The Maggie Bainbridge Box Set

by Rob Wyllie

  What Fox might think about his activist colleague accepting the award on his behalf was destined never to be known. For at that very moment, he was in the emergency stairwell, lying in a pool of blood, his head battered in. Alongside lay his severed left hand. And on the back of that hand was scrawled a message that the police would find completely unfathomable.

  Leonardo

  Chapter 5

  Frank tossed aside the day-old newspaper, nodding to no-one in particular as he drained his pint. The Chronicle wasn't his paper, but he had been drawn to the headline. Society priorities questioned as missing soap star hits fifty thousand re-tweets. He had only the vaguest familiarity with social media, but he knew enough to know that fifty thousand twitters or whatever they were called was big. The guy had only been missing a couple of days, for god's sake. In Frank's opinion, he just gone on one of his benders and they'd soon find him passed out in a gutter somewhere.

  'Whoa, you're looking sharp tonight.' Frank spun round on his stool at the sound of his brother's voice.

  'Cheeky swine,' he replied, as they clasped hands in greeting.

  Jimmy's smile drained from his face as he got a better look at his brother.

  'Bloody hell Frank, what happened to you? You look as if you've done twelve rounds with Tyson Fury.'

  'Aye, and it feels like it. I was at that anti-fascist rally at the weekend and got mixed up in a bit of a punch-up. Hence my spectacular black eye.' He didn't mention the three stitches in the back of his head. Maybe he'd keep that one for Maggie.

  'I read about that,' Jimmy said. 'They arrested that far-right guy didn't they? Darren Venables.'

  Frank grimaced. 'Aye, they did. And don't I know it.'

  Jimmy looked at him, wide-eyed. 'So that was you?'

  'Can't deny it. Wish I hadn't though. He's pretty handy with his fists.'

  'Well, much respect bruv. Top work. But what's with all the fancy clobber? It couldn't be anything to do with the fact that Asvina's coming tonight?'

  'That's pure bollocks,' Frank replied, quite truthfully.

  'Aye, right. So have you bought the stuff, or have you just hired it all from Moss Brothers?'

  'Very funny. I needed to smarten myself up, that's all.'

  'That's true at least,' Jimmy said, 'and to be fair, you only do clothes shopping about once every ten years. But I must say, I like it. Particularly the leather bomber jacket. Looks cool. I mean it does. You don't.'

  'Sod off,' Frank said, the tone affectionate. 'Anyway, I was just reading about this missing actor guy Fox. It's true what they say you know. The country's going bananas because a frigging TV doctor's gone missing, whilst they've already forgotten about that wee toddler Jamie Grant, and he's been missing for nearly two years now. I mean, what's the world coming to?'

  'Jamie Grant?' Jimmy said. 'Yeah, we met his father at that awards bash the other day. He's still completely broken by it as you would expect.'

  'That's right. Just eighteen months old the kid was, it was bloody awful. Correction, it is bloody awful. My mate Pete Burnside was the lead DI and believe me it really did his head in. And now this Yash Patel guy in that paper is reminding everybody about it again. The last thing a good cop needs is to have the press on his back, but I think that's what's going to happen.'

  Yes, and now that the case had moved into the orbit of Department 12B, it was his boss DCI Jill Smart who would now be getting the kicking, until another story pushed it once more out of the spotlight.

  'You've met Burnside, haven't you?' Frank said.

  'Yeah bruv, he's a good guy. But it was the same in the army. All the arse-licking shits got the big promotions. Thank god I'm not part of that world any more. Anyway, Maggie and Asvina should be here any minute. They've been to see our latest client and I'm really looking forward to finding out how they got on. Hey, look, here they are now.'

  He gesticulated in the direction of the revolving doors from which first Maggie and then Asvina emerged. Catching sight of the brothers, they began to thread their way through the packed bar. As Frank had previously observed, crowds seemed to part in the presence of Asvina Rani. Tall, slim, beautiful and effortlessly elegant, with a cascade of shining black hair reaching almost to her waist, she looked like a supermodel and earned about five times as much. But contrary to his brother's jibes, it wasn't for this celestial apparition that Frank had invested nearly a month's beer money in the new designer jeans and leather blouson.

