The House on Downshire Hill

by Guy Fraser-Sampson

  “And you’re sure that’s all you showed her?”

  Priya looked puzzled, and a little distressed.

  “Yes, of course I’m sure, guv. Is something wrong? I wish you could tell me what this is all about.”

  “Believe me, so do I. But you must understand that there are times when certain members of the team can’t share everything they know with other members. It happened in that Burgh House case if you remember.”

  “Yes, I do remember. But that was Special Branch, wasn’t it? Surely there aren’t any security implications to this case are there?”

  “Like I said, Priya, I really can’t say any more. But I need you to do something for me.”

  “Yes of course, guv. Anything you want.”

  “Well, I need you to be very careful not to share anything about the case with Sophie. You haven’t done anything wrong at all. It was my idea that you should meet with her, and it was quite right that you should show her anything you thought appropriate for her to see if she could help, but things have changed now. We need to enforce very strictly the rule about not speaking to non-team members. OK?”

  “Yes, of course. Er, guv …?”

  “Yes?”

  Priya seemed flustered.

  “There’s something you should know. I’ve seen Sophie, socially I mean. We’ve been out for a drink and a meal together and I’ve sort of arranged to see her again.”

  “No reason why you shouldn’t, Priya, no reason at all. You can be friends with anyone you want. You just have to be careful not to discuss the case, just like I have to be with my wife, or Bob Metcalfe has to be with his fiancée.”

  “Yes, I will of course.”

  Collison looked at her for a moment.

  “Since you’ve spent time with her, tell me this. What’s she like, do you think? What sort of person is she?”

  “She’s really nice, guv. I like her a lot. I can’t believe she’s mixed up in anything dodgy, if that’s what’s being suggested.”

  “I didn’t say anything like that.”

  “No, but I mean … well, you know.”

  “I really am sorry, Priya,” Collison said as he rose to leave. “I wish I could tell you more, but I can’t. Though please don’t let any of this affect your friendship with Sophie. I just need to take a few precautions, that’s all.”

  •

  The rain was getting harder now, and the windows of the carpet showroom were misting up. Godwin rubbed a patch of glass clear for the umpteenth time and peered through the hole at the pavement on the other side of the road. She tensed as somebody scuttled up to the ATM largely hidden under an umbrella. She reached for her radio and nervously stroked the transmit button. Then, as the figure turned and revealed itself to be that of a middle-aged woman, she relaxed again.

  “Who are you watching for exactly?” the salesman asked curiously.

  “Can’t tell you that, I’m afraid. But it’s serious. We’re on a murder investigation.”

  “How about another cup of tea? And I’ve got some biscuits in the back if you fancy one.”

  “That would be great, thanks. Hello, what have we got here …?”

  This time the figure on the rain-swept pavement opposite was definitely that of a man. Godwin tried to get a look at his face, but his features were hidden as he bent over the machine. This time she pressed the transmit button.

  “Timothy? You there? Standby. I think we’ve got a possible.”

  “Roger,” Evans replied amid a brief burst of static.

  He was by now shivering, very wet, and very miserable. He had tried placing a flattened out cardboard box over his head but this seemed to have achieved little apart from attracting some very curious glances from two passing schoolchildren, safely huddled inside hooded jackets. He moved out from behind the bins and started to trot towards the end of the service road. As he approached it, his radio crackled again.

  “Timothy, it’s him! I’m sure it’s him. I’m coming out of the shop now. Move in.”

  As Evans turned left from the service road onto Glenloch Road the man was just moving away from the cash machine. The tall figure of Godwin was stepping off the curb outside the carpet shop and moving in his direction. Needing to make ground quickly, Evans broke into a run. This sudden movement attracted the man’s attention. He looked briefly over his shoulder and then started off down the hill, also running. Godwin tried to grab him as he went past her, but missed. Nothing daunted, she set off in pursuit. Quickly overhauling him, she launched herself from behind and brought him crashing to the ground outside a funeral parlour, with her substantial frame pinning him to the pavement. Evans arrived a few seconds later, panting.

  “Who are you? Let me go!” the man shouted, clearly panicked.

  He bucked and writhed, attempting to unseat Godwin. However, as she had most of her weight pressing down on the small of his back, he was unsuccessful.

  “That’s enough of that – you’re nicked!” Evans shouted, thumbing his own radio.

  Godwin reached deftly backwards into the waistband of her trousers and extracted the handcuffs which had been digging into her well-muscled body uncomfortably ever since she had begun the afternoon’s observation. Since she already had his arms pinned behind his back it was the work of a moment to slap these into place around his wrists. By this time, despite the rain, a curious group of onlookers had begun to gather on the broad pavement, some clutching supermarket bags full of shopping.

  “Rajarshi Subramanian,” she said, stumbling slightly over the pronunciation, “I’m arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Conrad Taylor. 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 felt the man go limp beneath her. She got up, dragging him to his feet too, his hands restrained awkwardly behind his back. Seeing that she was in control of the situation, Evans had been on the radio for a patrol car, and was now scanning Haverstock Hill up and down for the first sign of approaching blue lights. Within a couple of minutes the sound of a siren heralded the arrival of a white police van, which double parked and then disgorged four uniform officers.

