by Ford, P. F.
“If we change the line of questioning back to the smuggling he won’t be expecting it. He could slip up and tie himself in knots. Then we can go back to the murders later, and see if he can remember all the lies he told us yesterday.”
Slater nodded. Norman could see he was impressed. Norman was impressed, too.
“What do you think, Norm?” Slater asked.
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Norman said, smiling. “I’d be quite pleased with myself if it was mine.”
“Yeah, me too.” Slater grinned back at him. “Looks like Biddeford and Ashton might just prove to be a formidable force.”
“I don’t know if we got anything that might help you yesterday,” he continued, addressing Biddeford and Ashton. “Bressler’s still adamant he has nothing to do with Sandra’s death, and he says he didn’t even know Sarah was in the area. We can’t decide if he’s really the brains behind all this, or if he’s totally innocent.
“He says he split with Lindy as soon as Sandra suggested starting over. Lindy says it wasn’t quite like that. She says he told her to pose as Sandra and take a taxi to Gatwick.”
“We’re having a lot of trouble deciding what’s truth and what’s fiction,” said Norman, taking over now. “We definitely know Lindy’s involved because of what her niece has told us. And she knows about the axe. That’s not been made public yet, so that’s pretty damning. She must be involved to know about it. But she says it was Bressler who was the killer and she had no choice but to go along with it.
“Personally, I think she’s Sandra’s killer. But if I’m right, we need to figure out did she do it on her own or was Bressler part of it all along? I have to say, I find it hard to believe Bressler would have killed the wife he loved, and obnoxious as he is, I don’t see him as a child-killer.”
He stopped for breath, and a mouthful of coffee, so Slater took over again.
“And then we come to Sarah’s murder,” he said. “We know she fell from an airplane, and we know Lindy has a pilot’s licence, but we’re also pretty sure Rod was in the sky that night. It would be quite a stretch to think there were two light aircraft in the same airspace at the same time.
“So we’ve got to try and find out if there was ever any contact between Sarah and Lindy, or Sarah and Bressler. And where does Rodgers come into it?”
“He did admit he met her,” said Biddeford. “But the reason he gave for it was a load of old cobblers. I reckon she had him sussed as the real father of Sandra’s baby, but I don’t know how we can prove it.”
“We need to keep in contact while we’re doing these interviews. If Rodgers gives you anything that seems relevant to us, or if we learn anything relevant to you, we let each other know, okay?”
“Right,” echoed Biddeford and Ashton.
“We’re going to tell Lindy what her niece remembers about that day 15 years ago,” said Slater. “Now that’s going to be an interesting conversation.”
“We’re nearly there, I’m sure.” He drained the rest of his cup. “We’ve just got to put the final pieces in place and then we’ll see the whole picture. So good luck boys. Let’s go.”
Chapter 38
Jerry Brannon, the duty solicitor, was young and ambitious, and Biddeford could see he was incredibly keen to be dealing with a possible triple killer. But, once he’d spoken to Rodgers, Biddeford saw some of his confidence drain away. He wondered what the muscly pilot had told his solicitor. Brannon disappeared from the room to make a phone call and then returned, looking slightly more confident again.
“My client would like to make a statement,” he told Biddeford and Ashton as soon as the interview started, and before they could ask a single question.
“Oh!” said Biddeford in surprise. “Is it a confession?”
He looked at Rodgers, who gave the all the appearance of a man about to face the gallows. He still looked terrified, but now he also looked haunted and haggard.
“It is,” said Brannon. “But it’s not a confession to three murders, and he wants a guarantee of protection before we start.”
“Protection?” said Biddeford and Ashton, in unison.
“Protection from what?” asked Biddeford.
“He’ll tell you that once he knows he’s protected,” said Brannon.
“This is all a bit chicken and egg,” said Biddeford, in exasperation. “How can we offer him protection if we don’t even know what we’re supposed to be protecting him from?”
