Detective Sophie Allen Box Set 2

by MICHAEL HAMBLING

  Sophie waited until Blackman and McCluskie had left the room, before turning to Marsh. ‘That went well. Thanks for prompting me with Blackman’s request. I just need to get a message to Simons and Warrander before they head off with our transparent ‘tec duo.’ She fished her mobile phone out of her bag.

  * * *

  George Warrander and Rose Simons led the way south to the crime scene, then took Blackman and McCluskie through their discoveries of the previous week. All except one: the missing roll of tape that had mysteriously reappeared.

  Blackman shook his head. ‘Sounds bloody horrible. I’m glad it was you that found the bodies and not us. Who’d do such a thing?’

  ‘You’re the detectives,’ Rose answered. ‘That’s for you to discover, not us to speculate. And how come you’re back in favour all of a sudden? That’s a bit of a turn up, isn’t it?’

  McCluskie grinned. ‘We’re just too good to be kept out of things for long. And it was our case originally, remember. Maybe she saw sense.’

  Rose nodded slowly, apparently serious. ‘Yes, I can see the undoubted strengths that the two of you will bring to her investigation. You’ll fill a real hole. Don’t quite know what you’ll fill it with, but if something dense and substantial is required, you’re the two for the job.’

  McCluskie took a step forward, arm raised and anger on his face.

  ‘Don’t try it, sonny-boy,’ Rose responded. ‘By the looks of you, you’d have trouble swatting a fly. Whereas me, well, I heave drunks into the back of vans all night long. I could floor you with one punch and without breaking sweat. We’ve done what you asked and now we need to get back to some serious policing. So if there’s no other information you need, let’s go.’

  They made their way back to their cars. Warrander driving, he and Simons followed the two detectives out onto the road north.

  ‘What was that all about, boss?’ Warrander asked.

  ‘Those two make me sick. At least your pet DCI has the sense to keep them where she can see them. But they’re not happy bunnies, and my guess is that’s because they’re actually expected to do a decent day’s work for once. She’s up to something with them, that’s my guess. Particularly since she asked me not to mention the missing tape turning up.’

  ‘Why are they still in the force?’ asked Warrander. ‘And how come a moron like Blackman’s a DS?’

  ‘Well, that’s a story and a half. Contacts, Georgie boy. His uncle was a chief superintendent when rules were there to be broken. He used his influence just before he retired, or so it’s said. Blackman was okay for a while, but he buddied up with McCluskie when they were DSs together, and fell under his influence. When McCluskie was demoted a couple of years ago Blackman stuck by him. Misplaced loyalty. Now he’s under McCluskie’s thumb even though he’s the senior officer. McCluskie is a shrewd operator, way beyond Blackman in ability. He’s clever in a sly sort of way, but he’s got a huge chip on his shoulder. Anyway, I’ve talked too much. Let’s get back to civilisation, shall we? Or at last what passes for civilisation in the Wild West town of Blandford Forum. Mafia thugs look out. Here we come.’

  Rose sent a quick text message to Sophie.

  CHAPTER 20: Double Checking

  Friday Morning, Week 2

  Pierre Giroux showed Barry Marsh into the sitting room.

  ‘This shouldn’t take long, Mr Giroux. I just need to get all the facts about your trip to Oxford from Cornwall, and then confirm all the other details about your holiday.’

  Pierre settled his tall slim frame into a chair facing Marsh. ‘I just took the one week’s leave from work, the second week of the holiday. My normal work pattern is to work from home for three days each week and to be in Oxford for each Wednesday and Thursday. I managed to spread my work across the two weeks, apart from those two days. I worked most mornings and joined Sharon and the children on the beach after lunch.’

  ‘Except for the two days she was in Exeter,’ Marsh added.

  ‘Yes, of course. Those two days were cloudy with some light rain, so we visited Truro, then the Eden Project. That was the Monday and Tuesday of our second week. Sharon was back with us in time to put the children to bed on Tuesday evening.’

  Marsh checked his notes and nodded. ‘Right. Now, take me through your two days away. What time did you set out?’

