by Adam Croft
Caroline deliberately chose not to address her thinly-veiled attempt to find out who’d been talking. ‘What were the other disagreements usually over? Work, or something else?’
‘Yes, work,’ Amie replied, looking at her as if she’d just asked if she were a human or a frog. ‘That’s how it is at design agencies. You’ve got creative people at one end, business people at the other and people like me in the middle, trying to balance it all and keep everyone happy.’
‘Must be quite an interesting work environment,’ Caroline said, looking at Dexter. ‘I know if DS Antoine here argued with me and told me I was doing things wrong, I’d have him strung up.’
Dexter tried to keep a straight face. They both knew the professional structure at Rutland CID was far removed from most other police forces, never mind any other organisation.
‘Like I say,’ Amie replied, ‘design agencies are a whole different world of their own.’
‘So did lots of other people tend to have arguments with Martin?’
Amie gave a slight shrug. ‘I dunno, really. Some probably did. You know what it’s like. There are those who’re happy to put their views forward, and others who think the same thing but prefer to moan behind people’s backs. At least no-one can call me duplicitous or two-faced.’
Caroline could think of another few words she was sure no-one would use to describe Amie.
‘Anyway, it’s not out-and-out arguments you want to be looking into,’ Amie continued.
‘How do you mean?’
She sighed. ‘Between you and me, Martin liked to think of himself as a bit of a ladies’ man.’
‘I see. And is that something you had personal experience of?’
‘Absolutely not. No chance. But it doesn’t mean I didn’t know what was going on.’
‘And what was going on, Amie?’ Caroline asked, starting to become sick of her riddles and vague comments.
Amie looked at her. ‘If you want to know what’s been going on, it’s Monique you want to talk to. Not me.’
‘Oh? Is there something we should know?’
Amie let out a small harumph, a semi-sarcastic attempt at laughter, which sounded more like an overweight child landing on a bouncy castle. ‘Well, let’s just say she has a far more intimate knowledge of Martin than I ever would.’
In her career as a detective, she’d come across many cases where people had killed over petty arguments or what might have appeared to be minor disagreements. But those had tended to either involve snap reactions or highly unstable people. Amie was odd — there was no doubt about that — but she appeared stable enough. It seemed extremely unlikely that she’d kill someone in cold blood a few days after a professional disagreement over a work project. It didn’t quite stack up. But then there were a lot of things which were already failing to stack up when it came to this case. And — try as she might — Caroline couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something deeply unsettling about Amie Tanner.
9
Aidan and Sara pulled up outside the George & Dragon pub in Seaton, and Aidan glanced at his watch.
‘I’ll pop in and see what they’ve got on their CCTV. Do you want to have a wander and see if there’re any residential cameras?’
‘I can’t imagine it’ll take long,’ Sara replied. ‘Population of two hundred people in the whole village, apparently. I doubt if there are thirty buildings on his entire running route. Might be better if we do it all together. At least that way we won’t miss anything.’
Aidan furrowed his brow and looked at her. ‘You do know you’re not allowed to drink on duty, don’t you, Detective Constable Henshaw? We can’t have you sinking double gin and tonics all afternoon if that’s your idea.’
Sara laughed and shook her head as Aidan’s face broke into a smirk. ‘You’re a dick, Aidan.’
‘And that’s another thing you need to learn, Detective Constable,’ Aidan said, getting out of the car. ‘If you’re going to insult your fellow officers, put some effort in and at least make it better than what my last customer called me.’
‘Now you’ve got my attention,’ Sara replied. ‘Mind if I take a few guesses?’
‘Only if you’re willing to write it up in your PCB.’
‘On second thoughts, I’m not sure the paperwork appeals. I’ll just stick to insulting you in my head.’
Sara opened the front door of the George & Dragon and they stepped inside. She was pretty sure she’d never been in here before, but she had a feeling she’d be back. It was a cosy blend of traditional and modern, with a clear focus on food and wine — two things Sara was always more than happy to see.
It was a quiet afternoon, but they were quickly greeted by the owner, who poured them each a complimentary orange juice.
‘I’m guessing this is about the body down by the viaduct?’ he asked, handing over the drinks.
‘It is, yeah,’ Aidan replied. ‘Do you know much about it?’
The man shook his head. ‘Not really. Only hearsay off the locals. Found hanging by a dog walker, wasn’t he?’
‘Not quite,’ Aidan said, never ceasing to be amazed at how social media and the local rumour mill could distort facts so easily. ‘Did you know him well?’
‘The chap who died? No, don’t think so. Not even sure who it was, to be honest. One of the locals said they saw police cars up the other end of the village this morning, so I presume he lived there.’
Aidan was almost impressed. The pub had barely been open a couple of hours, and he was certain the only car that had attended Sandra Forbes’s house was Caroline’s very much unmarked Volvo. Then again, people did seem to have an uncanny knack for spotting a plain-clothes police officer a mile off. He unlocked his phone and pulled up a photo of Martin. ‘Do you recognise this chap at all?’ he asked.
The man studied the photo for a few moments, looking as though he was ploughing the depths of his memory. ‘Yeah, he’s familiar. He’s been in here before, I’m sure of it.’
