DCI Isaac Cook Box Set 2

by Phillip Strang

  Windsor’s reply, ‘as soon as I can’, didn’t gel with Isaac who repeated his demand, adding, ‘within the hour’.

  The relationship between Isaac and Windsor was strong, forged over many years and many murders. Windsor took Isaac’s insistence in his stride; he would have a couple down at the house within the hour.

  In the second bedroom, a single bed. It was just a mattress, and it seemed that it had not been slept on for a long time. In the wardrobe, a row of clothes, all well-pressed and the approximate size to fit Rees. The main bedroom at the front of the house was larger than the other two. It also had an en suite. As before, the bathroom of a man, none of the touches that transposed it from masculine to feminine.

  In the wardrobe, more clothes, none female, which indicated that Amanda Upton, if proven that she had been there, may well have spent time at the place, but she hadn’t moved in. If she and Rees were sleeping together, and it wasn’t professional, then it was casual.

  The temptation to lift the lid of the laptop, to attempt to power it up, was almost overwhelming, but neither of the police officers would succumb to the temptation. After all, it would almost certainly have a password, and the only person who could break it was Bridget, and she was in Challis Street.

  Larry phoned Bridget, gave her the address and told her to get down to the house; time was of the essence, and she could work at the house as easily as in Challis Street.

  The crime scene investigators spent time checking out the house, frustratingly long to Isaac and Larry as they had a deadline. They would need more than they had so far to extend Gareth Rees’s temporary incarceration from twenty-four hours to forty-eight; they needed proof of the man’s wrongdoing.

  After what seemed an eternity, but was only just over ninety minutes, Grant Meston, Gordon Windsor’s second-in-charge, delivered the result.

  ‘Amanda Upton was in the house, and it’s Gareth Rees’s residence.’

  ‘How long ago for Amanda Upton?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘Recent, probably within a week or two of her death. I doubt if we can be more precise.’

  ‘The laptop?’

  ‘Gareth Rees’s fingerprints.’

  ‘Anyone else?’

  ‘Amanda Upton’s. Not as pronounced, but she’s used it. It could have been to surf the internet, but that’s up to you to find out.’

  ‘Any signs of the two sharing a bed?’

  ‘There are hairs on the bed. Two people, some long strands, some short. We’ll pass them over to Forensics, but I’d say a man and a woman. The assumption is that they belong to Rees and the woman; they’ll confirm.’

  A statement from Meston was good enough for Isaac. The two had shared a bed, and one had murdered the other. Which clarified why there was no struggle at the first murder scene in the cemetery. It did not, however, explain why they were there.

  Reasons for the deaths, for the cemetery, for the cryptic message, for Naughton and Analyn being at the house in Holland Park, were unimportant for the present; the evidence to prove that Rees had shot Garvey was the pressing issue.

  Solve one murder, and then the pieces would start to fall into place. The jigsaw that had led the department around London was soon to be completed.

  Bridget opened the laptop; she knew there would be a password. Not that it concerned her as she had broken many over the years.

  ‘I’m in,’ she shouted down the stairs.

  Isaac and Larry went up the stairs; the dog, excited by the people in the street, attempted to follow, one of the uniforms grabbing it by its collar and handing it back to its owner.

  ***

  In Canning Town, Wendy was sitting down in an Indian restaurant. They’d spent gruelling and fruitless hours interviewing people, walking up and down the street. Gwen Pritchard was still trying to make headway, and Wendy recognised in the young woman what she had been at that age: indestructible, inexhaustible, with infinite enthusiasm. Mortality concerned Wendy, the realisation that life was finite; she didn’t like it, and it wasn’t usual for her to feel sorry for herself.

  ‘This place distresses me,’ Wendy said, looking over at Bill Ross. ‘The futility of their lives.’

  ‘Mapped out from birth for most of them. They don’t realise what could be achieved if you got off your backside and applied yourself,’ Ross’s reply. His transfer was in another week, but he understood where the sergeant was coming from, and besides, he knew that Dagenham, his next posting, wasn’t much better, just a change of scenery.

