Out of Time

by Steven Allinson

Neil waited in the interview room with Artimus. Henry had taken some convincing, especially as Artimus was so subdued, but soon the room was ready and Neil had run through his formal interview checklist.

  Testing the tape recorder one last time as their suspect was shown in and made to sit opposite them, Neil pressed record.

  “For the record, it is two twenty-four on Sunday the thirtieth of December, and I am Detective Neil Townsend of Scotland Yard. In the room with me is Investigative Assistant Artimus Crane, who is here at the request of DCI Henry Blackwater. Our interviewee has been brought here under caution in relation to Scotland Yard case number one-one-seven-four-eight dash six-five-three. Can I ask you to please state your full name.”

  Neil reached forward and took a sip of water. If Artimus was right, then he was desperate for an explanation as to how. Hopefully, it should not take long to break their suspect. They simply did not look like the strong-willed type.

  “My name is Alexis Francesca Grayson.” said Alexis, her face calm and expressionless.

  Alexis Grayson, Noel Grayson’s wife. Even as she spoke the name, Neil could not for the life of him figure out how this had happened, let alone why. Surely, this woman, this trophy wife, was not capable of what they were about to question her in relation to. Sitting in a barely opaque, half-length slip and gold shoes, she looked more like an extra from TOWIE than a criminal mastermind.

  “Let’s get this over with.” said Artimus, looking completely disinterested. He leaned forward, opening a file and spreading out a series of sheets Dawn had prepared for them before the interview began. “These are bank accounts on the Isle of Wight. They look like they have been created by Noel Grayson, but in fact they were created by his accountant. You, to be precise Missus Grayson.”

  If she noticed the paper at all, Alexis did not show it. Not even blinking, she continued to stare straight at Artimus.

  “It does not matter if you do not corroborate this finding Missus Grayson. Only you have lasting power of attorney to your husband’s finances and as you can see from this,” Artimus said, sliding another sheet across the table, “we have evidence Noel Grayson was in meetings or at restaurants with friends when certain transactions took place, meaning only you could have done this.”

  Alexis shuffled in her seat, her eyes darting to the pages, before returning to their original positions. She was trying hard to remain unmoved, but it was clear she knew Artimus was onto something.

  “Let me walk you through the last two years of your life Missus Grayson.” said Artimus, picking the banking details up and purposefully sorting them into a stack before tapping them rhythmically against the table to neaten the edge. “You are a woman who has held a desire for power ever since you were young. I assume the allure comes from witnessing the respectful admiration given to either your father or grandfather due to the fact they were Most Worshipful Master of some provincial lodge or other. It really is unimportant which one.”

  As Artimus laid things out, Neil became increasingly worried. He was not even looking at the suspect, let alone allowing her chance to speak. If he was trying to drive a confession out of her, this was not the usual way to go about it.

  “Knowing that female inclusion to the craft was shunned by its members, you determined that a career in accountancy would bring you into contact with the sorts of men who could give you what you craved. What a boon it must have been, especially when only just into your twenties when your work brought you into contact with Noel Grayson. When you realised Noel was a man of truly significant means, you hatched a plan. Given power of attorney over his estate upon your marriage, you could sequester part of his wages away for use by yourself. This you did, using the money to purchase the Prospect of Whitby and reform the masonic lodge that once resided there. However, being in control of the men who attended by proxy was not enough for you, was it?”

  Artimus paused, weighing up the lack of response from Alexis. Still sitting impassively, it was remarkable to believe this was the woman they had met just two days previous.

  “Realising a portion of your new recruits were all from similar backgrounds, you decided to not just be the unseen Master of your new lodge, you setup a business empire of your own should Noel ever discover your shameful little secrets. Its name? Hybrid Incorporated, of course. I have an assistant currently tracking down its backers. There are numerous shells and dummy corporations to wade through, but we have the very best on the case. Your financial nut will soon be cracked Missus Grayson.”

  Neil could see the involuntary widening of Alexis’ pupils as Artimus delivered that last piece of information. She was scared. They had her.