‘Is he a regular, would you say?’
‘I wouldn’t say so, no.’
‘Has he been in recently?’
‘Depends what you mean by recent, really. Is that the only photo you’ve got of him?’
‘No, there’s another one,’ Aidan replied, swiping the screen on his phone and bringing up a recent picture of Martin and Sandra Forbes.
‘Ah. Yes. It’s been a while since he was in, I think, but I remember her alright.’
‘The woman?’ Aidan asked.
‘Yeah. His wife, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah. Has she been in?’
‘Week or so ago, I think. Maybe a bit more. She came in all nervous and flustered, looking round the pub. One of the bar staff asked if she was okay and she said she was looking for her husband. Once she’d seen he wasn’t here, she left again.’
Aidan and Sara exchanged a glance. ‘Is that something that happens a lot?’ Aidan asked him.
‘From time to time. I wouldn’t say a lot, but you do sometimes get people trying to find their other half. Used to happen quite a bit back in the day, before mobile phones and all that. Alcoholics and big drinkers picking somewhere the missus wouldn’t think to look for them. Much rarer now, of course.’
‘Was that the only time this woman had been in?’
‘Oh no, I’m pretty sure she’s been in with him before. Not for a while, mind. Don’t know them by name or anything. Why’s that? Is he the chap they found dead?’
Aidan’s first instinct was to try to change the subject, keen to ensure that the family’s privacy was respected and that rumours didn’t start about Sandra Forbes winching her husband up into a tree in front of a gaggle of dog walkers. Realistically, though, he knew people would form their own theories and conclusions no matter what he did.
Aidan cleared his throat. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any chance we could have a quick look at your CCTV box, is there?’
10
As much as Caroline disliked darting backwards and fo
rwards across the county numerous times a day, there was no substitute for seeing the whites of people’s eyes. Phone calls didn’t quite cut it in the same way. And while calling people in for interviews was certainly a lot easier, there was often a lot to be gained by speaking to them in their natural environment.
Aidan had called her to update her on what they’d discovered at the George & Dragon in Seaton, and it had certainly got more than a few cogs turning in her mind.
She parked a little further up the road from Allure Design’s offices than she had previously, and walked the last few dozen yards.
As she got there, she noticed the heavy front door hadn’t been fully closed. She thought about pressing the intercom button anyway, but decided against it. An open door was an open door.
She stepped inside and gently closed the door behind her. The office was quiet, as was to be expected considering the circumstances, but it was clear somebody was still here. A vaguely familiar whirring noise came from the far side of the building, and as Caroline stepped forward she noticed the light spilling out through the doorway into what had been Martin Forbes’s office.
She reached the doorway and looked inside. Monique was on all fours with her back to Caroline, feeding sheets of paper into a large shredder.
Caroline knocked on the door with her knuckle, watching as Monique almost jumped clean out of her clothes.
‘Sorry, hope I didn’t frighten you.’
‘Oh! No. No. How did you get in here?’
‘Door’s open,’ Caroline replied, thumbing a gesture over her shoulder. ‘What you doing?’
‘Just some filing. Nothing important,’ Monique answered, climbing to her feet and straightening out the creases in her black pencil skirt. It was clear from her body language that something wasn’t quite right.
Caroline looked at the papers on the floor. ‘Those are invoices, aren’t they?’
‘Old ones,’ Monique replied, bending back down and scooping them up. ‘No use having them cluttering up the place, is there?’
‘This one’s dated last month,’ Caroline said, picking up an invoice and inspecting it.
‘Yes, well, everything’s digitised now, isn’t it? It’s all dealt with, and we try to be as environmentally friendly as we can.’
‘By feeding paper into an electric shredder?’
‘It gets recycled. That can’t happen if it’s in a filing cabinet. Anyway, can I help you?’
Caroline looked around the office, enjoying the fact she’d taken Monique by surprise and put her on the back foot. It had crossed her mind that there’d been a distinct lack of Latin phraseology so far, too.
‘I was hoping to ask you a couple of questions about your relationship with Martin Forbes,’ she said, looking back at Monique. Now that she’d caught her on the hop, she felt like a predator going in for the kill. Monique had clearly been up to no good, and seemed far too keen to stop Caroline getting a closer look at any of the paperwork she’d been shredding.
‘You’ve already asked me that,’ Monique replied.
‘Ah. No, I mean your other relationship.’
The response was subtle — a slight facial twitch — but Caroline had been looking for it, and it had made itself apparent.
‘Sorry. I don’t know what you mean. Now, I really must get on.’
‘So you’re telling me you weren’t having a sexual relationship with Martin Forbes?’ she asked, looking her dead in the eyes. It was clever wording from Caroline. She hadn’t made an accusation, hadn’t verbalised it as a statement, but had loaded the question with enough weight to make a guilty party aware of what she knew.
Monique swallowed, her fake eyelashes fluttering like plastic insects trying to take off. ‘Uh, well, I don’t know quite what you’re insinuating, but—’
‘It’s a perfectly simple question,’ Caroline replied.
Monique let out a sigh, the tension visibly easing from her body as she perched herself against the edge of Martin’s desk and folded her arms. A defensive motion, Caroline noted.
