DCI Isaac Cook Box Set 2

by Phillip Strang

  ‘I was here in an advisory capacity, but now I’ll be taking my father’s position.’

  ‘Are you qualified?’ Wendy asked.

  ‘I hope so. My father schooled me well in his beliefs. Beliefs I share as well.’

  ‘Your father has died, upsetting in itself, no doubt. What we need to know is why?’

  ‘My father did not make enemies intentionally, and he was not a firebrand. He was pragmatic, fully cognisant that in all of us is the need to rebel, to be bemused by the frailties of the human condition. He only wanted to control the descent into barbarism, not to curtail it totally.’

  ‘Barbarism?’

  ‘My father believed society was descending into a moral abyss as a result of modern technology. His opponents portrayed him as puritanical, against anything and everything. He was not that, but he held views, dated in modern society, which he put forward. He was vigorously opposed to the gratuitous sex and violence that pervade our lives.’

  ‘There are people making fortunes out of those. They would be powerful enemies.’

  ‘Potentially, but my father had little impact. However, I will continue the fight on his behalf and in his memory.’

  ‘Helen Langdon?’

  ‘My father had in the last few years become passionate in his desire to modernise the penal system in this country, more in line with the Scandinavian countries, where a prisoner is treated with respect, where conjugal visits are allowed, and for the more trusted, weekend leave. He saw the current system in England as regressive, whereby the felon is punished, not redeemed.’

  ‘Helen Langdon?’

  ‘She is not the only one that my father helped. He met her three years ago in prison. He spent time with her, as he did with the other prisoners, but her case seemed unique. The press had lambasted her when she married Gerald Adamant, criticised her when she gave the impression of loving her husband when she had given them no cause to doubt her sincerity.’

  ‘Did you like Helen?’ Wendy asked.

  ‘Yes, I did, so did everyone in this office. Not forsaking her beauty, and the fact that most men swooned in her presence, she was a capable and devoted member of the team.’

  ‘Is that for us, or is that a genuine answer?’

  ‘It’s genuine. Even the Adamant family spoke for her at her retrial. It’s unlikely they would have done so if they had any doubts.’

  ‘At the first trial?’ Isaac asked

  ‘They still spoke on her behalf, but the public interest was too intense. An acquittal then would have received too much negative comment. Helen served her time and then came here.’

  ‘Her relationship with your father?’

  ‘She was devoted to him.’

  ‘Intimate?’

  ‘Not that any of us knew. Their relationship seemed to transcend the physical. What they have done has shocked us all.’

  ‘Was your mother shocked?’

  ‘Inspector Cook, my father was not a saint, nor was he a martyr. He was a man, the same as you. No doubt he had the same desires and lusts that we all do, yet he kept them in check most of the time.’

  ‘It was not the first indiscretion?’

  ‘It was to me, although my mother may say otherwise. Whatever the outcome of his and Helen’s murders, I will hold my father in the highest esteem.’

  ‘And Helen?’

  ‘If she had erred, the same as my father, then we will forgive her.’

  ***

  Larry questioned the concierge at the hotel in Bayswater, although the title of concierge pinned to the lapel of the man’s collar seemed inappropriate. A third-rate hotel in Bayswater was not the Savoy, and the so-called deluxe suite where the two bodies had been discovered was neither luxurious nor well-maintained.

  ‘I found them there, lying on the bed,’ the concierge said. ‘I saw them come in. I thought she was on the game, and he was one of her marks. How was I to know it was high and mighty James Holden.’

  ‘You’ve heard of the man?’

  ‘Who hasn’t, always preaching to the converted. For me, I do what I want, when I want, and watch what I want. It’s alright for him, rich and powerful. If he wants a woman, he can get one anytime.’

  ‘And the woman he was with?’

  ‘She oozed a good time. No doubt that’s what he got until someone put a bullet through his head. Shame about her, though.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Good looker. Would have fancied her myself. Mind you, if she were selling herself, it would have taken more than a week’s salary for a night with her.’

