‘It’s just confirmation, Mr Armitage. We’ve already sussed the gist of what you’re saying. Has Rod had any close relationships?’
‘There were a couple of longstanding girlfriends, but he was never one for commitment, so they left. He only ever realised what he’d lost when it was too late. He’d mope for weeks after they’d gone, but what could he expect? That’s what I told him. He never put himself out for them, so why would they bother? Plenty more fish in the sea. Tastier ones as well.’
‘Did Rod have a reference when he joined you?’
‘Are you joking? No one has ever given Rod a good reference as far as I’m aware. He’s a bone-idle shirker. I’ve refused to give him one, now he’s left me. My name would be mud around here if he got another job on the basis of a false reference that I’d given him. I have a good reputation in Blandford and I want to keep it that way, thank you very much.’
‘But you’ve always got on well with Sharon? You sounded a bit in awe of her.’
Armitage looked up. ‘I never thought of it like that. I suppose you’re right. We Armitages are ordinary people. To have one of us get as far as Sharon has is really something special, so I suppose you’re right. We’re all a bit in awe of her, I expect. But she’s very supportive of the family. We all know we can turn to her for advice. She’s very approachable.’
‘What about her husband?’
‘Oh I like him. I know he’s French, but he’s a great bloke. They make a lovely couple.’ He made a point of looking at his watch. ‘Look, time’s getting on. I need to be back at the current job, otherwise God knows what mess my new apprentice will be making. Can you just phone me if you need anything else?’
* * *
Rae’s next visit was to the Giroux family home, a large detached house in an upmarket part of Blandford. Pierre answered the door and, after Rae had introduced herself, told the detective that his wife was still at work and wouldn’t be home until well into the evening.
‘It’s you I came to see, Mr Giroux. Just for a few minutes?’
She followed him through the hall into a comfortably furnished lounge.
‘I’d like the full details of your recent holiday in Cornwall, if possible taking it day by day.’
‘So we’re suspects?’
Rae gave a thin smile. ‘I’m sure you watch enough crime drama to realise that we have to account for everybody close to the deceased. Don’t jump to conclusions, Mr Giroux.’
She noted the details as he related each day’s activities. He’d travelled to Oxford by train in the middle of the first week of the holiday to visit his office, something he did each week.
‘But you normally drive there, don’t you?’
‘From here, yes. But it’s not a long drive from Blandford, usually about two hours. Coming from Cornwall is a different matter. Besides, I managed to get a lot of work done on the train, so I saved time in the long run.’
‘Which way did you go? Did you change at Reading?’
He nodded. ‘I stayed in the same guest house I always use. I’m there for one or two nights each week. My contract requires me to be in the office for two days each week, and I’m happy to oblige. Working from home is all very well, but those of us who do it still need some contact time in the office. Much of my work is electronic though, so I use email a lot.’
Rae finished her notes. ‘And when did Dr Giroux go to her medical conference? Was that in the second week?’ She flicked through her notes, crosschecking.
‘Yes. On the Monday and Tuesday of our second week. She took the train as well. We only took one car with us to Cornwall, you see. It seemed a sensible option to leave the car for the rest of the family in Cornwall.’
‘Hers would have been a relatively easy journey, wouldn’t it?’
‘Yes. She was only away for one night.’
They heard the sound of the front door opening and both looked up.
‘That’ll be Sharon,’ Pierre said. ‘She often pops home to drop off some paperwork and have a quick cup of tea before she starts her evening surgery.’
Rae stood up as Sharon came into the lounge. ‘Hello, Dr Giroux. I’m DC Rae Gregson, from DCI Allen’s unit. I’m just visiting to fill in some background details.’
‘Right. Anything I can help with?’
‘I just wondered if you were aware of anything unusual in the weeks leading up to your parents’ deaths? Anything out of the ordinary?’
‘Not really. Their lives were pretty routine, as are most people’s at their age. The only thing they mentioned was a bit of a mix-up at a funeral they went to at the beginning of last month. Apparently they ended up attending the wrong funeral service, though they extricated themselves before it really got going. I think Rod knows more about it than me. He happened to call on them the same evening and found them a bit upset about it.’
