DCI Isaac Cook Box Set 1

by Phillip Strang

  ‘In here,’ Larry said. Isaac could see that the man was starting to waddle, the result of too much food and not enough exercise. Isaac took stock of himself, noticed that he had put on a couple of extra pounds. He resolved to get out of the office once a day and to take a stroll around the area, or maybe join the gym not far from the police station.

  ‘What have you found?’

  ‘It was hidden.’ Larry pushed his way down the side of a wardrobe in one corner of the murdered woman’s room, and extending his arm, he took hold of a book tucked away behind it. ‘She kept a diary.’

  ‘And this was missed before?’

  ‘The others were not as thorough as me. Nobody thought that she did anything other than spend money, snort cocaine, and get herself laid by the occasional criminal.’

  ‘Have you looked inside?’

  ‘The first few pages. She was articulate.’

  ‘No one’s ever doubted her education.’

  ‘It goes back to the beginning of this year. There may be other diaries for earlier years, but I’ve not found them yet.’

  ‘What does this one say?’

  The two men had relocated downstairs to the kitchen and were sitting at a table, the diary opened in front of them.

  ‘The usual,’ Larry said. ‘Details of her trips into town, the clothes she bought. It’s not until she’s been writing in it for two months that I found something.’

  ‘I thought you hadn’t studied it in detail.’

  ‘I hadn’t. I was just skimming through, random pages.’

  ‘Get to the point,’ Isaac said. He had become annoyed with the slovenly appearance of his DI, even after he had given him a reprimand about maintaining standards in the department. At the time, Larry had been apologetic, promising to turn over a new leaf, but to date it was only thought, no action.

  Isaac knew that Larry’s relationship with his wife was suffering as well, because of the ever-present curse of the modern police officer: the unsociable working hours, missing the children’s school open days, the inability to be there to help with their homework.

  ‘Here it is,’ Larry said. He put on a pair of glasses, the first time that Isaac had seen his DI wearing them. “February 2nd Q came over”.’

  ‘Q?’

  ‘No idea. I’ll continue. “My life is a living hell; I’m not sure if I want to continue”.’

  ‘The date of one of her attempted suicides,’ Isaac said.

  ‘Her father said that she had medical reasons for her suicide attempts. This would indicate that there was another reason.’

  ‘So why did the father tell us it was medical?’

  ‘We’ll ask him in due course. It may not be important, although this Q is.’

  ‘Does this tie in Christine Devon?’

  ‘It depends if she saw the diary and understood its significance. It’s more likely she knew who this Q was, and what Amelia was doing with the man.’

  ‘Man?’ Isaac said.

  ‘It could be a woman, I suppose.’

  ‘We’ll need the diary checked.’

  ‘Bridget can go through it,’ Larry said.

  ‘The woman’s loaded up as it is.’

  ‘We’re all loaded up. And what are we going to do about the murder of Samuel Devon?’

  ‘Attempt to see if his death and that of his mother are related. All three murders are important, although it’s Amelia Brice who garners all the attention.’

  ‘I’ll go back to the office,’ Larry said.

  ‘Give Bridget the diary, ask her to start work on it. We’ll then meet up at Brice’s radio station. You know which one?’

  ‘At this time of the day, he’ll have another fifty-five minutes to go. We need to ask him about Q.’

  ‘He’s likely to clam up.’

  ‘And we’re likely to bring him into the station and put on the pressure.’

  ‘It’s getting murky.’

  ‘What’s different from our other cases?’ Isaac said.

  ‘There may be some other diaries in here. I’ll come back later, maybe bring Wendy with me.’

  ‘You’ll need to do something about your weight, you know that,’ Isaac said, trying not to sound too authoritative.

  ‘I know, only these diets of my wife leave me starving. I’ve tried telling her, but it’s in one ear and out the other.’

  ‘You’ll need to take control.’

  ‘Not so easy. If I lay the law down too strongly, she’s likely to walk.’