  ‘She wasn’t selling herself. She was a colleague.’

  ‘He may have been an old fool, but I’ll give him his due, he knew how to pick his colleagues. In this hotel, there are only the cleaners, the day manager, and a lady who does the accounts. I wouldn’t give any of them one, but Holden’s woman, anytime.’

  Larry studied the man: overweight, the top button of his shirt undone. His hair was long and greased back. Altogether, a poor specimen of a hotel employee, and someone who wouldn’t be averse to looking through a crack in a door to watch the action.

  ‘Who did they sign in as?’

  ‘Mr and Mrs Smith, what else?’

  ‘Do they still do that? Larry asked.

  ‘Of course not. Bob Cleveland and Mary Gold.’

  ‘This is a murder, not the time for you to make cheap attempts at humour.’

  ‘It’s not the first body in this hotel. The occasional guest dies here; first murder, though. Will it be on the news tonight?’

  ‘It probably will. If you’re interviewed for the television, I should remind you that we’ll be watching. If you attempt to gain financially or if you’re withholding vital information, then you will be charged with perverting the course of justice, do you understand?’

  ‘I understand, I’ve been through the rigmarole before.’

  ‘You’ve been in prison?’

  ‘Two years for stealing. This hotel is the only place that would give me a job.’

  ‘If you want to keep it, what’s the truth?’

  ‘Okay, he’s been here before.’

  ‘With the woman?’

  ‘No, another one.’

  ‘Her name?’

  ‘She’s a regular around here. No one signed in. He just paid his money, the same as he always does, and I gave him the key. It’s not recorded in the books.’

  ‘Which means you’ve made yourself some money on the side.’

  ‘A few of the local women use this place. It’s not much, but it’s discreet. No wonder Holden brought the classy woman here. Mind you, she looked better than this place. Who was she, by the way?’

  ‘You’ll find out soon enough. In the meantime, I need a statement and a proof of address from you. Any peepholes in the doors or the walls upstairs?’

  ‘I’m not into that. I’ve done my time, been punished. That’s the problem with all of you. Once a criminal, always a criminal.’

  ‘They’re both dead, upstairs in your hotel. Where were you? What did you hear?’

  ‘Nothing. They were up on the third floor, and this is an old building, not like the type they build these days.’

  ‘Are there any cameras in here?’

  ‘Only in reception.’

  ‘We’ll need the video.’

  ‘It hasn’t worked for six months, and it’s not me, it’s the management. They don’t want to waste the money.’

  ‘Someone came into this hotel and killed two people. Did you see anyone suspicious?’

  ‘There’s always one or two that look suspicious, but they come in with a local whore.’

  ‘These local women, where do they live, who are they? We’ll need to interview them, as well as the men they were with.’

  ‘Not much chance there, and they don’t sign in, just slip me the money.’

  ‘Your job after this becomes known?’

  ‘Non-existent. Yet again, a man trying to reform is forced back into crime by those uphol
ding it.’

  ‘Work with me, and I’ll make sure you keep your job. How do I contact your management?’

  ‘To report me?’

  ‘No. To let them know that I’ll be giving you an assistant for a few nights and that you, as the concierge, have been more than helpful.’

  Chapter 4

  John Holden attempted to be busy, but he could not focus. Not only was there the distraction of his dead father, but there was also the increasing media interest in how he died, and how the man had been in bed with a woman younger than his daughter, a woman that the man’s son had come to love.

  Not that there had ever been any physical contact with Helen. As she had freely admitted when John had pledged his desire to be with her, it was the father she loved, not the son.

  There was a client Holden needed to deal with, a man who would require all of John Holden’s legal skills, yet he could not give the man what he wanted. He knew he should be upset over his father’s death, but he could only feel sadness for Helen, as well as the hurt he had felt when she had been found in bed with his father. James Holden, he knew, was a fraud. He had seduced his son’s one true love, even though John had confessed this love to him on more than one occasion.