  'Oh dear,' Maggie said, looking alarmed. 'What happened to your eye? And by the way, you're looking smart. Going on a date?'

  His face reddened. 'Hi Maggie, and no, I'm not going on a date. As for the eye, it just took a wee bit of a bashing in the line of duty. It looks worse than it feels.' If only that was true.

  Jimmy had already ordered for them and handed each a glass of wine.

  'We had a very interesting time the other night at these soap awards,' he said. 'You'd have loved it Frank. That Melody Montague, she was looking absolutely sensational, and she's about your age.' He gave a chuckle at his own wit. Frank wasn't amused.

  'Yeah Frank, your brother got all up close and personal with Miss Montague,' Maggie said, somewhat sourly. 'Our client.'

  'Strictly business,' Jimmy said, grinning, 'but anyway, tell us, how did you two get on with her earlier?'

  'Bizarre,' Asvina said. 'Obviously we were there to tell her what Fox had said to you two about the agreement. Not surprisingly she got really angry. She of course insists that hers is the correct one and that he is trying to pull some sort of scam. Slightly complicated of course by the fact her solicitor has managed to lose her copy.’

  'And what about that other thing he said,' Jimmy asked, 'you know, our little arrangement. Did she say what that was all about?'

  Maggie shrugged. 'She just said it was something private between them. She wouldn't give anything else away but she didn't seem too bothered about it.'

  'But she must be worried about his disappearance?' Jimmy said.

  Asvina laughed. 'You think so? There's not much love left in that relationship I'm afraid. She says he got too pissed on the night to accept his award, and so he's lying low somewhere until all the fuss has died down. The only person who seems to be worried about him according to the papers is Allegra Ross.'

  'But wouldn't it be really convenient for Melody if something's actually happened to Benjy boy,' Jimmy said. 'Because his version of the pre-nup dies with him.'

  Asvina shook her head. 'No, quite the contrary in fact. The agreement would still have legal force and his heirs would benefit from it. And since there would be little chance of reaching an amicable agreement about which of the two versions is the real one, then it's likely that a court would split the marital assets fifty-fifty. So I imagine Melody will be hoping very much that Benjamin turns up soon.'

  Frank gave them a bewildered look.

  'Excuse me but what's this all about, this agreement and stuff?'

  Maggie laughed. 'Yes, sorry Frank, we should have explained. It's the pre-nuptial contract between Melody and Benjamin. There's a big argument about the details of the settlement. And there's a lot of money at stake.'

  'Aye, but luckily there was a witness,' Jimmy said breezily. 'Our guy Charles Grant.'

  'Hang on a minute,' Frank said, his eyes narrowing. 'Did I hear you right? What do you mean, our guy?'

  He listened with growing anger as Maggie confessed to their arrangement with Charles Grant.

  'What, you've promised him that you would find his son? I don't believe it! And after my mate Pete has been looking for two years and got nowhere you think you can just waltz in and fix it, just like that?'

  His anger was directed at his brother, but he knew full well which of the two amateurs he should blame. Now he wondered whether the money he had spent on the new gear had been wasted.

  'We said we would take a look at the case, that's all,' Maggie said defensively. 'No promises.'

  'Well I'm so glad you haven't promised to find
the boy,' Frank said. 'Of course you two don't know this, but it so happens the official case has been passed onto me. And all I've got to rely on is dull old-fashioned police work.'

  Asvina laughed. ‘Looks like we’ve got a bit of competition going now. But really Maggie, maybe you should think again about this. With Charles being a witness to the pre-nup, I can see a possibility that a conflict of interest might arise. So I say with a heavy heart that you probably need to choose which side you're on. Something to think about at least. But anyway, I need to go now.' She got up, shot Jimmy a brief smile and then glided towards the exit.

  'I'm not surprised she feels that way,' Frank said, a hint of bitterness in his voice. 'You guys need to have a re-think about this, you really do.'

