***
The first notification of Allerton’s death came thirty minutes after his Bentley had gone over the side of the quarry. The local police station that had been keeping a watch out for him had discovered the car at the bottom of the quarry ten minutes after it had landed there. Three local boys out hiking had seen the events at the top of the hill. They dialled the emergency services on 999 at once.
‘Another death,’ Isaac said when he phoned Len Donaldson.
‘Who is it?’
‘Lord Allerton.’
‘You know why he’s dead? I assume it’s murder.’
‘It’s murder.’
‘He died because he was going to talk to us,’ Donaldson said.
‘I’m going up there,’ Isaac said.
‘I’ll come with you.’
‘Fine. We leave in twenty minutes.’
Isaac phoned DCS Goddard. The man was not pleased. ‘Every time you get involved in a murder case, the bodies keep piling up. Are you jinxed?’
‘Of course not,’ Isaac retorted. He did not like his senior’s comment, but it was true. In his previous cases – the missing actress, the body in the fireplace, the female serial killer – the body count had continued to rise even when the case was virtually solved. Isaac discounted the probability that he may be fated, but his parents had come from Jamaica, and they had a healthy if guarded respect for forces beyond a person’s control.
However, Allerton had not died as a result of a phantom hand. The reports coming through indicated death by intent. The question was, whose intent?
Isaac called Wendy and Larry into his office. ‘I’m off to Allerton’s home. Find out all you can about Allerton’s friends and business acquaintances. Someone knew his movements and the fact he was coming to see us. We’ve got twenty-four hours on this one before DCS Goddard is baying for our blood.’
Isaac and Len Donaldson made the trip up through the heart of England in record time. Isaac, not known for his light foot on the accelerator, was only a slow driver compared to Donaldson, who was driving. ‘Used to race Go Karts when I was younger,’ he said when Isaac had told him to ease up.
Still, Isaac had to admit he was a good driver and time was of the essence. Allerton’s death had not been expected and it had thrown all their investigations into turmoil.
‘Pretty country,’ Donaldson said as he drove up the road towards Allerton’s home. There had been a police car blocking the road below, but Isaac had flashed his badge and they were quickly through. The quarry was their first port of call.
‘Not much to see,’ a dour man said on their arrival. He introduced himself as Inspector Trevor Corker.
‘What can you tell us?’ Isaac asked. The weather was biting, with an arctic wind blowing. Isaac pulled up the collar of his coat and shrugged his shoulders in an attempt to keep warm.
‘It’s a bit brisk today, I’ll grant you that,’ Corker said. Isaac estimated him to be in his mid-fifties and close to retirement. He had the healthy glow of someone who enjoyed the outdoors, and would positively hate a holiday in the south of France or even the Caribbean where the weather was anything but arctic.
‘Lord Allerton,’ Isaac said to bring the conversation back to the reason he and Donaldson were freezing.
‘We’ve got three local lads who witnessed it all. One’s a bit shaken up, but the other two are fine.’
‘It’s clearly murder?’ Donaldson asked.
‘No doubt about it,’ Corker replied. ‘Apart from the boys, the skid marks are easy to see. Strange, really.’
‘Why?’ Isaac asked.
‘I don’t hold much with titles,’ Corker said, ‘but I knew the man personally.’
You should meet Wendy, Isaac thought, knowing full well her ambivalence to the concept of privilege based on who’s bed you were born in, who your parents were.
‘And?’
‘His Lordship revelled in it, although once you got past the veneer, he was a decent person. If anyone in the local village was in trouble, he was always willing to help out with advice, sometimes money. There are others of the landed gentry around here who wouldn’t deem to acknowledge that you existed, but not so with his Lordship.’
‘Beautiful car, or at least it was,’ Donaldson said.
‘He bought it new about five months ago,’ Corker said.
‘How do you know that?’ Isaac asked.