  Completely silent now and unresisting, the man was dragged into the van and pushed down onto one of the bench seats between two constables. He was staring straight ahead of him as if dazed.

  “Give you a lift if you like,” the driver said, gazing dubiously at Evans’s soaked jacket and trousers.

  “Yeah, nice one. Thanks a lot,” he replied, and then sneezed loudly twice.

  CHAPTER 15

  Metcalfe knocked briefly, and put his head around Collison’s door.

  “We’ve got him, guv,” he announced excitedly. “Godwin and Evans nicked him outside the bank when he turned up to use the ATM. They’re bringing him in now. Would you like to sit in on the interview?”

  “I would very much, but unfortunately I have a ton of things to do. Anyway, it’s probably appropriate for you to do it. Why don’t you ask one of the arresting officers to sit in with you?”

  “OK then, I’ll go and tell the troops.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  As they walked together towards the incident room they met Godwin and Evans at the top of the stairs.

  “Hey, you two, well done!” Collison exclaimed.

  “Susan’s collar, guv,” Evans informed him. “I just stood around and radioed for the cavalry.”

  “And got very wet by the look of things. You’d better go and get changed, Timothy. Do you have any spare clothes in your locker? If not, you’d better borrow a uniform from someone. Well done again. And well done to you, Godwin. Since you made the arrest, I’d like you to sit in on the interview with DI Metcalfe.”

  “Well, thank you, sir.”

  There was a momentary hesitation at the doorway. Collison knew he would never feel comfortable with going through a door ahead of a woman, but equally this was the Me
t’s way: rank came first, and he had to respect that, so he led the way into the room. A hush fell instantly, though whether it was his presence or the fact that the news of the arrest had already spread was unclear.

  “Good news, everybody,” he said. “You’ve probably heard this already, but thanks to Godwin and Evans we have Raj downstairs in custody.”

  A little cheer ran around the room, though everybody knew this was probably just the beginning, not the end of the investigation.

  “I going to ask DI Metcalfe and DC Godwin to lead the interrogation. But perhaps somebody could update me on where we are with everything else.”

  “I have some news myself, sir,” Desai replied at once. “I was just about to go and look for DI Metcalfe to tell him.”

  “Well tell us all.”

  “Gladly, sir. I’ve located Colin McKenzie; I managed to trace him through the lawyers who acted for him when he sold his property. It took a bit of time as they had to get the file back from their archiving service. He lives in Luton now. I’ve contacted him and he’s very happy to talk to us.”

  “Well done, Priya. Well, since he could be a very important witness, I’d suggest that you go and interview him yourself. Don’t you agree, Bob?”

  “I do indeed, guv. Why don’t you go tomorrow, Priya?”

  “Happy to, but I don’t have any transport. Could I draw a car from the pool at Kentish Town?”

  “Yes, no problem. Let me have a chit and I’ll sign it.”

  Collison cleared his throat as if he had something else to say, as indeed he did.

  “Good, well, while I’m here there’s something I wanted to make everybody aware of. DI Metcalfe and I have been made aware of various facts – no not even facts, really – which may or may not have some bearing on the case. I’m sorry to be so vague and mysterious and I really wish I could tell you more, but I can’t because there are security implications.”

  Everyone looked at each other in bewilderment.

  “Security implications, sir?” Godwin asked before she could stop herself, “in a house in Downshire Hill?”

  “Yes, I know it sounds a bit improbable, but there you are. The reason I’m telling you is that should either DI Metcalfe or myself come to the view that there may be something in what we have been told, and that it may have some bearing on the case, then we have been instructed to call in officers from Special Branch, who have the necessary security clearance to investigate these matters. So, all I’m really trying to say is that should at any time you get a request for information from Special Branch then you should go ahead and share whatever information they asking for. OK then?”

  He nodded and left a now heavily confused incident room.

  As a uniformed constable from downstairs looked into the room uncertainly.

  “DI Metcalfe, sir? The sergeant says your man can be interviewed whenever you’re ready. He hasn’t asked for a brief – not yet, anyway.”

  “Thank you. Please tell the sergeant I’ll be down in a few minutes with DC Godwin.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  Godwin appeared unbidden at Metcalfe’s desk clutching a notebook. He stood up and looked at her for a minute.

  “Have you ever done anything like this before?”

  “Not on a serious case like this, sir, no. Burglary and drug busts were more the sort of thing at Wood Green.”

  “Wood Green? Was that where you were before?”

  “Yes, not quite the same as Hampstead is it? To tell the truth, I was very happy to get the transfer.”

  “All right, well basically just sit there, operate the tape machine, and don’t say anything unless I ask you to. Obviously the tape will give us a full transcript to put on the system, but feel free to make notes of anything you think significant. OK?”

  “Yes, sir. Understood.”

  The uniformed constable brought Rajarshi into the room and he sat down opposite them. Godwin put two tapes in the machine, switched it on, and made the usual announcements.

