Detective Sophie Allen Box Set 2

by MICHAEL HAMBLING

  ‘Which way first?’ he asked.

  ‘We’re about a mile and a half south of where the car was found. I want to head north-west and get a feel for the area. I’ve got the map, so we shouldn’t get lost. My guess is that we should get there in about half an hour or so, but it depends on what we find on the way.’

  ‘Sounds okay to me. It’s supposed to cloud over about lunchtime, so we’ve a good few hours.’

  The couple started walking, heading along a well-defined path for the first few minutes before veering off onto a small track. They moved quietly, scanning the area ahead of them as they rounded each corner or reached the top of an occasional hillock. Insects darted between the bushes, birds were noisily singing in the undergrowth and a few squirrels were out seeking food in the shady areas under the sparsely clumped pine trees. They were both alert, Martin for birds, often identified first by their calls, Sophie for . . . what exactly? She didn’t know. She just felt the need to explore the area, to absorb something of the atmosphere of the bleak heathland. It wasn’t very bleak this morning, though, and she walked alongside her husband, stopping every so often at a bird cry or a picturesque scene.

  The couple meandered slowly north-west, around small copses of pines, alongside clumps of heather and, further on, around boggy areas that seemed to attract clouds of insects. Sophie suddenly put her hand on Martin’s arm.

  ‘There’s someone ahead of us,’ she said. ‘About three hundred yards. By that small clump of trees. Can you look through the binoculars?’ She put the SLR camera to her eye and adjusted the lens to maximum zoom. The figure was still unclear but she took several photos. ‘Can you make out any detail, Martin?’ she asked.

  ‘Dark brown trousers, olive green jacket. He blends into the surroundings. Could be a birdwatcher. I think he has binoculars. Yes, look, he’s lifting them up to his eyes. Shall we get closer?’

  They walked further along the rough path but lost sight of the distant figure as the track curved around a low, heather-covered hillock. When they regained sight of the clump of trees there was no one there. They made their way across to the spot and looked around them but they seemed to be alone.

  ‘The woods start here,’ Martin said. ‘Once in the trees he’d be out of sight. It looks like they stretch quite a distance across to the west.’

  Sophie extracted the map and opened it up, tracing the route they’d followed with her finger. ‘I’d guess we’re here,’ she said, pointing to a spot on the map. ‘You’re right. Look. The woods extend across to the Sugar Hill Road, north of Coldharbour. The open heathland is mostly south and east of here. The terrain is much more mixed from this point north and west. Could you tell where he or she was looking?’

  ‘I can’t be sure but it looked as if it was over there.’ He pointed.

  ‘That’s east.’ She looked at the map again. ‘That’s where the car was found.’

  She put the camera to her eye, again at maximum zoom. ‘I think I can make out the taped-off area. Can I have the binoculars?’

  She focussed, and scanned the view in front of her. Trees, bushes, a female sika deer with her two young offspring, police tape, two distant uniformed figures walking from a parked squad car. The deer ran into the undergrowth. Sophie handed the binoculars back to Martin.

  ‘It may have been nothing,’ she said. ‘Whoever it was may just have been watching some deer. Shall we go on?’

  They left the small copse and strolled towards the police area, reaching it about ten minutes later. They ducked under the tape.

  ‘You can’t come in here, past that tape,’ one of the uniformed officers said when he spotted them walking towards the clearing.

  Sophie held out her warrant card. ‘I’m the SIO,’ she said. ‘Anything unusual to report?’

  The officer shrugged his shoulders. ‘Nothing, ma’am. It’s been very quiet.’

  ‘Have you seen anyone at all?’ she asked. ‘Particularly in the last half hour?’

  He shook his head. ‘No one.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘It’s not ten yet. I expect we’ll see a few ramblers before the morning’s out. Especially with the weather this good.’