‘He gave me a ride in it just after he bought it. As I said, he was a decent man as long as you gave him the necessary respect.’
‘His death?’ Donaldson asked. Allerton’s death, regardless of whether he was well-respected or not in the local community, did not affect the fact that he had had information the police wanted. The man knew something, and he had been silenced. The question was who had been responsible and where were they.
‘If the vehicle rolling over before it reached the quarry edge had not killed him, the impact with the quarry floor would have,’ Corker said.
‘Is the body still in the vehicle?’ Isaac asked.
‘It’s still there. We’ll have to cut him out.’
So far, the three men had not approached the vehicle as it was precariously balanced on a rocky outcrop in an area of the quarry deemed unstable. However, they approached gingerly by a route determined as safe by the crime scene investigation team brought in from Derby, the main city in the county.
Isaac crouched down and peered inside. The man who had phoned him was pinned between the steering wheel and the roof.
‘Almost decapitated him,’ the crime scene examiner said.
‘DCI Isaac Cook, Challis Street in London, and this is DCI Len Donaldson, Serious and Organised Crime Command.’
‘Are you saying Allerton was involved with crime?’ the CSE asked.
‘He’s part of an ongoing investigation,’ Isaac admitted.
‘There’s not much more to see here,’ Donaldson said as he marched up and down on the spot, trying to keep the circulation flowing in his legs.
‘Where are the three boys?’ Isaac asked Corker.
‘They're up at Allerton Hall, in the housekeeper’s cottage.’
‘We’d better go and see them. Has Allerton’s wife been informed?’
‘I dealt with it earlier. She took it well.’
‘No tears?’
‘Women like her do not show their emotions.’
***
The four friends were now three, and the agreement made twenty-five years previously was now broken. Four men who would look out for each other, no matter what, and now one of the four had killed another of their group. The news of Allerton’s death had been on social media before the news agencies and the television channels had picked it up.
‘Keith, you’ve had Tim Allerton murdered,’ Griffiths said over the phone.
‘Did you trust him?’ the leader of the group said.
‘He was reluctant, but yes.’
‘The risk was too great.’
For once Jacob Griffiths was speechless. He had seen a flaw in the character of the person he was talking to. The man, even as a boy, had been brilliant but he should have known that the police would double their efforts to find out who had killed a member of the aristocracy. The man was one of the elites of society, not a tramp on the street.
‘You’ve killed one of us,’ Griffiths said.
‘Before he destroyed us.’
‘How long before the whole sorry saga is concluded?’
‘Ten days.’
‘And then?’
‘You will never hear from me again.’
‘You’re leaving Fortescue and me to deal with the aftermath?’
Keith sat down and looked out of the window of his penthouse overlooking the River Thames. He thought of how far he had come, how much he had achieved. It was good that all that he owned had been purchased through offshore companies, and that whatever happened he would be able to realise his assets. It was remarkable, he thought, that he had gone through life being liked,
pretending to like others, but the reality was that he cared for no one other than himself. Even that agreement with those silly boys had meant nothing.
Sure, it had ensured they covered for his illegal activities at Eton, and that Fortescue, fool that he was, had ensured his identity had remained unknown when he was swindling some locals in Fortescue’s constituency. If either Griffiths or Fortescue decided to weaken as Allerton had, then their fate would be the same. Keith knew that where he was going, no one would find him. He decided to shorten the ten days to eight, and woe betide anyone who got in his way.
‘Are you listening?’ Griffiths asked.
‘Jacob, my dear friend Jacob. You worry too much. What was Allerton to us? Is your freedom more important than his life?’
‘It was unnecessary.’
‘It no longer matters. I give you my word. There will be no more killings. Ten days is all I ask.’
‘Ten days.’
Jacob Griffiths ended the phone call knowing one thing: Keith had lied through his teeth.
Griffiths called Fortescue to let him know about Allerton and the previous phone call.
‘Good God, we’re done for,’ Fortescue said.