“That’s the deal.” Brannon shrugged.
“You’re new to this, aren’t you?” asked Biddeford. “Perhaps you’ve been watching too many TV dramas. This isn’t how it works, and anyway I don’t have the authority to grant that sort of thing. You should know that much at least.”
“You can speak to your boss,” said Brannon.
“He’ll laugh in your face with what we’ve got so far.” Biddeford smiled, shaking his head. “I would at least need to offer him some sort of clue.”
“A smuggling gang,” said Rodgers desperately. “I’ve not murdered anyone, but I have got involved with these people. If I tell you what I know and you don’t protect me I’m as good as dead. I know how ruthless they are. I’ve seen it for myself.”
“I think that’s a big enough clue for now,” interrupted Brannon, putting his hand on Rodgers’ arm to indicate he should stop talking.
“Well, I can ask the boss,” said Biddeford. “But I’m making no promises.”
“No protection, no statement,” said Brannon, firmly.
“They killed that girl,” blurted Rodgers, panic written all over his face. “The one you found in the field. They drugged her. I thought we were just going to take her to France and leave her there. But they pushed her out of my airplane as soon as we took off.”
“I think you should stop now,” said Brannon.
“I can’t live with this any longer,” said Rodgers, tears of desperation streaming down his face. “She haunts me. I see her face every time I close my eyes. It’s all my fault. If only I had talked to her she wouldn’t have followed me up there, and they wouldn’t have seen her, and, and, oh God, it was awful…”
At this point, he dissolved into floods of tears and great, wracking sobs shook his body.
“I think we’d better take 15 minutes so you can compose yourself, Rod,” said Biddeford, reeling from the sudden flood of information. “Then I think we’d better start at the beginning, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” Rodgers said, sniffing. “That would be good. I just need a few minutes and I’ll be alright.”
“I’ll fetch some tea,” said Ashton.
This had all happened so quickly, Slater and Norman were still up in the incident room, preparing for their interviews with Rudy Bressler and Lindy Fellows, when Biddeford found them.
“You did say we should let you know if we hear anything that might be relevant to your investigation,” said Biddeford. “Well, Rodgers says he knows what happened to Sarah Townley, and he wants to make a statement.”
Slater looked at Norman.
“What do you think, Norm? Can we afford to make them wait while we watch Rodgers make his statement?”
“Well, we’re gonna charge Lindy, so that won’t take long, and technically we can hold Bressler until the morning if we need to. His solicitor won’t be too happy having to hang around waiting for us, but if we tell him it’s in his client’s interest to wait an hour or two, I don’t see he’s got much choice, do you?”
“Okay,” agreed Slater. “Let’s do it.”
“Rodgers also says he’s going to need protection,” said Biddeford.
“From what?” asked Norman.
“He claims he can put us onto a smuggling gang, but if he does, his life will be in danger,” explained Biddeford.
“That sort of thing can’t be arranged in five minutes,” said Slater.
“I know that, and you know that,” said Biddeford. “But we’re dealing with a keen young solicitor who seems to have watched way
too many TV shows.”
“Let me talk to him,” said Norman. “I’ll explain how it really works, and how if he doesn’t back down his client is going to be charged with murder. That should help to clarify the situation for him.”
“It began about two years ago,” said Rodgers, when they finally got started. He seemed calmer now, and Biddeford eagerly awaited his every word. “I was approached to collect some stuff from France. I wasn’t looking for anyone else to work for, but I had a job to do for Bressler and I thought I could do the two together. I was going anyway, so I thought it wouldn’t hurt to get paid twice. It never occurred to me that I was walking into a trap. I was greedy, and I’ve paid for it ever since.
“The thing is, I didn’t realise they had people with cameras all over the place. I was photographed in France, handing over an envelope and collecting a package. I didn’t know I was doing a deal with a well-known drug-dealer, until they showed me the photos. The next thing I know, I’m being told if I don’t fly for them they would send the photos to my boss, and to the police.
