.’

  ‘They may have been eliminated because someone thought they did know something,’ MacTavish said.

  ‘Someone killed them purely on the off-chance?’ Richard Goddard asked, anxious to remain vital to the meeting. He had seen it before. Take DCI Isaac Cook, the tall, attractive and very black policeman along to meet someone important, and they would be immediately charmed by him, while he, the more senior of the two, a dour white man, would be left floundering. Still, he was pleased that Angus MacTavish was opening up, something he had not done with him.

  ‘Detective Superintendent Goddard mentioned on the phone that there may be someone who is a plant,’ MacTavish said.

  ‘A woman,’ Isaac said. ‘She’s close to the action, not involved in the murders.’

  ‘You feel she may be keeping her ear to the ground. Can you find out if that is the case?’

  ‘I can try. Do you want her to know we’re on to her?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so. It may only precipitate another action.’

  ‘Such as another murder?’ Richard Goddard asked.

  ‘It’s possible,’ Isaac said.

  ‘Marjorie Frobisher? Dead or alive?’ MacTavish asked. Isaac wasn’t sure what to say. He saw no reason to trust the man; no reason not to.

  ‘We believe she is alive.’

  ‘Then keep her that way. I don’t believe this government or any other government deserves to be in power when they condone murder as a solution.’

  ‘Is that what’s happened?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘A can of worms. Anything’s possible,’ Angus MacTavish said.

  ‘What about the plant?’

  I’ll check her out for you. May take a few days.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Isaac replied.

  ‘What do you reckon?’ Detective Superintendent Goddard asked as he and Isaac drove away.

  ‘He’s a politician. How would we know if he was telling us the truth?’

  ‘He could have just been spinning us a line.’

  ‘Exactly. We keep the news relating to Marjorie Frobisher to ourselves. I’d say she is as good as dead if we don’t find her first.’

  ‘And if we do?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. It’s not our function to protect people; our function is to catch murderers, prevent further murders.’

  ‘With Marjorie Frobisher, that amounts to the same thing.’

  ‘You’re right, but protect her from whom? Who can we trust?’

  ‘Nobody, Isaac. Nobody.’ Detective Superintendent Goddard summed up the situation succinctly.

  Chapter 32

  Farhan was not handling the situation well. On the one hand, he had a wife he did not love, but still the mother of his children. He realised he had not been giving them the attention that they deserved recently. Not because he didn’t want to, but because of the pressure of work, and now the situation was intense. There had been two murders so far, and the number could rise. And then there was Aisha, whom he did love but could not meet, although he had made an exception when it looked as though her cover was about to be blown. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help himself.

  He knew the right thing to do, but how? He had been married off in a loveless marriage to a cold and passionless woman. Apart from Elaine Downton, a casual fling before he had married, he had slept with no other woman. That was until he had met Aisha. One night in a hotel room with her, and he knew he wanted to spend his l
ife with her, but was it possible?

  Isaac’s penchant for bedding attractive women never ceased to draw admiration from the men in the police force, but the head of such a fine Service needed to be stable, with a stable family life.

  Farhan knew that in time Isaac would settle down and that he was equally at ease with the man on the street or someone in high office. Isaac had told him how the Government Chief Whip, Angus MacTavish, had acted towards him: magnanimous, friendly. Farhan had not been surprised; it happened all the time.

  Farhan knew that he did not possess Isaac’s innate charm. He was aware that he was not an unattractive man, but his features were not as easy on the eye. Sure, Elaine Downton had told him he had a good heart, and Aisha told him he was attractive, and that beauty is more than skin deep.

  No doubt they were correct. He did have a good heart, a need to help. Isaac did as well, but he had both the exterior beauty and the inner goodness. No, Farhan admitted openly to himself, I’ll be happy to make detective superintendent.

  He also knew that while the unresolved issue of his wife remained, and his involvement with a prostitute, whether or not he married her in due course, his career was going nowhere.