Griffiths could only agree. Keith would be gone, and he would cover his tracks well, but Tim Allerton’s friends and acquaintances would be checked.
‘There’s no hope.’
‘Can you get out of the country?’ Fortescue asked.
‘Not a chance, and I don’t want to. I’ve my businesses and my family here.’
‘But you’ll be arrested.’
‘How about you, Miles?’
‘The same as you. I can’t leave, can’t stay. We’re doomed because we trusted Keith.’
‘It’s hindsight. What can we do?’
‘Nothing, just nothing.’
Chapter 20
The housekeeper’s cottage, located close to the main house, was warm when the two policemen arrived there. Mrs Townsend, the housekeeper, a middle-aged woman, kept the humble abode meticulously clean. ‘It’s so sad,’ she said.
Isaac could see she had been crying. ‘We have a few questions,’ he said.
‘Warm yourself by the fire while I fetch some tea.’ Even though the woman was obviously distraught, she was still able to deal with the basics.
The two men stood in front of the blaze for two minutes until it became too hot.
‘One thing his Lordship appreciated was an open fire. Mind you, it can be perishing cold up in the big house. For me, I’d rather be here, snug and cosy.’
Both men sat down and enjoyed a respite from the investigation.
A uniformed officer came in. ‘The three boys are ready in the other room,’ he said.
‘Thanks,’ Isaac said. ‘Are they okay?’
‘They’re fine now. Their parents are here as well.’
‘Fine,’ Donaldson said. ‘We’ll interview all three at the same time.’
Five minutes later, the boys entered accompanied by two of the parents. Mrs Townsend brought another pot of tea for the police officers and the two parents, hot chocolate for the boys.
‘I’m Detective Chief Inspector Isaac Cook and this is Detective Chief Inspector Len Donaldson,’ Isaac said as both men shook hands with the three boys. The parents sat to one side.
‘I’m Billy Smith, this here is Frank Fogarty,’ the first boy said. The third boy, younger than the other two, introduced himself as Terry Smith.
‘He’s my brother,’ Billy said.
All three boys were dressed in clothes designed for the weather: jeans, heavy jackets, and sturdy hiking shoes. Isaac knew he was not.
‘It’s warm in here,’ Billy said as he removed his jacket. The other two boys followed his example.
‘According to Inspector Corker, you all saw the incident when his Lordship’s car went into the quarry.’
‘Uncle Trevor. He’s our uncle,’ Terry Smith said. He did not seem to recognise the seriousness of the matter.
‘Very well,’ Isaac said. ‘According to your uncle, you saw what happened.’
‘We were up here hiking.’
‘Do you do that often?’
‘Sometimes. There’s not much else to do around here.’
‘Tell us what you saw. Billy, maybe you can tell us first, and then after, Frank and Terry can add in anything you missed.’
Billy and Frank acknowledged their understanding of how the interview was to proceed. Young Terry looked out of the window.
‘He’s not all there, our Terry,’ Billy said. Isaac could see that the youngest of the three was drifting. At best, he was an unreliable witness, whereas Billy and Frank seemed to be focussed.
‘Billy, please start.’
‘We were walking up here on a track off to the side of the road. It’s hidden by bushes so no one could see us from the road.’
‘What were you doing up here?’ Donaldson asked.
‘Just walking.’
Donaldson, who had grown up in the country, knew that was not the truth. They were up to mischief. He let it pass. They had bigger issues to deal with.
‘Continue, Billy,’ Isaac said. ‘We’ll not interrupt again,’ giving a subtle hit to Len Donaldson to keep quiet.
‘We’d seen the Land Rover, but we took no notice. Anyway, we carried on up the hill. We could see Lord Allerton coming up the hill in his car, so we ducked down low. We didn’t want him to see us. He slows down to enter his place, and the Land Rover comes out from a track nearby and rams the car. We rushed up the hill to get a closer look.’
