Barber stood with his mouth open, and the two detectives pushed past him into a clean, well-lit lobby area.
‘Thank you for allowing us entry, Mr Barber,’ Sophie said. ‘We’d like to check on the safety of the caller, so if you could point us in his direction please?’
They walked in. Nice colours, thought Sophie, looking around her. Pete Armitage had been right to praise his own work. They could hear voices coming from an open door to their left, obviously the manager’s office. Woodruff made a lunge for the doorway as Sophie and Marsh entered, but Marsh grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. Sophie slipped her taser from its holster and turned to Barber. 'Don't try anything. It really wouldn't be in your best interests.' She radioed the backup unit, then turned back to the man at the desk.
‘Good morning, Councillor. And to you, Mr Woodruff. We met briefly last week at your pub over in Pokesdown, if you remember.’
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ Woodruff spluttered, his face contorted with anger and his arm still held in a lock by Marsh.
‘Responding to the call you made for a CID officer. I explained this to Mr Barber at the door. I know you requested a specific officer — DS Thompson — but he’s unable to make it.’ She waited.
‘It wasn’t a 999 call. I called his mobile.’
‘Yes, I know. Why did you need him here? It sounded extremely urgent. I’ve brought a five-man snatch squad with me because the phone message sounded so desperate. They’re parked just around the corner, kitted out in all the gear. Raring to go. Ready to tear limb from limb, as it were. Do you mean there isn’t an emergency?’
Blythe looked at Woodruff blankly.
‘In that case why did you make that call to DS Thompson’s phone? How did you get his number? Why was he known to you? It was you, wasn’t it, Mr Woodruff? Can you answer me, please?’
Woodruff was silent. She walked across to the desk and glanced at the documents spread across its surface. A shredding machine sat beside the desk, unplugged.
‘Mr Woodruff, you are aware that we are investigating the suspicious death of your business manager, Tony Sorrento. I expressly forbade the shredding of any of your organisation’s documentation. We assumed that everything of importance would be at your head office in Pokesdown, but clearly that isn’t the case. I can see some planning documents here, with council stamps on them.’ She pulled them towards her. ‘And the signing-off initials are TB. Would they be yours, Councillor, by any chance?’ She looked at the three men, her face expressionless. ‘Let me explain the situation. We’ve had three murders. The elderly couple found at Morden Bog and Tony Sorrento a mile away, in Wareham Forest. These places are only twenty minutes’ drive from here. In both cases there’s a link to you, Mr Woodruff, and to you, Councillor Blythe. This stuff,’ she waved her hand across the spread documents, ‘Reinforces that connection.’
They heard the sound of a van drawing up outside the window. Marsh looked at Barber. ‘Better be quick and let them in, otherwise your door will be flattened. They love using the ram, those guys.’
Barber hurried out of the room and they heard the sound of heavy footfalls approaching.
Sophie looked at Woodruff. ‘I am arresting you for the murders of Edward Armitage, Sylvia Armitage and Tony Sorrento. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’ She then turned to Blythe and repeated the words, just as the uniformed police officers entered the room.
She turned to Barber. ‘Is that your vehicle? The green Land Rover in the manager’s slot?’
‘Yes,’ Barber said.
‘The one with several weeks’ worth of accumulated mud in the wheel arches?’
He glared at Sophie.
‘Wonderful stuff, dried gunk. Forensic analysis can pinpoint its origins down to the exact mud patch it came from. Barry, over to you this time.’
Marsh read Barber his rights and he, too, was led out.
‘I think we got here just in time, ma’am. Another hour and all this stuff would have been shredded.’
CHAPTER 37: Balaclava and Baseball Bats
Thursday Afternoon, Week 3
A young Asian woman rapped on the glass door of Sophie’s office. She waved and started to rise from her seat. Lydia!
‘Hello, ma’am, I’m a bit confused. My boss only spoke to me late yesterday about coming on loan to you for a day or two. It’s great to be with you again, but what’s it all about?’