  She nodded, then walked slowly around the immediate area, scanning the view in each direction. Other than some birds heading towards the distant trees, there were few signs of life. She took a bottle of water from the side pocket of her backpack and swallowed several mouthfuls, then returned to the centre of the clearing to speak to the officers guarding the site. ‘Okay. We’ll be off. These are for you, by the way. Leave some for the next unit, won’t you?’ She handed over a packet of biscuits, turned and rejoined Martin who had remained on the edge of the path.

  ‘Where to now?’ he asked.

  ‘I think we’ll head along the tree line, west,’ she said. ‘We’ve got the flask of coffee so we can maybe stop for a break in half an hour or so. Then loop round to the south and get back to the car late morning. Does that sound okay?’ She passed him the water bottle.

  ‘Fine,’ he answered. ‘I’m actually enjoying this. Some all too rare "us" time.’

  ‘I feel the same, but I want to move a little bit faster for a while. Okay?’

  They removed their jackets and set off west at a sharp pace, following a rough path that hugged the edge of the tree line, disturbing only the occasional squirrel. There were no signs of human activity. After about twenty minutes the path left the trees, turned south-west and crossed an area of open heath. Sophie could see a small car park ahead of them, with three vehicles on the gritty surface. Cars could be heard passing along the nearby Sugar Hill Road. A solitary figure was approaching the parked cars on a path south of theirs, about the same distance away. Sophie walked faster and Martin, despite being several inches taller, found himself being left behind.

  ‘Is there a rush?’ he asked, increasing his stride and coming up beside her.

  Sophie laughed. ‘Maybe. We’ll get to the car park then turn south-east for the return path. There are a couple of bench seats by the look of it, so it might be a suitable place for our coffee stop.’ She took a handkerchief out of her pocket and mopped her brow, but she didn’t slow down.

  They reached the picnic area just ahead of the person on the more southerly path, and Sophie stopped and looked around her.

  ‘Good morning,’ she said as the man approached. ‘It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?’

  The stranger nodded but didn’t reply. He was tall, of average build and with his dark hair brushed back tightly. His eyes were hidden behind dark glasses. He didn’t return Sophie’s cheery smile.

  Sophie waved vaguely towards the binoculars hanging around his neck. ‘See anything interesting? We spotted a family of sika back there, and a few birds, but the sun’s getting a bit too bright for them now.’

  ‘Not much,’ came the gruff reply.

  As he looked towards her, Sophie noticed a thin scar that ran down the left side of his face. Not the kind of scar that would have been caused by a work accident, not to her knowledge. It was almost certainly a knife scar, caused by an extremely sharp blade run expertly down the facial skin. He turned towards a nearby black Range Rover fitted with darkened windows, and climbed in. Within a minute the vehicle was out on the road, disappearing around a bend leaving dust in its wake.

  ‘What was that all about?’ Martin asked.

  ‘He was the man we saw earlier, watching the taped-off area. I spotted him as we made our way along the tree line. I just wanted the opportunity to see him close up.’

  He laughed. ‘You’re incorrigibly nosey. I can’t believe how suspicious you are.’

  ‘Dead right I’m nosey. Two dead bodies, and we find someone hanging about in the trees and looking at the site? He was no birdwatcher, I’ll bet you a bottle of wine on it. The real question is, what was he really looking out for?’ She glanced back at her husband. ‘Now I need that coffee. Shall we head over to that bench, the one in the sun? I’d suggest a pub lunch later, but are we still on for a meal out to
night?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ he replied. ‘The Italian restaurant in Swanage, the one that serves great fish. So I think we should steer clear of too much booze just now. Agreed?’

  ‘If you say so, O wise one. But there’s a nice pub down at Coldharbour and I quite fancy a pint and a sandwich. But only if you agree.’

  He waited until she’d finished pouring their coffees, slipped his hand inside her jacket and attempted to tickle her armpit. Sophie shrieked, scaring away the birds that had landed close to their table hoping for a few crumbs.