  Helen’s reply to John had always been the same: ‘My need of men has passed. They have only caused me problems.’ John knew it was only the talk of someone who had spent four years in jail. Helen Langdon was a woman who needed a man, a woman who needed him, but she had rejected him, discarded him as if he was an old sock.

  John Holden was angry, and his anger could not be abated. He wanted to sit down and cry, he wanted to lash out, he wanted someone to pay, but the person responsible was dead. He had never been fooled by his father, an eccentric who went around preaching goodness and love and family values, yet couldn’t keep his trousers on if there was an attractive woman nearby. And it wasn’t as if the man was handsome, not like the son. Holden got up from where he was sitting and stood in front of a mirror in his office in Mayfair. He studied his features. ‘Perfection,’ he said out loud. So loud that his personal assistant in the other room knocked on his door. ‘Are you alright, Mr Holden?’

  ‘Fine, thank you,’ he replied. He straightened his tie, dabbed at the moistness around his eyes, and opened the door to the other room. ‘I’ll see my next client now,’ he said.

  ***

  Seth Caddick did not like DCI Isaac Cook, the senior investigating officer in Homicide at Challis Street. He needed to remove him from his position and to bring in his man, someone who would respect him, the same way he respected Commissioner Davies.

  Caddick, a realist, knew that Isaac was competent, but he was not his police officer, he was the former superintendent’s, the high and mighty Richard Goddard, a man who could play the political game as well as he could. A man who had succeeded because he had been friendly with the previous commissioner, Lord Shaw, and now Cook, Goddard, and Shaw were plotting to bring down Alwyn Davies. Caddick knew he had to do his part; he had to get rid of Cook.

  ‘Watch out for Cook, the man’s no fool,’ Alwyn Davies had said in his office at Scotland Yard the previous day. ‘Caddick, you’re my man, and I’ll protect you, but you’re not up to the standard required for a superintendent.’

  ‘I thought I was doing a good job,’ Caddick had protested.

  ‘You’re not listening. You’ve succeeded well enough by claiming credit for others’ work. No problem in itself, it happens all the time. Politicians claim they fixed the economy when the previous government had put in place the plans for recovery. I’ve claimed credit for the previous commissioner’s efforts, and you’ve claimed credit from Goddard and Cook.’

  ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘The honeymoon period’s over. It’s up to you to prove yourself. It’s for you to make your mark.’

  ‘And how am I meant to do that?’

  ‘You need Cook out and our man in. Cook’s good on his feet, and with an audience that’s listening, he’s believable. You’re good as well, but you don’t look as impressive as Cook. People instinctively are drawn to him.’

  ‘Is that an insult, sir?’ Caddick asked. He was not used to criticism, especially from Davies.

  ‘It’s a fact, and you’ve got to do something about it.’

  ‘I’m doing the best I can. We’re bringing in the results.’

  ‘You’re not, Cook is. Is our man ready to take over from Cook?’

  ‘He’s available.’

  ‘Then you need him, and soon. Goddard’s in the background, stirring the pot.’

  ‘Can’t you transfer him out?’

  ‘Goddard’s got powerful friends. Men who are looking for the opportunity to pounce and evict me from this office. I’ve no intention of giving them the satisfaction, and you’re not helping.’

  ‘If you can’t get rid of Goddard, then how can I get rid of Cook?’

  ‘You’ve got to ride the man, you’ve got to prove he’s not doing his job. His team, what about them?’

  ‘They’re loyal to him. I tried to get rid of Sergeant Gladstone. She’s getting close to retirement, and she’s not in the best of health.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Cook said she was fine.’

  ‘Is she?’

  ‘She’s Cook’s person.’

  ‘What have you done about it?’

  ‘Nothing more at present.’

  ‘Then do something. Get her checked out, make sure her health is up to scratch. What about her policing skills, reporting?’

  ‘She’s not computer literate.’

