The Maggie Bainbridge Box Set

by Rob Wyllie

  He took the bunch of keys from his jacket and examined them. Helpfully, the manufacturers had stamped their distinctive logo on their key which averted a lot of tedious trial and error, and a second later he was in the luxurious kitchen. A sensor detected his entrance, bathing the room in cool blue mood lighting. Tasteful, and enough for what he wanted to do. But what exactly was he looking for? He only had the vaguest of plans. All the electronic stuff like laptops, computers and phones would have been taken away for examination by the scene of crime guys, and probably anything else of obvious interest too. But this was a house where a beautiful couple had lived, a beautiful couple who spent their lives in the public eye and who had been brutally murdered within days of one another. And a beautiful couple who were in a relationship that might have been falling apart just a few months after it had started. There had to be a motive for their killings and there had to be a reason why their relationship looked in trouble, and somewhere in this house, he might find something that would offer a clue.

  He took out his phone and fired up the camera. It would take a lot longer, but it wouldn't be exactly smart to remove any items from what was still a crime scene, so they would have to make do with photographing anything of interest that turned up. Working methodically, he combed the room, opening every drawer to locate the one that every home had. The one where all the latest bills and correspondence were stuffed to keep the place tidy, and where bad news too could be buried out of sight and out of mind. It was the second-last one he tried. Bingo. He grabbed a handful of papers and spread them out across the worktop. The usual stuff, credit card and utility bills, old greeting cards shoved in and forgotten after the event they celebrated had passed, mail-shots for wine clubs and cruises and designer-label clothing, evidence of the high-end marketing demographic Ross and Fox had occupied. He dragged out a few bank statements and examined them more closely. Since it was early in their relationship, it wasn't a surprise that the couple managed their financial affairs independently. Each seemed to possess three or four credit cards but how they used them was starkly different. Allegra Ross's were a model of prudence, each with low or zero balances and the full amount outstanding paid off each month. Fox by contrast had run up high four-figure balances on all of his cards, and was paying off only the minimum permitted. Taken together, his credit card debt exceeded twenty grand and it was growing exponentially month on month. Jimmy arranged the statements neatly side-by-side and began to photograph them. As he did so, he uncovered a letter with the words DO NOT IGNORE printed in bold red type across the top. It was from a car finance company, recording that he had fallen three months behind with the thousand-quid a month repayment on the Range-Rover, and unless the full sum owed was paid in the next ten days, the company would with regret take steps to recover the vehicle. It was dated two months earlier.

  So Fox was in financial difficulties. Problems around money were one of the major factors that caused relationships to go pear-shaped, and he could imagine how difficult it would be if one partner was a spendthrift and the other one was careful. That could cause tension, no doubt about it, but murder? That made less sense.

  He finished taking photographs and stuffed the documents back in the drawer. Where to next? A quick survey of the front lounge and rear sitting room revealed nothing of obvious interest. He slipped back into the hall and bounded upstairs. The second floor contained two bedrooms and a large family bathroom. The first one he tried was little more than a box room, with a single bed squashed against a wall but otherwise empty. Next to it was what was obviously the master bedroom, furnished with a king-sized double, dressed with a vermillion duvet with colour-coordinated pillows and contrasting cushions. One wall was given over to fitted wardrobes, matching the bedside drawer units. They were divided as he expected into his and hers, Allegra's on the left, Benjamin's on the right.

  Starting at her side, he pulled out each drawer in turn and rummaged through the contents. For some reason he felt a deep sense of embarrassment as he came across the one that contained her underwear. There was some very nice stuff in there, all satin and lace and expensive too. Suspender sets, seamed stockings, flimsy knickers, negligees. Benjamin Fox was a very lucky boy indeed if it was all for his benefit. But as far as he could see there was nothing of any interest with respect to the case.

  He wandered round to Fox's side of the bed, and as he opened the top drawer, he let out an involuntary guffaw. Sitting on top of a pile of boxer shorts was a blister pack of the unmistakeable little blue pills, and a quick count confirmed just five remained out of a pack of twenty-eight. God, old Benjamin was a lucky boy. Mind you, he was fifty-ish and she was barely thirty so maybe it was no surprise that he needed some help in that department. But fair play to him, pulling a woman like that at his age. Maybe he had already seen the signs that the relationship wouldn't last, but Fox was clearly making the most of it whilst he could. Or at least he had been, until somebody murdered him.

  But a cursory check of the other two drawers turned up nothing. That just left the wardrobes to deal with. Opening Fox's, his heart sank when he saw that it was stuffed to bursting, Jimmy estimating that the guy owned about fifty suits and not far off the same number of shirts and jumpers. With no real idea what he was looking for, he began to work his way along the row, checking each pocket in turn, inside and out. Ten minutes later, all he had harvested was a handful of coins, a few receipts, mainly from bars and restaurants, and a couple of cheap ballpoint pens. Mundane stuff in the main. Another ten minutes and a sweep of Allegra's wardrobe delivered the same result.

