The Fifth Suspect

by Robert McNeil

  ‘No, he didn’t.’

  ‘And you had never met him yourself?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘It’s just that you seemed shocked when I told you he was found dead on his boat…’

  ‘Did I?’

  ‘Mrs Hayden, we found a postcard on Nielson’s boat. It was from someone going to see him. It was signed Emma. Know anything about that?’

  Emma’s eyes shot from Fleming to Anderson and back. ‘I don’t… no, of course not.’

  ‘We also found a toilet bag in one of the cabins. There was a bottle of perfume in it. Same perfume you wear, Mrs Hayden.’

  ‘That’s obviously just coincidence.’ Emma’s voice was shaking. ‘There must be loads of women called Emma who wear Eternity.’

  ‘But not all of them about your height and age with blonde hair…’

  ‘I don’t–’

  ‘The thing is, Mrs Hayden, Mr Nielson’s cleaner has positively identified you. You went to see him on his boat recently, didn’t you?’

  ‘Oh, God! I didn’t think anyone would find out. Yes, I did go to see him.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I… he asked me to go. I didn’t know why.’

  ‘But the note you sent suggested you were looking forward to seeing him. You asked if he wanted you to bring anything and you told him to call you.’

  Emma slumped in her chair and her shoulders heaved. ‘We… we were having an affair,’ she finally admitted, sobbing.

  ‘Did your husband know?’

  ‘Yes. Oh my God! It’s all my fault, isn’t it? That’s why he committed suicide.’

  ‘He didn’t leave a note anywhere?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then we can only guess why he killed himself,’ Fleming said.

  Emma dabbed a tissue at her eyes and nodded.

  ‘There was no one else with your husband when you left for Bristol?’ Fleming asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘He wasn’t expecting anyone?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No one can confirm he was at home that night?’

  ‘Wait… are you trying to say you think he had something to do with Ronnie’s death?’

  ‘You said he knew about the affair. He failed to find enough evidence to charge Nielson years ago. He was hardly going to like the man. He had time after you left the house to get to Bourne End. Maybe he did kill him and then decided to kill himself.’

  ‘No. No, he’d never do that! I don’t believe it!’ Emma was shouting.

  Anderson put her arm round Emma’s shoulders. ‘Mrs Hayden, I know this is all very difficult for you. We’re not saying your husband did kill Mr Nielson, but I’m afraid he is a suspect.’

  Fleming sighed. ‘I hate to press you, but it would help us if you would agree to our forensic team to come to the house to check for fingerprints, blood samples and so forth. It might help eliminate your husband from our enquiry.’

  ‘Absolutely not. Not with all the press hovering outside like vultures. Anthony couldn’t have had anything to do with it. He just couldn’t!’

  ‘We could get a warrant,’ Fleming pressed.

  Emma rubbed her aching forehead with a shaking hand. ‘All right,’ she whispered almost inaudibly.

  Back in the offices of the MCU, Fleming was sitting behind his desk when his phone rang. It was Nathan Kumar.

  ‘Hello, Nathan. Any news?’

  ‘Yes. Your Anthony Hayden…’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘There are no scratch marks on his face. There’s no match of his fingerprints with any we found on Nielson’s boat, and there’s no DNA match with the skin I found under Nielson’s fingernails.’

  ‘Thanks, Nathan. That’s very helpful.’

  Fleming put the phone down. Looks like Watson, Temple and the chief constable will be happier, he thought. Though he wished he’d known what Nathan had told him before he went barging in on Emma Hayden.

  He leaned through his office door and signalled to Anderson. ‘Don’t bother getting forensics over to Hayden’s house. Looks like he’s in the clear. Oh, and you ought to call Mrs Hayden. Let her know and put her mind at rest… if that’s possible.’

  That evening, back in his apartment, Fleming poured himself a large glass of whisky and settled down in his armchair, deep in thought. He went through the suspects in his head. Hayden was off the radar. That left Rainer, the assassin theory, and Potts. Fleming wasn’t sure why, but he felt uneasy. Maybe there was more to this than revenge.