‘What do you already know?’ Monique asked.
‘I’ll ask the questions, if that’s okay. How long has it been going on?’
Monique shrugged. ‘A while.’
‘Months? Years?’
‘Closer to the latter.’
Caroline nodded. A long-term affair. A classic example of a situation ready to explode, with deadly consequences. She’d need to ensure everything was recorded in an official statement from Monique, but she got the sense that now wasn’t the time to approach that. At the very least, Monique was talking. ‘Was it serious?’ Caroline asked.
Monique made a noise that sounded like somebody deflating a beach ball. ‘No. Of course not. It was just sex.’
‘For years?’
‘Not far off. I haven’t exactly been keeping a diary.’
‘Who else knew?’
‘No-one, as far as I was aware. But clearly someone’s figured it out and told you.’
Caroline ignored the thinly veiled request for names. ‘Was Martin’s wife aware?’
‘I doubt it. Awareness has never really been her strong point. She’s either brilliant at burying her head in the sand or she genuinely has no idea who she was married to.’
Caroline sensed there was something hidden beneath those final words. Could there have been more to Martin’s vices than an extra-marital affair? ‘What do you mean?’ she asked.
‘Nothing. It’s fine.’
‘It really isn’t. If you have information which could lead to Martin’s killer, why would you want to withhold it?’
Monique shuffled awkwardly. ‘It won’t lead to Martin’s killer.’
‘And how could you possibly know that?’ Caroline asked, cocking her head.
‘I think it’s best I consult a lawyer before I say anything else,’ Monique replied, her voice almost a whisper.
Caroline nodded. So this was how it was going to be. ‘There’s certainly a way we can speed that up, Monique. I’m afraid I’m left with very little alternative but to place you under arrest and bring you in for formal questioning.’
11
Later that day, Caroline was busily preparing for their initial interview with Monique Dupont. The discovery that Monique lived in nearby Harringworth made perfect sense. Martin hadn’t been stopping at the pub in the evenings — he’d been running the mile and a half to Monique’s house, spending a couple of hours with her, then running home again. It was a wonder he had any energy left.
CCTV footage from the George & Dragon showed Martin jogging past the pub on the night he died, heading east. With a crossroads just a few yards beyond the bounds of the cameras, it was conceivable he could have gone in any direction just moments later, but the working assumption had to be that he’d headed south towards Harringworth, before skirting left at Seaton Meadows and under the viaduct, where he’d been found.
After arresting Monique, Caroline had requested uniformed backup to take their new suspect back to the station, as well as to assist in bagging and tagging evidence. Monique’s work laptop, which had been discovered on Martin’s desk, had been seized along with the invoices that had been destined for the shredder. The laptop would be analysed forensically, and it had been agreed that news of Monique’s arrest would be kept quiet from the rest of Allure’s staff until the following day, when they’d be able to fully access and make copies of the rest of the company’s computer systems.
Sara knocked on Caroline’s office door and stepped inside. ‘I’ve been looking at those invoices you snapped photos of,’ she said. ‘I think we might have something.’
‘Go on.’
‘They all seem to be for the same company, DQK Consultancy. They’re all pretty vague. “Services rendered”, “consultancy services provided”, that sort of thing. Only a few hundred quid here and there, but it all starts to add up pretty quickly. Anyway, I did a search at Companies House to see what I could find out about this company. Turns out there’s
only one director, by the name of Doris Knowles.’
‘Okay. The name doesn’t ring a bell, but I’m guessing by the look on your face it should.’
Sara smiled. ‘Not necessarily. But the director’s service address listed for Doris Knowles is familiar. It’s Monique Dupont’s home address.’
‘Ah-ha. All innocent and above board, or has she been siphoning cash off to a housemate?’
‘Neither. I had a hunch, so I did a bit more digging. Doris Knowles changed her name by deed poll a number of years ago. To Monique Dupont.’
Caroline let out an involuntary cackle. ‘Seriously? Her real name is Doris? That’s made my bloody day, that has. I can’t wait to drop that one on her. So she’s been raising fake invoices to Allure from her own company and using her position as Finance Manager to pay them? That’s embezzlement, surely.’
‘If we can prove they weren’t authorised,’ Sara replied.
‘And the one person who could’ve testified to that was Martin Forbes. It’s all starting to make sense now. Do we know how much she took in total?’
Sara shook her head. ‘No idea. We’ll know once the guys have been through the accounts software and the bank info, but even just from the invoices we managed to seize from the premises we’re looking at thousands, if not tens of thousands.’
‘Wow. What a mess. Brilliant work, Sara. Absolutely fantastic. Between you and me, I think I’m going to have a lot of fun in this interview.’
12
Caroline walked into the interview room feeling like the cat that got the cream. She sat down next to Dexter, opposite Monique and her solicitor, both of whom looked as though they’d rather be anywhere else.
‘Okay Monique,’ she said, starting the interview. ‘Let’s begin by recapping what you told me earlier today at your workplace, shall we? For the record, you told me that you’d been having a relationship with Martin Forbes for some time. To use your words, it was “just sex”. Is that correct?’