  ‘Then subject her to the full treatment. Make sure she’s on the list for early retirement, but whatever you do, you’ve got to undermine Cook, get him out. His replacement is a good man. He can do Cook’s job, you can’t.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘Don’t but me, Seth. I’m under pressure, and if I go, you’ll not be far behind. I put you in Goddard’s position to support me, and so far, you’ve been a liability. At some stage, when they’re ratcheting up the pressure on me, they’ll be looking at my appointees and those I’ve sidelined, and you’ll be subjected to a full audit of your policing skills, your ability to perform as a superintendent. And you know what they’ll find?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘They’ll find someone who has been promoted without the necessary checks, and it’ll reflect on me. I’m giving you two months with this, and then…’

  ‘Goddard?’

  ‘If it gives me a few months, I’ll put him back at Challis Street.’

  ‘But they’ll see it as a weakness on your part.’

  ‘What do I care, as long as I’m still in a job.’

  ‘And me?’ Caddick asked.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll find you somewhere else.’

  ***

  With Larry following up on the other woman who had been at the hotel in Bayswater with James Holden, Isaac and Wendy took the opportunity to make contact with the Adamant family.

  Gerald Adamant, the dead patriarch, had inherited a mansion and its expansive grounds from his father on his death. His father had made a fortune in business; his son, Gerald, had every intention of enjoying the wealth.

  He had been in his late twenties when he had married his first wife, the daughter of an investment adviser. Soon, in rapid succession, two children, Archie then Abigail.

  ‘We’re here because of the death of Helen, your father’s third wife,’ Isaac said. A maid brought in tea for those in the visitor’s room of the Adamants’ Victorian mansion. Also present were Archie, Abigail, now forty-one, and Howard, the son of Adamant’s second wife. He was twenty-nine, and as Isaac had observed, not as impressive a figure as his step-siblings.

  Archie was forty-three. He was erect, well-spoken. His sister, Abigail, was attractive. Not as beautiful on the eye as Helen Langdon had been, but still agreeable. Wendy thought she looked like someone who was into horses. The youngest, Howard, sat casually on a sofa. He was wearing a tee-shir
t and jeans. Wendy’s summation was that he spent the father’s money, did little to earn any for himself.

  ‘We had great respect and love for Helen,’ Archie said. ‘Her death has come as a shock to us.’

  ‘She killed your father. How could you feel anything but loathing for the woman?’

  ‘She made him happy.’

  ‘And you loved your father that much, you agreed to him marrying a woman younger than any of you?’

  ‘Not at first. We were suspicious of her motives, and her first impression in this house was not favourable. She was all over our father, and exceedingly pleasant to us.’

  ‘Sickening,’ Abigail said.

  ‘And what about you, Howard?’ Wendy asked.

  ‘I didn’t like it, especially when she tried to mother me.’

  ‘Let me explain on behalf of Howard,’ Archie said. ‘Howard had found Helen on the internet. He’s good with technology, that’s why he makes more money than either my sister or myself.’

  Wendy realised she had judged the cover, not the book, in the case of Howard Adamant.

  ‘I write programs for computers. People buy them, I make a bundle,’ Howard said, slightly more interested than before.

  ‘She was more Howard’s age,’ Archie said. ‘He didn’t like it because he fancied her.’

  ‘And what’s wrong with that. She was a good-looking woman,’ Howard said. ‘You couldn’t keep your eyes off her.’

  ‘I’m not saying I could.’

  ‘We are aware of Helen’s attributes. We’ve been told about her by the Holden family.’

  ‘How are they taking it?’

  ‘Stoically. How about you three?’

  ’In time, Helen proved to us that she cared for our father,’ Abigail said. ‘To him, she was his wife, to us, she was a sister. We all grew very fond of her. Our mother, Archie’s and mine, had died young, and then Howard’s mother passed away a few years ago. Both wives had loved him, as he had them.’

  ‘Is there any more that we should know about your mothers?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘Howard’s mother was a few years younger than our father. Our mother was the same age as him,’ Abigail said. ‘Our father was a well-respected member of society, who we thought at first had gone slightly mad when he arrived at the house with Helen.’