Rae frowned. ‘He hasn’t mentioned it, as far as I know.’
‘He wouldn’t, simply because he’ll have forgotten about it entirely. Don’t think there’s anything suspicious in his omission. Things just don’t stick in his mind.’
Rae decided to call in on Rod Armitage on her way back to the station.
* * *
Rod was sitting on the front step of his block of flats, enjoying the sunshine and sipping at a can of lager. He looked up as Rae stopped in front of him and showed her warrant card.
‘Yeah, I know, I’m a lager lout. But it’s not against the law, is it? Or aren’t we even allowed to do this now? Bloody police state.’
‘I’m not here for that, Mr Armitage. I’m part of DCI Allen’s team and I’ve come round to ask you a few more questions about your parents. Well, one thing in particular. Your sister told me that your parents had some kind of funeral mix-up a while ago. Apparently you saw them later that evening, so you might know more of the details than her. What can you remember?’
‘What? When was this?’
‘She said it happened early last month, and that they were upset about it. Is that right?’
Rod looked blankly at her for a few moments before his expression cleared. ‘Oh yeah. They went to some friend’s funeral and ended up in the wrong one. How stupid is that?’
‘Can you remember any of the details?’
‘No! How would I know about some old codger’s funeral? It made me think they were going doolally themselves.’
‘Did they say where it was?’
‘Poole, I think. They said it was a sunny afternoon and the people there were weird. That’s all I remember. Maybe they’d had a bit too much to drink themselves. S’not likely, though. They were mean with the booze.’
‘Well, if you do remember anything else, particularly the date, please contact us. You have our details, don’t you?’
He nodded and raised his can to his lips, watching as Rae turned back to her car.
CHAPTER 11: Ripples on the Pond
Monday Afternoon, Week 2
Tony Sorrento was visiting one of the Woodruff-owned premises in Poole. He drew into the prime parking place at the Boulevard Casino Club and climbed out of the Range Rover. He cast his eyes over the vehicle. He’d asked Gordy for an identical replacement, but now wondered if a silver one might not be a better choice.
‘Thinking of a new limo, Tony?’ The speaker was a burly man with a pale face who had just come out of the staff door.
Sorrento turned and nodded. ‘Let’s go inside, Toffee. I need to get to the bottom of that problem you reported. Who was it again?’
‘Jimmy Russell. He joined us two years ago. At the start his takings matched everyone else’s, but the past eighteen months they’re down one month in about every three. He’s palming some of the bar money, I’m sure of it, but never when I’m around checking.’
‘How much?’
‘It probably totals a couple of thou. I’ll show you.’
Sorrento followed the club manager into his office, where a spreadsheet displayed on a laptop screen showed the bar takings of recent mont
hs, broken down by staff member.
‘Does he know that we monitor the takings like this?’
Toffee Barber shook his head. ‘None of them do. It’s what we agreed years ago, remember?’
‘Of course I remember. I made the rule. It’s just that it leaks out sometimes.’
‘Not here in my club. No leaks.’
Sorrento thought for a few moments. ‘Any other clues? New car? New home? New togs? New wife?’
Barber shook his head.
‘Drugs, then?’
‘Possibly. He’s been looking a bit pasty at times, a bit spaced out.’
‘I’ve told you not to employ druggies.’
‘And I don’t. He was fine when he started, and there’s nothing obvious to spot.’
‘Is he on tonight?’
‘Yeah, from eight until two.’
Tony looked across at the club manager. ‘I’ll be back to see him as soon as he arrives. Don’t let him know. And keep that parking slot free for me.’
* * *
Sorrento was back just before the seven o’clock opening, waiting in the manager’s office. He watched coldly from behind the desk as Toffee brought a nervous-looking man into the room and indicated that he should sit at the desk. Toffee moved to stand near the door.
‘Happy in your work, Jimmy?’
Russell nodded nervously. The dark suit he was wearing hung loosely on him, and he looked gaunt, strained and anxious. His thin, dark hair lay plastered to his head as if it hadn’t been seen shampoo for days, or longer.
‘Don’t we pay you enough?’ Sorrento leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head. He waited.
