‘I take it he didn’t know?’ she said.
‘Obviously not. I thought Wayne had told him. I don’t think it matters. I’ll maybe go and have a few words and smooth things over.’
Gordon followed Griffiths into the house. Marilyn stood alone, sipping her glass of water. Soon she was joined by Wayne’s wife, Sue, a curvy blonde who’d rarely given her the time of day before. Sue brought a glass of bubbly and asked how she was. What on earth was going on?
* * *
At the end of the evening, Justin Griffiths walked to his car, ready for the drive home. He was a careful man, predictable and unadventurous. He’d only been in his current role with the Woodruffs for three years, having been one of their more successful pub managers before that. He was uneasy. Sorrento had been the decision-maker, the man of ideas. And now he’d disappeared. It wasn’t like his boss to just vanish without leaving a message. There had been no answer to his phone calls and no response when Justin had visited Sorrento’s house that morning. But what really worried him was Wayne’s lack of concern. He didn’t seem remotely interested, suggesting merely that he, Justin, should ensure that all Sorrento’s current tasks were dealt with, either by Gordy or himself. He’d even suggested how the work could be divided.
It was unlike Wayne to be that organised. He’d usually panic at the approach of any crisis, leaving it to one of his three assistants to sort out the mess. But this had been different, almost as if he’d been prepared. Maybe some information had passed between Woodruff and Sorrento the previous day. Gordy was concerned too, judging by what he’d said in their brief chat. No one liked Sorrento much, but he got things done and that was important in a setup like theirs.
He climbed into his car, yawned and started the engine. Time to go home. He could think things through next week, in the office. Maybe Sorrento would be back by then.
* * *
In his cell in Long Lartin prison, Ricky Frimwell was re-reading a short letter from his younger sister, Sue Woodruff. He couldn’t help but smile. Maybe it was time he changed his opinion of her. She seemed to be a real canny operator, underestimated by everyone who came into contact with her. He had decoded her carefully worded message and judged the new state of play. Her ideas seemed good and would bring some benefits to the Frimwell family. If some of Woodruff’s mob of fuckwits thought they’d take over most of his old operation then the joke was on them. He knew where the real power lay and, with Sorrento no longer on the scene, he could start flexing his muscles, even from his prison cell. Life was beginning to get more tolerable.
And then the downside hit him. All his efforts had channelled power towards his half-sisters, Sue and Carol. Carol had always been a bit of an air-head, easily manipulated. But what about Sue? She’d always resisted him in the past. Would she do what she was told now? If she didn’t, it would be a problem. Not just a problem, more like a fucking catastrophe. She had the shares. What if she went her own way at the last minute? Fuck.
CHAPTER 24: Sanitised
Early Saturday Morning, Week 2
When Barry Marsh arrived in the incident room with Sophie, Rae was already there and hard at work. She was so engrossed in a phone conversation that she didn’t even acknowledge his wave, so he made his way to the kettle and made a coffee. He’d only just sat down at his desk when he realised that she’d sidled across, and was glancing sideways at the DCI’s office.
‘Can we go out for a walk, boss?’
Marsh looked up at her serious face and decided not to make a joke of the invitation. ‘Okay.’
‘Separately? Meet you in the car park in a couple of minutes?’
He watched her leave, then followed her, catching up with her outside. ‘What’s with the skulduggery?’
Rae took a deep breath. ‘Wayne Woodruff’s wife is Ricky Frimwell’s sister. Her name is Susan. They married in 1989. You told me never to mention the name to the boss, so I’m bringing it to you.’
Marsh stood open-mouthed.
‘And it doesn’t stop there. Susan has a twin sister, Carol. She married Thomas Blythe, also in 1989. Thomas Blythe is now Councillor Blythe. And guess what? I have a witness that spotted the good councillor at that ropey funeral, the one the Armitages went to by mistake.’
‘Christ. Give me time to get my head around this.’