  26

  Fleming was silent in the passenger seat as Logan drove the pool car on the way down to Maidenhead. He was thinking about his session with Freya. Did she think he was suffering from depression? She obviously thought he was drinking too much. Maybe he should pay a visit to the doctor. But when would he find the time while he was working on the Nielson case? Then there was Freya’s interesting reference to Jimmy Calder: Do you ever feel you’d like to take that anger out on the man who killed your mother?

  ‘Penny for them,’ Logan said, turning briefly to look at Fleming.

  ‘Just thinking, Harry. Going over what we have so far.’ Changing the subject, Fleming asked, ‘How are you and Naomi getting on together? You’re a new team… never worked together before. You both okay with that?’

  ‘Sure. We like a bit of banter and we rib each other, but she’s a bright young officer. Only joined CID a couple of years ago. I think she’ll do well.’ Logan flicked on the wipers as heavy spots of rain hit the windscreen. Thunder rumbled in the distance. ‘What about you, boss? We’re all new. You’d hardly got your feet through the door of the MCU and you’re landed with a murder case with two new detectives.’

  ‘I’m sure we’ll make a good team,’ Fleming answered. ‘What’s your take on this guy Rainer?’

  ‘He hated Nielson, that’s no secret. He has scratch marks on his face, and he works in a gym. Looks as though he could take care of himself as well.’

  Fleming nodded. ‘He definitely didn’t like Nielson.’

  Twenty minutes later, Logan pulled the car into the cramped car park of the Max Fitness Gym near the station. The building looked old and uncared for. Paint was flaking off the metal entrance door. Inside there was a small reception desk behind which sat a young girl busy filing her nails. She was chewing gum while speaking on a telephone wedged between her shoulder and head on account of her hands being fully occupied. The call was obviously not business. She quickly said she would have to call back when she saw Fleming flashing his warrant card in front of her face.

  ‘I’m DCI Fleming and this is DS Logan. Is the manager in?’

  The girl’s eyes widened. ‘Yes… yes he is,’ she stammered. ‘I’ll ring through and let him know you’re here. Is he expecting you?’

  ‘No. Is Mr Rainer here as well?’

  The eyes grew wider. ‘Yes, he’s here today. Shall I–’

  ‘No need,’ Fleming said. ‘Just get the manager.’

  Five minutes later, they were in the small dingy office of a wary-looking manager. He introduced himself as Max Dunn. ‘What can I do for you?’ he asked. ‘I hope none of the lads are in trouble. They’re a good bunch in Eric’s boxing club.’

  ‘We’d actually like a word in private with Mr Rainer, if we may. How well do you know him?’

  ‘I know Eric very well. He’s been with us now for over twenty years. Ex-army. He’s a brilliant coach. We’re lucky to have him.’ Max looked worried. ‘There’s nothing wrong, is there? There hasn’t been an accident or anything? It’s just that Eric lost his wife four years ago. It’s not his daughter, is it?’

  Fleming reassured Max. ‘No, nothing like that at all. We just need to speak to him about his daughter’s ex-husband. To fill in some background details, that’s all.’

  ‘Oh, you mean Ronnie Nielson. Dreadful business that. Though I dare say Eric won’t lose any sleep over it. He always said the man was no good for his daughter. I’ll go and fetch him. You can use my office if you like.
’

  Fleming thanked him and Max hurried off to find Rainer.

  Rainer arrived five minutes later in tracksuit bottoms and a white sweat-stained sports shirt. He was wiping sweat off his balding head with a small hand towel. He narrowed his grey eyes and glared at Fleming and Logan. ‘You wanted to see me?’

  Fleming pointed at the tattoos of daggers with eagle wings on Rainer’s arms. ‘From your army days?’

  Rainer turned his arms to look at the tattoos. ‘Yeah, that’s right. What exactly do you want?’

  ‘Just a few questions, Mr Rainer…’ Fleming started to say.

  Rainer shook his head. ‘This had better be important. I’m at work, you know. Or hadn’t you noticed?’

  ‘We’re at work as well, Mr Rainer,’ Logan pointed out.

  Rainer grunted and folded muscular arms across his broad chest. ‘Okay, what do you want to know?’

