Detective Sophie Allen Box Set 2

Home > Other > Detective Sophie Allen Box Set 2 > Page 42
Detective Sophie Allen Box Set 2 Page 42

by MICHAEL HAMBLING


  ‘Won’t you tell me who it is, ma’am? If you know?’

  ‘No. And I do know. At least I think I do. But don’t try to find out, Barry. If you do, you might raise the alarm. He’ll be looking for signs of someone doing some digging.’

  * * *

  ‘Well, what do you think of that?’ Blackman dropped into his chair and sat back, his chest swelling. ‘We’ve impressed the powers that be. We’re back in business. She’s seen the light at last.’

  ‘Fuck that. She’s up to something,’ McCluskie said, wearily. ‘I just wish I knew what it was.’

  ‘Don’t be such a cynic, Phil. Why can’t you take it at face value?’

  ‘Because I know her. All that crap about me redeeming myself. It was all for show. She may have impressed you, but she sure didn’t impress me. So the question is, what is she really up to?’

  ‘Listen, we do what she asked, okay? I’m fed up with the reputation I seem to have got since we started working together. I want to get back into mainstream work, and this might be my chance. So we do exactly what she asked. We find out everything there is to know about this shady outfit and we don’t blab. Let’s do this right.’

  McCluskie curled his lip. Blackman started searching through the network for the skeleton report they were to flesh out. For once he felt enthusiastic.

  ‘Here it is.’ He scanned through the document. ‘Okay, I can see what they want. Let’s go for the first couple of sections just now. I’ll do the top half of the list, you do the bottom half. Then we can review midday and decide on the next step. Okay?’

  McCluskie scowled, but started work.

  * * *

  Sophie, Marsh and Rae had coffee together mid-morning. Marsh decided to tell the two women his news. He knew he’d not be easily forgiven if he kept them in the dark about his engagement.

  ‘Just to let you know, Gwen and I got engaged yesterday evening.’ His heart was beating rapidly. Why was this almost as nerve-wracking as the proposal itself? He wasn’t prepared for the resulting onslaught. Sophie threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly.

  ‘Barry! You’re a real dark horse. I had no idea.’

  He was puzzled by this. Why would she expect to have an idea? Was it that big a deal to anyone other than himself and Gwen? Clearly it was, judging from the reaction of these two women. Rae could barely keep still for excitement. He had only just managed to extricate himself from Sophie’s embrace, when Rae threw herself at him and nearly knocked the wind out of him.

  ‘Congratulations, boss! It couldn’t happen to a nicer bloke. Trust me, I know, I was one myself once.’

  ‘Celebration lunch!’ Sophie cried. ‘Oh no, we can’t. We’re in the middle of a triple murder inquiry. How about when we finish this evening? Fancy a quick drink? I know, let’s have a meal out at the weekend instead. What do you think, Barry? We could get Jimmy across, and ask some of the old Swanage team along.’

  It fitted in with his own thoughts exactly. Barry had already decided on Saturday as an ideal day to celebrate. He nodded. ‘The Black Swan on Saturday. I’ll book now, and if anyone needs to spend the night in my flat, I have a spare room and the couch in the lounge.’

  ‘Sounds great,’ Rae replied.

  ‘Ideal,’ Sophie said. ‘But I won’t stay over. I’ll get Martin to come and chuck me in the car and take me home. My days of sleeping rough on makeshift beds are long gone. We were in need of a pick-me-up, Barry, and you’ve supplied it. And you and Gwen suit each other so well. I’m thrilled for you both.’

  * * *

  As requested, Pete Armitage called into the police station later that morning. Sophie and Marsh interviewed him.

  ‘You do lot of decorating jobs for Woodruff properties, Mr Armitage,’ Sophie said. ‘None of their properties are local to Blandford, so why did you land the contracts?’

  Pete narrowed his eyes. ‘I thought you asked me in to talk about Ted and Sylvie’s deaths? What have the Woodruff jobs got to do with that?’

  ‘There’s a strong possibility of a link, so can you answer the question, please?’

  ‘They notify me when they’ve got a job due. I put in a bid, and sometimes I land the work, sometimes I don’t. There’s nothing shady about it. What’s the problem?’