  ‘Narrowed view of the world. They come from other parts of the world, but what do they see? Here, no better than where they had been. Isolated, alone, no longer the extended family,’ Ross continued.

  ‘Not all of them.’

  ‘Not all. Certainly not Sean Garvey or the other two gang members. They were born here, and I doubt if any of them had experienced any beauty in their lives. The mind withers with time.’

  ‘DCI Cook said you were a good police officer; he didn’t say you understood the people.’

  ‘It was part of the training to work in a deprived area. An understanding of cultural differences, various religions, the inability of them to realise the opportunities afforded them.’

  ‘Some break free?’

  ‘Some do; a lot don’t.’

  Wendy ordered, hot and spicy for her. Bill Ross went for mild after the Indian that he had taken Larry to before, as he had suffered the queasy stomach as well.

  Gwen came in with a lady covered from head to toe in black; she was carrying a small child in her arms.

  Wendy asked her to take a seat.

  ‘I’m sorry, I can’t,’ the woman said.

  ‘It’s me,’ Ross said. ‘We’re not related, the lady would not feel comfortable sitting at the same table with me.’

  ‘Is that it?’ Wendy said, looking up at the woman.

  ‘I hope you’ll understand.’

  The woman’s English was perfect, a London accent. She had been brought up in England, but as Ross had said, criminal intent, unemployment, were generational. And so was a belief in a free society. The idea of equality had not embraced the woman, or maybe it had.

  It was wrong, Wendy thought, but she could not solve it, only be polite to the woman.

  Ross got up from his seat and walked out of the restaurant.

  Gwen beckoned the woman to take a seat.

  ‘It seems we’ve got an Indian meal going free if you want it,’ Wendy said to the black-covered woman.

  ‘That’s for Westerners,’ she said. ‘A true Indian wouldn’t eat it.’

  ‘Tea? You’ll drink tea?’

  ‘Yes, I would.’

  ‘Gwen, what is it?’ Wendy said to the young constable.

  ‘Hania saw the shooting.’

  ‘Proof?’

  ‘She was on Skype to her cousin in Pakistan.’

  ‘A record?’

  ‘I recorded it for my sister,’ Hania said. ‘Can we move to the rear of the restaurant.’

  The three women found a new table. Hania ensured that her face could not be seen by the other patrons as she lifted the veil that covered her face.

  Wendy was staggered by her innocent beauty. ‘It’s a shame that you’re covered,’ she said.

  ‘It is for my husband. At home, among my sisters and female friends, I would be wearing jeans and a blouse, but out in the street, I must do what I must.’

  ‘Because you want to?’

  ‘It is my religion.’

  Gwen, who preferred to go around in as little clothing as possible in summer, didn’t understand, but she did like the woman.

  ‘The recording, have you seen it, Gwen?’ Wendy asked.

  ‘Hania lives across from the fire escape. It’s distant, but it’s clear enough. With enhancing, it can be proved.’

  ‘The rifle?’ Wendy asked.

  ‘He took it with him,’ Hania said.

  The baby started to cry; Wendy instinctively lifted it from the mother and rocked it in her arms.


  ‘Thank you,’ Hania said. ‘Some people wouldn’t do that, not around here.’ She took her phone and showed the video.

  Wendy, distracted by the baby, looked at the video the best she could. It wasn’t the best quality, but it would suffice.

  ‘I’ve passed it on to Bridget,’ Gwen said.

  ‘She’s busy, out at Rees’s house, checking his laptop.’

  Wendy handed the baby back to Hania and phoned her DCI. A breakthrough at the last minute from the most unexpected of sources.

  Hania’s details were taken. She said she would give evidence at a trial if her husband permitted it.

  To Gwen, the woman’s attitude was perplexing, but Wendy, more worldly, understood that sometimes you don’t always agree, but it does not diminish the respect of one for the other.

  Chapter 29

  Gareth Rees sat in the interview room. Jacob Jameson was at his side. The mood in Homicide was more ebullient than on the previous encounter with the murderer and his lawyer.