  He phoned Aisha. The case she had been working on had turned out successfully.

  Farhan and Aisha arranged to meet later that day. Important issues to discuss, she said. They met at the same hotel down by the river, ended up in the same bed. The important matter was that she wanted to be with him. Farhan had suspected as much when he had agreed to the meeting. His protestations at the folly of it were feebly attempted.

  After their lovemaking, she explained the situation. Her career was looking good, her parents were pleased, always telling their extended family back in India about how well their Aisha was doing. Also mentioning that she had a boyfriend, a senior man in the police force, a man going places.

  ‘I’m sorry. I had to tell them something. They are still steeped in the traditions of the home country. They still believe in their making a choice as to who I’ll spend my life with.’

  ‘Have you made that choice?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m not sure about the senior policeman.’

  ‘You will be; I’m sure of it.’

  ‘I won’t be anything if this crime is not solved.’

  ‘Maybe I can help.’

  ‘I know we discussed this before, but how?’

  ‘A different perspective. I’m a criminal lawyer.’

  ‘A successful criminal lawyer now,’ he joked.

  ‘As you say, successful.’

  They were glad of the opportunity to spend time together. He knew the trouble he would be in if anyone found out that he had slept with her again. Murder enquiry or no murder enquiry, he would almost certainly be suspended, pending a disciplinary hearing. The only hope of redemption would be if he came up with a new take on the murders.

  ‘Can we come back to Sutherland?’ He was aware of her wish not to discuss the matter.

  ‘If you must.’

  ‘Someone was able to induce him to take a drink while he was naked.’

  ‘It can only be a woman.’

  ‘If it wasn’t either you or Olivia, then that leaves the woman who let you in.’

  ‘Christy?’

  ‘I wasn’t aware you knew her name.’

  ‘She introduced herself when we first met. Timid sort of woman. Just good manners, I assume.’

  ‘I’ve ruled her out,’ Farhan said.

  ‘Any reason?’

  ‘No apparent connection that would tie her in with Sally Jenkins.’

  ‘Are the two murders related?’

  ‘That is the assumption. The disappearance of Marjorie Frobisher seems related as well.’

  ‘All three could be unrelated. Have you considered that?’

  ‘Initially, but it seemed to be going nowhere.’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘About the same. Sally Jenkins, we’re not sure. Probably someone she knew, but who? Her previous lover doesn’t seem to have a reason to kill her, and his alibi is cast iron.’

  ‘Cast iron, why do you say that?’

  ‘He was in bed with another woman.’

  ‘Proven?’ Aisha asked.

  ‘According to the woman.’

  ‘Do you believe her? Maybe she’s protecting him out of some misguided loyalty, maybe love. The same as you’re protecting me.’

  Farhan could see the reasoning. He would discuss it with Isaac, not mentioning where the discussion was held. Maybe they should just focus on one murder at a time, treat it in isolation, and not try to tie it in with the other.

  It was eight in the evening when they left the hotel. Farhan back to a cold and miserable house, Aisha back to her proud parents. How she wished she had met such a good man before she had become a prostitute, but then she would not have met him. How he wished he was free to make the choice he wanted to, but there were the children to consider. He knew the road ahead was far from clear. At least, for tonight, he was pleased they had met, had made love, had discussed the case.

  ***

  Isaac intended to meet Richard Williams at the earliest opportunity, but he did not want to barge in and then find the man’s QC submitting a writ for police intimidation. It was best to wait until Wendy had found the missing woman.

  Possibly then he could knock on the door. Hopefully, talk to her, calm her fears, and gain her confidence.

  Bridget, as always, was pleased to see Wendy when she popped her head around the door. ‘What can I do for you?’ Some quick gossip and then down to work, a cup of tea in one hand, a biscuit in the other. Wendy knew the cost of assistance would be a pub lunch washed down with a couple of strong drinks.

  ‘The woman’s somewhere. We need to find her and soon.’