  It was disappointing but it still left one obvious place to look. The pile of cash hidden under the mattress might be a hackneyed old cliché, but it had become a cliché precisely because sometimes it was true. He kneeled down at Fox's side and started at the top, slipping his hands between the divan base and the mattress, stretching his arms out to halfway across, then gradually working his way down to the foot of the bed. Nothing. Moving round to Allegra's side, he repeated the same routine except this time he started at the bottom and worked his way up. Then about three-quarters of the way up, he found it. As he felt his way around the object, there was no mistaking what it was. A book of some description, and from the texture, leather-bound. But having seen the contents of her underwear drawer, he was one hundred percent certain it wasn't a bible. Allegra Ross kept a diary.

  Of course, it was the obvious place to keep it if you wanted to shield its contents from your new lover. A leather strap was wrapped around the cover, attached to a brass clasp secured by a tiny lock. But that was purely symbolic, signifying that that the contents were for the eyes of the author only. Jimmy removed his penknife from the pocket of his jeans, inserted a slim blade in the keyhole, and a second later the clasp sprung open. And as he opened it, something fluttered to the ground.

  The photograph had been taken in a garden somewhere, the backdrop an elaborate trellis clad in a beautiful yellow climbing rose. The archetypal father and child picture, beloved the world over, although it wasn't easy to tell if the kid was a boy or a girl since the face was hidden behind an outsize pair of comic sunglasses. Whatever the gender, the child looked about four or five years old. The only problem was that as far as Jimmy knew, Benjamin Fox wasn't a father.

  He checked his watch. Yes, pretty efficient. He had been in the property less than twenty-five minutes, and of course he still had the keys, so he could in theory come back any time he wanted. He would have liked to have had a quick read of the diary, but that would have to wait until later. So that was it. Not a bad morning's work, all in all. Some evidence suggesting that Fox might have been in financial difficulties in the months before he was murdered and this perplexing photograph. And of course the diary. Jimmy thought he might find more if he had more time, and he hadn't even looked at the basement yet, but this was enough for now.

  As he slipped back out on to the landing, he thought he heard the faint sound of a key being inserted in a lock. Shit, was so
meone trying to get in? That was a surprise, since it was still only quarter-past-seven and the day shift coppers weren't supposed to be here until eight. If whoever it was decided to venture upstairs, then they couldn't help but see him standing there on the landing, and yet he didn't dare try to get back into the bedroom. On his way in he had noticed the creaky floorboards, a certain giveaway. All he could do now was stick it out and hope that their business was on the ground floor and that it was short in duration.

  But then, shit, shit and triple shit. As he recognised only too plainly that distinctive beep-beep-beep-beep sound, he realised with a sinking feeling what was coming next. Someone had nipped round to set the bloody burglar alarm.

  ◆◆◆

  It was easy to deduce from her home's luxurious appointments that Allegra Ross didn't do anything on the cheap, and so it was no surprise to Jimmy that her alarm system too was state-of-the art. A barrage of motion sensors covered every cubic centimetre of the property, and the siren was loud enough to pin you to the wall. He'd had torture training in the army, but this was on a whole different level. Unable to think above the bedlam, he tumbled down the flight of stairs until with just a couple of steps he was at the front door. He flicked back the latch and yanked the handle but it wouldn't open. Bugger, the deadlock was on. Then he remembered that he hadn't locked the bi-folds behind him. Thank god for that. Feverishly, he sprinted through to the kitchen and swung them open, leaping out into the garden and into the waiting handcuffs of WPC Heather Green.

  Chapter 12

  It was around nine am when Maggie received the call that had every prospect of screwing up her day. She'd just got off the DLR at Canary Wharf when it came through. 'Oh hi boss, it's me. Look, I was just wondering if you could get over to Parsons Green, you know, to the Allegra Ross house. I think I've been sort of arrested.'

  'What do you mean, sort of arrested?' This wasn't in the script.

  'It's a long story, I'll tell you when you get here. Anyway, I've tried to explain to the police officer that I did have permission from my boss to enter her house, and that I was just doing what I was told.'

  'Brilliant Jimmy, that's excellent.' She knew he would appreciate her sarcasm.

  'But the thing is, she won't let me go until she gets corroboration from you. And she says you need to turn up in the flesh so that she knows that it really is you. Sorry about this boss...'

  'Yeah ok,' Maggie said, trying unsuccessfully to hide the exasperation in her voice. 'Look, I was just heading up to Asvina's office, so it might take me a while to get to you. But I'll get there.' She gave a chuckle, unable to help herself. 'And don't do anything stupid.'

  Permission? They didn't have permission, of course they didn't, but she supposed he had to make something up to prevent him being instantly carted off to Paddington Green in a police van. Parsons Green was more than ten miles on the opposite side of the city from Canary Wharf so on impulse she grabbed a black cab. That was forty quid she wasn't going to see again.

  The journey took about forty minutes, which was long enough for her to concoct a story. Although it wasn't much of a story. She paid the driver, made her way to the front door and rang the bell. A few moments later it was opened by a pretty WPC.

  'I'm Maggie Bainbridge,' she said, smiling what she hoped was a disarming smile. 'Mr Stewart's boss.'