  Marsh picked up a list that he’d brought in with him. ‘All the other decorating firms they have on their books are based in Bournemouth or Poole. You’re the furthest away by far. It seems a bit odd.’

  ‘Well, it isn’t. I always do a good job, and they know it.’

  ‘How did you first make contact with them? How did you get on their list in the first place?’ Marsh continued.

  ‘I think it was through Rod. It was when I first took him on, years ago. He told me about a club in Poole that had been bought by new owners who planned to spruce it up. He talked me into putting in a quote and I landed the job.’

  ‘Did you think you were in with a chance?’ Sophie asked. ‘Were you surprised at all when you got it?’

  Pete paused for a few moments. ‘I s’pose I was. A bit, anyway. I probably wasn’t the cheapest estimate, I never am. But I’ve got a good reputation for quality work, and they saw that after the first job. It’s stupid for a company like theirs to go for the cheapest. Those bars and pubs need to bring in the public and they only do that if they look attractive. It’s a speciality of mine, pubs and the like. I know what works, and I tell the owners. Most of them listen to what I say.’

  ‘So was it just by chance that you landed that first job for them?’

  ‘Rod knew the manager of the place at the time and swung it. It was only a year after I took him on. Once I did one, the rest of the jobs followed.’

  ‘Did Rod say how he knew them?’ Sophie asked.

  ‘It was a late night club in Poole with a casino. I think he was a punter there. Look, I don’t like talking about my family, and with the kind of stress they’re under it doesn’t seem right.’

  ‘But you’ve just sacked Rod, haven’t you? Hasn’t that put him under far more stress than we ever could?’

  Pete didn’t answer immediately. ‘He was taking money from me. From the business, I mean.’

  Sophie raised her eyebrows. ‘How much? And how did he do it?’

  ‘It worked out at a couple of thousand. He had a bank card for small purchases. It was meant for small-scale stuff that he needed quick like, to get a job done. He’s been taking out cash as well and wasn’t telling me.’

  Marsh looked puzzled. ‘How did it get to that amount? Surely you’d spot it in your monthly bank statements?’

  There was no response.

  ‘Mr Armitage,’ said Sophie, ‘This is a murder inquiry. The next step is for us to get your statements from the bank and go through them with a fine toothcomb. We’ll be doing that anyway, but we can save time here. You know we’ll get to the bottom of it, so why not tell us now?’

  Pete cleared his throat and scratched his head nervously. ‘Sylvia did my accounts. I never looked through my statements, not until a couple of weeks ago, after she died. I didn’t know what was going on.’

  ‘Was it really just a couple of thousand?’

  He shook his head. ‘That was the amount each year. Probably more like twelve grand over five years.’

  Marsh sank back into his chair. ‘So Rod was stealing money from you, with Sylvia’s knowledge?’

  ‘Yeah, but I had nothing to do with her death. If I’d have killed anyone, it would have been Rod, not her. It explains why she was so nervy in the last few years. I think she must have been terrified of me finding out.’

  ‘Do you know what Rod was doing with the money?’

  Pete shrugged. ‘Drugs? Gambling? Women? Probably all three.’

  ‘Do you think Ted knew?’

  ‘I didn’t even know myself until after they died. So how could I tell?’

  ‘But you must have wondered in the days since then. He was your brother, after all.’

  ‘Yes, but we weren’t
that close. I got on much better with Sylvia. Or I thought I did. I’m not sure of anything now.’

  ‘I’ll ask again, Mr Armitage. Do you think Ted knew what was going on?’

  ‘Possibly,’ he whispered. ‘I wonder if it may have caused all the friction between them. But it’s only a guess. And how can I tell now?’

  ‘Who was your contact in the Woodruff business?’ asked Marsh. ‘Who issued the job descriptions when they needed decorating done?’

  ‘Justin Griffiths. But that very first one came from Toffee Barber. He’s the manager and seems really pally with Rod.’

  Sophie shifted in her seat. ‘I think we should call it a day now, Mr Armitage. We’ll get the bank statements right now to check what you’ve alleged, though there’s no reason to doubt what you’ve told us. It makes a whole lot of things clearer. Please keep all this to yourself at present while we check further. And stay away from Rod. Leave it all to us to handle. There’s a lot more work for us to do. How’s Sharon bearing up, by the way?’