  Isaac went through the formalities, advised Rees of his rights, his recourse after the interview had concluded. Jameson looked bored; Rees adopted an air of disinterest.

  ‘My client wishes to be out of this police station today,’ Jameson said.

  Isaac took no notice of the lawyer, only focussed on Rees.

  ‘We’ve checked where you live,’ Isaac said. ‘DI Hill found it.’

  ‘So,’ the one-word reply from Rees.

  ‘We’ve found out more about you.’

  ‘Where is this leading?’ Jameson said. He had been updated to an extent as to developments. Isaac could see that he was playing for time, attempting to defuse and confuse the police. Isaac had no intention of letting him succeed.

  ‘Mr Rees,’ Isaac continued, his gaze focussed on Rees, ‘we know by your own admission that you visited Mary Wilton’s brothel and that you spoke to your wife, gave her some money.’

  ‘I told you that.’

  ‘You did not tell us that you had a relationship with Amanda Upton.’

  ‘Whoever she is, I didn’t.’

  Isaac pushed a folder over to Jameson. ‘Your client has failed to tell the truth. You’ll find a report from Forensics. The analysis of the hairs found on the bed in the front bedroom of the house proves that they belong to Amanda Upton and Gareth Rees.’

  Jameson opened the folder, read the front page and pushed it over to his client.

  ‘Maybe I didn’t know her name,’ Rees said. ‘It could just be a coincidence. I live on my own, but sometimes I appreciate the company.’

  ‘There are no hairs from other women in the bedroom,’ Larry said. ‘It’s proof positive that you knew the first woman murdered.’

  ‘My client will not comment,’ Jameson said. The previously confident look on his face had gone.

  ‘There was also a laptop in another bedroom,’ Isaac said.

  ‘That was private property,’ Rees said.

  ‘It’s evidence now. Apart from the normal, websites for guns and porn, it appears that you had an interesting sideline.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Jameson asked. ‘Why haven’t I received this advice?’

  Isaac was not in the mood to discuss semantics or police procedure; he was focussed on breaking Rees.

  ‘Mr Rees, your activities overseas, the reason you were court-martialled out of the military. Was it a military action that went wrong, or were you black-market trading, selling weapons, stealing them, giving away secrets?’

  ‘This is ridiculous,’ Jameson said. Isaac was sure he was speaking for effect, not sure about his position. The man’s hold on the situation in the interview room was shaky.

  ‘Amanda Upton’s fingerprints were on the laptop as well,’ Larry said. ‘The claim that she could have just been a rented woman for an evening doesn’t hold up.’

  ‘Very well. I knew Amanda.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘A club somewhere. If she was related to the brothel owner, I didn’t know that.’

  ‘Did you ever visit her place in Marylebone?’

  ‘No. She would never let me go there.’

  ‘And you were aware that she was selling herself?’

  ‘She never made a secret of it, not to me.’

  ‘Were the two of you close?’

  ‘We got on, but it wasn’t love. Not for me, anyway.’

  ‘For her?’

  ‘It’s probable. She was a moral woman, didn’t always like herself for what she did.’

  ‘You were her manager; you set up the clients, which yet again points to places and people you met in the military. We’re still trying to get a record of your court-martial.’

  ‘Okay, I looked after her interests. I knew a few people around the world, high-flyers.’

  ‘Men who used you for your expertise in killing; Amanda for her body. It seems that you and she were destined for each other, a match made in heaven,’ Isaac said.

  Rees leaned over to Jameson, whispered in his ear.

  ‘My client advises you that enquiries about actions committed out of England will run into serious problems.’

  ‘The Official Secrets Act,’ Isaac said. ‘We’ve been there before, and whether Mr Rees has conducted actions for the British government or not, it doesn’t obviate him from murder in this country.’

  ‘Mr Rees, we have obtained a video of you on the fire escape in Canning Town. Software enhancement of the image will show it to be you,’ Larry said.

  ‘I’ve already admitted that I was there.’