  But he knew there was no chance of that happening. Maggie Bainbridge had been through a lot in her life and was lucky to have survived it, and he knew in Charles Grant she would have recognised a fellow casualty. She might have been rash, but she had promised the actor that she and Jimmy would help him, and he had little doubt that it was a promise she intended to keep. So be it, and hopefully with a little guidance from himself he'd stop the two of them doing too much damage. They might even be able to help, with a bit of luck on their side. God knows, the case had been a disaster from the start and it needed all the help it could get.

  Tomorrow he would need to buckle down and sort out the tedious paperwork in connection with his arrest of Darren Venables. He was a real nasty bastard and Frank was glad he'd nailed him, even though he knew he'd get away with just a fine or a few hours' community service. But that would land him with a criminal record if he didn’t already have one, and they'd take fingerprints, a high-resolution mug-shot for the facial recognition scans, and a DNA sample too. Going forward, the scumbag wouldn't be able to go for a crap without the authorities knowing about it.

  And after that Frank would give some proper attention to the Jamie Grant kidnapping. Because out of the blue, a sliver of a half-remembered fact had leapt into his mind. He couldn't remember where or when he'd read about it but it was something that would require a phone call. To Lyon, France. It was a mad hunch and he didn't know how to make an international call on his recently-acquired smartphone but he was sure wee Eleanor would help him with that.

  Chapter 6

  It was four days before the body of Benjamin Fox was discovered. Frank guessed there wasn't much call to use the emergency stairwell when the conference centre was in normal use, and so his body could have lain silently decaying for many more days if a cleaner hadn't decided to slip down there for a sly smoke rather than trekking to the entrance, as was her normal habit.

  The scene-of-crime team had worked swiftly and efficiently and within six hours the body had been cleared for release to the forensic pathology lab. According to the interim case report he had got his hands on, it hadn't taken much examination to determine the cause of death. A severe blow to the back of the head from a blunt instrument, provenance unknown. Establishing the time of death had been more imprecise, but since rigor mortis was no longer evident and the body had started to bloat with foam-speckled blood leaking from the mouth and nose, it could be assumed that death had occurred about three to five days earlier. The investigation team had done a cursory review of the footage from the show, which revealed that Fox had been absent from his place beside Allegra Ross on at least three occasions, once, according to Ross, to visit the loo and twice to fortify himself with a stiff whisky. On the second refreshment visit, he had been seen propping up the bar whilst in deep conversation with Charles Grant. He had not returned after his third visit and it was therefore assumed by the police that he must have been killed shortly afterwards, at about quarter-to-eleven.

  Of course, with the victim being so well-known, identification was a mere formality, but it was a formality that had to be observed nonetheless. Ordinarily, it would be the responsibility of the next of kin, and his sister Edwina had been identified as the relative in question, but she was out of the country on business. As a result, the task fell to his activist friend and fellow Bow Road actor Charles Grant.

  But the big question that Frank was wrestling with was why the hell the Met in its infinite wisdom had decided to allocate the case to the frigging walking disaster that was DCI Colin Barker. He wasn't even remotely half-competent and he was a total fuckwit and a complete shit to boot. Such were the views Frank was expressing to Frenchie as they waited in the stuffy press room at Paddington Green police station with the assembled media. DC Ronnie French, one of the most useless of the Department 12B cohort, an accolade which took some earning in that ocean of uselessness, was his normal reliably-cynical self. Meaning he agreed with ever word his gov'nor said on matters Barker-related. Generally speaking, Frank wouldn't have let Frenchie within a million miles of one of his cases, but he'd recently been on the end of a mild bollocking from Jill Smart about his aversion to working as a team. She was right, he bloody hated working with anybody, but such was his respect for his gaffer he was prepared to give it a try. Reluctantly.

  'What I can't understand guv,' Frenchie was saying in his trademark laconic tones, 'is why he's still in a job after all his screw ups?'