  Pete rose from his seat. ‘I’m a bit worried about her. I thought she’d have been looking a bit better by now but, if anything, she seems worse.’

  The two detectives showed Pete out of the building, then walked back to their office. ‘Do you know, Barry, his story has a ring of truth in it. I think he might be a decent guy underneath and is genuinely perplexed by what he’s discovered. Maybe you could pop round and see Rod but don’t question him on any of this, not yet. Keep it low key. Just to keep an eye on him. We’ll let Rose and George know, so they can do the same, but don’t share any details with them, not yet. It solves one of the main problems, doesn’t it? Ted and Sylvia’s murder had to have some kind of family involvement, what with the chosen site being Morden Bog. It would have been fine if we’d fallen for the suicide line, what with it having such good memories for them when Sharon and Rod were small. But once suicide was ruled out, it pointed only one way. And now we know Rod has a link to the Woodruffs.’

  ‘It’s going to be hard to pin it all down, ma’am. It’s like trying to nail jelly to the wall.’

  ‘Which is why we take it carefully. It goes a lot wider than this, particularly with Rae’s discoveries of last week. Frimwell? That name still makes me shudder.’

  * * *

  Sophie walked into the medical centre and asked to speak to Sharon Giroux. It was after midday, and morning surgery had finished, so Sophie was asked to go directly to Sharon’s consulting room. Pete had been accurate in his description of his niece. She looked even more tired and drawn than the previous week.

  ‘You can relax, Sharon. Everything you told me on Thursday checks out.’

  ‘But I knew it would. I was telling you the truth, Chief Inspector. I just can’t believe I was being so stupid as to try and rekindle a romance that ended over a decade ago. What was I thinking? Most people would give an arm and a leg for the kind of marriage I have with Pierre. It’s shaken me almost as much as Mum and Dad’s deaths. What kind of person am I?’

  ‘An absolutely decent one, I expect. So many of us think we should aim for perfection all the time and it just isn’t possible. We’re human beings, not some kind of divine incarnation. We all make the occasional mistake. Try not to let it get to you, particularly if no harm was done, which was true in your case.’ Sophie sipped a glass of water that Sharon had poured for her. ‘I’ve come about something else. You said early on that Morden Bog had a special significance for you as a family, because of your picnics there when you were small. Apart from the four of you, who else knew?’

  ‘Uncle Pete. He came with us once or twice. I think Mum used to feel sorry for him because he was a bachelor and didn’t have a family of his own, so she’d sometimes involve him in our trips out. Mum’s sister, my Aunt Phyllis, knew. She liked looking at the photos we sometimes took. She died about ten years ago. I don’t think anyone else was aware of how often we went there.’

  ‘That’s helpful.’

  Sharon picked up a pen and started tapping it against the desktop, then suddenly put it down. ‘I read that the body of a man was found in Wareham Forest at the weekend, near the nature reserve. Is it connected?’

  ‘I can’t comment in any detail, Sharon. If it is, it’s opened up a whole new angle. If it isn’t, it’s really muddied the water. That’s why no one’s dropped in to see you over the last few days. As you can imagine, we’re working like stink.’

  ‘You look tired too.’

  ‘It goes with the job. When we’re in the middle of something like this, I grab a few hours of relaxation when I can. And there are occasional moments that cheer us up and make us realise that there is a life outside of the case. Barry, my sergeant, got engaged yesterday and told us this morning. That provided us with quite a boost. Those are the moments to treasure, Sharon. You’ll get some good times back, trust me.’ She smiled. ‘Maybe I should have been a doctor.’

  Sharon seemed amused by this.

  Sophie had a brainwave. ‘My daughter, Jade, is in the sixth form at school and plans to study medicine. She’s wanted to be a doctor for some time. Would you be able to give her a little bit of time and talk things through with her?’

  ‘Of course. It’s the least I can do.’