  “From there it was easy to determine what happened. Posing as Noel Grayson’s secretary, you appoint Doctor Waites as the project head, his drive to acquire wealth and his naivety giving you all the distance you needed to remain unseen, and use Doctor Upton, your dummy in the lodge, as your floor manager. His links back to the lodge providing not only the right level of security, but also the leverage over those you hire. You find out about the work of Michael Grayson through your husband, decide his idea is the money-spinner you are looking for, and then set about coercing him to your wishes. I’ll assume Mister Grayson’s guard drops when he is inebriated. Is that how you got him to sleep with you? Some family gathering or other? It would also explain why he refuses to go on any of the staff parties and why, knowing any text could be from you, he hides his personal communications from others.”

  Damn. Neil had not even considered that any of those things could be linked. He stared, his jaw dropping slightly, as the realisation dawned on him that Alexis Grayson really did have the means and the ability to do everything.

  As he watched, he could see Missus Grayson’s lip begin to curl. She was moments from saying something she would regret.

  “The house in Belsize Park was your den.” said Artimus, pressing. “It is where you took all the men you were bending to your will, out of the prying eyes of your husband. You even managed to get Mister Grayson to buy the house using money you had given him so your brother could not track it. The only thing I could not figure was why Mister Grayson wanted to end it. Had his conscience caught up with him? Did he not adore you as much as you hoped anymore?”

  Artimus teasing tone was the last straw. Snarling as she began, Alexis finally broke. “He’s only gone out with the fucking company once, because it only took once! Went home with some kid’s fucking girlfriend on the first night out! Said he didn’t need me anymore. Didn’t need me! I showed him!”

  “You certainly did Missus Grayson.” said Artimus, smiling. “Was the plan always to ruin both the Grayson’s lives? The idea to have the house transferred into the name of Clara Robertson, using poor Fiona to do your dirty work through her association with Doctor Waites. That really was a stroke of genius.”

  The look on Alexis Grayson’s face said it all. She was leaning back into her chair, her eyes fixed on Artimus, arms crossed over her chest.

  “I want my lawyer.” said Alexis, it was clear she would be saying nothing further.

  “That is your right.” said Artimus, standing. “However, once he gets here. I’m sure Detective Townsend will be pleased to inform him you’ve been arrested.”

  Leaving the room, Neil and Artimus walked outside. Even though they practically had a confession on tape, Artimus looked dour.

  “I thought you would be happy to solve this?” said Neil, as Artimus walked slowly through the building toward Henry’s office.

  “I’m just glad it’s over.” said Artimus, distantly. “I’ll be even gladder when I’m enjoying a drink.”

  Neil studied Artimus. If he had to guess, he would say he was lying. However, what about? They had their culprit, had their evidence. The case was over. Why the long face?

  Arriving at Henry’s office, Neil was pleased to see Wordy and Dawn waiting outside. As he and Dawn exchanged smiles, his happiness soon faded.

  “Keep your pants on and your tongue
sealed in future Mister Bardsley.” said Artimus, playfully cuffing John round the ear. “I now have to explain to Henry that this building is less riddled by moles than we believed.”

  “You’re the mole?” said Neil, in disbelief.

  “Not so much a mole, as intoxicated by testosterone and lacking the mental faculties to not answer all questions as honestly as he can when asked. It appears Mister Bardsley fancies himself as something of the lothario.”

  “No I don’t.” said Wordy, giggling. “I’ve never been to California.”

  Artimus’ eyes opened wide and he spun to Neil, his palms raised in exasperation. “I could not even guess.” Blinking hard, he shook his head and made his way into Henry’s office. “I will be out in five minutes.”

  True to his word, no more than a few seconds over five minutes later, Artimus and Henry came over.

  “Excellent work Mister Townsend. Artimus tells me it was your insights that cracked this case for him.” said Henry, beaming from ear to ear. “And no involvement with Miss Robertson, other than our paper trail showing Alexis Grayson’s handiwork.”

  “Artimus did most of it sir.” said Neil, blushing slightly.