  'Said it before Frenchie, that's what always happens. Same as in every organisation. Guys like that get promoted to their level of incompetence. Peter's Principle, that's what they used to call it after some guy who wrote a book. Everyone knows they're crap, but no-one's got the balls to do anything about it. Seen it time and time again. But hold that thought, because here's a live appearance from the monumental arse in question.'

  Barker waddled on to the platform, taking his place behind a wooden lectern. He was tall, but seriously overweight, with a prominent double chin and heavy jowls. In his younger days, he evidently had been quite good-looking. That, in Frank's jaundiced view, could have been the only reason for his inexplicable career trajectory. Behind him trailed Heather Green, a pretty black WPC whom Frank knew and rated, and who Barker introduced as his personal assistant. For him, she was there to look nice, tick the diversity box and operate the PowerPoint. That was the sort of guy Barker was.

  'Personal assistant?' Frank said bitterly. 'It's a bloody assistance dog that he needs. Deaf dumb and blind doesn't even begin to describe it.'

  The chatter in the room gradually died away as Barker cleared his throat in preparation to speak.

  'Well, good morning ladies and gentlemen.' It was two-thirty in the afternoon. Genius.

  Yash Patel of the Chronicle had sat through too many turgid Barker press-conferences and was evidently in no mood to suffer any more than was absolutely necessary. As was his way, he cut to the chase.

  'D'you have any suspects, Chief Inspector? Do you have a motive? Are Melody Montague or Allegra Ross suspects? It's usually those closest to the victim, isn't that true? In ninety-three percent of the time it's a partner or former partner, that's what the statistics say, isn't that true?'

  Barker studiously ignored the intervention and ploughed on in his droning voice whilst Frank provided a whispered running commentary. Yes, it was his intention to question everyone who had attended the awards ceremony and to trace everyone who had entered or left the building in the time window between Fox's last sighting and the discovery of the body ninety-six hours later. 'Aye, so that's narrowed it down to about ten thousand suspects.' No, they did not yet have a motive but they were working on a number of lines of enquiry. 'They hadn't a damn clue and that's not going to improve with you in charge.' Everyone was a suspect at this stage and nothing was being ruled out. 'That's not even a cliché.' It was a complex case but he expected swiftly to bring the investigation to a successful conclusion. 'That'll be the first time.’

  This time he said it loud enough for everyone present to hear. Muted laughter rippled round the room, and up on the stage, WPC Green struggled to stifle a career-limiting giggle. Barker furrowed his brow and scanned the room, having recognised the voice of his nemesis, but decided against reacting. B
ecause now he was about to move on to what he knew would be the big talking-point.

  'But to conclude, we do have one very interesting piece of evidence that I would like to share with you. Heather, could you do the honours please.'

  The WPC clicked her mouse, bringing up the next slide. There were gasps of surprise from the grizzled journalists as they began to make sense of the image.

  'So is that the victim's hand?' asked one. 'Bloomin' hell.'

  'Leonardo? Do you know what that means Chief Inspector? Is that who did it? It wasn't Di Caprio was it?' That drew a laugh, Patel giving a mock bow to the assembled hacks.

  Frank was staring at the screen in disbelief. God's sake, why the hell has he let that out? What a complete numpty.

  Barker gave a complacent smile. 'I don't think Mr Di Caprio is in town, but yes, we have a number of theories about its significance. However you will forgive me when I say we are not able to disclose these at this moment in time.'

  Out of the blue, Frank got up and strode to the front of the platform. Ignoring the angry stare of Barker, he addressed the assembly.

  'Look ladies and gents, I think we've had a wee bit of an IT malfunction here, we didn't mean to show you these pictures.' He gestured to the young WPC and immediately she understood, replacing the images with a blank screen. 'And folks, we don't want to read anything about this in your papers or see it on your telly reports. I know I can rely on your co-operation.' As if, he thought. Still, the fourth estate wasn't entirely without honour so he could hope for the best.

  He shot Barker a serene smile. 'Sorry about that sir, just thought it was worth mentioning in passing. Back to you sir.' If looks could kill, Frank would already be dead, buried and probably cremated too.