‘Did anyone see you?’ Isaac asked. He deemed it was a relevant question to interrupt the young boy.
‘Lord Allerton may have, but the man in the Land Rover didn’t.’
‘I saw him,’ Terry Smith said.
‘Who?’ Isaac asked.
‘The man in the Land Rover.’
‘Don’t listen to him,’ his elder brother said. ‘He makes up stories.’
‘I still need to hear it,’ Isaac said.
‘He was a little man.’
‘Anything else?’
‘He had tattoos on his arms. I could see that, even if Billy thinks I’m lying. Mister, I’m telling the truth.’
‘I believe you,’ Isaac said, the description suspiciously similar to a prime suspect.
‘He had a gun,’ Frank Fogarty said.
‘Could you identify it?’ Isaac asked.
‘No. We only heard it being fired.’
‘That correlates with what they found at the crime scene,’ Donaldson said.
‘Then what happened?’ Isaac asked.
‘The Land Rover pushes Lord Allerton’s car off the side of the road,’ Frank Fogarty said.
‘We could see the man shouting,’ Billy Smith added.
‘Who?’
‘Lord Allerton.’
‘Then what?’
‘We rushed up here and phoned the police.’
‘Is there any more you can tell us?’ Isaac asked.
‘Nothing. The Land Rover drove off, that’s all,’
‘Did you get a registration number?’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘I did,’ Terry Smith said.
‘What was it?’
‘Is there a reward?’ the young boy asked. Isaac realised he had probably been fed a diet of American cop shows on the television.
‘We’ll arrange something,’ Isaac said. He’d let Uncle Trevor deal with that.
‘HDE 59F,’ Terry blurted out. Isaac had to admit if the boy was a little slow for his age, at least his ability to remember car registrations was unbeatable.
Isaac picked up his phone and dialled Bridget back in Challis Street. He then called his DI and his sergeant to follow up on the car and its occupant.
***
There was one more interview to conduct before Isaac and Donaldson returned to London. They found Lady Allerton in the main house. Mrs Townsend had taken them over. It was apparent that the two women were fond of e
ach other.
After a few minutes when the two women comforted each other, the housekeeper left. Isaac looked around the room; it was magnificent. It wasn’t the first stately home he had been in, but it was one of the best. Apart from the portraits on the walls, there were hunting trophies from a bygone age and an elephant’s foot footstool near the fireplace. Isaac did not like the idea of it but did not comment.
‘My husband was a good man,’ Lady Allerton said. She was dressed conservatively in black.
‘I’m very sorry about this,’ Isaac said, ‘but I must ask some questions.’
Isaac remembered Inspector Corker’s statement that women such as Lady Allerton keep their emotions in check. The man had been right, as the woman maintained her composure.
‘Thank you. I believe his body has been removed,’ she said.
‘You will be required to formally identify your late husband. Will that be acceptable?’ Donaldson asked.
‘Perfectly acceptable.’ Given that her husband had just died, Isaac marvelled at the woman’s self-control. Not only had she maintained a steady voice devoid of emotion, but she had also managed to order tea for all three. A woman entered carrying the tray.
‘Lily, please pour,’ Lady Allerton said. It was the first opportunity that Isaac had to study the woman. He knew from Bridget’s check of Burke’s Peerage that she was forty-two. She was slim and well proportioned. Isaac, a man with an eye for beauty, could only declare her beautiful.
Donaldson, if asked, would have said that he had taken no notice, and that after his wife had taken off with his best friend, he had given women a wide berth.
‘I must ask,’ Isaac said.
‘Please do. I will answer your questions to the best of my ability.’
‘Do you know the reason for your husband’s death?’
‘No.’
‘Are you aware that he was in London?’
‘He told me he had some business there.’
‘Did he tell you what kind of business?’
‘I did not ask. My husband is free to conduct his affairs without an inquisitive wife.’
DCI Isaac Cook Box Set 1 Page 101