DI Giles BoxSet

by Anna-Marie Morgan

  Paul Baker stood up, as soon as Yvonne entered reception. He appeared furtive, looking through the window to the car park, as though checking he hadn't been followed. The DI held out her arm, pointing him towards the inner sanctum. She led him through to interview room one.

  “This isn't a formal interview and I'm not recording,” the DI stated, as she pulled a chair out for Paul to take a seat. “?You asked to see me.”

  Paul Baker loosened the tie which was perfectly coordinated with the grey, sharp-suit he was wearing. Yvonne noticed his square-toed, black shoes. They had a good shine.

  “I've brought you the list of our clients,” he said, shifting as though someone had left pins on his seat.

  “Thank you.” Yvonne took the photocopied list from him. “Is something wrong?” she asked. “?Are you worrying about something?”

  “I'm fine,” he said, rather too quickly.

  “Darryl doesn't now you've brought this, does he?” she asked, realising this might be why he appeared uncomfortable.

  “No. We keep our client's information confidential. If our clients lose faith in our ability to do that, we could lose them.”?

  “What else are you holding, there?”

  “These are the files for Ben Davies, Tony Ball and Robert Bennett. I thought you might like to look through them. Photocopy anything you feel relevant to your enquiries.”?

  “What would Darryl do if he discovered you'd brought this files here?”

  “I don't know, but it probably wouldn't be good for me.”

  “So, why did you risk it?”

  “The men are dead. They can't object to their information being read.”

  “But you still didn't inform Darryl...”

  “I'll tell him if he asks me. He has a temper, you know.”

  “Have you crossed him before?”

  “We've had our disagreements.”

  “Did he talk to you about our visit to your offices?”

  “He did.”

  “What did you talk about?”

  “He asked me what I'd told you. Asked me if I'd strayed off-piste.”

  “So, he'd had a conversation with you before we arrived that day? Setting out what you could and couldn't tell us, to guarantee you were on-message?”?

  “Will the client list be helpful?”

  “Are there people on this list who are currently losing money?”

  “I don't know. I could try to find out.”

  “It's okay, I don't want you to risk further trouble. We could try to find that information for ourselves.”?

  “I'd better go.”

  “Can we hold onto the men's files for a day or two?”

  “Yes. I doubt Darryl will miss them in the short-term. He'll probably clear them from the records room eventually.”?

  “Thanks for doing this.” Yvonne put a hand in his shoulder. “If you become worried about your safety, get in touch with us straight away.”?

  “My safety?” Baker looked confused. Yvonne immediately regretted saying anything.

  “I'm not saying you should, I'm saying if you do. Don't worry about it. It doesn't matter.”

  Paul headed for the door. “I'll pick the files up again when you've finished with them.” Then he was gone. She saw him again, hastily getting into his car. She watched the car drive away, her interest piqued.

  She found Dewi getting ready to leave for home. “Paul Baker is scared of Darryl Williams. He won't say why, but he's definitely on edge.”?

  “You don't expect a partner, even a junior partner, to be afraid of the senior to that extent. Want me to bring Williams in for formal questioning?”?

  “And question him about what? We haven't got enough, yet. We do now have the client list, though. You get off, Dewi. I'll speak to you tomorrow, about checking out the list.”?

  “You off home too, ma'am? It's been a long day...”

  “Soon, Dewi. Soon.”

  It was past six-thirty pm. The rest of the team had long since left for home. Yvonne leaned against the edge of her desk, gazing out over the car park, in the direction of Dolerw –? the town public park. Her furrowed forehead and pale knuckles, as she gripped the edge of the desk, betrayed the strain she was under.

  DCI Llewellyn knocked on the door of the office, even though he was already in the room. He didn't want to make her jump.

  “I have two steaming mugs of hot chocolate,” he said with a grin, as she turned towards him. “?Freshly made, not from the machine.”

  Ordinarily, she would have smiled back, but her tired mind had not quite switched over from her previous train-of-thought. She rubbed her eyes and looked up at him. He thought, in that moment, that she might cry. She didn't however.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, taking the mug from him and setting it down next to her. “That's very thoughtful.”?

  Llewellyn perched on the other side of her, such that he, too, was now gazing in the direction of Dolerw Park. “?You know, it all works out in the end. Good or bad. Everything eventually gets concluded.”

  “I'd like to think so,” she responded, her voice soft.

  “You know, you're a curious mixture. There are times when you come into my office, eyes blazing, full of conviction and fighting tooth-and-nail for what you believe to be right.”? He turned his head, to search her face. “And then there are times, such as now, when I can see that you are riddled with self-doubt. Times when I think I have never seen someone look quite so worried about everything.”

  Yvonne blew on the top of her chocolate. “I really thought that either Mark Grantham or Ryan Smith would be picked out of that line-out. Why did I get so hung up on them?”? She took a sip and sighed. “This chocolate is very good.”

  “Something about them obviously made you feel they could be involved.”

  “I thought they were hiding something.”

  “They may very well be hiding something. I doubt people get to the powerful positions they occupy, without have a few skeletons in their closet - just perhaps not literally.”?

