“Happy for that, I'm ravenous.”
Yvonne walked with Tasha through to the kitchen. She was impressed with how clean and tidy the kitchen looked. The curry had been prepared from fresh ingredients, judging by the pile of peels and vegetable ends ready for the compost, but it was evident that Tasha was someone who cleaned up as she went. A complete contrast to the DI, who tidied afterwards –? sometimes the next day.
The psychologist looked cool and calm, wearing a white cotton shirt which was remarkably untouched by cooking splashes. Yvonne felt genuine admiration.
After a bowlful of curry and a naan bread each, they got down to business.
“So, what have you found out?” Yvonne perused Tasha's notes, as the other finished her wine.
“First thing that struck me was that both Davies and Bennett were investors in the same hedge fund, a...'Boxhall Investments', based in London. Rob Bennett was using a fairly local financial advisory firm, and we can find out if the same firm was also involved with Ben Davies.”? The psychologist cracked open the Bennett file. “Here's what we've got regarding Bennett's investments - hedge firms, brokers, financial advisers.”
“Do we have more info on Boxhall Investments?”
“Not a huge amount in here, no.” Tasha grabbed her laptop and tapped the space bar. The screen lit up. “?Here's what's online. This is the the company website, and there's the CEO, Mark Grantham. I spoke with a friend at the Met, and apparently this firm was investigated a few years ago by the Serious Fraud Office: suspected insider trading. At least one of the employees was fired, but although they suspected Mark Grantham of heavy involvement in the illicit trades, nothing could be pinned on him.”?
Yvonne stared at the picture of Mark Grantham. His picture loomed large on the front page of the glossy website. It was only a photograph, but Yvonne saw a smooth operator. His suit jacket and tie appeared to shimmer in the photographer's light. Their colour coordinated perfectly with the pale-blue designer shirt. He looked like he could do anything and everything with ease. A force of nature. Smart and confident. The kind of man you'd give your last penny to if he told you he could turn it into a fiver.
A loud banging on the front door interrupted their thoughts. Yvonne looked apologetically at Tasha. “So sorry, I forgot. Dewi's joining us for a couple of hours.”?
Tasha shrugged. “If you're sure.”
“He's coming round to my way of thinking.” Yvonne got up to let him in.
He'd brought with him a chinese take out and offered the others some.
“No thanks.” Yvonne smiled. “We've just eaten, but I can get you a plate and some cutlery.”?
“Just a fork, if that's okay. What are you looking at?”
While the DI fetched the fork, Tasha brought Dewi up to speed, laughing at him when he told her it'd been a few years since he had last moonlighted, and that the DI was a bad influence.
“Who was the employee who was fired from the company? The one pinned for the insider trading? Do we know?”? Yvonne handed Dewi his fork.
“He's...” Tasha hunted through her notes. “Ryan Smith.”
“Do you think this company stole money from the dead businessmen?” Dewi asked between mouthfuls. “?If so, why are we looking at someone who is no longer part of the company?”
“Revenge is a powerful motivator.” Tasha tapped a couple of links and brought up a photograph and a few details for Ryan Smith. “?Looks like he started his own company, albeit much smaller than Boxhall Investments: 'Highland Finance'. I'm guessing so-named because the headquarters are in Edinburgh. If he was hacked-off at getting the push, he might have wanted to get back at the company or its clients.”?
“Why Edinburgh?” Yvonne stared at the fair-haired man on the screen. “Is Smith from Scotland?”
“Don't know. I can try and find out, but I'm guessing that it's cheaper to have their main office there and a small subsidiary in London.”?
“How was he able to start up a new company if he was prosecuted for insider trading?” Yvonne leaned back on the sofa.
“He wasn't prosecuted. According to my friend in the Met, there wasn't enough evidence. The company let him go to show it was cleaning house. And there'd been a fall-out between Grantham and Smith. Again, no-one really knows what that was about, and the two of them certainly didn't want anyone to know.”?
