by Lee Wood
“And the bastard never admitted it. But I knew it was him. I even asked him recently. I thought now he’s made a mint he might do the decent thing and pay it back. But of course he didn’t. If you’re trying to say I killed him for what he did then I’m not the only person with a reason to want him dead.”
After enjoying a second cup of Earl Grey tea and a chat about events in general so James could gauge his tone and speech when talking about normal things, he made his excuses saying he had only put in enough for one hour on the parking meter.
Chapter Thirty
James drove into the narrow one-way street called Chalk Farm Mews and managed to find a space on the very first meter in the street. As he paid and looked around he was greeted by a parade of antique shops, most of them looking fairly run down, the exception being numbers three and five. Next door was number seven, one of the less salubrious shops with the name Bygone Days above the door.
James walked in and a tall gentleman appeared from behind a curtain at the rear.
“Hello, I’m looking for Robin Longhurst.”
“I’m Robin, you must be James.”
“Yes, thank you for agreeing to see me. Nice shop you have here.”
“Thank you. Why don’t we go upstairs to my apartment? We can talk without being disturbed. My restorer is out the back, he will deal with any customers.”
Robin filled the kettle and got out two cups. “I’m happy to help in any way I can, although I’m not sure what more I can add to the statement I gave to the police but I’ll try. Please take a seat.”
James sat down at the shiny blue top table that matched the kitchen cabinets.
“So, I’d be grateful if you could tell me what happened when you arrived at the hotel.”
“I’m sorry; my memory’s not that good. But I do recall on the Wednesday I was in the bar until around ten and then went upstairs to my room and read a book. On the Thursday night I pretty much did the same. As Francis and Victor must have told you, we were there to try and find out what Peter was up to. And then of course at the weekend we attended the Evesham Fair.”
“How about during the night, did you see or hear anything?”
“No, I have to say the bed was very comfortable so I managed to get to sleep quite quickly and then I was out for the night. I awoke when my alarm went off at seven thirty. Besides, from what I understand our rooms were on the other side of the hotel to where the murder took place. I was in room 123. Easy to remember that”
“You told the police Peter was a nice man and you have no idea who would want to kill him.”
“I can only assume Norman had a motive but I’m not aware of what that might be. I read a few bits in the newspapers over the weekend other than that I’m not sure what I can add.”
”It’s strange. Everyone seems to have nice things to say about Mr Winston-Moore but the police have evidence to the contrary. It appears he had a system to con lots of elderly people out of valuable items. And Mr Athos has told me how he was conned by Peter into buying fake items and reported him to the police a few years back as he suspected him of stealing £6,000. So, forgive me, but I’m confused when everyone tells me he was well liked.”
Robin let out a long sigh. “Okay. If you want the truth, he was a nasty piece of work. He had a reputation in the trade that you couldn’t trust him. He ripped off lots of dealers before he became rich. After that everyone just wanted to know where he was finding all the fresh stock. That’s why the three of us stayed at the same hotel. We were trying to discover what he was up to and how he was doing it. Maybe someone found out and killed him for the secret but it wasn’t me. Apart from trying to find out where he bought all those items I avoided him. If you want the truth, I certainly won’t be shedding any tears over his departure. But I didn’t kill him and I don’t know who did unless it was Norman.”
James changed the subject as they sat and drank their tea, all the time listening for any tell-tale signs that past experience had taught him people often gave away when they were chatting and more relaxed.
Chapter Thirty-One
“Thank you for agreeing to see me, Mr Tack. I’ve spoken with your colleagues Robin and Victor and they’ve both been extremely helpful. Can you tell me how your paths crossed with Mr Winston-Moore and the things he did to upset or annoy you as he seems to have done with everyone who knew him? It seems a lot of people think he got what he deserved.”
“My, my, you really have been talking to people haven’t you? He was an extremely vile and nasty piece of work. All I can say is, if you’ve got a list of people who would have liked to see some harm come to him it would probably stretch from here to Edinburgh. But if you’re asking in a roundabout way if I had anything to do with his death the answer is no. Sure, I disliked him intensely for all the things he did but I wouldn’t stoop to murder.”
“Can you tell me what he did to you to really upset you?”
“How long have you got? Look, you probably know the main thing. You seem switched on. I had a fling, if you can call it that with Mrs Swinton, the lady who runs the old-style tearooms at Swinton’s auction rooms. Peter found us in a compromising position in her stockroom. She’s a very attractive woman and very open and it just happened. He was there snooping around. We didn’t see him but he used his phone to film us having sex across a table in her stockroom. He said unless I paid him every month he would show my wife. I called his bluff but it didn’t work. He sent her a copy and the result was she left me and filed for divorce. Once I had a nice little business with a property worth a small fortune and fully paid for. What with the divorce, I now have half a shop and a large mortgage with the bank, and my wife and kids no longer speak to me. All thanks to Peter. So if you ask me would I have liked to see someone give him his just desserts then the answer would be yes. But if you ask me if I had the guts to murder him then I’d have to plead to being a coward and say no.
“And before you ask me about Mrs Swinton, the only reason he didn’t go after her is because her husband probably has an idea what she’s like. I’m sure I wasn’t the first and I’m equally sure I won’t be the last. And besides, that café just about pays its way. She doesn’t have any money to pay him and as you’re aware, she’s not his type.
“It may have been Norman who killed him or it may have been one of the dozens of dealers he crossed over the years. Many of them were around for the art and antiques fair. I’d guess about half of them would’ve had a motive to see some harm come to him. If it wasn’t Norman and you find who did it, please give them my thanks. As far as I’m concerned it couldn’t have happened to a more deserving person.”
