He shrugged. ‘By that point, I had nothing to lose.’ He looked up at Gillard. ‘It was you I wanted out of the way. I had a feeling you understood what was going on. With you gone, at least I would have had a chance.’
Claire looked at him. ‘For you, people are simply pawns to sacrifice, or obstacles to remove, aren’t they?’
Lal shook his head.
‘Let’s go back to the beginning,’ Gillard said. ‘We know you’d been having a clandestine relationship with Harshil Roy, and that Morag Fairburn was your cover. But why on earth did you have to kill Mrs Roy? Couldn’t you just have carried on, even after Harry Roy got married?’
Lal shook his head. ‘I told Harry I wasn’t prepared to continue sneaking around for the rest of my life just because the kind of love that I have to offer doesn’t fit into the traditional Indian idea. I told him again and again.’
‘What was his reaction?’ Claire asked.
‘Well, you know what Harry is like. He had the women, and the admiration, and the money. And, on the side, he had me. He had it all. But for me it wasn’t enough.’
‘So who within the family knew about your relationship?’ Claire asked.
‘Well, Kiara knew. Prisha never did.’
‘What about Mrs Roy herself?’
‘Well, I think she knew I was gay. It’s not so hard to figure out, is it? But Harry, no no, Harry could do no wrong in her eyes, and she was not going to do anything to prejudice him taking over. She was blind to it. He thought that once his mother retired, once he controlled the trust, he could fix some of those crazy rules. But I could see she was never going to retire. She was a workaholic, and although, in her own mind, she was not as much a martinet as her awful husband, she had made a promise on his deathbed to carry out his wishes as enshrined in the trust.’ Zayan rubbed his hands over his face. ‘I didn’t know what to do for a long time.’
‘Then you poisoned her,’ Gillard said. ‘By injecting thallium into her roll-on deodorant.’
‘That didn’t just happen. I brought it back from India a year ago, when I was going through one of my black moods, but I never thought I would use it. Then in October, Harry told me that his mother had given him an ultimatum. To get married in the coming year, or she would install Deepak as chief operating officer over him. They had a furious row. Harry knows that Deepak is an ambitious schemer, and he couldn’t bear the idea. So he told me that he would have to get married, and his mother had suggested a couple of brokers with good contacts.’
‘But I had my own suggestion. I had already arranged a couple of lower-profile weddings, and suggested that if she went through me, I would at least get the opportunity to travel with Harry for a few months.’
‘And the chance to sabotage the arrangement?’ Claire asked.
‘Well yes, but Harry warned me off, because if the wedding fell through his mother was determined to promote Deepak.’
‘This is very important,’ Gillard said, leaning across the table. ‘Did you ever hint, intimate, or suggest to Harry Roy that you could get rid of his mother?’
Zayan Lal’s eyes blazed. ‘Of course not. It would have been crazy! I pretended that I adored her just as much as he did.’
‘How did you get the opportunity to tamper with her deodorant?’
‘I saw one in her en suite bathroom in Richmond. So I bought an identical one, injected thallium solution through the seam of the plastic casing, then substituted it. Of course what I hadn’t realised was that she was paranoid about body odour, and had identical roll-ons in her other flat, in her desk drawer and in her car. I’m not even sure where mine ended up.’
‘In the desk at work, and barely used,’ Claire said.
‘So at what point did you decide that strategy had failed?’ Gillard asked.
‘I think it was on the flight out to Mumbai with Harry. I had already realised the poisoning didn’t work, and when I went to her en suite, the roll-on had been replaced by a new one. I was in a panic. It became clear to me that Harry was actually going to go ahead with the marriage. He knew Sonali had suffered from polio, and that several attempts by her family to marry her off had failed. We both knew the family was getting desperate now that Sonali had reached thirty, so the dowry was going to be enormous.’
‘Did you know how big?’
‘No, that was a closely-guarded secret. The negotiations were done by Vikram Vaj and L. P. Gosht.’