  ‘At six thirty in the morning, the same as Sharon the following week. The local taxi picked me up and took me to St Austell to get the train to Reading, then I changed for Oxford. I worked on the train. I was in Oxford for the afternoon and stayed overnight in my usual hotel. I was in the office all day and most of the evening, then got the first train I could to get back to St Austell the next morning. Sharon and the children picked me up from the station at lunchtime.’

  ‘Doesn’t Newquay have a train service? It’s a lot closer to St Mawgan, so why not travel from there?’

  ‘It would have been ideal, but the service is terrible. Trains don’t start running until mid-morning. It’s a lot easier to go direct from a station on the main line.’

  Marsh made a note to check this information.

  ‘You appear to have been busy all the time you were in Oxford. Didn’t you have a few hours free at some time? Maybe an evening?’

  Pierre shook his head. ‘No. I did as much work as I possibly could in those two days. It meant that I had more time with my family when I was back in Cornwall.’

  ‘I can see the sense in that, but I will need some names, Mr Giroux. People who can corroborate what you’ve told me. And have you kept your tickets? That would be useful.’

  ‘The one to Oxford was kept by the machine, but I still have the one for my return home. They make ideal bookmarks.’ He crossed the room to a pile of books, pulled a ticket out and handed it to Marsh.

  ‘Did you go out at all in Oxford? Maybe for meals, or to socialise?’

  ‘Not until mid-evening. I had lunch in the office canteen. I had a pub meal each evening in the Lamb and Flag on my way back to my hotel. It’s on St Giles. They have some good wines there, and I use it most weeks.’

  * * *

  ‘It all checks out, ma’am,’ Marsh reported to Sophie. ‘I even phoned the pub and spoke to the manager, who confirmed his account. At the moment there’s no reason to doubt his story. The same with his wife, I expect.’

  Sophie shook her head. ‘Her story is not quite so innocent, but I don’t think she was up to anything that was linked to her parents’ deaths. It all hangs together and she has good alibis. So, at the moment, I think we can remove them both from our list of suspects. But I’m still a bit uneasy about them. Sharon is more of an emotional wreck than I suspected and Pierre is just a little too smooth for my liking.’

  ‘Maybe that’s just because he’s French, ma’am.’

  Sophie raised her eyebrows. ‘I don’t think so. I’ve got French cousins and I get on with them really well.’ She paused. ‘What intrigues me is Rae’s idea that the murders might have pre-empted a large charity donation. Apparently Sylvia had a regular standing order out to a cancer support charity, ever since her own mother died a couple of decades ago. What if she was thinking of making a large donation that would have reduced someone’s inheritance, maybe significantly? We’ve also got to bear in mind the possible link to this Woodruff family who, let’s face it, might be just a wee bit shady in their operations. And then there’s this new thread. There doesn’t seem to be a link, but could there be one? We need to know more about the Woodruff lot. Hasn’t anything come back in from Bournemouth yet?’

  Marsh shook his head.

  ‘Maybe I’ll pop across and see Kevin McGreedie now he’s back from leave. It’ll give me an opportunity to find out how Jimmy’s getting on in his new job.’

  Jimmy Melsom had been Marsh’s assistant in Swanage. The young detective constable had worked with Marsh on three of Sophie Allen’s earlier cases, but had moved to join Bournemouth CID when Marsh joined the Violent Crime Unit as Sophie’s permanent number two.
Kevin McGeedie was a senior detective in Bournemouth and was a longstanding friend of Sophie’s.

  ‘It’s been almost a year now, ma’am.’

  ‘Do you miss him, Barry?’

  ‘Of course I do. He was a good lad. Not suited to the kind of insight we need, but in general CID work he’ll be fine.’

  ‘My thoughts exactly. And he should do well, working for Kevin.’

  * * *

  Sophie walked in through the swing doors of Bournemouth police headquarters and showed her warrant card to the security officer. She took the stairs up to the CID offices, pausing to admire the view across Bournemouth from the lobby windows before entering the place she referred to as "Kevin’s Lair.”

  McGreedie was just coming out of his office. ‘Well, to what do we owe this pleasure?’

  She gave him a hug and a peck on the cheek. ‘I haven’t seen you for ages, and I’ve missed you.’

