Kelly’s parents had been delighted by the call from their daughter but Marsh’s telephone conversation with Mr Gilbert hadn’t been so pleasant. The parents, unable to come to terms with the loss of their son, were desperate for news of the investigation but Marsh could provide no reassurance. Mr and Mrs Gilbert had already spoken to the Metropolitan police. Why did they have to endure the stress of another visit? Marsh had tried to explain that it was a necessary part of the investigative process but Mr Gilbert had been unconvinced and unimpressed by the lack of explanation for the tragedy.
With Kelly safely delivered to her parent’s house, Marsh set off in search of the Gilbert home. He drove through the north London streets knowing the joy of reunion was soon to be contrasted with parental sorrow at the lost of a son. Eventually, he found the address on a tree lined road of semi-detached houses, no different to the comfortable Thorbury suburbs he knew so well. He left the car, walked past the Volvo on the drive and rang the doorbell.
The response to his ring was almost immediate. Mr Gilbert was older than Marsh had imagined, early sixties he guessed. Gilbert’s hair was grey, his complexion pallid. He led the Sergeant to the sitting-room and Marsh repeated the condolences he’d offered over the phone.
“My wife won’t be joining us,” Gilbert said. “She’s sleeping. The strain is too much for her. We’ve started getting calls from the press about what happened to Simeon. We’ve had to stop answering the phone.”
“I understand Mr Gilbert. I won’t keep you long. I believe you have another son, Michael.”
“That’s right. Michael’s in his first year at Thorbury City University.”
“Is he at home?”
“No. I called Michael soon after we found out about Simeon,” Gilbert replied. “Why don’t you take a seat?” He gestured towards one of the armchairs. Marsh sat down but Gilbert walked to the window and looked out through the net curtains before turning to look at the young policeman. “We thought it would be best for Michael to stay at college for the time being,” he explained. “We don’t have a date for the funeral and we didn’t want to disrupt his studies.”
“We haven’t been able to trace Michael at the university. Did he say anything about going away for the weekend?”
“No. I assumed he was on campus when I called him.”
“Do you have his mobile number?”
Gilbert recited the number which Marsh tapped into his phone. The call went straight to voicemail. He decided not to leave a message. “Would Michael have switched off his phone?” he asked.
“He may not be in the mood for phone calls,” Gilbert said. He was standing in the sunlight which streamed through the large bay window. His remoteness was a challenge to the Sergeant’s mission, a test of his guile.
“Was Simeon close to his brother?” Marsh asked.
“They had a typical brotherly relationship. A combination of friendship and rivalry.”
“Is there anything you’re aware of which might help to explain what happened to Simeon?”
Mr Gilbert shook his head slowly.
“Could he have known anyone who was involved in criminal activity?”
“Simeon was just a normal boy. He was always well behaved and never got into any trouble. If he’d mixed with the wrong sort of people, we would have known.”
“Did he do well at school?”
“Well enough to gain a place at university but Simeon wasn’t really the academic type.”
“Did you and Mrs Gilbert have a good relationship with Simeon?”
“Oh yes,” Gilbert replied.
“How well do you know Maxine?”
“We saw her occasionally before they moved north when Simeon joined the bank. They hadn’t known each other very long but Simeon did say she had a very good job in marketing.”
“Did Simeon tell you how much he was earning at the bank?”
“He said his salary was in excess of sixty thousand. He told us he was likely to receive a substantial bonus on top of that.”
“What did Simeon do before he moved away with Maxine?”
“It took a while for him to find a job after leaving university. The best he could get was a clerical job at an insurance brokerage based in Kentish Town.”
“What was the name of his employer?”
“I believe it was Packer and Cline. The job was no more than a stop gap. He was appointed by the bank just a few weeks later. We were very pleased when he told us. He was ambitious, always looking to improve himself. I admired him for that.” Gilbert removed a handkerchief from his trouser pocket and wiped away a tear.
Marsh made no allowance for Mr Gilbert’s distress. “Did you know any of Simeon’s friends?” he asked.
“His school friends used to visit but I couldn’t say whether he kept in touch with them and I’m afraid I have no names or contact details,” Gilbert said, instantly regaining his composure. “He never mentioned having friends at work either at the brokerage or the bank,” he added.
Marsh was disappointed by Mr Gilbert’s lack of knowledge. He saw no point in any further attempt to tease information from Simeon’s father.
“Perhaps you could help me,” Gilbert said. “We were told that Simeon had been shot in the back in the grounds of the house which used to be part of the university.”
“That’s right,” Marsh confirmed. “The doctor said he would have died instantaneously.”
“But what was he doing there? I understand the grounds are fenced off and overgrown.”
“We’re looking into that. Like I said over the phone, the enquiry is in its early stages. We’ll do our best to keep you up to date with any significant developments.”
Gilbert looked silently at Marsh. His face displayed the impact of his loss. Marsh was aware that there was nothing he could do to provide any peace of mind. He thanked him and took his leave.