  CHAPTER 29: Snubbed

  Monday Afternoon & Evening, Week 3

  Rae had finished looking through the internal information on the person they suspected of being the police mole. Sophie had managed to negotiate temporary access for her to parts of the personnel database, and this had helped with some aspects of her investigation. But she needed more personal information, to flesh out his character and personality. But how to do that without alerting him? Every method she thought of would set alarm bells ringing. Was it worth trying social media again, in more depth? All serving members of the county police force were warned about the dangers of using online forums, but Rae knew that a few did so using false identities, creating additional accounts in an attempt to keep some of their activities hidden. Rae spent hour after hour googling and networking, and every attempt led her down cul-de-sacs and blind alleys. Then, finally, she spotted his photo on a forum for pub pool-playing enthusiasts from Hampshire. He was masquerading under the name “Hampshire Wolfman.” Clever. He lived and worked in Dorset, but he’d found a way around the police guidelines by pretending he was a Hampshire man. Once she had a name, even though it was a mere fictional handle, she was up and running. And, slowly, a picture of the man began to emerge. He had more than a little vanity, and clearly imagined that his own opinions counted for a great deal. A bit of a self-indulgent narcissist, he offered boastful accounts of his sexual exploits and conquests. He was a misogynist to boot. Unfortunately there was nothing that could be counted as evidence of criminal intent, but Rae hadn’t expected that. Most importantly of all, she discovered where she might find him that evening.

  * * *

  Rae walked into the pub and took a long look around, fixing the layout in her head. Not bad. A fairly upmarket place with a comfortable feel to it. Clean. Small vases of flowers on the larger tables. She walked to the bar and ordered a small glass of lager, needing a clear head. It was a Monday, not a night for raucous merrymaking. She took her drink to a small table and sat down, choosing a corner seat that gave her a good view of both the room and the pool table, which was set in an alcove to her left. She took a sip of her drink, extracted her Kindle from her bag and settled back, moving her eyes between her book and the room in front of her.

  Rae had taken a taxi from the station to get to the bar, had tipped the driver generously and booked him to collect her in good time to catch the last train back to Wool from Bournemouth. She didn’t want to find herself stranded, particularly in an area that she didn’t know well. She’d taken a lot of trouble over her makeup, with good results. Smoky eye-liner, dark plum shadow and matching mascara. Her blusher blended well with the foundation, and the mulberry lipstick looked lovely. She’d curled her hair for the very first time, and it really alt
ered her appearance. She liked the new look. Maybe she should consider making it permanent. She stretched out her slim, denim-clad legs and checked her high-heeled ankle boots. No scuffs yet.

  After twenty minutes, a young man who’d been playing pool came across for a chat. She spoke amiably for a while about the pub (very nice), her reason for being here (new to the area) and her interests (music and reading). Then the conversation turned to the young man (Craig), his interests (darts and pool), his job (warehouse manager for a local electrical store) and his upcoming holiday plans (camping in Wales). Even if Mole failed to appear, the evening wouldn’t have been wasted. When he did turn up, Rae couldn’t help feeling mildly disappointed — she’d been enjoying her chat. Craig was obviously a friend of her quarry, even though he was a good few years younger. Rae wondered if the friendship was just down to spending time at the pub playing darts and pool. She noticed that Craig’s attitude seemed to change once Mole joined them. He’d been amiable and open, but now he was more macho. Typical bloke, she thought.

  She reached across to shake Mole’s hand. ‘Hi! I’m Rachel.’ She noticed the wariness in his eyes. It was common to many of her fellow cops in social situations.

  Craig invited her to join them for a game of pool, and she saw a look of irritation flash across Mole’s face. She ignored it and followed them to the table.

  ‘I’ve only played a little before,’ she said, truthfully. What she didn’t say was that she’d spent much of her teenage free time playing snooker. She waited until she’d won the first game before telling them that.

  Craig laughed. ‘That’s unfair. Come on, the way you said it we took it at face value. I wasn’t even trying and now you’ve humiliated me!’

  She smiled. ‘No I haven’t. True humiliation would have been if we’d played for money. Anyway, what’s humiliating about losing to me? Is it because I’m a woman? Are you stuck in the middle ages or something?’

  Craig grinned back, but Rae noticed that Mole remained silent. She waited until he’d gone up to the bar and asked about him.

 

‹ Prev