  “I think they may have taken advantage of the predicament that Ben Davies and the others found themselves in. I just no longer believe that they set them up.”?

  “Do you need to take some time out? A week or two of annual leave, perhaps.”

  “No.” She said it without hesitation, her voice firm. “I may not be sure, right now, what is going on, but I sure as hell know that something is, and I have to get to the bottom of it. If I have any doubts, its about my ability to get to the bottom of it fast enough to save the next victims.”?

  Llewellyn nodded. “I can tell you that I don't share your doubt. If a killer is at work here, I have every faith that you'll stop him.”?

  “I don't want to cause trouble for you from those higher up.” She stood, and took her mug to the window.

  “I think you should go home and rest. The case will still be here tomorrow.” He finished his drink and turned for the door. “?That's where I'm going now. Home.”

  “Thank you for the chocolate,” Yvonne turned around to face him, “and for your support.”?

  He smiled at her. “You're a very intelligent and beautiful woman. I'm lucky to have you on my team. You'll do this. Now...go home.”?

  Tasha had gone to bed. Yvonne strolled into the Kitchen and pulled open the fridge. Inside, she found a glass of sauvignon blanc and a bowl of pasta, attached to which was a note telling her to warm the food up in the microwave. She smiled at her friend's thoughtfulness and carried the bowl and glass to the photo-wall, Tasha had named 'the maverick wall'.

  In front of her were the photographs, flow charts, names and dates important to the case. Her mind was still working overtime, trying to piece it all together. What was she missing?

  As other lines of enquiry faded, one name stood out for her. The arrows leading to it increased almost daily. Darryl Williams. She felt sure that Paul Baker was scared of him. He'd introduced at least two of the dead men to the masons. He'd socialised with all o
f the dead men and, almost surely, had suggested to them that they invest in the deals which ultimately cost them everything.

  She could kick herself for not having included him in the line-up. The disappointment of the last one meant she'd have to wait a while before organising another. She couldn't put the women through that experience again, not without being sure it was him. There was nothing in his past: no conviction or caution –? either sexual or non-sexual. He was clean as a whistle.

  The DI switched on the TV, for the local news, and settled on the sofa with her food and wine. She didn't expect anything on the family deaths. Murder-suicides didn't occupy the headlines long, unlike serial murders. There was nothing on the rapes, either. All quiet. The world was happily carrying on, oblivious to the rapist-killer waiting to take his next victims.

  She breathed deeply, allowing the wine to relax her. She managed half the food. It was very good, but her appetite hadn't been the best of late. Death had that effect. Just before sleep took over, she climbed the stairs to bed.

  Paul Baker's mobile phone rang and rang.

  “Can you talk?” Yvonne asked him, when he finally picked up.

  “Hang on.”

  She heard a huff and scrape and some muffled voices. More huffing and scraping and then he was back.

  “Okay, sorry about that. We can talk now.”

  “I'm sorry to bother you, but I'd like to know if any of your current clients is in financial difficulty. Would you be able to come and see us, and indicate on the list you gave me, anyone who is losing money?”?

  There was a couple of seconds silence on the other end.

  “Mr. Baker?”

  “Yes, alright. I should ask Darryl's permission.”

  “I'd rather you didn't do that.”

  “ I see. Do you suspect him of being a factor in Ben Davies' and Tony Ball's suicides?”

  “I don't know. We're still trying to work it all out. I'd appreciate you keeping it to yourself, for now.”?

  20

  Tasha was deep in conversation with the DCI. Yvo nne could see them through his office window. Whatever they were discussing, their meeting appeared amicable. The last time she'd seen them like that in his office, he was taking the psychologist off a case. That time, she'd stormed out. This time, he evidently wasn't sending her away. Good.

  “Penny for them, ma'am.” Dewi put a mug of tea on the desk for her.

  “Darryl Williams.”

  “Err, no. Dewi Hughes.”

  “Ha ha.” Yvonne smiled, in spite of herself. “What do you make of him?”

  “He's risen to the top of your suspect list, hasn't he?”

  “Paul Baker is jumpy about something. He's fairly loyal to his senior partner, though.”

  “Guess he values his job...”

  “There's something Baker's not telling us. I've asked him to come in again, today. I'm asking him to indicate, on their client list, anyone losing money.”?

  “Think he'll do it? We don't have a warrant. We couldn't use the list in evidence.”

  “I don't want the list for evidence, Dewi. I want to know who we should be concerned about.”

  “Confidential information...”

  “Versus families' lives and young women not being raped.”?

  “Point taken.”

  “I want you and Tasha to observe the discussion I have with him.”

  “Give me a shout when he gets here.”

  “Will do.”

  Tasha surfaced from Llewellyn's office and headed straight to Yvonne.

  “Everything okay?” the DI asked, still sipping on the tea Dewi had given her.

  “Everything's fine, thank you. The DCI was asking about the profile I prepared for you. Wanted my take on the whole murder-suicide versus family-killer thing.”?

  “What did you say?”

  “That I am in agreement with you, about pretty much everything.”?

  “What does he think?”

  “Tells me he has every faith in our judgement. Wants me to keep my eye on you.”