  ‘When we last met, you made it clear there was no love lost between you and Nielson. You said he had it coming to him,’ Fleming reminded him. ‘In fact, I recollect you saying that you would gladly have killed him.’

  ‘Oh, I see. You think I killed the man because I hated him. Let me tell you something, the man was a bastard… a bully. There must be loads of people like me who despised the man.’

  ‘He physically abused your daughter. She said you were mad when you found out. Said you wanted to see to him – in a manner of speaking.’

  Rainer glared hard at Fleming. ‘Yes, and she probably also told you that she persuaded me not to.’

  ‘Peggy Dobbs, Nielson’s cleaner, she reckoned you only came to the house to visit your daughter when Nielson wasn’t there.’

  ‘So? I didn’t like the man. Are you accusing me or what?’

  Logan looked up from his notebook. ‘You’re only helping us with enquiries. If you were a suspect we’d have arrested you and taken you in for questioning under caution.’

  Rainer smiled. ‘So, I could tell you to piss off and stop wasting my time?’

  ‘You could,’ Logan agreed, ‘but that wouldn’t be a very sensible thing to do. We could arrest you as a suspect… or, we could charge you with obstructing a police investigation.’

  ‘So how may I be of assistance to you?’ Rainer asked sarcastically.

  Fleming showed Rainer the photograph of Nielson with his army colleagues. ‘Do you know any of the men in this photograph, apart from Mr Nielson?’

  Rainer took the photo and studied it closely through squinting eyes. ‘No, can’t say I do.’ He hesitated, looked again, then pointed at Eddie Slater. ‘Looks a bit older there, but that could be Eddie Slater. He was Nielson’s best man at the wedding.’

  ‘Have you seen any of them recently?’ Fleming persisted.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Were you aware that Nielson was being investigated by the Met ten years ago?’

  ‘Yes, what’s that got to do with anything?’

  ‘Just wondered if maybe someone involved in that had it in for Nielson. Maybe a long-standing feud that eventually resulted in Nielson being murdered.’

  ‘I wouldn’t know. All I know is Sarah told me someone had tried unsuccessfully to stitch Nielson up. It was all straightened out and no charges were brought. Though it wouldn’t surprise me at all if someone from the past had it in for him.’

  ‘Ever heard of a man called Potts?’

  ‘Can’t say I have.’

  ‘He used to work for Nielson.’

  ‘So? Look, I’ve already told you I had nothing to do with the man. How would I know people who worked for him?’

  ‘Eight years ago there was another investigation involving Nielson. A man called Joe Cobb was stabbed to death outside a nightclub in Reading by Potts. Potts claimed that Nielson had put him up to killing Cobb, but later retracted his statement. Did Sarah ever mention an ongoing feud between Cobb and her husband?’

  ‘No, she didn’t. She knew I wasn’t in the least bit interested in Nielson’s business.’

  Fleming changed tack abruptly. ‘How did you get the scratches on your face, Mr Rainer?’

  ‘I run a boxing club. Someone scratched me with the laces of their glove while we were sparring.’

  ‘Who?’ Fleming pressed.

  Rainer snorted. ‘Bloody hell! How should I know? The day it happened I was sparring with loads of the lads. I didn’t even notice it until I was back in the changing room. It could have been anyone.’

  Fleming nodded slowly. ‘Where were you last Friday evening?’

  Rainer held Fleming’s stare. ‘At home.’

  ‘Anyone with you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What were you doing?’

  ‘Watching TV,’ Rainer snapped.

  ‘What were you watching?’ Fleming persisted.

  ‘A film.’

  ‘What was the film?’

  ‘Christ! What is this? I was at home… on my own… watching a film on a DVD. Would you like me to tell you the story and who was in it, for fuck’s sake?’

  ‘That won’t be necessary, Mr Rainer. That’s all for now.’

  ‘For now?’

  ‘You’ve been very helpful, but we may need to speak to you again.’

  Once outside the gym, Fleming looked at Logan. ‘What do you think, Harry?’

  ‘I think he’s lying. Guilty as hell, I’d say.’

  ‘Hmm, I’m not so sure. He hated Nielson, but it seems he wasn’t the only one. He has scratch marks on his face, but he says he can explain that. You think he’s lying, but we can’t prove it.’