“Perhaps they have enough dirt on each other to ensure their mutual silence.” Dewi cleaned up the rest of his chinese and placed the empty carton on the coffee table.
“Who are the other players?” Yvonne turned to Tasha. “The financial advisers?”
“Well, that's interesting, too. Both Davies and Bennett were using a firm based in Shropshire. A family firm called 'Williams and Wells.'”?
“One family?”
“Family plus associates, from what I've read. Again, we have some info in the files. I did a little digging online to flesh it out. I need to type my notes, so they're legible.”?
“Okay.” Yvonne scribbled on Tasha's notepad. “We can interview the head of 'Williams and Wells' and maybe talk to the fraud office at the Met. Anything they can give me, regarding their investigations. I'd like to know if anyone from either of those companies was in our locality, around the time of these deaths. Holidays or work, doesn't matter.” Yvonne paused for breath. “There's something else. I received a cryptic email from DC West, Shrewsbury CID. Something tells me that he wasn't entirely convinced that Rob Bennett killed himself and his family. What we need is something...anything...that will convince our superiors to open up the investigation properly. Even if we ultimately discover they were suicides, I need to feel that we completed a thorough investigation. I think we owe the families that much.”?
14
The first thing to strike the DI, on the approach road to Montgomery, was the castle ruins. Set upon a massive plug of rock, it towered over the tiny town. A weathered and broken testament to the turbulent past of the Welsh Marches.
The town itself lay drizzled over the hillside and, it seemed to Yvonne, the only flat area was the town square. The roads and lanes were steep and narrow. They had difficulty negotiating them through the traffic, it being the busy summer season.
She decided to park in a newly-vacated slot, just outside of the Dragon Hotel. They looked around for somewhere to eat their sandwiches. It just wouldn't feel right to eat anywhere near the Balls' home.
Tasha nodded towards the castle. “Why don't we eat up there? Take half an hour out.”
Yvonne thought about it. Could they? She was supposedly revisiting Tina Pugh's cafe and having a look around. DCI Llewellyn didn't know she was going to the Ball's again. He'd start to wonder what was taking so long.
In the end, the DI nodded. It was lunch time. She was entitled to a little time out. “Come on then. Let's do it. Half an hour tops, though. They'll start calling me, before too long.”?
Yvonne could feel the sweat building on her forehead and the small of her back as they meandered up the narrow road.
The ruins themselves were well-maintained, and a large wooden bridge allowed access to the castle's inner sanctum. The view from the top took their breath.
Below them, stretching as far as they could see, were peaceful fields full of colour, and yet more hills in the distance. The sky was busy with billowing cloud of every shade of grey and white. Shards of deep blue permeated the spaces between. The DI felt the tension leave her, and she looked over at Tasha who appeared just as relaxed.
“Can we see the Balls' house from up here?” Tasha wandered over to a piece of wall facing the way they'd come in and peered down at the houses.
The DI climbed up the stones, to get a better view. “I think so. I believe that's it there.” She pointed to it. “?That large red-brick house, surrounded by its own land, with the tall trees at the back.”
Tasha took out her mobile phone and took some pictures.
“Having an idea?” Yvonne smiled at the psychologist, who was shielding her pho
ne from the sun, as she zoomed in on one of the photos.
“Just wondering if your killer might have come up here. Might have watched the house from here. Look, you can see virtually every window at the front.”?
“Binoculars?”
“Or a spotting scope, something like that. At night, with the lights on, you would see pretty much everything.”?
Yvonne shuddered. “Are you still thinking the motive might be sexual?”
“Entering a home is a very personal thing. I suspect an underlying sexual motive, but I'm still trying to keep an open mind.”?
“The wives?”
“We don't know what transpired between him and them, in the semi-darkness. Did he allow them to become aware of his presence? We know they were moved from the precise position they were killed. Tucked back in bed. We don't really know whether he talked to them or gave them any instruction. It's just a thought that he might have done those things.”