  ‘Hah! You’re up to something, I can tell.’

  ‘Well, that as well. I hear you were away last week. Anywhere nice?’

  ‘Just back to Selkirk to see Laura’s mother. We had a good rest though.’

  ‘How’s Laura?’

  ‘She’s got breast cancer. Really badly. That’s why we went to see her mum.’

  ‘Oh, Christ. Kevin. I don’t know what to say.’ She reached out and touched his arm. ‘Is it really that bad?’

  ‘Afraid so. Apparently it’s unusually aggressive, so the omens aren’t good. She’s just about to start a course of treatment, so we’re all trying to keep our hopes up. What else can we do?’

  ‘I’m glad I came across now. Why didn’t you let me know, for goodness sake?’

  He shrugged. ‘Laura didn’t want it bandied about before she had confirmation, which was only a few days before we went away. She hates fuss and bother, as she puts it. She really can’t cope with pity.’

  ‘Knowing her, I can understand that. You must give her my love and let her know that I’ll help in any way I can. And I really mean that.’ She thought for a moment. ‘How would she feel about an evening out, across at our place for a meal? Maybe Saturday? Matt and Tracy are already coming and it’ll be no bother to have two more. I’ll get Martin to cook. You know how he loves to pretend he’s a chef, complete with mock French accent.’

  ‘Thanks, Sophie. I’ll suggest it, but I can’t say any more than that. Cup of tea?’

  They walked across the main CID room to his office, where McGreedie switched on a kettle.

  ‘How’s Jimmy getting on?’ Sophie asked.

  ‘Fine. He’s out on a burglary case at the moment but should be back soon. He’s a solid, reliable grafter, and is making good progress on this sequence of break-ins that we’re dealing with.’

  ‘Barry taught him well. I’ll have a word with him if I’m still here when he comes back. What I’ve really come across for, Kevin, is to pick your brains about this Woodruff outfit.’

  ‘I saw your request for information, but only a day or two ago, so there’s not been much time to get anything in detail.’ Reaching for a sheet of paper, he didn’t notice Sophie frown. ‘Jimmy put it together. It’s still a bit thin, but we’ll get more to you as soon as we can.’

  Sophie scanned the paper. It showed little that they didn’t already know. ‘But Jimmy’s new to Bournemouth. I would have thought it would have gone to one of your longer-serving people.’

  He shrugged. ‘Maybe they were really busy. I can’t comment because I wasn’t here. Even now, we’re run off our feet. You know what May can be like in a town like this. It’s the start of the silly season.’

  Just then the door to the main office opened. Melsom walked in and made his way to a desk. ‘Hello, Jimmy!’ Sophie called, and waved as he looked across.

  He smiled and then looked awkward, as if he didn’t know whether to wave back or salute. Sophie walked across to his desk. ‘How are things?’

  ‘Great, ma’am. I’m enjoying my work here. Is Barry still with you?’

  ‘Of course. I’m hoping he’ll do his inspector’s exams soon. Rae’s fitted in really well, so we’re going great guns. Jimmy, I wanted to ask you about this information on the Woodruff outfit. It’s a bit sparse.’

  He looked worried. ‘I was only asked to supply some background, ma’am. Nothing detailed unless a second request came in. I could get you more if you want me to, but I’d have to pick a few brains.’

  ‘That would be really good, Jimmy. We’re a bit stymied at the moment, so any useful information would help. Don’t publicise it though, will you? DI McGreedie knows, but let’s keep it as low profile as possible.’

  Melsom looked puzzled. ‘Okay. I’ll do everything I can.’

  On her way out of the office Sophie scanned the duty rosters for the current and previous weeks, still pinned to the notice board on the wall. Interesting.

  Her phone rang. What she heard made her turn pale.