  ‘Anyway, I’ve said my piece. I don’t want to make it official, but there’s a compulsory medical coming up soon. If you want a promotion, you’ll need to be fit.’

  ‘Point taken. Give me three weeks, and you’ll not recognise me.’

  ‘Okay, let’s go. Brice is not going to like us turning up on his doorstep.’

  ‘Do you care?’

  ‘Not me,’ Isaac said.

  ***

  Isaac arrived at the radio station as Jeremy Brice was wrapping up. He had listened to him on the car radio as he was driving over. Something to do with the pitiful condition of the hospitals in the country, and what was the government doing to resolve the problem. He had even had the prime minister on the line.

  ‘I never expected you to be here,’ Brice said. The man was standing outside the studio where he had just been broadcasting. There were others present, and he was pleasant. ‘We’ll go into another room.’

  ‘Mr Brice, we’ve found a diary belonging to your daughter.’

  ‘She always had one. Have you found out who killed her?’

  Larry walked in and took a seat next to Isaac.

  ‘The diary mentioned February 2nd. It’s a significant day.’

  ‘Yes. I know what day it is. Another one of her episodes.’

  ‘Have there been many?’ Larry asked.

  ‘Two in the last year. Is this important? My daughter had a medical issue. She did not die by her hand, but by someone else’s.’

  ‘In the diary, it mentioned a Q,’ Larry said. ‘We assume it to be a man, although it could be a woman.’

  ‘And? I’m a busy man. I need to be in makeup within the hour. A television programme tonight.’

  ‘According to your daughter’s diary, she had met with Q, and she was contemplating suicide.’

  ‘Who knows what goes through the minds of someone who’s suicidal.’

  ‘Did you have her checked out?’

  ‘What kind of father do you think I was? Of course she was checked out. The best medical treatment, the best psychiatric help, but it needed discipline, hard work on her part.’

  ‘And as long as you supplied the money, the hard work was not necessary.’

  ‘Don’t lecture me on raising a child. If I had not given her the money, she would have been on the street. I couldn’t let her do that, and if the money meant that she took drugs and screwed black men, then so be it. At least she was still alive.’ Brice looked at Isaac. ‘Sorry about that, but she enjoyed the seedy side of life.’

  ‘No offence was taken. We know the type of men she enjoyed,’ Isaac said.

  ‘Are there any other diaries?’ Larry asked.

  ‘She was always secretive with them. As a child, there’d be a lock on them, but now, I don’t know. I never read them, my wife would sometimes, even though I told her not to.’

  ‘We’re concerned about the reference to Q. We’re also checking other dates that your daughter may have attempted suicide.’

  ‘Don’t put any credence on what she wrote.’

  ‘Unfortunately, we must.’

  ‘The other woman’s murder? Did you find out who killed her?’

  ‘It’s the same person that killed your daughter. We solve one, we solve the other, and now the other woman, Christine Devon, her son has been murdered.’

  ‘Are they related?’

  ‘We don’t think so. We’ll pursue your daughter’s and Christine Devon’s murders as separate to Mrs Devon’s son. If we make a connection, we’ll
let you know.’

  ***

  Samuel Devon’s death had been confirmed by Pathology as drowning, although the youth had been knifed a couple of times before being weighted down with chains and thrown off a bridge. Charisa and Billy Devon were holding up well, coordinating with Wendy Gladstone who was attempting to retrace their mother’s movements, trying to understand why she had been murdered as well as Amelia Brice.

  Wendy had known one thing when she entered the office of the ABC Cleaning Company, Christine Devon’s last known employer: they weren’t as clean as she would have expected. Inside the main door were some brooms, a bucket of dirty water. The place also smelt of bleach. ‘What can I do for you, luv?’ a red-faced woman asked. Wendy guessed her age as close to hers, and whereas she would admit to not being in the best physical shape, she was certainly better than the woman who sat behind the computer monitor, a haze of smoke rising into the air. Wendy could only look longingly at the cigarette in the woman’s mouth. She had not smoked for nearly a year, but even now she could take one with ease.