  “Really?”?

  “I think he thinks you might do something risky.”

  “Does he, indeed.”

  “I think he likes you.”

  “Haven't you got something to do?”

  Tasha laughed. “Yes. I've got to give a briefing to the team.”

  “Good.” Yvonne smiled, then: “I like being single.”

  Tasha turned to leave.

  “Oh, I almost forgot.” Yvonne put a hand on her arm. “I'll be talking with Paul Baker from Williams and West, later. I'd like you and Dewi to observe.”?

  “You got it.” Tasha nodded and left to prepare for the team briefing.

  Paul Baker's tie was loosely knotted, the top button of his shirt was undone, and his hair was not quite as slick as it usually was. He checked behind him, as he entered the station.

  Yvonne greeted him in reception and took him through to the interview room, taking in the change in his appearance.

  “Thank you for coming in again. I know you're a busy man. I've brought the client list with me, for you to look at.”?

  “Can I ask you why you want the names from me? It's dodgy ground, I'm treading – data protection and all that.”?

  “I didn't get a warrant for the information. I'm just interested in protecting those who might be at risk of taking their own lives...”?

  “Are you going to compile client lists from every financial advice firm?”

  “Just the ones in my jurisdiction.”

  “I see.” He appeared doubtful, his eyes narrow.

  “Look,” Yvonne sighed, “those men didn't just kill themselves. They took their wives and their children with them.”?

  “I know...” He looked down at his shoes, shifting his weight between his feet.

  “Most of the children were tiny...toddlers.”

  He continued gazing downwards.

  “I couldn't protect them, but I can be prepared to protect families in the future. Make sure that counsellors are on hand.”?

  “We suggest counsellors to our clients. They don't always take us up on that.”

  “In that case, we can take the next steps.”

  “Next steps?” He looked up at her now, hands in his jacket pockets.

  “Revoke any gun licences they may hold. This is a rural area. Many of the farming and land-owning families have gun cabinets. That's an issue, if there are family members who are feeling suicidal.”?

  He swept his hands down his face. “Okay, what do you need to know.”

  “I'd like you to look down the client list you gave me and underline those who are suffering serious financial losses.”?

  He nodded and started scouring the list. When he'd finished, three clients had been underlined. Their addresses were in Machynlleth, near the coast; Dolfor, five miles from Newtown; and Hendomen, near to Montgomery.

  Yvonne took the list from him. “Thank you, Mr. Baker.”

  “You won't tell these families that I gave you the information?”

  “We have ways of keeping our sources anonymous.” The DI gave him a reassuring smile.

  “Thank you. Can I go now?”

  “Yes, of course.” Yvonne showed him out of the building.

  “So, what do you think?” she asked Dewi and Tasha, when they re-grouped. “Nervous, wasn't he?”?

  “Well, he was giving you confidential information without the say-so of his senior. I think that was bound to put him on edge. Hell, I'd be on edge if I was giving out info without speaking to you.”? Dewi ran his hand through his hair.

  “Tasha?” Yvonne looked at the psychologist.

  “I think he's hiding something. Did you see the way he avoided eye contact when you spoke about depression and the possibility of revoking gun licences?”?

  “I'm inclined to agree with both of you and, yes, I did notice his looking down.”

  “Does he have a gun licence?” Tasha crossed her arms. “Is he suffering with depression?�
�

  “I certainly don't think everything is rosy at Williams and Wells,” Yvonne answered with a sigh. “?I just don't know why, yet.”

  “I can make discreet enquiries.” Dewi wrote a few notes in his pad.

  “He's given us the names and addresses of three men, living in the area, who are losing substantial sums of money.”? Yvonne directed the next at Dewi: “I want discreet protection assigned to all three addresses. It'll have to be uniform, in the main, but I want CID around, too. I want to know who is coming and going and, if there's anything suspicious about any of the visitors, particularly late evening or night-time visitors, I want the alarm raised.”?

  “Right you are, ma'am.”

  “Okay, let's get the team together. Tasha's going to give her profile to everyone. I want copies of it to go to protection officers assigned to those addresses.”?

  Yvonne had shaken off some of the cobwebs and doubts that had been nagging at her. She felt things were finally moving.

  21

  He pulled on a dark, hooded raincoat, over a light t-shirt. The weather had dodged between rain and sunshine all day. He was prepared for both.

  The bulging clouds threatened a storm but had not yet released their anger. Ripples of electricity ran through the hairs on his skin, like the scraping of sharp nails. Storms excited him.

  He'd driven for nearly an hour. The air-con in his car needed fixing, and the humidity had been claustrophobic. He took his rucksack from the boot and headed off along the path. The boots he wore could be bought from most stores, a dime-a-dozen. Not his usual choice, but they'd render any footprints meaningless.

  A light drizzle misted the way and began smudging out the horizon to his right. He walked quickly, impatient to see the house, again. Impatient to see her.

  He heard the engine just before the vehicle swung around the corner, its headlights slicing through the drizzle-mist. He threw himself behind vegetation, just in time, his heart bursting in his chest. He recognised the car. The husband had left the house.