  “Well, I for one am very impressed gentlemen. Mister Crane even tells me that there should be no come back from our masonic angle because Missus Grayson and Doctor Upton effectively run the show there. With both of them in jail, the lodge will close. Two birds, one stone.”

  “Doctor Upton?” asked Neil, perplexed.

  “Oh, yes!” said Artimus, waving his hands theatrically. “Alexis Grayson could not have created those fake bodies by herself. Doctor Upton was her Master at the lodge, her partner in this crime. She’ll deny everything as soon as her lawyer turns up of course, but those two did this.”

  “Doctor Upton said cloning humans was possible, just not in the timeframes…”

  “But he did not clone the Graysons.” said Artimus, shaking his head. “He found cadavers that looked similar enough, you can tell from the age difference with the Alanis body how difficult that proved. He did not have to clone the entire body; just replicate the materials we tested. Blood, viable tissues, and marrow; our tests told us they were the same people because our tests are not designed to tell copied material from original. The house sale was put through from Mister Grayson to Clara Robertson to ruin Missus Grayson’s life and career, and the bodies were put in the cellar to ruin Mister Grayson. For only he could see the reach of influence required to create them. That’s why he was uncomfortable at his brother’s house. Not because of Noel, but because of the proximity of Alexis and the knowledge of what she had done.”

  “Clever.” said Dawn, nodding to Neil’s side.

  “So,” said Wordy, sheepishly, “If the masons are dealt with, does that mean there won’t be any percussion on anyone here?”

  “Repercussions.” said Dawn.

  “No really,” said Wordy, glancing worriedly at Dawn, “not even once, let alone twice.”

  “That’s all been handled John.” said Artimus, smirking.

  “Oh good.”

  Henry tried and failed twice to take his gaze from Wordy, before finally turning to Neil. “Thank you for your patience with the other staff in the office Neil. It has been noted.”

  “Indeed.” said Artimus, reaching into his pocket. “I believe you and Dawn should have these Neil.”

  Neil accepted the two slips of paper Artimus was thrusting at him. Realising what they were, he went to hand them back. “We don’t need these anymore. We have our culprit.”

  “They are not for work, my boy.” said Artimus, striding over and hugging Neil to the surprise of everyone. “It has been my honour to share my last case with you Detective Townsend. Enjoy the meal at the Prospect of Whitby you two, you deserve it.”

  “Your last case?” asked Neil, as Henry turned to his side.

  “Undeniably it is.” said Artimus, sighing heavily. “I am out of time, as they say. If you are ever in the neighbourhood, Knowelsley Manor and my booth at the Cittie will forever be yours to share.”

  As Artimus turned to Henry and shook his hand, Neil was certain he saw him stifle a tear.

  “Enjoy your lives everyone.” said Artimus, turning and heading for the door. “Relish every last moment you are given.”

  As Artimus disappeared from sight, Henry patted Neil on the back. “You have certainly done one hell of a job, Detective Townsend. Artimus does not hand out praise lightly.”

  Even though the words were uplifting, they failed to make Neil feel any better. Instead, he grimaced, concern drawing over his face. “Is he alright sir? He looked really upset. I’m sure there’s something bothering him.”

  “Do not worry about Artimus.” said Henry, light-heartedly. “He’s probably bothered his answer was so mundane. The last time solved a case with a masonic angle it was his first case, the Blackfriars Affair. That was the start of all of this, you know.”

  Neil thought back to the folder still languishing on Artimus’ counter top. He still had not read it. Maybe now he would never get the chance.

  “You two get yourselves cleaned up and get out early if you want Neil.” said Henry, smiling warmly. “I’ll get Hannigan or Foster to type up the details for Missus Grayson’s lawyer. If we take her down tonight, the Prospect might be closed before you get there otherwise! ”

  “Thank you sir.” said Neil.

  “My pleasure. You may also take tomorrow as leave. You can class it as thanks for closing this case so efficiently.”

  However, as Henry left for his office, Neil could not shake the feeling the case was far from closed.

  Chapter 32

  Case Closed?