Sophie gave her a hug. ‘First, I hear congratulations are due. You’ve passed your sergeant exams. That’s great news! And I love the new hairstyle. That short, spiky look really suits you. Listen, would you like to stay until the weekend? Our spare room’s always ready, and Jade would love to have you around for a few evenings.’
‘That’s very thoughtful, ma’am, but I’m not sure . . .’
Sophie elaborated. ‘Barry’s got engaged to Gwen. He proposed last weekend. We’re having a celebration on Saturday night.’
Lydia laughed. ‘Well, that changes everything! Count me in, though I haven’t bought any party clothes with me.’
‘Not a problem. We’ll go out on a celebration shopathon with Jade on Saturday morning. She’s always telling me I need new clothes.’ She paused. ‘That’s if we can get this all wrapped up before then. That’s why you’re here. We need an expert in licensing and planning fraud, and also someone who can spot discrepancies in accounts. And then there’s the other thing.’
Lydia waited. ‘I’m not a mind reader, ma’am.’
Sophie told her about Bob Thompson.
Lydia shook her head. ‘I can’t believe it! How’s Barry coping?’
‘He’s okay. It’s hit him hard, though, I can tell. But he’ll get over it. The two of them hadn’t been close for years, apparently.’
‘So . . . what you’re saying is, there’ll be a vacancy for a DS in Kevin McGreedie’s unit?’
Sophie nodded.
‘And you want me to apply?’
‘Yes. You’ve done two years in the financial unit, and it’s been good experience for you. But don’t you think it’s time for a change? Anyway, I’ve missed having you around, Lydia. Not that you’d be working for me, because I’ve got Rae. You’d be Kevin’s second, and that means you’ll be Jimmy Melsom’s boss.’
Lydia laughed. ‘I don’t know whether that would be a good or bad thing. But the idea is very tempting. I’ll definitely consider it. And thanks for thinking of me.’
‘We don’t have anyone in the force with your specialist auditing skills, Lydia. You could train up Rae, she’s got the right mindset.’ Sophie looked at her. ‘And I hope you’ve got over your doubts about me.’
Lydia was silent for a few moments. ‘Rae’s your transgender person, isn’t she? Things must be hard for her. I can sympathise, being from a minority myself. You can see people’s response, even if they don’t say anything, but in her case it’ll be worse.’
Sophie saw that she wasn’t going to get a response. ‘She’s a really good detective and she works hard. She’s out on a search at the moment, but you can have a chat with her at Barry’s do at the weekend.’
‘Okay. Well I’d better start looking at these accounts, hadn’t I?’
They went through to the main incident room, where Barry Marsh was sorting through the pile of folders retrieved from the Rising Moon and the Boulevard club. Sophie left them working, and made her way to the interview room to confront Toffee Barber, the club manager. They needed more information about Rod Armitage’s connection with the club. But Barber refused to speak. Sophie looked out of the window at the pouring rain. I must be losing my touch, she thought wearily.
* * *
Barry Marsh felt as though his emotions had been squeezed through a mangle. The events of Tuesday evening, when his erstwhile friend Bob Thompson had been revealed as crooked and had then taken his own life, were still
resonating in his brain. Some of the tension had dissipated, but Marsh couldn’t relax. Aspects of the case just didn’t ring true. Exactly how had they murdered the Armitage couple? Okay, it was meant to remove two people who’d witnessed the handing of a large backhander to Blythe, but what of the actual sequence of events? Marsh was having trouble concentrating on the files in front of him, whereas Lydia seemed to relish the task. Well, he could leave her to it now she was here. Maybe some fresh air was the answer.
He left the police station and walked south, soon reaching the green waters of the River Stour. He looked about him, seeing swans and ducks. Parents with toddlers were throwing bread to the birds. He shaded his eyes from the sun’s glare and looked along the course of the flowing river. There would be a long-distance footpath along the riverbank as it meandered towards the coast. Dorset had countless miles of footpaths, heading in all directions, crossing farmland, moors, woodland, coastal cliffs, and bogs.
