by Rob Wyllie
DCI Colin Barker's expression suggested that was the last question he would want to help anyone with.
'Eh...I don't think it exactly came up sir,' he squirmed. 'We did not think she had a motive or the opportunity, and she was able to produce convincing alibis for both murders. And also the team felt the case was so strong against Venables, we concentrated all our resources into that line of enquiry.'
Concentrated all your resources into fitting up the WBL's leader thought Frank, not that he felt sorry for him, not after that wee run-in they'd had at Hyde Park. The Chief Super contented himself with a shake of the head. There was a long and awkward silence, which no-one felt like breaking. Until finally Wilkes said quietly,
'So, anything else anyone wants to tell me?'
'Well DCI Barker dismissed it at the time,' Frank said guilelessly, 'but shortly before his death, Mr Fox had been involved in multiple incidents that could very well have provided a motive for his killing. Several of them were brought to my attention by a private investigations firm and we in turn brought them to the attention of the Fox enquiry.'
Barker was staring at the floor, no doubt dreading what was coming next. He wasn't to be disappointed.
'Bainbridge Associates is the firm in question,' Frank continued. 'As it happens, my brother Jimmy works for them too. I think you met Maggie and Jimmy in connection with the Alzahrani enquiry.'
Wilkes nodded. 'Ah yes, I remember them. Sound bunch, as I recall. Should work with them more often.'
'Yes, well I'm sure they would like that,' Frank said, storing it away for future use. 'So, as I said, the first victim had been involved in a number of incidents. First of all, there was a major dispute with his former wife over money which you've already heard about. But there were a couple of other things too.'
'Come on then, get on with it,' Wilkes barked.
'Ok sir. So there was an argument with a scriptwriter on the show, one Jack Redmayne, which was witnessed by Maggie and Jimmy. Strong words were used including a threat against Mr Fox's life, and also Redmayne had to be restrained when he tried to assault the victim.'
'And has this Redmayne been questioned in connection with the murder?'
'I believe not sir,' Franks said, deadpan.
'So what else?' Wilkes said, struggling to hide his exasperation.
'Well Mr Fox had also been involved in a political argument with Charles Grant sir, which became rather heated. He's another actor, the one whose son was abducted, you might remember. Another one of DCI Barker's cases if I'm not mistaken.'
'And was he ever questioned?'
'I believe not sir. At least not as a potential suspect.'
Frank heard him swear under his breath.
'And what about the other two killings? Do we have any theories about them?' Now he was ignoring Barker, directing his questions at Frank and Jill alone.
'Early days sir. In the case of Miss Ross, it's reasonable to suspect that she was killed for the same reason as her lover. As to Danny Black, I've no idea about that at the moment. But there must be a connection sir, mustn't there? Because it's the same killer. And so probably the same motive.'
'And so you've no idea what that motive may be?' Wilkes said.
'No idea at all sir. It needs work.'
Wilkes shook his head in disgust. 'Well, you and DCI Smart better get onto it right away then, hadn't you? And as for you, DCI Barker, I think you need to come with me.'
◆◆◆
Of course, it needed work, a lot of work. There was something missing, something big, something that would tie the whole ragged mess together, but he just couldn't put his finger on it. At least now he could bring Redmayne and Grant and Montague in for questioning and make up his own mind if they were capable of murder.
But the truth was, knowing what he knew about them, he didn't much fancy any of them in the role of a serial killer. Because he was sure that was what this case had now become. It was a serial murder case, there was no doubt about it. Luckily Wilkes hadn't focussed too much on the Leonardo thing, because he didn't have a bloody clue what that was all about. Of course in Barker's simple view of the world, it led right back to Darren Venables and the White British League. But unless one of D-V's acolytes had picked up the baton, that theory was now dead in the water.
However, that didn't mean that the scrawled message wasn't important to the investigation. The exact opposite in fact, and he had a feeling that until he'd figured out where it fitted, the investigation would go nowhere.