“Surely, that would have been to have risked waking the children?”
“A brief moment of listening would have told him if the children had woken.”
“Shall we eat?” Yvonne felt an urgent need to get to the house.
After sandwiches and orange juice, they were on their way back down the hill into the tiny town. A ten minute car ride and they were entering the driveway to the Balls' house.
Police tape still stretched across the pathway and door. Yvonne pushed it to one side. “SOCO finished here yesterday. I wanted to bring you to the house before the relatives come. Wanted you to see it as it was left.”?
“Can we go around the back?”
“Sure.”
“I mean before we go inside.”
Yvonne nodded and led the way along the pathway to the right hand side of the house.
“Beautifully kept lawn.”
Tasha walked over to the large ash and cherry trees at the back. They passed a large set of swings, a slide and a trike, which lay just as it had been left, on its side, probably there, as the little ones headed in for their tea.
Tasha put a gentle hand on Yvonne's shoulder. “Are you okay?”
She knew the nod she gave Tasha would be unconvincing and she looked away, towards a whirligig in an exposed part of the garden. “?Do you suppose he watched the children play? Watched Deborah Ball putting her washing out?”
“That's why I came back here.” Tasha pointed to the large but well-kept hedges. He could have been hiding anywhere here. He wouldn't be seen from the road, or the house, and there are gaps in several places large enough for him to watch undisturbed. This is where he studied them. Learned their routines. He had to have done that.”
“And what if my hunch is wrong? What if these were murder-suicides?”
“You suspect intruder-murders, and the reasons you've given me are sound. I'm happy for us to continue. Let's go inside.”?
It was clear that the Balls had carried out extensive alterations inside the house. The Victorian front facade belied the ultra-modern, light and airy, interior.
“Where do you want to start?” Yvonne asked the psychologist.
“Where would you like me to start?”
“The study. It's where Robert Ball was found and, if my suspicions are right, he would have been killed first. I've got the crime scene photos with me, for you to compare.”?
They walked through to the spacious study, with its bi-folding glass doors. They looked out over the patio and grounds.
“Robert Ball could have been studied by a prowler quite easily.” Tasha took the photos from Yvonne and started looking around.
“So, the gun and ammunition was Robert's,” she said, eventually, scratching her head and crouching where Robert Ball had been found.
“Confirmed.”
“And he had his family's blood on his shirt front.”
“Yes. On the desk you can see brochures about canal barges. His neighbour told me he'd been contemplating taking his family away on a canal trip, with a view to sussing out whether they could live that way. He wanted a life-style change.”?
“Permanent?”
“That was the idea.”
“Doesn't sound like a man who wanted to commit suicide to me.”?
“No, it doesn't.”
“So, how did the killer persuade Robert Ball to take out his gun and ammunition?”
“Apparently, Robert regularly went pheasant shooting, at Bettws Hall, in Bettws village. It's not very far from here –? about twenty minutes by car. Apparently, the hall and it caters for some fairly rich clientele, some of whom fly in via helicopter, just for a weekends shooting.”
“Getting more interesting.”
“It just might be that our killer is one of them.”
“Someone very wealthy, maybe someone Robert Ball aspired to emulate. That could be a persuasive enough influence.”
“Like maybe the CEO of a hedge fund company?”
“Perhaps.”
Yvonne took the psychologist around the rest of the house. Tasha took her time, saying little else. By the time they left, Yvonne could tell that she was already formulating her profile.
“Twice in one month. Is something wrong, sis?” Kim stood, one hand on her hip, the other carrying a washing basket.
“Everyone keeps asking me that.” Yvonne sighed and took her sister's hand. “I'm fine. Honestly. I just wanted to check on you and the kids.”?
“Tough case?”
“You could say that, but it's not something I want to discuss, if that's alright.”