‘I can’t, because I haven’t finished. I found out that Ricky Frimwell is in Long Lartin Prison so I contacted them first thing. That’s who I was talking to when you came in. I asked them if there’s been anything unusual in his behaviour recently. There hasn’t, but he’s had several unexpected visitors this week, including, on Wednesday, a man with a scar on his face. He signed in as Tony Sorrento, from Bournemouth. I think I’ve found your man, and a whole lot more besides.’ She paused. ‘I’m out of my depth. I don’t know what to do.’
Barry remained silent for what seemed to be an age. ‘We have to take it to the boss. It’s way beyond me as well. The name fits, by the way. The boss was just telling me that she was on the phone to DI McGreedie in Bournemouth last night, and the facial scar rang a bell. He came back to her with the same name early this morning.’
‘How will she react?’
‘It should be okay. It was Duff that killed her father, not Frimwell. There wasn’t a problem when we nabbed Frimwell. Duff was a different matter, though.’ He thought back two years to that horrific case. Surely nothing could ever be as bad as that again? ‘She’ll be alright with it, I’m sure.’
‘What are they like? I need to know, boss.’
‘They’re both violent, manipulative psychopaths. I heard Duff has completely lost his marbles and is in a secure unit, so we probably don’t need to worry about him. He was the worst. Frimwell is his nephew. Nasty, devious and angry. Not a good combination.’ He paused. ‘Okay. Are you ready for this?’
Rae nodded.
‘Let’s go then.’
They walked back inside and climbed the stairs to the incident room and Sophie’s office.
‘Ma’am, we have some important developments for you. Rae’s made several breakthroughs, but they involve a name that you might not want to hear.’ Barry sounded tense.
‘I wondered. I saw the two of you sidle off, hoping I wouldn’t notice. Okay, get on with it, Rae.’
She sat listening intently as Rae recounted her story, occasionally closing her eyes. ‘There’s no chance of a mistake here, Rae? Is there any way you can double check?’
‘I’m pretty certain, ma’am. But I’m limited as to what I can use to verify it all. Ideally I’d like to meet them somehow, but we can’t do that yet, can we?’
‘No, but you’re our secret weapon, Rae. You’re new to the area, and they haven’t met you yet, whereas Barry and I are known to them. I’m not going to trust this to Blackman and McCluskie. It’s too sensitive.’ She thought for a while. ‘Barry and I will go and pay another visit to that pub, this time officially. It’s the registered address of Woodruff’s business and seems to have the company offices on the upper floor, according to Kevin. I want to find out more about Sorrento and his place in their operations so, now we know he’s dead, we have an ideal opportunity to ask some awkward questions.’ She paused. ‘How did you get on to all this Rae? I thought you were investigating our mole?’
‘I was. I had the idea of identifying people at the funeral in case he was there. Then this just fell into my lap.’
‘Well done, whatever you were up to. You get back to work and we’ll visit Pokesdown. You can drive, Barry. I need to think.’
Marsh led the way back out to the car park. She’d taken that news well, he thought. But the implications were huge. Was there some kind of link between the Woodruffs and the old Duff gang? Please God no, he thought. But there was a sinking feeling in his stomach. He could remember a group of friends and family who’d attended the Frimwell trial occasionally. Had there been two women who looked alike? He couldn’t remember. It had been a trial that he’d tried hard to forget.
&
nbsp; * * *
It was too early in the morning for the pub itself to be open, but Marsh spotted a side door marked “Private” with a bell beside it. He rang and they waited.
A freckle-faced man in his late thirties opened the door, not one of the three they’d seen in the bar a few days earlier. Marsh held out his warrant card. ‘I’m Detective Sergeant Marsh and this is Detective Inspector Allen. We’re investigating the suspicious death of Tony Sorrento. We understand he worked here.’
The man’s mouth hung open. ‘Christ. Tony’s dead? Surely there’s been a mistake?’
‘Middle-aged? Tall with dark hair? A thin scar down the left side of his face?’
‘That sounds like Tony,’ the man replied.
‘Can we come in? It really isn’t convenient standing out here like this.’
The look of confusion was replaced by one of wariness. ‘Of course. I can find an empty office. There’s no one else here at this time on a Saturday morning. I’ve only come in to do some filing.’
The two detectives followed him up a flight of stairs.
‘And you are. . ?’ asked Sophie.