‘So you ran out of options to sabotage it?’
‘Well, yes. I assumed once Harry met her, and found out how pushy she was, he would no longer be bewitched by that face. I mean she’s got such a chip on her shoulder, and a voice like a spin dryer. Her mother is a nightmare. Anyway, after they met, Harry described her as rather lovely and vulnerable underneath. He tried to persuade me that he could keep me on in some personal staff capacity so that we could meet, but I knew it could never work. That’s when I decided. So I told Harry I was going off to meet some of my own family in Orissa, and would meet him in Dubai.’
‘So you changed your flight details to allow you to get back to Britain via Dubai and Gatwick, commit the crime, fly back to Dubai the next day, and use the last part of your previous ticket,’ Gillard said.
‘It was an alibi that only the most detailed checking would uncover,’ Lal said.
Claire looked puzzled. ‘But why do it? You had a comfortable life, a luxury flat one floor beneath your lover, I’m sure you would have been paid off.’
‘Who do you think I am?’ Lal said, eyes blazing. ‘It’s not the money! I’m worthy of respect, my life is worth something.’
‘Very laudable for a man who’s dealing coke,’ Gillard said.
‘Not dealing, really. I supplied Kiara and some of her friends when they asked.’
‘And Mehmet Ozul?’ Gillard asked.
Lal’s shoulders sagged. ‘Yeah, him and his friends too. I was using too much of it myself. And I knew early on I wasn’t tough enough for that game. I wanted out.’
‘Well, you’re out now, Zayan.’
Epilogue
Zayan Lal pleaded guilty to the murders of Mrs Roy and DC Colin Hodges and was sentenced to eighteen years. Deepak Tripathi denied five counts of fraud, and after a long and involved trial over two years was eventually acquitted. The prosecution failed to satisfy the jury that he made any personal gain. He left the UK immediately and settled in the Caribbean with his girlfriend, Victoria.
Harry Roy married Sonali Desai. Her family took over Empire of Spice, making Sonali the chief executive and Morag Fairburn her deputy. Harry soon resigned, and took a full-time post with a charity providing sports and fitness sessions to disabled people. He never visited Zayan in prison, or forgave him for killing his mother. Harry and Morag remained the closest of friends.
Within a year, most Empire of Spice brands had been auctioned off, mostly to Hong Kong & International Cuisine. The valuable Slough site was sold off to repay most of the loans. The family trust was wound up, with remaining assets of less than £3 million eventually distributed equitably between the three Roy children. Prisha was heard to mutter that it seemed like a pittance after what she’d hoped for.
Kiara Roy’s fashion brand did surprisingly well from the publicity about the murder, especially when several minor members of the royal family began to be seen in public wearing her designs. That same year Prisha Roy finally became pregnant and gave birth to a healthy boy. She then married Simon Parr-Fielding. As expected the boy was brought up Hindu, despite being blond. Sadly there was nothing left for him, or his mother, to inherit from the trust.
DCI Gillard was praised for his work in the intricate case, but remain dissatisfied with some of the outcomes. He still wanted to take action against Prisha Roy for stalking him, and rang a senior lawyer at the CPS, an expert in the field, and described what had occurred.
‘Has this woman been telephoning, emailing or texting you on a regular basis?’ she asked.
‘No. But, as I mentioned, she came round
to my home.’
‘Wasn’t she simply looking to buy it?’
‘Yes, but she wasn’t serious.’
‘You’ve no evidence of that. Just one or two visits isn’t exactly a compelling case for harassment.’
‘What about everything she knew about me?’
‘It seems that most of it is in the public domain. As you say she probably found out about your wife’s pregnancy from your aunt,’ she sighed. ‘I’m really sorry, but there’s nothing here.’
‘It’s quite unsettling.’
The woman laughed. ‘I’ve got no doubt of that, but you should be aware that courts are extremely reluctant to take action without a great deal more evidence of persistent unwanted contact.’