  “Now then, Mr Rajarshi, as you’ve just heard I’m Detective Inspector Metcalfe and this is Detective Constable Godwin. DC Godwin cautioned you when she arrested you and I want you to understand that you are still under caution now for the purposes of this interview. Do you understand that?”

  Raj stared at him, said nothing, but gave a barely perceptible nod.

  “You’ve also been told your rights by the duty Sergeant. In particular I want to remind you that you have the right to ask for a lawyer at any time. Now, let’s get started shall we?”

  He made a show of consulting his notes.

  “To start with, could you tell us how long you lived with Mr Conrad Taylor at Wentworth House?”

  Raj gazed at him but said nothing. Metcalfe tried again.

  “Mr Rajarshi, you’re not obliged to answer any questions which I put you but remember what it says in the caution. If you try to raise something in court which you had an opportunity to talk about here, but didn’t, then the jury are allowed to take that into account when considering your case. Now, as I’m sure you’re aware, Conrad Taylor has been found dead at Wentworth House. He was murdered, and you are currently a suspect for the murder. If in fact you are innocent of the crime then I would very much like to be able to eliminate you from our enquiries, which means it is in your interest to answer any questions I put to you.”

  He looked at Raj to see if any of this it had sunk in, but there was no sign one way or the other.

  “So, shall we start again? How long have you lived at Wentworth House?”

  “You say I’m a suspect. Why am I a suspect? I haven’t done anything.”

  “If you haven’t done anything then let’s try to prove it. We’re the police. We have to deal in evidence, not just what people tell us. But, since you ask, you are a suspect since at the moment we believe you may have been the last person to see Conrad Taylor alive, and since you have been drawing money out of his bank account even after his death. Did he know you had the details to his bank account?”

  “Of course he did. I often had to pay for things, pay for him I mean. Things he needed. Shopping and stuff. That’s why I had the PIN for his cash card, so I could draw money out of the machine.”

  “All right, well let’s come back to that later. When did you start living at Wentworth House?”

  “About two years ago I guess.”

  “And how did that come about? How did you meet Mr Taylor?”

  “I visited him to ask about a book he was writing. Someone had told me he was looking for someone as a researcher. When he heard I didn’t have anywhere to live – nowhere proper anyway – he said I could stay with him as part of the deal. That was all I got really, apart from a bit of pocket money.”

  “And that was all there was to it? That you were allowed to stay at the house while you were doing research for him?”

  “Why, what else would there be?”

  “Well, an obvious question would be whether you and Conrad Taylor were lovers.”

  “No, we weren’t. There was nothing like that. Anyway, I’m not gay.”

  “Do you know if he was?”

  Raj shrugged.

  “Who knows? It’s not the sort of thing you ask someone, is it?”

  “Not even someone who asks you to live with him? Wouldn’t you be even a little bit curious, or even concerned?”

  “No.”

  “What were the sleeping arrangements?”

  “I had a bedroom at the back of the house. He said it used to be his wife’s. He slept at the front. Quite a small room. Never quite sure why he chose that one.”

  “Did he say what had happened to his wife? And did he ever mention any children?”

  Again Raj shrugged.

  “They used to be there, but they’re not there anymore. That’s all I know. I didn’t pry and he didn’t encourage questions about it. I assumed he’d got divorced and she’d taken the children to live somewhere else.”

  “And was the house alw
ays like it is now? Awash with papers, I mean?”

  “It was like that when I moved in, so I suppose so, yes. They were his papers, not mine. He would never throw anything away. He was strange like that.”

  “Talking of ‘strange’, do you remember him occasionally having visitors from his neighbours on either side?”

  “From time to time, yes. Why do you say that’s strange?”

  “Well actually, it was you who was described as strange, and by both neighbours. They say that when they visited, you just sat and stared at them and made them feel unwelcome.”

  “They were unwelcome. Conrad never wanted visitors, never wanted anybody in the house. He was just too weak to send them away sometimes.”

  “Had he always been like that, do you know?”

  “How should I know? I’d never met him before two years ago.”

  “All right, well we can come back and revisit all these matters later in more detail, but at the moment I’m trying to cover as much ground as possible so we can get an overall picture, as it were. So why don’t you tell me how Conrad Taylor came to die?”

  “I don’t know. He was dead when I found him.”

  “And when was that?”

  “One day about six weeks ago. I’ve been out during the day and when I got back he was in the front room with his head bashed in.”

  “Can you remember exactly what time of day that was?”

  “Sometime around 5 o’clock I think. Late afternoon anyway. I was doing a job for someone in Willesden – fixing their computer – and I think I left there about 4:15.”

  “And you found him dead when you got back?”

  “Yes, I just said that.”

  “Was there any sign that anybody might have broken into the house?”

  “Not that I could see.”

  “So that whoever murdered him must have had a key with which to let themselves into the house?”

  “Or he let them in himself.”

  “Quite, but you just said he didn’t like having people in the house.”

  “He didn’t like it, but it happened from time to time. You said so yourself.”