“Then a few weeks later they showed me a photo of a dead body, and told me if I didn’t fly at night that was how I would end up.”
“So they frightened you into carrying drugs for them?” asked Biddeford.
“And cigarettes,” said Rodgers. “And anything else small enough to fit into my airplane. I’ve even brought passengers over on two or three occasions.”
“What sort of passengers?”
“Men. The sort of characters you wouldn’t want to meet on a dark night.”
“You mean illegal immigrants?”
“Gangsters, more like,” said Rodgers.
“What nationality?”
“I don’t know,” said Rodgers. “I was always told not to speak to any of them, and none of them ever said anything to me. There was one girl, but mostly it was men.”
“Okay, Rod. You’re doing well here, mate,” encouraged Biddeford. “This is all very important, and we will come back to it later, but earlier you mentioned you knew what had happened to the girl we found in the field. Can you tell us about that?”
Rodgers took a long gulp of water. Biddeford sensed they were getting to the real crux of the matter now.
“She came to see me at work,” he began. “There was no warning; she just suddenly turned up one day. She told me she knew I was the father of Rose Bressler, and she wanted to know if I had killed Sandra and Rose.
“I hadn’t thought about Sandra for years. I didn’t even know she was dead. I genuinely believed she’d run away and taken Rose with her. And now, 15 years later, here I was being accused of murdering them.”
“So what did you do?” asked Biddeford.
“I told her it wasn’t true, of course,” said Rodgers. “I told her to go away and leave me alone.”
“And did she?”
“I thought she had,” said Rodgers. “But I was wrong. She started following me. That’s how she came to be up at the airfield that night. She followed me up there, only she chose the wrong night.
“Normally I go on my own, but every now and then the boss flies with me. I think she comes along just to make sure I’m still scared enough to keep quiet.”
“She?” said Ashton. “Did you say ‘she’?”
“Yeah, she.” Rodgers nodded. “She’s not the big boss behind it all, but she’s the boss at this end, that’s for sure. She’s a nasty piece of work. I’m sure she’d kill me as soon as look at me.”
“So what happened to Sarah, that night?” Biddeford was desperate to know.
“She was creeping about up at the airfield while I was getting the plane ready to fly. But she didn’t know that this girl boss was also creeping about. The watcher was being watched. The first thing I knew about it was when I was called by the boss. I went over to where she was, and there was Sarah, lying unconscious on the ground. The next thing I knew there was a gun pointing at me and I’m told to carry the girl and put her in the airplane.
“I honestly thought we were going to fly her over to France and leave her there, or something, but once we got airborne she just pushed the poor girl out. We were at about 400 feet. She would have had no chance. It was horrible.”
Once again, Rodgers became a sobbing mess as he relived the events of that night.
“I think we’d better take another 20-minute break now,” said Biddeford, sympathetically. “We’ll talk some more about this gang and the girl boss when we resume.”
“Yes, thank you.” Rodgers looked grateful underneath the tears streaming down his face.
Slater watched from behind the one-way mirror, fascinated.
“What do you make of that?” Norman asked.
“We need to know a lot more about this gang, and especially the girl he says pushed Sarah from the plane,” said Slater. “But if it’s true, it clears Bressler and Lindy from any involvement.”
“Yeah. I agree,” said Norman. “Let’s proceed with them in the frame for Sandra and Rose. If Rodgers turns out to be telling us a load of bullshit we can always backtrack.”
“Do you think he is bullshitting?” asked Slater.
“No, I don’t,” said Norman. “Like you say, we need to know more about the gang and the girl, but it all sounds weirdly plausible to me. These gangs do trap people into working for them, and then use fear to keep them quiet. I’ve seen it before.”
“Let’s get Steve to concentrate on learning more about the gang,” said Slater. “Meanwhile I think we need to charge Lindy and have another go at Bressler.”