  ‘Not with a rifle, you didn’t. It’s visible and pointed towards where Sean Garvey died,’ Isaac said.

  ‘I’ll deny it.’

  ‘Deny all you want, but we have proof. Not only that you were intimately involved with Amanda Upton, but that you were in Canning Town, a rifle at your shoulder, at the time Garvey was shot. Why did you kill Janice Robinson?’

  ‘I didn’t. This is ludicrous.’

  ‘It appears, DCI Cook,’ Jameson said, ‘that you are clutching at straws. I doubt if a video other than professionally made would show the necessary clarity to convince a jury.’

  ‘It wouldn’t,’ Isaac admitted.

  ‘Then my client will leave this police station today.

  ‘Not so fast,’ Larry said as he pushed another folder across the desk. ‘Why, Mr Rees, did you keep the house that you shared with your first wife?’

  Jameson looked at the photo inside, looked over at his client and then at the two police officers. ‘What does this mean?’

  ‘Mr Rees, living a quiet life in Kingston upon Thames, the model neighbour, never intended to act in a manner there that could raise suspicion. That’s why he kept his weapons at the old house, not in the bedroom as we expected, but in a concreted pit under the floorboards. As can be seen, there are several weapons: rifles, pistols, and knives. If you look at the photo on the fire escape and the gun that’s displayed in the picture, you’ll see the similarities.

  ‘Our crime scene investigators are on the way there, and the rifle will be with Forensics within the hour. No doubt, a professional would have cleaned it thoroughly after it had been fired, but we have the bullet that killed Garvey. Within hours, we will know that we have indisputable proof, and all the conjecture as to what was coincidental and what wasn’t will be put to rest.’

  Jameson looked over at Isaac. ‘I will take instructions from my client,’ he said.

  ‘Mr Rees will remain in the cells. As far as we are concerned, your client is the murderer of Sean Garvey.’

  ‘I’m innocent,’ Rees protested. Jameson took no notice.

  ‘One last question before we terminate this interview.’ Isaac said. ‘The cells are not the most comfortable. You’ve been sitting down for a long time. That limp, an old war wound?’

  ‘Serving my country, not like you harassing innocent people.’

  ‘Mr Rees, you are not innocent. We can prove Sean Garvey, and the knives at your
house will be checked against the knife wounds inflicted on Amanda Upton and Janice Robinson. What did Amanda Upton have on you? Professing love, found out some secrets about you that you wanted to stay that way?’

  ‘My client will say no more,’ Jameson said.

  ***

  Three murders were solved, one of them with enough proof for a conviction.

  Rose Winston and her belief that the man had limped had been proven to be accurate, even though almost everyone had discounted the fact.

  One avenue that would need to be explored was the possibility of Gareth Rees opening up, telling what he knew, looking to reduce his prison sentence.

  Isaac did not feel confident that the man would say much more, and if he had been involved in secret operations overseas, then he might well have people who would prefer him free or dead.

  Wendy, after a good night’s rest, was at Mary Wilton’s. With someone charged with her daughter’s murder, it was time to confront her again. Bridget had examined Rees’s laptop, found the usual, proof of Amanda’s and Rees’s business involvement, but little more. And no encrypted files that would lead to Ian Naughton.

  Isaac laid out a plan to Chief Superintendent Goddard. Both men had a shrewd idea of how politics and secrecy worked, having felt the brunt of them before.

  ‘Are you sure about this?’ Goddard said.

  ‘If Rees was court-martialled, a mock trial possibly, it’s because of a major transgression. But the man didn’t serve time in a military prison, he acts with impunity afterwards, changing his name at will. And then there are the contacts overseas, the reason he could set up Amanda Upton in business,’ Isaac said.

  ‘Are you suggesting that I make it known that if Rees starts talking, he’s likely to reveal facts that other people don’t want to be known; actions instigated by the British government.’

  ‘We’ve experienced the neuroses of people in power. Anything, no matter how obscure or trivial that paints them in a bad light, and they're all over it with a veil of secrecy. And as we know, people start to die.’

  ‘We end up with unsolved murders against our record.’