Of course! You could walk from here to Morden Bog. You’d need to go about three miles south-west by the river, then turn due south for five miles. Eight miles in total. Someone without a vehicle, someone fit, healthy and used to walking would be able to complete the journey both ways in less than six hours. There would have been no need for a car. That’s why no tyre tracks had been found.
Who knew about Morden Bog? Who stood to gain from the deaths? Who would know the footpath network? Who was fit and healthy enough to manage a sixteen mile walk overnight? Who’d known all about the Woodruff setup? And finally, who owned surprisingly high-quality walking boots and waterproofs? Marsh punched the air, then looked around, embarrassed. Nobody had seen him, thank goodness. Suddenly he was feeling a whole lot better.
* * *
Sophie picked at an errant strand of her short, blonde hair. ‘The problem is, Barry, his flat’s been searched, thoroughly. Blackman and McCluskie did a really good job on it, and found nothing. If he did gain something for his trouble, where would he have hidden it?’
‘But what if it wasn’t money at all? What if he owed them a lot? Maybe a gambling debt? Remember it was him that suggested Pete put in a bid for decorating the Boulevard club. He was already a regular there. Maybe the relationship goes deeper than we’ve assumed.’
‘In that case, we need to go through their stuff really carefully. It won’t be in any official accounts, not if it’s a longstanding gambling debt. It’ll be in a notebook somewhere, probably in that mass of material we lifted this morning. Let’s get started. I want to interview Woodruff and the others in a couple of hours. It would be good if we had something concrete by then.’
They joined Lydia at the pile of folders and files, and started sorting through them. Any notebooks they found were put to one side. In less than twenty minutes they’d finished, creating a small pile of eight notebooks containing handwritten notes and jottings. Sophie and Marsh scanned through these, while Lydia returned to the financial statements. It didn’t take long to find the notebook they were looking for. It was old, stained and torn at one corner, but the notes inside were gold dust. Names, dates and sums of money, all recorded in detail. They saw clearly that Rod Armitage had somehow managed to accumulate a gambling debt amounting to several thousand pounds. That debt had been cancelled four weeks previously.
‘Bring him in,’ Sophie said. ‘Meanwhile I’ll have a little chat with our man, Toffee Barber. I’m sure he won’t feel particularly loyal to an outsider. Maybe he’ll be willing to drop our young Rod in the deep stuff right away.’
Marsh tilted his head. ‘He might look for a deal, ma’am. Wouldn’t you in his situation?’
Her lip curled. ‘I have no intention of ever being in his situation.’
With a squad car behind him, Marsh drove to Rod’s flat but the supposedly disorganised young man was nowhere to be found.
* * *
Marsh phoned Sharon Giroux at her surgery but she claimed to know nothing of her brother's whereabouts. She sounded upset and angry, so Marsh asked what was bothering her. Sharon told him that she'd paid Rod's overdue rent bill before leaving for her family holiday, but had just discovered about the large sum that their mother had given to Rod, supposedly for the same purpose.
Marsh went to see his boss in her office. ‘Rod gave us a pretty convincing story, ma’am. But he’s devious, and he’s tricked his family into paying off his debts. He's always projected this image of being just self-centred and dozy. But he's been very clever at wheedling money out of them when he needs it.’
‘He did have that assault complaint made against him as a teenager, Barry. I know it was dropped, but we need to bear it in mind.’ Sophie sighed. ‘Okay, we need to step up the search for him. He obviously knows more than he's been letting on. I just wish we could find out who else was told that Sylvia might have been planning to make a large charity donation. They've all denied it, apart from Sharon. I’m just about to interview our sweet man, Toffee. I think he knows more about this whole business than he’s been telling, and he might be the weak link in the chain. I’ll probe a bit.’
‘Why would he know?’
‘It’s possible he was directly involved in at least one of the murders. Maybe all of them. He got a bit jumpy at times. It just made me wonder. He would have seen Rod fairly regularly, and Pete, when there was a decorating job on. We’ve got the evidence to nail Woodruff and Blythe, particularly with the help we got from Sue Woodruff, but maybe it’s more complex than that. I need to ask him about the storerooms at the back of his club. Rae radioed in about them, but she can’t find any keys.’