In the car, Marsh called Evans who was at home, looking forward to his Sunday roast. “Michael wasn’t there,” Marsh said. “His father didn’t want to disrupt his studies. I’ve got his mobile number but the phone’s switched off.”
“Damn. We need to speak to him urgently. I’ve sent Fuller and Garton to see Julian and James again about the watch and asked them to look for Michael in case he wasn’t at home. Hopefully, they’ll track him down but keep trying his number in case he switches his phone back on. What did you get about Simeon?”
“Mr Gilbert says he was just a normal lad with a good job at the bank and a girlfriend who worked in marketing but there are doubts. Simeon told his parents he was earning over sixty grand a year. He may have been prone to exaggeration but whatever the reason, he certainly lied about his income.”
“What did the mother tell you?”
“She was in bed. I didn’t speak to her. Mr Gilbert said she wasn’t well, the stress had been too much. He said he had no knowledge of Simeon’s friends. He insisted that Simeon had never got into any trouble and was always looking to improve himself. He worked as a clerk for Packer and Cline, an insurance brokerage after leaving university but he wasn’t there for more than a few weeks.”
“It’s quite a leap from that to City Bank. What impression did you get of the father?”
“He wasn’t very forthcoming. I don’t think he was trying to hide anything but I couldn’t get much of a feel for his relationship with Simeon. Perhaps you should have come with me. I’m not as good as you at the intuitive stuff. There’s no suggestion that Simeon was involved in crime. Mr Gilbert said he would have known if his son had mixed with the wrong people.”
“But he told you he didn’t know any of Simeon’s friends,” Evans pointed out.
“That’s right. I guess he couldn’t have known whether or not Simeon was keeping bad company.”
“His blind faith in his son is touching. But not very helpful to us. Are you on your way back?”
“Not yet. Kelly came down with me. I dropped her at her parents’ house. I’m going back there for lunch.”
&
nbsp; “Well I’m sure it’ll be better than your usual oven chips. We’re having a nice bit of top side and a bottle of supermarket plonk to go with it.”
“You’re done with the diet then?”
“Yeah. I’ve kept the big suits for when I need them again. See you tomorrow.”
“Cheers Boss.”
Marsh pocketed the phone. He felt more relaxed and Evans had made him feel hungry. He started the car and headed in the direction of his lunch.
Chapter 9
Fuller and Garton liked to work on Sundays, especially when the people they were looking for were hard to find. On overtime, they preferred to have an interest in the sort of people who didn’t stay at home all day but despite their lack of urgency, they were looking forward to tracking down the Jays.
The university campus was quiet. They found a way into the halls of residence which were equally lifeless. They got no reply when they knocked on Julian’s door and the same result with James. As they left, Fuller stopped a young man on his way in.
“Excuse me mate,” Fuller said. “We’re police officers. We’re looking for James Court and Julian…” He turned to Garton.
“Malpas,” Garton said.
The youth was little more than eight stone of flesh and bone. He was dressed in a grey tracksuit, a sports bag dangled over his shoulder. If Fuller had stopped him on the street, he’d have wanted to search the bag.
“ID?” the student said in an assertive voice. He stared coldly at Fuller.
“What?” Fuller said.
“ID,” he repeated.
Fuller looked at Garton. They both took out their warrant cards and pointed them at the thin face. “Good enough for you?” Fuller asked.
“We can get references,” Garton chipped in.
“Who did you say?” the student asked.
“James Court and Julian Malpas,” Fuller said, annoyed by the need for repetition. “They’re both first years.”
“We’re all first years in here. They’re the ones who found the body aren’t they? Is that what you want to see them about?”
“We can’t say,” Garton told him. “Any idea where we can find them?”
“I haven’t seen them today. I remember James saying they were looking for a weekend job. Perhaps they’ve got one.”
Fuller looked at Garton then back at the young man. “A job? I thought you lot spent all weekend on the piss.”
“Most of us can’t afford to.”
“You wouldn’t have any idea where they’re working?” Garton asked.
The student stared at the DC. “I’d be guessing.”
“Don’t let us stop you,” Garton advised.
“You could try the pub or the supermarket. And there’s the Parkland Hotel. They were looking for help in the kitchens.”
“Not got a job yourself then?” Fuller asked.
“My parents are helping me out.”
“That’s nice. I heard Julian’s dad was loaded. Why does he need a job?”
“Don’t know. Rich parents often make their kids fend for themselves. It’s character building.”
“What’s your subject?” Fuller enquired.
“Social Science.” The stern look was directed at Fuller once more. “What yours?” he asked.
“The same. But we don’t learn it from books.”
The student didn’t respond. He sidestepped the DCs and went into the halls.
“Let’s try the supermarket first,” Fuller said. “Then we could check out the pub. Wouldn’t be right to go in there without buying a drink though.”
No one at the supermarket had heard of James or Julian although it took them a long time to check. By the time the DCs finally got the blank it was past midday and they trouped off to the Royal Thorn. It didn’t take as long to discover the Jays weren’t working there either but they spent the same amount of time in the pub plus a bit more.