Chapter 39
“What do you mean you’re charging me with murder?” Lindy Fellows looked utterly incredulous. “You’ve got no proof I was even there.”
“We can prove you arranged for a taxi to pick you and your niece up from the Bressler’s home on the day Sandra supposedly ran away,” Norman said, smiling.
“Absolute rubbish,” sneered Lindy. “I was nowhere near the place.”
“Your niece confirms you were there with her. You booked a taxi, went to Gatwick with a load of luggage, changed your clothes, and then got another taxi home.”
“She’s lying,” said Lindy, uncertain for the first time. “That’s just some sort of childhood fantasy. I bet you suggested it to her.”
“It’s actually a vivid recollection,” said Slater. “She was so disappointed not to be flying away, like you promised, that she’s never forgiven you for it. Kids remember things like that, as if it happened yesterday. She didn’t need any prompting.”
“It was all his idea,” she yelled. “He told us to get the taxi.”
“That would be Mr Bressler?” asked Norman.
“Yes. He told us what to do.”
“Your niece says she’s never met Mr Bressler,” said Slater. “So how did he manage to tell her what to do.
“Me,” she said. “He told me. It was after Sandra had run away-”
“Oh, she ran away,” said Slater. “Didn’t you tell us earlier that Bressler had chopped them up with an axe?”
She barely faltered at his words, seemingly not hearing them, or perhaps just choosing to ignore them
“Don’t forget he was obsessed with her,” she continued. “He wanted me to re-enact the runaway so he could achieve some sort of closure. He said if I did it I could move in and take her place.”
“If you don’t mind me saying,” Slater said, smiling at her, “this is all beginning to sound a bit desperate now, don’t you think? First Sandra was murdered and then she ran away. Now your niece is lying, or it’s a childhood fantasy, then it’s our fault, and now it’s Rudy’s fault. I think it’s actually all your fault.”
“It was always me he wanted really,” she said, pleadingly. “He said he’d made a mistake going back to Sandra and believing things were going to change. He told me all I had to do was make this journey to the airport and everyone would believe she’d left him.”
“So he really had dumped you, then?” asked Slater.
&n
bsp; “No, of course he hadn’t. Not really. I always knew he would come back. It was always me he really wanted, not her,” she said. “But as soon as that stupid bitch Sandra mentioned starting over, he was off like a bloody shot. I told him it wouldn’t work out, but would he listen?”
“So let me get this right,” said Norman. “You’re saying he dumped you and went back to Sandra. Then, he realised he’d made a mistake, asked you to act out the decoy runaway, waited six months and then moved you into the house in her place.”
“Yes,” she said.
“Didn’t you think it was a bit weird, asking you to act out the runaway. I mean if she’d already gone, why do it again?” asked Norman.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I assumed it was something to do with this bizarre Sandra obsession of his.”
“I’ll tell you what happened, shall I?” asked Norman. “You were jealous of Sandra because she was Mrs Bressler, and you were just his bit on the side. You knew that when the Bresslers moved down here to Tinton you’d never see him again. He told you as much, didn’t he?
“But he also told you about the moving arrangements. Instead of going to a medical conference, you went to Tinton. You kidnapped Sandra and Rose, took them out to the Haunted Copse and killed them.
“Then you staged the runaway with your niece so everyone would think Sandra had run out on Bressler and taken Rose with her. All you had to do then was wait a few weeks, start to sympathise with Bressler, and you’d find your way back in with him.”
Lindy’s face told them they had got it right, more or less. Norman looked across at Slater.
“Shall I? Or would you like the pleasure?” he asked.
“I think you deserve this one,” Slater said, leaning back in his chair.
“Lindy Fellows,” began Norman. “I’m charging you with the murder of Sandra Bressler and Rose Bressler…”
“So what have you got on Bressler?” asked Bob Murray. “Is there actually any hard evidence to tie him to the murder?”