* * *
The Gillards’ home was for sale for several months, with the few offers made either being withdrawn soon afterwards or pitched too low. The estate agent said a couple of potential buyers had mentioned worries about damp, even though nothing untoward had shown up on surveys. Sam took time off work to host the next showing, to a middle-aged woman who had enthused about the place on her first visit. This time she seemed hesitant and asked about the ‘persistent damp’. Sam denied there was any, and wondered why she was asking.
‘I’d just heard that it was a bit of an issue,’ the woman said, her eyes flicking across to the lounge window through which Trish’s bungalow could be seen.
‘Did you by any chance speak to the woman who lives opposite?’ Sam asked.
‘Erm. Yes, when I parked outside last time, there was a note left on my windscreen saying “Important information for buyers of No 12.” So I rang the number and this elderly woman told us about the damp issues.’
‘There aren’t any damp issues. She’s just a troublemaker,’ Sam said.
The woman shrugged. ‘I don’t doubt it. But I’d prefer not to live opposite someone who would do something like that, so I’ll not be making an offer. I’m sorry.’
* * *
Colin Hodges’ funeral took place in Croydon crematorium on a briskly cold April morning a month after his death. After the celebrant had given the eulogy, DC Carl Hoskins read out a whole series of off-colour jokes which he said reflected the character of his dear departed mate. His colleagues smiled through this litany of bad humour, and even his wife Joan chuckled at one or two, while wiping away the tears. The coffin slid behind the curtain to the refrain of Monty Python’s Always Look on the Bright Side of Life.
Later, while Gillard had said his goodbyes and was preparing to leave, he could smell the unmistakable taint of the furnaces doing their work. The smell made him think of Mortlake, and the funeral of Mrs Roy the previous month. This much-loved woman and her troubled family had been separated from the fruits of her labour by almost every type of human frailty. Perhaps the collapse of empires was always thus.
His ruminations were interrupted by a phone call from the control room.
‘Sorry to disturb, sir, but we’ve got a missing person case. Can you interview a witness? The officer gave an address which is less than twenty minutes’ drive away.’
‘Yes, of course.’
Detective Chief Inspector Craig Gillard turned away, on his first step to the next case. One that was to test him as he’d never been tested before.
Acknowledgements
Empire of Spice Ltd is not based on any particular business, and its dynamics and characters within are imagined. None are based on any real person. However, the issues of shareholdings for women in Indian businesses in the UK are real enough. In 2007 a male heir of the Patak curry business was ordered by a British court to hand over £9 million of shares to his two sisters who had complained that their father had transferred shares from them illegally. The company was later that year sold to Associated British Foods.
I’d like to thank all the staff at Surrey Police during my visit there, particularly Charlotte Cooke for showing me the forensic centre, and for answering my many questions. Kim Booth helped with many issues on police procedure. Other police sources have asked not to be identified, and I have respected their anonymity.
Michael Bhaskar and the Canelo team as always were enthusiastic backers of the book. Miranda Ward did an excellent editing job.
Of course above all is my wife and first reader, Louise, to whom this book is dedicated.
About the Author
Nick Louth is a best-selling thriller writer and an award-winning financial journalist. A 1979 graduate of the London School of Economics, he went on to become a Reuters foreign correspondent in 1987. He was for many years a Financial Times columnist, and a regular contributor to Investors Chronicle, Money Observer, and MSN Money. It was an experience at a medical conference in Amsterdam in 1992, while working for Reuters, that gave him the inspiration for Bite, which in 2014 went on to become a UK No1 ebook best-seller. The Body in the Snow is his fourth book in the DCI Gillard crime series, and his eighth thriller overall. Nick Louth is married and lives in Lincolnshire.
www.nicklouth.com
DCI Craig Gillard Crime Thrillers
The Body in the Marsh
The Body on the Shore
The Body in the Mist
The Body in the Snow
Find out more
Don’t miss Nick Louth’s next DCI Gillard crime thriller, coming in July 2020…
The Body Under the Bridge
A talented young music student, daughter of a powerful German minister, goes missing while travelling by train from Surrey to London. DCI Craig Gillard is quickly called in, amidst fears for the woman’s life. But a shocking discovery soon throws the investigation into chaos.