  ‘Gut instinct, boss.’

  ‘Never got a conviction,’ Fleming pointed out. ‘Get Naomi to pay a visit to his neighbours. See if anyone can verify he was at home.’

  Later that night, Fleming was on his second large glass of whisky when his phone rang.

  ‘That you, Alex? It’s Gordon here.’

  Gordon Aitken was an old friend of Fleming’s, a detective inspector with Police Scotland, formerly Lothian and Borders Police.

  ‘Hi, Gordon. How are you?’

  ‘Fine, fine. Alex, I thought you’d want to know: Jimmy Calder’s been released on parole.’

  Fleming was silent for a moment while he took in the news.

  ‘Alex… Alex, you still there?’

  ‘Yes. I’m here. When?’

  ‘Two weeks ago. He was released from Shotts Prison on a life licence.’ There was a short pause. ‘Listen, Alex, you didn’t find this out from me, okay?’

  27

  ‘What do you think of DCI Fleming?’ Logan was asking Anderson. The squad car he was driving was on the A14 approaching the outskirts of Bury St Edmunds.

  Anderson shrugged. ‘Haven’t known him long. Seems okay. Quite young to get to DCI though.’

  ‘Yeah, and I’m still a sergeant after more years than I can remember of hard slog. And, I may add, I’ll be retired off in about ten years,’ Logan grumbled.

  Anderson nudged Logan’s arm playfully. ‘Time for one more step up the ladder yet, Sarge,’ she joked.

  ‘Oh yeah?’

  Anderson noted the doubt in Logan’s voice. ‘Fleming seems to hold you in high regard, and people like him need people like you,’ she said, sounding serious.

  Logan grunted. ‘Changing the subject, what do you think’s going on between Fleming and Watson? Bit of friction there, don’t you think?’

  Anderson thought for a moment. ‘They don’t get on, that’s clear. I think Watson’s got a bee in his bonnet because Fleming’s young and got the DCI post he thought his buddy DI Jardine should have had. Thick as thieves those two if you ask me.’

  ‘Yeah, I think you may be right. All very interesting,’ Logan mused.

  A few minutes later, he saw the sign for Bury St Edmunds ahead. ‘Nearly there.’

  Logan had been to see Sarah Nielson again to see if she could throw more light on the army photograph Fleming had shown her. She’d told him it was taken in Afghanistan. Nielson had served there with The Royal Anglian
Regiment in 2002. He’d been based in Kabul with C Company in the 1st Battalion.

  It hadn’t taken Logan long to find the address of the regimental headquarters. A quick call to the secretary and he’d arranged to meet the civilian records officer, Mrs Eva Lakes.

  The headquarters building was a striking red brick building with castle turrets. The regimental flag flapped in a stiff breeze at the top of a white mast above the front entrance. Eva Lakes occupied a small office on the ground floor with a window overlooking a garden that looked every bit as neat and tidy as the office. In fact, the whole place had all the feel of military precision, cleanliness and order. It hardly came as a surprise that Lakes herself was well organised, neat and efficient. She had short black hair swept back into a tight bun and wore a crisp white blouse and black skirt.

  Logan showed his warrant card. ‘I’m DS Logan, and this is DC Anderson.’

  Lakes smiled. ‘I believe you wanted to ask me about some ex-service personnel?’

  ‘Yes.’ Logan showed her the photograph from Nielson’s house. ‘We believe this was taken in Afghanistan around 2002. We wondered if it would be possible for you to identify the men on it for us.’

  ‘Just from a photograph taken years ago? That’s a bit of a tall order.’

  ‘We have two of the names, if that would help,’ Anderson said hopefully. ‘Ronnie Nielson and Eddie Slater. We believe Slater was killed in Afghanistan later that year.’

  Lakes gasped. ‘Oh, that’s why you’re here. I read about Ronnie Nielson in the papers.’

  ‘Can you do it?’ Logan asked.

  Lakes hesitated for a moment. ‘I can check my computer records for the names of all the men who served in C Company around that time. I should be able to find Mr Nielson and Mr Slater, but I’m not sure how to identify the others just from your photograph.’