‘Things are a bit tight, I s’pose. Could do with a bit more.’
Sorrento smiled thinly. ‘That was a rhetorical question, Jimmy. Maybe you don’t know what that means, so I’ll explain it to you. You’re not meant to answer it. I asked it to make a point. Do you understand now?’
Russell nodded nervously, looking confused.
‘You see, I think we do pay you enough. I think we’re more than generous when you take everything into account. Wages, bonuses, loyalty rewards. It all adds up, Jimmy. You earn more here than a brainless gimboid like you could expect anywhere else.’ Sorrento paused. ‘I had a look round the area where you live earlier. A bit grubby, isn’t it? I hear you’ve got debts with one of the local dealers. That’s not a direct problem for us, Jimmy, but it explains why you’ve been palming off some of our money.’ He leant across the desktop and pointed his finger a few inches from Russell’s face. ‘I fucking hate thieves. Fucking vermin. Even worse, druggy thieves. Sewer rats. How much, Jimmy? We reckon that it’s about two and a half grand. I want it back, so you’ve still got a job for the next few months while you pay us what you’ve thieved. Don’t even think about doing a runner because I’ll find you and I’ll break both your legs. What you do when the debt’s paid is up to you, but until then you’re mine. Understood?’
All the remaining colour had drained from Russell’s face. He said nothing.
‘Oh, and that dealer who you owe? I had a quiet word with him and he won’t be bothering you for a couple of months. He might come looking for his cash after that, but that’s between you and him. He might look like a tough nut to you, Jimmy, but he’ll do exactly what I tell him. Now get out of my fucking sight.’
Sorrento watched Russell leave the room, then turned to Barber. ‘We’ll take three grand off his wages over the next four months. That should leave him with just enough to live on. Once it’s paid off, I couldn’t give a running fuck what happens to him. Just get rid of him.’ He stood up. ‘It should never have got this far, Toffee. You should have spotted it earlier, and dealt with it sooner. I’ve got better things to do with my time than sort out your problems. Things aren’t easy now that Phil’s dead. Wayne’s much too unpredictable and I have to watch over him all the time. I might have to pay a visit to Ricky Frimwell in prison to pick up some tips.’
‘Who?’
‘He ran a similar setup for a long time, and Phil was a pal of his. That side of Frimwell’s operation ran tickety boo, but he was also into much darker stuff. That’s what nailed him. I’ve been thinking for some time that we could make a move on some of his outfits, but Phil’s illness put paid to those plans. I’ve got more influence over Wayne, so it’s a good time to make a move. If it comes off, Toffee, there’ll be a place for you in the setup, so keep quiet for now. Okay?’
Barber nodded. ‘Yeah, of course.’
* * *
Sorrento drove the short distance to the Rising Moon pub. The Woodruff family had owned it for many years and it was still used as the headquarters of their business empire. The nerve centre was a group of offices on the upper floor, including one each for the three current leaders of the venture, Sorrento himself, Justin Griffiths and the surviving Woodruff son, Wayne. A smaller office was used by Gordon Mitchell, their legal expert. The largest room, previously occupied by Phil Woodruff, had been empty since the patriarch’s unexpected death the previous month but no one yet felt powerful enough to claim it, not even Phil’s son, Wayne.
‘Okay, Tony?’ Wayne called from his open door as Sorrento passed along the corridor.
Sorrento decided it was time to discuss his expansion plans with the nominal leader. He switched direction and walked into Woodruff’s office, closing the door behind him.
‘Yeah, fine,’ he replied. ‘Listen Tony, there’s something I was talking to Phil about just before he fell ill, but we didn’t move on it because he got bad so quickly. You ought to know about it because I think it was a great idea and would add to our reach.’ He sat down opposite Wayne and waited.
‘Okay, tell me.’ Wayne leant back in his chair, removed his reading glasses and scratched his bristly skull.
‘We’ve got the five pubs, the three nightclubs, three massage parlours and the casino club. Plus the hotel. We were talking back in the winter about ideas for expansion, remember?’
Woodruff nodded. His face gave little away so Sorrento rarely knew exactly where he stood. He'd always got on well with old Phil, but his son was far more unpredictable. And moodier with it.