And what of Miss Melody Montague, the one person with an obvious connection to all three victims? Could she have killed her fiancé Danny Black? Surely that was beyond unlikely, given her public displays of besottedness which gave every appearance of being genuine. And she couldn't have killed her third husband either, even if she wanted to, because her every move at that awards night had been caught on camera. Motive maybe, means debatable, but opportunity, definitely not.
So that was it then. Three identical murders, same MO, no credible suspects, no ideas. For the first time, he began to wonder what had possessed him to open that bloody file in the first place.
Chapter 20
Go safely, go dancing, go running home, into the wind's breath and the hands of the star maker. They had stood silently, heads bowed and immersed in their own thoughts as the celebrant committed the body of Danny Black to be incinerated to dust. They hadn't known him of course, not really, but it was Melody's wish that they should attend. Not many people liked a funeral, especially when the deceased had been taken before their time, but for Maggie and Jimmy it was the funerals they had missed that caused them almost unbearable pain.
She hadn't attended the ceremony for her husband Phillip. In fact no-one had attended the simple committal, such was the total ruin of his reputation, and she was glad of that because he deserved nothing better. And how could she go, after he had betrayed her in so many ways? His infidelity with that bitch from the office and the way he had cynically crafted the plot that had ruined her career. Worst of all, one day she would have to explain everything to her beloved son Ollie and she simply had no idea how she would ever be able to do that.
For Jimmy it was the agonising loss of the comrades-in-arms, the men and women under his command who had become his closest friends, great guys felled by an indiscriminate sniper or blown to bits by an IED when barely into their twenties. They gathered and tidied their mangled bodies as best they could before flying them home to Brize Norton or Northalt into the care of bewildered relatives, accompanied by a letter of condolence that he always took the trouble to write. Your son or brother or husband or daughter was a brave soldier, taken too young in the service of their country, that was always the gist of it, but he tried wherever he could to make it more personal by mentioning a small act of kindness or a humorous incident that he had shared with their loved one. He could never attend the funerals even if he had wanted to, and in truth he wasn't sure whether he did or not. But it didn't need him turning up at a freezing cold graveside in his dress uniform to show the respect he had for these men and women, for that was now fundamental to who he was, and he knew it would always be so.
A function room in a local golf club had been hired for the wake, and the small team of waiters and waitresses were now clearing away the remains of the buffet lunch. The mood was sombre because this was not a celebration of a long life well lived, but of a man in the prime of his life whose time on this earth had been cruelly and violently cut short. As well as family, the room was packed wall-to-wall with well-known faces from the world of entertainment. In particular, it seemed the entire cast of Bow Road had turned out to show their respects to their colleague, whom Maggie suspected had been just as popular with them as with his legion of fans. Although that hadn't prevented him being brutally murdered.
Melody Montague was sitting quietly in a corner, holding the hand of an elderly West Indian lady whom Maggie took to be Danny's mother. Throughout the ceremony itself the actress had been inconsolable, but
now she simply looked sad and defeated. It was less than a month since she was telling the press how she was crazily madly in love, more than she had ever been before in her life, and now for the first time, Maggie felt sorry for her. She walked over and sat down beside her.
'I'm sorry for your loss Melody, I really don't know what else to say.'
The actress reached over and took her hand. 'Thank you Maggie. It's still not really sunk in yet. I look around this room and I expect to see him with a beer in his hand, laughing and joking like he always does. I mean, like he always did.' She struggled to stifle a sob.
'It will get better in time,' Maggie said. 'I know everybody tells you that, but it's true.' Yes, but what they didn't tell you was how much time it took. Sometimes it was months, sometimes it was years and sometimes it was never. But everything she knew about Melody suggested that she was a survivor, and that sooner rather than later she would bounce back from this terrible event in her life.
They had now been joined by Jimmy, who gave a nod of condolence and said that he too was sorry for her loss.
'Thank you Jimmy,' Melody said, forcing a half-smile, 'but who would want to kill Danny, that's what I don't understand? Everybody loved him.'
Presumably the same person who had wanted to kill Allegra Ross and Benjamin Fox, Maggie thought, and then had gone ahead and done so. But Melody wouldn't know that it had been the same killer who had had taken her lover, wouldn't know about Leonardo because this time with Jill Smart in charge of the investigation, the police had been very careful to keep that information to themselves. But tomorrow, they were going to have to release Darren Venables and then it would be all over the papers.