  CHAPTER 8: Fidelio

  Late Saturday Morning, Week 1

  Tony Sorrento drove fast, heading north on the narrow Sugar Hill Road, then turning east onto the main A35 arterial road towards Poole. Why should he be feeling irritated? Moreover his scar itched slightly, a sure sign that he was tense. Again, why? The abandoned car had remained undiscovered for more than two weeks, far longer than his boss, Wayne Woodruff, had ever anticipated. The bodies inside would be badly decomposed by now, reducing the chances of yielding clues that might point to something other than suicide as the cause of death. So why was he still feeling tense? He couldn’t identify the cause of his worry. Maybe some part of him had hoped that the car would remain undiscovered forever, however illogical such a hope would be. Woodruff had anticipated a lull of about a week, had hoped for ten days and had in fact gained over a fortnight. He should be feeling pleased, not knotted up like this. It had been a mistake to make the journey across this morning. What had he expected to gain from the visit, for Christ’s sake? Police tape around the clearing and a couple of dozy coppers standing around not doing very much, that’s all there’d been, and he could have predicted exactly that from previous encounters with the police.

  His mind ran back over the hour or so that he’d spent tracking across the nature reserve. He’d been careful to park on the more remote west side, avoiding the obvious eastern entries that were closer to the scene. He’d seen nobody during the time he’d spent following minor paths across the heath, choosing sparse tracks that kept inside the tree line as much as possible. His only encounter had been with that woman just as he’d got back to the car. Maybe it was her manner that had made him feel uneasy, so alert and watchful despite her cheerful manner. He’d seen her eyes flicker over him and glance at the car. She’d had that look about her, observant, missing nothing. She might even have noted the vehicle registration. Maybe he’d get rid of this one, ask Gordy to trade it in for something new. Could it be managed within a week? Gordy would know. The exchange would have to be kept low profile though. He was a professional, after all, and followed the code meticulously. Get rid of anything that might conceivably end up giving the cops a lever, however small. It doesn’t matter whether it’s animal, vegetable or mineral. Just chop it, quickly and efficiently, leaving no trace. That was the code.

  * * *

  Gordon Mitchell was relaxing in his back garden when the call came through on his mobile phone. He glanced at the caller display and grimaced. His wife, Marilyn, was dozing in her recliner chair, her swollen pregnant stomach gently rising and falling in time with her snores. Their two sons were quiet for once, lying on a rug and reading books about space flight, in keeping with their latest choices of future careers: pan-galactic space warriors. Last month it had been yeti hunters. Gordon pressed the receive button as he walked into the cool shadow of the house.

  ‘Yes, Tony?’

  He listened quietly to the requests, becoming increasingly annoyed as his employer’s series of demands mounted. That harsh, grating voice was fast ruining what had been a very pleasant Saturday afternoon.

  ‘Of course,’ he said as the caller finished. ‘Leave it with me. Bye.’

  Gordon poured himself another glass of chilled fruit juice and returned to his seat in the garden. He sometimes felt like cursing the day, eight years before, when he’d first found himself working for the Woodruffs. He’d been drinking heavily, gambling too much and getting into debt. The offer of work from Phil Woodruff and Tony Sorrento had provided a way out of the impasse facing him at the time, particularly since his largest debt had been with a gambling club they owned. Once they’d discovered his background in legal support work, the solution was obvious. He took the job they offered and felt extremely grateful at the time. But now? At times he felt like a trapped animal, unable to extricate himself from the tangled net of dodgy contracts, shady deals and dubious agreements that formed a large part of his work for the family business. And he’d developed a real flair for it, a knack of spotting ways to swing deals on the cheap. At least they’d never asked him to do anything violent, but he knew full well that his working life revolved around activity that teetered on the edge of criminality. He still marvelled at the way he’d managed to keep it all hidden from his family. Marilyn thought he worked for a legitimate property company. His elderly parents held him up as a paragon of virtue. If only they knew.

  He glanced across at Marilyn, just beginning to stir from her slumber, and his two sons, still intently studying their space explorer books. Whatever happened in the coming years, they must be protected, kept in the dark about the true nature of the employment that kept them in such a comfortable lifestyle. He walked back into the house, starting the series of phone calls that would result in a new vehicle for Sorrento at the end of the week. As if Tony couldn’t show some patience and wait a bit longer. But no, everything had to be done now, with a vehicle that matched his exact specification. No delay, no understanding that he, Gordon, might want a weekend free of work-related concerns in order to spend some precious time with his family. Just the usual, self-centred attitude from the gang’s hard man, a man it was wise not to cross. Not if you valued your health and well-being.