‘There’s an easy route to double our holdings without much effort and I mentioned it to your dad. He was thinking about it just before he died, but didn’t get to consider it in detail. He was interested and cautious at the same time, and I can understand why.’
‘Tell me.’
‘We take over some of the places that Ricky Frimwell owned. Phil knew him and Charlie Duff, but steered clear of them for obvious reasons. The thing is, Wayne, Duff won’t ever get out. He’ll die in prison. Ricky got twenty years. He’ll be an old man when he’s released. I got Gordy to trace the current legal owners of their properties, and the details were all over the place. But he stuck at it, and apparently it’s Frimwell’s mum who owns the main interest nowadays through some kind of trust, and she’s a bit doolally. Those cafes are in prime locations. They’re a bit rundown now but if we bought them we could really do something with them. We might get them at a knock-down price.’
Woodruff paused. ‘Yeah, I do remember it being mentioned. I’m not sure, Tony. They’re a bit tainted, aren’t they? And what about the other stuff? The sex shops? The car workshops? The hotels?’
‘We only buy what we want and what we think we can cope with. And only if it adds value to what we’ve already got. I was thinking that I could go visit them in gaol. Find out a bit more and talk them round if we decide to run with it. Frimwell’s mum would probably do whatever he told her. It would double the size of our operation and wouldn’t cost us that much. It’s you and Sue, me and your mum to decide, Wayne, and I think it’s worth looking into a bit more. I’m happy to do the leg-work but I need your agreement.’
‘Why would they want to sell?’
‘Frimwell’s mum’s a bit low on ready cash at the mo, and this might cause her to start selling up. But she’ll probably only do it if she gets the nod from him
. I might be able to talk him into it. I knew Ricky years ago.’
Woodruff thought for a few moments. ‘It can’t do any harm to do a bit of digging, can it? Okay. But keep a low profile while you’re doing it. Those two bastards were nasty, sadistic even, and I don’t think we should be making too many ripples on the local pond. I don’t want the cops to notice us. That might ruin everything.’
Tony grimaced. ‘Come on, Wayne. You know me. We’ve got our nice friendly insider who’ll let us know if we pop up on the cops’ radar. It’s all sweet.’
CHAPTER 12: Mind Probe
Monday Afternoon, Week 2
Barry Marsh decided that Rae should continue with the visits to friends and family of the Armitage couple while he did some of his own checking. The name Woodruff, mentioned by the boss, meant something to him, he knew, but he couldn’t remember any details. It came from the dim and distant past, maybe as far back as the days when he was a newly appointed detective, working in Poole. Bob Thompson, now a DS in Bournemouth, had been his work partner. Would Bob remember more? He’d been second-in-command in DI Kevin McGreedie’s unit for several years now, and would probably have access to local intelligence.
He called Thompson and asked if he remembered the name Woodruff.
‘Not that I recall, Barry,’ came the reply. ‘Leave it with me and I’ll ask around, but don’t hold out any great hopes. Could it be from somewhere else? Didn’t you spend a year or so in Weymouth on the beat? Maybe there?’
Marsh wasn’t convinced. True, no local Woodruff had shown up on the central criminal database, but he still felt that the name was somehow familiar and, for some reason, had a Bournemouth link. He walked to the coffee machine and made himself a cup. The problem was, the more he thought about it the less likely it was that he would remember. He needed to switch to a different task and maybe then the memory would come back into focus, when it wasn’t being forced. He gazed out of the window across to the trees on the opposite side of the road, looking for inspiration. None came so he returned to his desk in order to follow up the next line of inquiry, the quirky story of the Armitage couple’s funeral mix-up. Rae had been unable to gain any details from the son but had reported the incident. The two detectives had identified a possible week in late April when it could have occurred. He phoned Poole Crematorium, but to no avail. The administrative officer didn’t seem to understand his request. Finally, in frustration, he decided to visit the place and look through the records himself. It was only a twenty-minute drive and he needed to get out of the office for a while. Some fresh air would do him good. He’d check the calendar in the Armitage bungalow before driving to the crematorium.
Detective Sophie Allen Box Set 2 Page 32