  ‘She could be in a hotel. Almost impossible to find,’ Bridget replied.

  ‘Let’s assume it’s not a hotel. Let’s work on the assumption it’s a property somewhere. We know where Williams lives; it’s not going to be there.’

  ‘Why?’ Bridget asked.

  ‘Too obvious. Besides, he needs somewhere to bring his women.’

  ‘Romancer, is he?’ Bridget, always eager for some salacious gossip.

  ‘Sugar daddy, more like.’

  ‘Flashes his money around?’

  ‘Ferrari. Gives them a good time. Mid-life crisis, although he should be past that by now.’

  ‘Sounds my kind of guy,’ Bridget joked.

  ‘Unfortunately, you’re not his kind of woman.’ They knew each other well enough for Wendy to tease her.

  ‘Mature and experienced?’

  ‘Your skirt’s not short enough for one thing.’

  ‘And my breasts are not pert and upright, just dangling.’

  ‘We both suffer from that complaint. Let’s get back to Williams.’

  The joking over, both women focussed on the task. Wendy felt sure the woman was ensconced in a comfortable and secure property somewhere.

  ‘If she’s not at his house, then maybe he has other properties, flats he rents out. Can you find them?’ Wendy suggested.

  ‘I can search the records.’

  The results of two hours’ searching and a pub lunch identified three properties: a house in Twickenham, a flat down near Canary Wharf, and another flat not far from Hackney. Wendy relayed the news to Isaac. She would check them the next day.

  ***

  Isaac, severely angry with Farhan, did not mince his words. ‘How many times have you been told to keep away from this woman? If you’re seen, it’s the end of your career, mine as well. And what about our boss?’

  ‘You’re not going to tell him, are you?’

  ‘Not unless I have to,’ Isaac replied. It was good that their office was insulated so his voice didn’t travel. He was not a man given to anger, rarely a raised voice, but Farhan’s admission that he had met with Aisha again had upset him greatly.

  He had gone out on a limb to p
rotect Farhan. Even asked their boss the last time to keep it to a severe verbal reprimand, not to put anything in writing. What if it turned out that the woman was involved in the murder? Isaac shuddered at the thought of the repercussions.

  He knew that Farhan had led a sheltered life; no seducing the willing females in his later years at school and then sowing his oats after a night down the pub. Farhan, he realised, was easy prey to an experienced woman with no inhibitions about initiating sexual congress.

  ‘How am I going to protect you?’ Isaac continued. ‘Look, you’re a good policeman, and we work well as a team, but meeting with this woman again? I thought we agreed that you were going to talk to her, ask her to leave the country.’

  ‘I did meet with her, but she wants to stay.’

  ‘They’ll find her eventually; you know that?’

  ‘We both know that.’

  ‘Both, do you mean you and her?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘This is going to end badly. She has to disappear if you want to protect her.’

  ‘She has just been involved in a prominent legal case. Only as the junior, but the man got off. She’s elated, she wants to stay.’

  ‘She may be the most brilliant legal mind in the country, but she’s also a prostitute – sold herself for sex. Do you think there is any chance for her? Her past history will surface. If not now, at some stage in the future. These things can’t stay hidden forever. She must know that.’

  ‘We both know that.’

  ‘Have you been sleeping with her again?’ Isaac asked, quickly adding, ‘Don’t tell me. It’s better if you don’t answer that question.’

  ‘She’s a smart woman; she had some ideas.’

  ‘You’ve been discussing the case with her?’

  ‘More like questioning.’

  ‘At least that’s acceptable. What did she have to say, your girlfriend?’ Isaac ventured some humour. Farhan chose not to respond.

  ‘We’re assuming that the murders and the disappearance of Marjorie Frobisher are related.’

  ‘What else do we have?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘According to Aisha, what if we are wrong? What if they are unrelated?’

  ‘It’s a possibility, but how do we ascertain that?’