‘I’m Gordon Mitchell, the company secretary. Look, this is a total shock. Tony was my boss. I had no idea.’ He stopped at an office and ushered them in, moving a few chairs aside so that they could sit down.
‘Is there a photo of Mr Sorrento available?’ asked Marsh. ‘We’re having trouble tracing his family or friends.’
‘He was single and, as far as I’m aware, his parents are both dead. I’m not surprised you can’t find anyone.’ He opened a drawer and pulled out a framed photo of two men at what appeared to be a formal reception. One was him, the other was Sorrento.
‘Can we keep the photo? It does look to be the person who was found dead yesterday.’
‘Whereabouts was this? What happened?’
‘We’re not at liberty to say at the moment, sir. Not until we’ve traced a next of kin. But there are some questions we need to ask. First off, what was Mr Sorrento’s role in the company?’
‘He was one of the three directors. There were four, until the founder died a couple of months ago.’
‘That would be Phil Woodruff? And the company name is Woodruff Holdings?’
Mitchell nodded.
‘Can you tell us about the company?’
‘It started here when Phil bought this pub. He expanded over the years and at the time of his death it owned five pubs, three nightclubs, three massage parlours and a casino.’
‘What does it own now, Mr Mitchell?’ Sophie gazed steadily at Mitchell.
‘Well, we’re in the process of expanding. We’re in negotiation to purchase some more commercial properties, including a couple of hotels.’
‘Would that be outright purchase or a merger of some type?’
Gordon hesitated. ‘Probably more of a merger.’
‘And can you tell us who you might be merging with? A company name maybe?’ She spoke quietly. Marsh thought she sounded quite casual.
‘I don’t have the full details. But it’s only at the negotiating stage at the moment. It isn’t a done deal. It's with a property company called Midwinter Tide.’
‘And was Mr Sorrento involved in the talks?’ she said.
‘Yes, very much so. It was his idea.’
‘So would his death put a stop to the plans?’
Mitchell shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t think so. We were broadly in favour. Our current boss is Wayne Woodruff, Phil’s son. He’s keen, but the deal has to be the right one.’
Sophie nodded and looked at Marsh.
‘We need some personal details about Mr Sorrento. His address would be a good start. We’d also like to see his office and check through his belongings. Would that be okay?’
‘Do you have a warrant?’
‘No, we don’t. But it’s a suspicious death, Mr Mitchell. Your help would be very much appreciated to avoid having to wait for a warrant.’ She gave him a thin, challenging smile. He remained silent.
* * *
They left the Rising Moon an hour later, with a minimum of personal information about Sorrento, and little else.
‘His office has been sanitised, Barry,’ Sophie said. ‘Nothing out of place, everything tidy. No suspicious letters or notes anywhere, nothing that would give us a lead. I bet that’s why our friendly and helpful Mr Mitchell was there early on a Saturday morning. He’d just been through the place.’
‘Well, at least we’ve got an address. And a key. That’s helpful.’
Sophie snorted. ‘We’ll find the same thing at his house. At the same time that Mitchell was going through Sorrento’s office, someone else will have been doing the same at his home.’
She phoned the county forensic team, passing on the address and asking for a search unit to be despatched.
The luxurious Bournemouth villa was deserted. The two detectives let themselves in and took a walk through the property, taking care not to touch anything of forensic importance. The furniture was modern and expensive-looking. Artwork lined the walls and a high-quality audio-visual system had pride of place in the lounge.
Sophie looked through a shelf dedicated to DVDs of opera. ‘Verdi and Puccini. Not quite your typical lowlife thug. Certainly different to Frimwell, if it’s his bunch they’re planning to merge with.’
‘He’s dead, ma’am. Maybe he didn’t fit in the new scheme of things. But it’s a bit odd if they bumped him off just after he’d come up with this new plan.’
‘Power struggle. With the father dying there’d be a vacuum at the top and maybe he trod on some toes while he was trying to fill it. I also wonder if he underestimated Frimwell. If he was assuming that nasty piece of lowlife was helpless in prison and was trying to cheat him, then he made a serious error. And with what Rae found out about Frimwell’s sisters, he would have been skating on thin ice.’