  CHAPTER 21: The Body in the Woods

  Friday Morning, Week 2

  Alice Llewellyn was the senior ranger for Wareham Forest, and her responsibilities included the Morden Bog Nature Reserve, situated in the north of the designated forest area. She loved her work, which involved being outdoors in all weathers and seasons. She enjoyed working with anybody who shared her enthusiasm for the natural environment and its animal and plant life. Most of her time was spent in the southern part of the forest, which had an activity centre, nature trails and observation walks. The Morden Bog SSI was off-limits to visitors. Not only was the bog itself dangerous for the unwary, but its rich diversity of animal life would have been put at risk if too many visitors and ramblers tramped through it. Just occasionally, on wet days like today, Alice liked to visit the reserve, to check that all was well. She had heard about the discovery of the two old people the previous week, when she’d been away on holiday, and was thankful. After those dreadful discoveries of two years before, she never wanted to see another dead body again.

  She parked her van in a clearing, donned her waterproofs and set off on foot into the marshy land, picking her way along a narrow footpath. Today was the first wet day after several weeks of dry weather. The plants and animals were all in need of some moisture, and she was glad to see rivulets of water draining off stony outcrops and feeding into the network of small, black pools. Enough rain had fallen overnight to offset any concerns about the tinder-dry undergrowth, although the rain was easing rapidly. Maybe the clouds would clear by the afternoon, leaving the air much fresher and cleaner.

  A group of crows drew her attention, flying in and out of a dense thicket, their noisy clatter disturbing the quiet solitude. Alice moved nearer, taking care that she didn’t slide into the dank pools that lay around the copse. She moved some branches aside . . . and fell back in shock. There on the ground, still partly hidden by the bushes, was the body of a middle-aged man. Or at least she guessed it was a man. The crows had been at work on the face, so it was difficult to be sure. Her hand went to her mouth and she stumbled back, retching violently.

  * * *

  Sophie drove to the scene directly from Bournemouth, arriving some fifteen minutes after Marsh and Rae. The trio made their way along the network of paths, directed by a uniformed squad who were fixing marker posts in place to indicate the safest pathway to the crime scene. Already the area was a hive of activity, reminiscent of the previous week when the Armitage couple had been found. The rain was now a light drizzle and even that was fizzling out as they trudged across the damp ground.

  ‘The call came in from Alice Llewellyn, ma’am. Do you remember her from a couple of years ago?’ Marsh said.

  ‘Yes. Tall, fair-haired. Sensible and reliable, if I remember right. Don’t tell me it was her that found the body?’

  ‘Afraid so. It was pure luck that it wasn’t her who found the car last week. Anyway, she called in right away, so there’s been no time lost. Forensics are on their way, and the pathologist.’

  ‘Have you had a chance to see the body yet
?’

  ‘No. Apparently it’s a good ten-minute walk from where we left the cars. I knew you wouldn’t be long so we waited. There’s a uniformed squad from Wareham at the scene, but they know not to touch anything.’

  They continued walking, following the meandering track deeper into the reserve.

  ‘This is a good bit further south than where the car was found,’ Sophie remarked. ‘Martin and I were on firmer ground than this when we explored on Saturday. I think it must all drain down into this area. It’s a bit dismal, isn’t it?’

  ‘I’d imagine it looks much better when the sun comes out, ma’am,’ Rae answered. ‘It’s always the same with heathland like this. Drab in the rain, but really pretty when it’s bright.’

  They spotted the cluster of people ahead. Sophie made her way over to the ranger and spoke to her. ‘Alice. What can I say? I’ve got a flask of coffee with me. Have a cup, it’ll help you feel better. We’ll take a look, then Barry can have a brief chat. I think it would be better if you went back to your office after that.’

  Alice merely shook her head. She was holding a tissue to her face. ‘It’s too awful. I thought I was okay last time, it didn’t seem to bother me too much. But this . . .’ Her voice trailed away and she began to sob into the tissue.

  ‘Two years ago you didn’t see the bodies. That’s what makes the difference. It’s the direct visual evidence that gives us the shock.’

  Sophie poured out a small cup of coffee from her flask and handed it to the ranger. Alice sipped it while Sophie and Marsh went to the thicket. They pushed some branches aside and looked down at the body. Black trousers and a black leather jacket, skull caked in blood from a massive wound to the side of the head. Dried blood covered the face and neck.

  Sophie pulled on latex gloves and felt around in the pockets of the jacket and trousers. Nothing. She looked again at the badly stained face, scanning every inch of it. ‘Could that be a scar on his face? Under the streaks of blood?’