Sophie and Marsh made their way to the second interview room, where Barber was talking to his lawyer.
‘You have a couple of outhouses at the back of your club, Mr Barber. Could you tell me what’s in them?’
‘Spare furniture. You know, tables, chairs, that kind of thing.’
‘What about the smaller shed?’
‘We don’t use it,’ he replied.
‘But it’s kept locked. Why’s that?’
He shrugged. ‘It’s used by the builders and decorators who do work on the place.’
‘Like Pete Armitage?’
Barber looked wary. ‘Yeah. He has the key at the mo. They do loads of work at our place, so they use that shed to store their stuff.’
Evidently Barber was now more willing to talk about Armitage. Maybe his lawyer had made him see sense.
‘Rod or Pete?’
‘Either, depending on who’s doing most of the work at the time.’
‘I’ve got officers still there, Mr Barber, and they need to get into those storage rooms. Where can they find a key? Either that or we break the doors down. Which would you prefer?’
Barber hesitated. ‘No comment.’
Sophie and Marsh went out to pass on the news to Rae, but the doors had already been forced. ‘The locks were rotten, ma’am, and fell apart easily. There’s a mix of stuff here. The bigger shed was okay, just old bits of furniture and fittings. This one didn’t have a key anywhere I could see, so we had to force the lock. I’ve just spotted a load of decorating stuff. Wait a mo.’
They heard thumps and bangs, and then Rae’s voice again. ‘Paint thinner, brushes, cleaning rags. Hang on. There’s a pile of stuff here at the back, half hidden, and it looks suspicious. Some boxes with what look like antiques in them, and other valuable-looking stuff. We may need to get forensics to take a look.’
Sophie was about to answer when Rae spoke again. ‘Whoa. There’s a couple of baseball bats in the corner. And a balaclava.’
‘Back off, Rae. We’ll get the local CID in to start fingerprinting. Stay there for the time being and don’t let anyone else in. Okay?’
‘Should we visit Pete Armitage?’ Marsh asked.
Sophie looked at the clock. ‘I think we have to, but I need to phone Kevin McGreedie first. He can deal with the stuff that Rae’s found. I wonder what those two supposed decorators have been up to?’
CHAPTER 38: Dirty Harry
>
Thursday Evening, Week 3
It was now mid-evening and Pete Armitage was nowhere to be found. He lived in a small semi-detached bungalow on the south side of Blandford but there was no answer at the door. According to his neighbour, a bright-eyed pensioner who had answered her door suspiciously quickly, he hadn’t been back all day. She told Sophie and Marsh that he usually came home at the same time each evening but she hadn’t seen him since he’d left that morning. Armitage’s driveway passed close to her sitting room window and her chair was positioned so that she could watch the comings and goings in the neighbourhood.
‘Is he alright? He keeps himself to himself and doesn’t chat very much. He does put my bins out for me, though, and that’s really helpful.’
Sophie and Marsh walked slowly back to their car.
‘We need someone to keep an eye on this place. I don’t know what this means,’ she said. ‘He might come back once it gets dark, to gather a few things together before making a run for it. Maybe Blackman could do it. He’s due a late shift, and he seems a bit lost without his mate Phil McCluskie to keep him company.’
* * *
Stu Blackman had been sitting with Rae Gregson for several hours in their car, keeping an eye on the row of neat properties. Each house had a small front garden, most with a low hedge and a few shrubs. CID officers hated these surveillance jobs, including the young woman officer beside him, but he didn’t mind them. Maybe they suited his temperament, he thought. Easygoing and easily amused. She was fidgeting restlessly in her seat.
‘Go for a wander for a couple of minutes,’ he said. ‘As long as you stay in sight, you’ll be alright.’
Rae climbed out of the car and walked to the end of the road, turned and came back towards the car. Blackman saw her suddenly stop and move towards the front wall of the house they were watching. She ran back to the car.
Detective Sophie Allen Box Set 2 Page 47