The Parkland Hotel was less than half a mile from the pub, a pleasant stroll on a mild October afternoon. The DCs were still looking forward to their encounter with Julian and James but felt no urge to quicken the pace of their enquiries. In fact, Garton suggested they try the café bar across the road in case the Jays were working there. They weren’t, but the club sandwiches were nice.
“We could have got a proper lunch in here,” Garton said as they entered the Parkland Hotel.
“Too posh for us Garty,” Fuller said. “Too late anyway,” he added.
They were ready with their warrant cards when they reached the reception desk. The girl behind it was wearing a neatly pressed uniform and a well practiced smile.
“We’re from City Police, Detective Constables Fuller and Garton,” Fuller said to the girl. “We’re looking for James Court and Julian Malpas. They’re students at the university. We believe they may be working in the kitchens.”
“Are they in trouble?” the receptionist asked.
“They’re the ones who discovered the body on Friday night. You heard about that?”
“Yes.”
“Are they working here?” Fuller asked.
“We took on two students yesterday afternoon. I’m not sure about the names.” She picked up the phone and asked about the recent recruits. After listening to the reply she looked up at Fuller. “Yes, they’re the ones. I’ll find a porter to take you to the kitchen.”
The young receptionist disappeared through a door behind the desk and returned a minute later with a far from youthful hotel porter. He was wearing an equally neat uniform but there was no smile on his weathered face. He had the air of a man who’d done better jobs in the past.
“Follow me,” the porter said before leading them to the kitchen.
The Jays were near the large sink finishing the lunch time washing up. Fortunately for Fuller and Garton the kitchen was otherwise deserted.
“Hello chaps,” Fuller said. Julian and James had their backs to the DCs. They both turned when they heard the voice.
Garton led the porter out of the kitchen. “We have some confidential business to discuss,” he explained. “Could you make sure we’re not disturbed?”
The porter was silent but when the door closed Garton could see him through the glass panel, standing guard in the corridor.
“Any idea what the time is?” Fuller asked the Jays who both looked puzzled by the question.
“No watch eh?” Fuller said to Julian. “Took it off to do the washing up did you? You haven’t left it lying around I hope,” he said, making exaggerated glances around the kitchen. “You can’t be too careful you know. People steal watches. But you know all about that don’t you Jules?”
Julian wiped his hands on his apron. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” he said.
“Don’t you?” Fuller asked. “Perhaps I need to help you with my original question,” he said. “You do remember it don’t you?”
“You wanted to know the time,” Julian replied.
“Well done. But don’t worry, you don’t need a watch. It’s time for the truth and we’re not leaving until we get what we want.”
As Fuller delivered his edict, Garton blocked the door leading to the restaurant by sliding a conveniently placed table across it.
Julian noted the threatening action. “If you try anything, we’ll report you,” he told Fuller with unconvincing bravado.
“Oh dear. That could have a serious impact on our careers,” Fuller responded. He smiled at Garton who was standing behind him, an equally amused expression on his face.
Fuller stepped towards the sink and dipped his hand into the water. It didn’t seem too hot and there was nothing in the sink apart from the soapy, greasy water. “Julian, help me out,” he said. “I’m not really into washing up. I’m the old fashioned type. I prefer to let the wife deal with that type of thing but I know she uses a dish washer because she spent most of my overtime money on a new one recently. How come you don’t use the washers?”
“We do use them,” Julian replied. “The sink is for t
he really dirty stuff. The pans or whatever’s too big for the washers.”
In a flash, Fuller reached out and grabbed Julian by the hair before forcing his head down into the water. “I guess that must include students eh Jules?” After a few seconds, he pulled Julian’s head out of the sink.
“Where’s the watch Jules?” he shouted before giving Julian another ducking.
James started to move towards them but Garton grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “Let’s not panic Jimmy,” Garton said. “Give us what we want and we won’t need to trouble you any further.”
“I don’t know anything about it,” James asserted.
This time, it was a little longer before Fuller allowed Julian up for air.
“Come on Jules. This is just the kids stuff. You don’t want us to get really nasty do you?” Fuller plunged Julian’s head back into the sink.
James struggled to free himself from Garton’s grip but to no avail. When Julian’s head came up again he shouted, “Jules, give him the fucking watch, for Christ’s sake. It’s not worth the hassle.”
Fuller released his grip on Julian and flicked the soapy water from his hand onto the floor. “We appear to be making progress at last,” he said as Julian shook the water out of his hair and wiped his face with his hand. “You’d be wise to co-operate,” Fuller continued. “Putting aside the fact that we might start pulling out your fingernails there’s a possible theft charge not to mention tampering with evidence and obstructing a murder enquiry. Perverting the course of justice is a very serious matter. Hand over the watch and there may be one or two things we can overlook.”
“I didn’t steal it. I found it near the body. I didn’t think there was any connection,” Julian insisted.
Fuller liked the attempted ‘get out’. “Where is it Jules?” he asked.
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