'I'm sure the police are covering every angle,' Maggie said. 'It takes time.'
'Yes, I'm sure you're right,' Melody answered distractedly. Maggie looked up to see she was staring at Charles Grant and Sharon Trent, who were standing alone in the middle of the room, he with his arm clasped tightly around her waist, she sipping on a glass of wine.
'Look at them,' she said, with some bitterness. 'It's not fair, is it?' Maggie assumed she was referring to Charles seemingly finding some consolation after the abduction of his son and the consequent breakup of his marriage. Although if she was writing a book about the happiness of the human condition, she wasn't sure she would select Charles Grant as Exhibit A. But at least there seemed to be some progress in the quest to figure out what had happened to his little boy, even if it was Frank who was making all the running.
'I suppose we all have to move on, don't we?' As soon as she said it, she recognised how stupid and badly chosen it sounded. Melody had just cremated her soul mate for goodness sake and here was she talking about moving on. But to her surprise, she seemed to agree with her.
'Yes, you're right Maggie. We do, no matter how hard it seems.' Maggie couldn't help noticing the look she shot in her colleague's direction, a quite involuntary response to the sheer force of manhood that was Jimmy Stewart. And it wasn't hard to deduce what Melody was thinking. With men like him around, there would always be something to live for.
She squeezed her hand. 'That's a brave thing to say Melody, and I hope we can help you a little. Let's try and get the pre-nup matter all tidied up so you can at least forget about that.' And if that sounded at first inappropriate, she remembered how grateful she had been to Asvina at the time of her greatest distress for helping her get her affairs in order.
'Yes that would be good,' Melody answered, without much conviction. But then out of the blue she asked, 'Jimmy, weren't you going to visit McCartney? How did that go?'
He shrugged. 'Not brilliant Melody I'm afraid. You see, his recollection of the terms of the agreement is the same as your late husband's. But please don't worry, we'll get it all sorted out, I promise.'
Maggie looked at him fondly. It was entirely in keeping with Jimmy's good nature that he wasn't going to burden their client with the uncomfortable truth in this most inappropriate of settings. The uncomfortable truth being that their client was going to lose seventy-five percent of her entire worldly assets.
◆◆◆
Seeing Charles Grant had set Jimmy thinking about his encounter with McCartney, and the more he thought about it the more his reservations about the matter grew. That visit of Grant's to see McCartney in Pentonville for a start. His explanation about some minor matter with a corporate contract, well that wasn't convincing at all. But why should he lie to them unless he had something to hide? And the way McCartney had reacted when he'd mentioned Kylie Ward. That didn't stack up either. There was something not right about the whole thing and they needed to get to the bottom of it, and fast.
He became conscious of Melody tugging at his forearm. 'Please Jimmy, can you tell him to stop it, for god's sake. This is a funeral.'
He looked round to see that Charles had now drawn Sharon closer to him, his pelvis thrust hard against her thigh, his lips caressing her bare neck. She was struggling to push him away, her face contorted in anger. 'Not here please!' she hissed, finally freeing herself before storming off in the direction of the bar. Grant made to follow her, but Jimmy had anticipated his move, gliding over and laying a gentle restraining hand on his shoulder. 'Not now Charles,' he said quietly. 'Not now.'
'She doesn't understand how much I love her,' Grant said, his tone plaintive, 'and after everything I've done for her.'
'I'm sure she does,' Jimmy lied, 'but you know, maybe this isn't the ideal time to tell her. She worked very closely with Danny on the show, didn't she, and I expect his murder must have hit her very hard.'
There was a wild look in his eyes as he answered. 'No, no, I have to tell her how I feel, I can't help it. It's important.'
Jimmy tried one more time to convince him. 'Look, I can see it means a lot to you mate, but wait till you get home, eh? Let's do the right thing, come on.' But Grant was not to be convinced, shaking himself free and striding off in the direction of his lover.