  Not so long ago, she had weakened, put one in her mouth, only to spit it out. Not because she didn’t want to continue, but because she knew it was not good for her. The woman behind the computer looked as though she’d never realised that it was affecting her health, not that she seemed to be the sort of person to care.

  ‘Detective Sergeant Gladstone,’ Wendy said. ‘I’m from Homicide. I’ve a few questions.’

  ‘Christine Devon?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘There’s not much I can tell you. She only worked here a few weeks. No complaints, though.’

  ‘Do you get complaints?’

  ‘Some of my employees regard stealing as acceptable.’

  ‘And you pay the minimum wage?’

  ‘I need cleaners. Someone who’s cheap and reliable, nothing more.’

  ‘And the alternative to the low pay is the thieving?’

  ‘I get those I employ to sign that they are responsible for damages and theft.’

  ‘Waste of time?’

  ‘What do you think? At some of the houses, the cash is left on display, the mobile phone is lying on the table, they can’t help themselves. Not that I can blame them, but I’m the one dealing with the owner.’

  ‘Christine Devon, any problems with her?’

  ‘No, but she’d only been here for a few weeks. They’re normally okay for a few months until the owners start to trust them.’

  ‘How do you deal with it?’

  ‘Most of those working for me don’t last that long.’

  ‘You sack them?’

  ‘If they’re not up to scratch.’

  Wendy saw no reason to discuss the woman’s approach to her staff. She was there investigating two murders. ‘What do you remember about Christine Devon?’

  The woman behind the desk shifted uncomfortably in her seat; she leaned forward and took another cigarette from a packet. ‘Do you want one?’ she asked.

  ‘Not for me,’ Wendy replied. ‘Christine Devon?’

  ‘There’s a steady stream of women like her in this office. She did her job, I paid her. Apart from that, we didn’t talk.’

  ‘And you sent her to the Brices’ house?’

  ‘Their regular cleaner was ill. They needed someone for a few days. I sent Christine. There were no complaints from anyone else that I sent her to.’

  ‘Which means you’d keep her until she asked for more money?’

  ‘She’d ask eventually, they always do.’

  Wendy realised that the owner was a mean-spirited woman who was willing to take advantage of those less fortunate. ‘Did you meet Amelia Brice?’ she asked.

  ‘I met the father once when we negotiated the contract to clean the house. Apart from that, I never saw the daughter, not at the house anyway.’

  ‘Elsewhere?’

  ‘She used to get around. I’d see her sometimes, high as a kite or drunk. Attractive, though.’

  ‘Anyone in particular that she was with?’

  ‘She liked her men to be dark.’

  ‘You mean those from the Caribbean.’

  ‘That’s it, not that I’d fancy them.’

  ‘Where did you see her?’

  ‘She used to go to the Westbourne pub in Bayswater.’

  Wendy thanked the woman and left. The Westbourne had already been visited by Larry, and some of the men that Amelia Brice had gone around with had been noted.

  Chapter 6

  Bridget studied the diary that Larry had given her. As usual, it was shaping up to be a late night.

  Isaac had brought back a couple of pizzas with him, and judging by Larry’s exuberance, he wasn’t going to lose weight that night. Isaac kept to one slice, however.

  Bridget and Wendy had no such problems, and they finished off the pizzas.

  ‘Q is mentioned on three separate occasions in the diary,’ Bridget said. ‘You know about the February 2nd entry, which correlates with one of the woman’s suicide attempts. There’s another in January, similar, in that Q was being difficult. No mention that she was contemplating suicide. And the final entry, May 3rd. Yet again, Q was difficult.’

  ‘On the one hand she complains, attempts suicide, and then, on the other, she’s up at the pub with the men. What is it with this woman?’ Isaac said.

  ‘Maybe the father was correct,’ Larry said.

  ‘He knew who Q was.’

  ‘You noticed his reaction when we mentioned it?’