As torrential rains douse the commuter belt, the detective gets involved in a daring rescue from a flooded river. A body is found, then another. Are these the victims of the raging waters or of some sinister killer? With Surrey Police stretched as never before, Gillard is led on a frantic and desperate search for the truth.
Only later does he discover that he is up against an old enemy, one who has him and his wife Sam firmly in his sights.
Now read on for the first chapter.
Chapter 1
Detective Chief Inspector Craig Gillard slid his unmarked grey Vauxhall into the last available space in Epsom Police Station car park. He was not in a great mood. It was the first time that he had ever been called away from a funeral by work. It was to attend a witness interview in a missing persons case, not normally something so urgent as to require him to say an early goodbye to the family of the deceased. But on this occasion he had been allocated the case directly by Chief Constable Alison Rigby. She always had her reasons, but didn’t always share them with subordinates.
On the face of it, the case was fairly run-of-the-mill. Beatrice Ulbricht, a 25-year-old German-born student at London’s Royal Academy of Music, had not been seen for four days. One of her London flatmates, whose parents happened to live in Epsom, had reported her missing yesterday evening after she failed to show at a concert she was due to perform in.
Gillard strode into the building and was directed by the desk sergeant to the interview room. A young woman in a charcoal grey trouser suit with short dark hair and large dangly earrings was sitting next to a bulky man with square glasses. Opposite them was a young police constable whom he recognised as Lynne Fairbanks. Introductions were made, and Gillard apologised for missing the start. The interviewee was Karen Ellsworth, the missing woman’s flatmate and a fellow member of the Lysander String Quartet. The man was Karen’s father, Brian.
‘As I told the officer here, no one has seen Beatrice for four days, she’s not answering her phone, and she missed a big important concert we were booked for in London last night,’ Karen said.
‘When did you last see her?’
‘I was with her on Sunday evening. The quartet had an engagement at West Clandon Village Hall.’ Gillard knew the village, a rather leafy place a few miles east of Guildford. ‘At ten o’clock when the concert finished it was chucking it down. So my dad
here gave Teus and Ignacio, the two other members of the quartet, a lift to Clandon railway station to get back up to London before dropping me home. Beatrice had arranged to see a friend from the college, Adrian. He was coming to pick her up. He lives locally, Gomshall I think, and she intended to come back the next day.’
‘Did you see her get this lift?’
‘I didn’t. But I got a text from her later on Sunday saying she’d had an argument with him and was coming back on the last train.’ She showed Gillard her phone.
‘Is that the last phone contact?’
‘No. I heard from her yesterday afternoon, she replied to one of my texts.’
‘Can you show me?’
Karen nodded and passed him the phone.
Hun, where are u? OK for tonite?
Don’t worry, I’ll be there. X
‘Is that the entire thread?’
‘Are you sure she’s not been home in the meantime?’
‘Yes. None of her stuff has been touched. The music stand has still got the music for the Clandon concert on it. If she’d been back at all, she would have been practising for the new one.’
‘Has she ever missed a concert before?’
‘Never. She is utterly reliable. That’s what’s so strange. She said she would be there.’
‘Are you aware of any change in her personal circumstances, such as a death in the family, breaking up with a boyfriend, anything that would make her particularly unhappy?’
‘No. She’s got a steady boyfriend in Germany, and some admirers here.’
‘What was she wearing?’
‘Her typical uniform. A midcalf length navy blue overcoat, with a long rainbow scarf. She also had this lovely mauve fedora.’
The Body in the Snow Page 33