  'Oh yes?' the WPC replied, giving her a suspicious look. 'Your...colleague is through here in the kitchen. Please follow me.' Maggie could sense that this was going to be difficult.

  She found Jimmy sitting bolt upright in a kitchen chair, his arms behind him, and noting with a mixture of alarm and amusement that he was handcuffed. Heather Green was petite and pencil-thin, and the explanation of how her muscle-packed colleague came to be overpowered by this slip of a girl would be something to dine out on for years. Or at the very least, to share with Frank.

  'Hi boss, thanks for coming.' He sounded suitably embarrassed. 'I've told WPC Green about our discussions with Allegra Ross. You know, how we were helping her out.'

  Oh thanks very much Jimmy, she thought. That's just shot my crap story down in flames. But, on the other hand, maybe not.

  'Ah, yes...yes, that's right. We were helping her out. You see, Benjamin Fox had asked Miss Ross to marry him.'

  The policewoman's eyes narrowed. 'They were getting married?'

  Suddenly she was interested, and Maggie saw the opportunity, pure naked ambition not being difficult to recognise. 'Yes, that's right, although I don't think they had set a date. But although Miss Ross was young, she was a very wealthy woman on account of her family background, and women like that have to be very careful when they marry.' It was nowhere near the truth, but it would do for now.

  Visibly, Green began to soften.

  'Well I didn't know about this. I don't think that has come up so far in our investigations.' No it wouldn't have, thought Maggie, since I only thought of it ten seconds ago.

  'Yes,' Maggie continued, 'Miss Ross decided she needed a pre-nuptial agreement and asked us to help.' This was even further from the truth, but once you were in it, you had no option but to keep spinning.

  'But you're not solicitors, are you?' Green said, looking puzzled. 'Why would she approach you?'

  Jimmy picked up the thread. 'No we're not, but we happened to speak to Miss Ross in the course of our work on Melody Montague's divorce, and the subject came up. When she found out that we were private investigators, and we did mainly family law work, she also asked us to look into the affairs of her husband to be.'

  Maggie smiled in silent admiration. It was so convincing, she almost believed it herself.

  WPC Green was quiet for a moment as she appeared to inwardly debate her next move. Maggie could see what she was thinking. On the one hand, this good-looking guy had broken into a murder scene and ought to be arrested, there was no question about it. But on the other, these two seemed to have information that might prove of critical importance in both murder enquiries and if she was the one to uncover it and bring it to the attention of DCI Barker, then it couldn't help but be good for her career.

  She got straight to the point. 'What else have you found out?'

  Maggie was interested in that too. 'Obviously Jimmy hasn't had the chance to update me on the outcome of his visit yet. But since our involvement is strictly a civil matter, I wouldn't expect us to turn up much of relevance to the murder cases. Perhaps if you were to remove my colleague's handcuffs, we might be able to discuss this in a nice civilised manner.'

  Green looked wary.

  'All right then,' she said, with evident reluctance, 'but don't try anything.'

  Jimmy looked as if he was struggling not to laugh at the cop-show cliché. 'No, no of course not, wouldn't dream of it. And I have found out some interesting stuff.'

  Maggie smiled inwardly. Whatever he had found out, she was pretty sure he wasn't going to give the WPC even half of it.

  'So, I rooted around a bit in the kitchen drawers... I assume you guys had already done that? But anyway as I said, I rooted around and found this stuff.' He took out his phone and scrolled through some pictures he had evidently taken earlier. 'It looks like Mr Fox might have had some financial difficulties. Could be nothing, but I thought it was quite interesting. But you guys will be able to do more with it than we can. I'll e-mail these to you of course, and see what you can make of them.'

  Maggie could see the policewoman struggling to contain her excitement. So Ross and Fox were planning to get married but it turns out one of them had financial problems. Important facts that were new to the investigation, important facts that she alone had discovered, more or less. She would need to come up with a story of how she had come by the information, but already an idea was half-forming in her mind. She'd been sent round to the property by DCI Barker to set the alarm after the security company that maintained it had given them the master code. On a hunch, she had decided to have a delve around the place to see if anything had been missed by the scene-of-crime te
am. Bank statements and letters from finance companies told the true picture of the state of their finances, and the fact they had maintained separate accounts suggested their relationship wasn't as close as they portrayed in public. Yes, that was all fairly plausible. Now she just had to make sure Mr Stewart and his gobby boss would keep their mouths shut if they had the misfortune to bump into DCI Barker.

  She took on an official air.

  'So, this information could be very useful to our investigation. It's very important that it is kept confidential so that it does not jeopardise the case. If you give an undertaking to respect this, I might be able to let you off on this occasion with just a verbal warning.'

  And no need to officially record the incident on the crime database either. They knew what she was suggesting, and she knew that they knew it too. It was an offer they couldn't refuse.

  Jimmy took the house keys from his pocket and gave her one of his special smiles. 'I won't be needing these again. And thank you very much for your understanding.'

  To her annoyance, Maggie could see the WPC starting to melt. Flipping Jimmy Stewart and women. She didn't want to prolong this encounter any longer than necessary.

  'Come on, Jimmy I think we should go now.'