  The calls took well over an hour, spent wheedling with a series of bad-tempered individuals, all angry at being summoned from their leisure activities. Finally Gordon put down the phone and sighed. All done. But he still couldn’t understand the need for so much hurry to replace the vehicle. Unless Sorrento had done something silly. He wondered if Wayne Woodruff knew about it. Maybe he should do a little bit of gentle stirring. He called Wayne.

  Ten minutes later he made a pot of tea and took it out to the garden where his wife was now awake and reading. She smiled gratefully and blew him a kiss as he deposited the tray on the low table beside her.

  ‘Biscuits and lemonade, boys,’ he called.

  * * *

  Marilyn had been awake for far longer than her husband suspected. She’d been watching him though her half-closed eyelids, observing his nervous pacing in and out of the house. She knew a lot more about his work than he thought and, more importantly, the kind of people he worked for. And she knew that he had been on the phone to that hard man, Tony Sorrento. She’d been checking Gordon’s mobile phone for some months now, reading his text messages, looking at his call logs and noting his contacts. And she’d discovered the nature of the work he did for his employers. At first she’d been dismayed and had wondered if they still had a future together. But, at heart, she still believed Gordon to be a good man. He idolised her and the two boys, and nothing seemed to be too much trouble for him as far as his family was concerned. She’d tracked back through their early married life and beyond, and spotted that his current employment had begun at a time when he’d been at a real low point. She was sure that at any other time in his life he wouldn’t have touched a job offer from the Woodruffs with a barge pole.

  She sighed and reached for the cup of tea that Gordon had placed beside her. He was unhappy and deeply so, she could see that. She could also see that he’d dearly love to find a way out of the clutches of the Woodruffs. Maybe that could be her role in life, rescuing her husband from his near enslavement, like a latter-day Fidelio. A smile came to her face with the thought. Marilyn Mitchell, fantasy heroine of the operatic stage. And five months pregnant.

  CHAPTER 9: Tickled Toes

  Monday Morning, Week 2

  ‘Just here
, look. There’s a contusion to the back of the skull.’

  Sophie looked at the position indicated by Benny Goodall’s latex-encased finger. ‘How significant? Would it have caused loss of consciousness or even dazing?’

  The pathologist took a step back from the corpse of Ted Armitage. ‘It would have made him see stars and resulted in extreme dizziness if nothing else. But at his age, there’s a good chance that he’d have been reduced to unconsciousness, if only for a short time.’

  ‘How obvious is it? What I mean is, could it have been missed if we’d assumed suicide and not been suspicious?’

  ‘It’s possible, I suppose. I don’t think I’d have missed it, but . . .’

  ‘Others might have?’

  Goodall shrugged. ‘We’re all overworked, Sophie. We all find ways of cutting corners just to make our lives a bit more tolerable.’

  ‘But some cut corners more than others?’

  There was no response.

  ‘What about the blood tests?’

  ‘Slight traces of sedatives in both of them.’

  ‘So they might have been drugged?’ Sophie said. ‘Then hauled out to the car, driven to that spot and the car rigged up to pour exhaust fumes in. So were their deaths due to carbon monoxide poisoning?’

  ‘The signs seem to point that way, yes. It’ll be another couple of days until we get back the accurate blood tests. That should be definitive, and give us the exact amount of sedative in their bloodstreams and should also allow us to extrapolate the carbon monoxide levels back to their approximate time of death. Then you’ll be in a better position to draw definite conclusions.’

  ‘But it’s all pointing one way, isn’t it, Benny?’

  He nodded. ‘Sadly, yes. Normally we’d have spotted the visual signs from their skin colour, but with the condition they were in, that was difficult.’ He paused. ‘When’s the daughter arriving to identify the bodies?’