'What more can I do?' Jimmy said, grimacing at Melody. 'He's really lost it, the poor guy.' He'd seen it in the army, the descent into madness after life had crapped on you just once too often. The straw that broke the camel's back. He'd heard the shrinks trot out that old cliché so many times, but it was true. Of course, they'd had to tell him about the Kitty Lawrence case, and about the ransom being paid but the child not being returned. And at that moment, any faint hope he had of Jamie being found alive was surely finally extinguished.
Jimmy watched from a distance as he approached her, watching as she turned to face him, her face a mixture of disdain and apprehension, clearly worried that he was about to make another scene. But this time he appeared perfectly calm and respectful, purposely standing apart from her, almost motionless. And then he started to speak. Jimmy was too far away to make out what Grant was saying above the thrum of conversation in the room, but he focussed on his lips and thought he could make out his first words to her. I love you. Sharon gave an uncertain smile, tentatively stretching out a hand and caressing his cheek. He took her hand, squeezed it gently and then began to speak again. At first measured, and then the words began to spill out, like a torrent of white water crashing down a mountainside, his hands animated and his eyes blazing with a deranged passion. She stood transfixed, her hands covering her face, her expression transforming from incomprehension to revulsion. And then she let out a piercing scream that stunned the room into silence. As the mourners turned to see what was happening, her legs gave way and she collapsed to the floor.
A voice shouted from the back of the room, 'Let me through, I'm a paramedic,' and the crowd backed off as the medic pushed her way through and dropped to her knees beside the prostrate actress. She loosened the top buttons of Sharon's blouse, examined her eyes, felt her pulse, checked her breathing. Looking alarmed, she whipped out her phone and punched in 999.
'Ambulance. Yes, it's an emergency. Ischaemic stroke. Yes, I'm sure, totally.'
Grant was inconsolable, sobbing hysterically, shuffling along
side the paramedics as they stretchered her to the ambulance. And over and over again he was saying to anyone who would listen, as if pleading for forgiveness. 'I asked her to marry me, that was all. The wedding and the honeymoon, they were all arranged. But I never got to hear her answer. I never got to hear.'
Over in the corner Jimmy caught Maggie's eye, a silent acknowledgement that they were sharing the same thought. Why was it that fate seemed utterly determined to destroy this flawed but decent man?
◆◆◆
'Bow Road filming suspended after Sharon stroke' read the headline, the quality Chronicle for once following the tabloids by putting the story on its front page. The photograph that accompanied the article did not feature the distraught actor Grant, instead showing Melody Montague with his lover Sharon Trent captured together on-set.
Frank tossed the paper across the desk. 'So drugs, was it? That's what they're saying here.'
Maggie nodded. 'Yes, apparently she has a cocaine habit. They're thinking it was a combination of that and shock that seems to have caused it. Poor woman, she's been completely wiped out and they can't say whether she'll make any kind of recovery.'
He shook his head. 'Aye, strokes are awful. And she's only forty-two, same age as me. Mind you, I think I might have one if anyone proposed to me.'
'Yes, very tasteful Frank,' she said, frowning. 'But you're right, she obviously wasn't expecting him to propose to her.'
Jimmy and Maggie had accompanied Grant to the hospital, following the ambulance in her car and sitting with him in the corridor for several hours whilst they waited for the initial assessment from the medical team. When it became clear that he was not going to be able to see her that evening, they organised a taxi to take him home to his Kingston flat.
Next morning they were holed up in Atlee House, Frank having persuaded Jill Smart that he found it easier to think when he was away from the stifling bureaucracy of Paddington Green. It wasn't a lie either, but it was also a lot easier to sneak Jimmy and Maggie into that decrepit cesspit, with its almost complete absence of any security measures. Irregular yes, but it wasn't as if what he was doing was without precedent. The Met often availed itself of the services of private eyes, and where would it be without its network of paid snouts, many of whom moonlighted in the murky waters of the investigation trade. And hadn't Chief Superintendent Wilkes himself opined that they should use them more often? So that was it then, it was all good. He was doing no more than following orders, although he had taken the precaution of making sure the two of them were tucked away out of sight in an obscure corner of the building. That wasn't difficult, Atlee House consisting of little more than obscure corners.