  ‘We need to know who it refers to. We’ll assume it’s a person’s initial, first or last. Anyone that fits the bill, Bridget?’

  ‘I’ve got you a name.’

  ‘You have? You kept that quiet,’ Isaac said.

  ‘I needed to go through what the diary had to say first.’

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘I can’t be one hundred per cent certain on this, but Amelia Brice was involved with a man by the name of Quentin Waverley some years ago. I looked through the social pages, found a picture for you.’ Bridget handed each of those present a folder containing, amongst other things, several photos of the man, one with his arm around the dead woman.

  ‘Was this a long-term relationship?’

  ‘Apparently, they were living together.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘The same place she was murdered.’

  ‘Her father told us that Q meant nothing,’ Larry said.

  ‘The man lied,’ Isaac said.

  ‘Where can we find Quentin Waverley?’ Wendy asked.

  ‘Canary Wharf. He’s a merchant banker.’

  ‘Any more on the relationship?’

  ‘He married money, the daughter of another merchant banker. After that, his fortunes improved dramatically.’

  ‘What else do we know about the man?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘Quentin Alistair Waverley, thirty-nine, school captain, academically gifted, Master’s degree in economics.’

  ‘Smart man. Amelia wouldn’t fit in with where he was heading – the daughter of an outspoken social commentator, into drugs and bad men.’

  ‘The drugs came about after she had separated from Waverley. The man’s “butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth” clean,’ Bridget said.

  ‘Which means he’s got skeletons in the cupboard,’ Isaac said.

  ‘Bridget, a full dossier for tomorrow. Larry and I will go and see Waverley. Wendy, keep up the pressure on the cleaning company. Check if there’s any dirt, any attempt to use the access to the houses of the affluent to steal or embezzle.’

  ‘And to blackmail,’ Wendy said.

  ‘It’s possible. We need to tie the two women together. Waverley’s one option, the cleaning company is another, and now we have Jeremy Brice lying to us.’

  ‘We could visit him tonight,’ Larry said.

  ‘He’ll be defensive.’

  ‘That’s up to him.’

  Isaac made a phone call. Brice answered the phone, reluctantly agreed to a late night visit. The two
police officers left Challis Street. It was already ten in the evening. Larry knew he’d not be home before 2 a.m. and his wife would be livid.

  Isaac had no one to go home to, and for once, seeing how Larry suffered, he didn’t mind.

  Brice let the two officers into his flat in Mayfair.His girlfriend, who looked to be in her fifties, introduced herself.

  The three men excused themselves and went to the study. ‘Now what is so important?’ Brice said.

  ‘Quentin Waverley,’ Isaac said.

  ‘That’s a few years back.’

  ‘But you knew him?’

  ‘Of course I did. I thought he was going to marry Amelia. If he had, she’d still be alive.’

  ‘You approved of the man?’

  ‘Yes, I did. He was a good influence on Amelia.’

  ‘Why did you deny on our last visit knowing anyone who could have been Q?’

  ‘They were not on good terms. As far as Amelia was concerned, the man was dead.’

  ‘It’s still not a good enough reason to deny his existence.’

  ‘It is for me.’

  ‘According to your daughter’s diary, she had some contact with him. Were they having an affair?’

  ‘My daughter sometimes had trouble distinguishing fiction from fact. Quentin Waverley, in my estimation, is a thoroughly decent man. I’m only sad that he turned her over for the other woman.’

  ‘Gwen Happold. What can you tell us about her?’

  ‘She was a friend of Amelia’s. They used to go around together. Her father was successful, and she was attractive.’

  ‘As attractive as your daughter?’

  ‘It’s hard to say, but she was a good-looking woman. Anyway, she had her eyes on Quentin.’

  ‘How, if he was with your daughter?’

  ‘She made sure that Amelia caught the two of them in bed.’

  ‘Devious?’

  ‘An excellent woman to have on your side.’

  ‘You still admire her?’