‘But surely he’d have known? If he was a director, wouldn’t he have found out ages ago that his boss’s wife was a Frimwell?’
‘Not necessarily. You and I investigated Frimwell a couple of years ago. Did we know about his twin sisters? No. They’ve obviously kept a low profile. Wouldn’t we if we were in their place? Sisters to an evil psychopath like him?’
Marsh was silent.
‘His company’s name was Midwinter Tide. Could you find out what happened to it after he was convicted? How come it still exists?’
They walked through the rest of the property, but found little of interest. The address books kept in a bureau cupboard had no obvious family names, nor did a calendar fixed to the kitchen wall. While Marsh waited for the forensic unit, Sophie visited the neighbours on each side. She returned after only a couple of minutes.
‘There was a van here in the early hours of yesterday morning. One of the neighbours spotted it when he took his dog out at six. It had gone when he returned twenty minutes later. I don’t think we’ll find anything directly incriminating.’
Sophie was right. ‘We’ll leave Blackman and McCluskie to run this scene. It’s been sanitised, so it’s just routine from here on.’
Marsh looked troubled. ‘But what if one of them’s the mole, ma’am? Do we want them so closely involved?’
‘Two things, Barry. Sorrento’s death is clearly murder, so it’s too major to keep under wraps. They’d know about it pretty quick whatever we did. And second, the mole probably isn’t one of them, at least I don’t think so. It’s odd in a way. They’re lazy, inept and, in McCluskie’s case, immoral. But I never thought he was bent. Anyway, they’re ruining the atmosphere in the incident room, with their gloomy faces. They’re like a couple of kids who need a trip outside every now and again to let off steam. So let’s give them this opportunity.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Post mortem in an hour. Time to get back to Dorchester.’
CHAPTER 25: Cool Smile
Late Saturday Morning, Week 2
‘What do you have for me, Benny?’ Sophie and Barry walked into the pathologist’s theatr
e, where the autopsy examination was already under way.
‘No surprises yet. Nothing unusual so far in the blood tests, but it’s early days. I took a sample yesterday as soon as we got back here, and put it in for checking immediately. He was healthy and fit, and there were no obvious drugs in his bloodstream. There don’t seem to be any other injuries, so it’s likely that he was killed by that single blow to the head.’ He returned his attention to the prominent head wound of the body on the bench.
‘Any idea what caused it?’
‘There are traces of grit at the sides of the wound so it could have been a lump of rock. The shape of the skull fracture fits that idea. Whatever caused it, the weapon would have been covered in blood, bone fragments and brain tissue. The assailant too. There would have been a spray of blood.’
‘He was a tall bloke, Benny.’
‘A couple of inches over six foot. The blow looks as though it came from above. Make of that what you will.’
‘Maybe he was hit while getting out of a car.’ She looked at Marsh. ‘Maybe he was lured there, and someone was waiting.’
‘I’d go with that,’ he replied. ‘I don’t think it was spur of the moment. It’s got that deliberate feel to it. And if it was a lump of rock, our chances of ever finding it are slim. That place is full of boggy pools. Whoever it was probably chucked it into one, and it’s sitting hidden in six inches of slimy ooze at the bottom.’
Sophie nodded. ‘That fits with the fact we found blood stains a few yards away, where the tyre tracks were. We need Dave Nash’s analysis of them. Maybe someone was already there, waiting.’
‘We were lucky that the ranger came across the body so quickly. It could have lain there for a lot longer, seeing how well it was hidden in the undergrowth.’
‘It’s difficult to be sure, Barry. Crows are noisy birds and their racket would have caught the attention of anyone passing by. And where he was found wasn’t that far from the road, unlike the old couple last week. Alice said that she’d been walking for some time when she came across Sorrento’s body, but when you look at the map she’d nearly completed a circuit. She was almost out of the bog area and close to several of the footpaths that are used by ramblers and dog walkers, so my guess is that someone would have stumbled across the body within another day or two if Alice hadn’t spotted it. I don’t think whoever did it was too worried. They only needed a day, just enough time to clear anything incriminating from his office and house.’
Detective Sophie Allen Box Set 2 Page 39