Kim smiled warmly at her sister and wrapped her free arm around her shoulders. “Come on in. The kids'll be over the moon.”?
Yvonne helped Kim prepare dinner: chilli, chips and ketchup. The children whooped as they came running to the dinner table.
Yvonne laughed. “I take it you guys like chilli?”
The sound of forks on plates and talking-with-mouths-full was confirmation enough.
Yvonne watched the easy madness and thought, not for the first time that week, that she was glad her sister was not married to a rich businessman.
Cuddling the children to bed, and reading their bedtime stories, had even more meaning tonight. She held them just that little bit tighter.
“Mum's been asking about you again.” Kim handed her a cuppa as she sat down on the sofa.
“Has she? I will speak to her at some point.”
“You said that last time.”
“I find it hard.”
“I know you do. Look, I can dial in on my laptop. You could speak to her now.”
“Will he be there?”
“She loves you.”
Yvonne sighed. Life was too short. If she hadn't realised it before, she was realising it now. She nodded to her sister and began clearing her throat.
Her mum looked older. There was quite a bit more grey in her shoulder-length hair. Yvonne could see herself in twenty years time. She'd inherited her looks from her mother. There was a twinkle in the older woman's eyes. She was clearly excited at the opportunity of speaking to her oldest daughter. But Yvonne also sensed a nervousness.
Kim ruffled her sister's hair and left the room.
“Mum.” Yvonne cleared her throat again.
“Yvonne. We've missed you.”
“We?”
Her mother ignored the last. “How've you been?”
The DI felt like closing the lid on the laptop. She couldn't do this. Not right now.
Her mum talked quickly, wanting to fill the silent void. Perhaps she sensed her daughter's urge to run. Yvonne's reticence must have been palpable.
“We've been decorating the house. If I look like I've been painting myself, that'll be why.” The mild Aussie accent seemed wrong on her mother. It served only to emphasise the distance between them. The distance caused by the interloper.
“Talk to me...please.” Her mother had the familiar look of despair.
Yvonne felt a massive pang of guilt. She'd missed her mum. She began to cry. Soft s
obs. She should have closed the laptop when she had a chance.
“I love you, Yvonne.”
“I love you, too. I wish you were here.”
A minute passed. Both of them silent. Perhaps her mum was also feeling overwhelmed.
“I visited dad's grave the other day.”
“You did?” Her mum's face lit up.
“Yes.” Yvonne wiped her eyes with her hand.
“I miss him too, Yvonne,” her mum said softly. “It took me a long time to forgive myself.”
“Did you ever feel afraid of him? Before he took his life, I mean.”
Her mum's wide eyes showed she was genuinely taken aback. “No. Why do you ask that?”
“He would never have hurt us, would he?” It was a statement more than a question.
“Your father loved you more than anything. He loved me too.” Anne lowered her eyes. “If anyone hurt us, it was me.”?
“How's Bob?” That was the first time Yvonne had ever asked her mother about her step-dad.
“He's fine. He asks about you. We've been talking about visiting the UK.”
“I've got to go.” Yvonne had a lot to think about. She needed time.
“Yvonne?”
“Yes?”
“Don't leave it so long next time...”
Yvonne nodded. “I'll try not to.”
Yvonne braced herself, as she and Dewi entered the police station in Monkmoor, Shrewsbury. She had no idea how this was going to go. DC Dave West and DS Shaun McAllister from West Mercia police had agreed to meet them, and she'd also have an option to speak with the Oswestry rural south team, who routinely policed Maesbury March.
“Thank you for agreeing to see us.” Yvonne took the seat offered by DS McAllister. McAllister appeared to be a seasoned detective, in his late forties, and West a good deal younger, maybe thirty. Yvonne mused that West had probably been in the force less than ten years and CID, less than five.
“How can we help?” It was the DS who addressed her, as DC West and Dewi came over with the teas, coffees, and a pack of chocolate digestives.
DI Giles BoxSet Page 48