As with the two previous dealers James sat and chatted for a few minutes, seeing if Francis’s mannerisms and tone changed.
It seemed a lot of people hated the victim and the list of suspects was wasn’t getting any shorter. All he could do was to drive back to Trentbridge and get a good night’s sleep and prepare for tomorrow when he intended to speak with members of staff at the hotel and see if any of them had noticed anything.
As a former police detective with all his years of experience he knew that even the most challenging case usually came down to one lucky break.
Chapter Thirty-Two
DS Carla Parsons had been the first to arrive for work and was going through the overnight incidents when she spotted something she thought would be of interest to her colleague, Eden Gold.
As he walked through the door twenty minutes later, she greeted him. “Morning, Eden. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate at the moment but we’ve just had a report come through from a Stavros Kappas who runs the Greek Taverna restaurant. He’s reported someone paying their bill with forged twenty-pound notes. He said they were paid by three Irishman, possibly travellers. I took a quick look at the description he gave and the name Kevin O’Connor sprung into my mind.”
“Thanks, Carla. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s involved. Send the details over to me. I’ve been considering a vi
sit to see Kevin regarding the Five Bells attack. I’ll stop by the restaurant on my way and get a statement. The more stuff I can hit O’Connor with, the better as far as I’m concerned. Could you check CCTV between the two locations for me?”
Eden knocked on his boss’s office door, which had been slightly open and walked in.
“Morning, Andy. I was just preparing to go and see Kevin O’Connor and his sons about the Five Bells attack when this came in. It’s a report from a restaurant. Three Irish men gave the owner nine fake twenty-pound notes for a meal they had last Wednesday. The time ties in with the attack at the Five Bells. I’ve got Carla checking to see if we have any CCTV of them in the area. I just thought I’d keep you up to date.”
“Mmmm. The wonderful O’Connor family. How are you thinking of approaching them? Do you want uniformed back up?”
“My thought was to go with Tracy. Make it a low-key visit. Just a chat and see how he reacts. I’ll go and see the restaurant owner first just to make sure before I visit Fen Road. The more I have to hit him with the better.”
Everyone in Trentbridge was aware of Fen Road and its reputation for trouble. Most of it stemmed from the two legal travellers’ sites and many more that were illegal. It ran alongside the River Stern on the outskirts of Pickstone, regarded as the worst area of Trentbridge. Much of the land had been in the hands of traveller families for generations. There were a lot of large privately owned properties especially on the side of the road that backed on to the water. Over the years there had been rumours of bodies buried beneath the old car breakers’ yard or under concrete in the industrial estates that had been built but nothing had ever been proven. It was an area you didn’t visit unless you really had to. Day and night there would be a constant stream of brand new expensive cars coming and going. Nobody knew where the money came from except many of the commercial vehicles seen around were sign written with the names of Landscaping and Driveway Tarmacking companies. If you were smart you didn’t ask questions.
Kevin O’Connor and his family owned a large site next to the Two Oaks Caravan Park.
Eden had already worked out the night the fake twenty-pound notes were used at the Greek restaurant was the same night that Barry Turner was attacked and also the night Peter Winston-Moore and Oliver Varney had been there and Oliver had mentioned in his statement about three men taking a keen interest in the highly valuable painting Peter was boasting about, that had gone missing from his room at the time of his murder. To realise Kevin O’Connor might be involved in it didn’t surprise Eden in the least. And although O’Connor had never been convicted of murder, if you’d asked most detectives on the force they would tell you he was more than capable.
Eden thought it best not to mention this to his boss as he would probably be told to leave it alone. As far as DCI Andy Stone was concerned the case was closed and Norman Gentle was as guilty as sin.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“Thank you for taking the time to see us, Mr Kappas. I'm Detective Inspector Eden Gold and this is my colleague Detective Sergeant Tracy Archer.”
They held up their identity cards but the restaurant owner didn't bother to examine them. “We're investigating several cases that may or may not be linked. First of all, you phoned the police station regarding three men you say paid you with fake twenty-pound notes. Can you confirm which night that was?”
“It was Wednesday of last week.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I certainly recall that night. I had a group of three men. They ate my finest food and most expensive wines, and then paid me, actually my waitress Katrina, with fake twenty-pound notes. A total of £180. Irish travellers, I expect.”
“Now, as I mentioned we have cases we think are linked. One of them is the murder of a man at the Albion Hotel last Friday morning and we believe he dined here on the same Wednesday evening with a young friend. We believe he made a booking. His name is Peter Winston-Moore.”
“Yes. I don’t need to look at the bookings. I recall the two gentlemen. One was in his fifties and the younger man was in his mid-twenties. They seemed very close, if you know what I mean.”
Eden Gold ignored the tone of his comment. “Do you recall any of the other customers? Did anyone stand out?”
“No. The other customers all seemed like normal couples or families. Apart from the three Irish travellers.”
“Can you remember where they were seated in relation to the other two gentlemen?”
“Yes, the three men were sitting right here, and the two other men were seated just there, a few feet away. But I don't think they spoke or knew each other. Well, not that I noticed. I could ask Katrina, the waitress.”
“Do you think it would have been possible for the three men to overhear the other men’s conversation? Was the restaurant noisy?”
“Not especially that night. We have music some nights but not on a Wednesday. I think it would have been easy to overhear if you really wanted to. The older man did most of the talking and he was not particularly quiet. I did hear some of the things he was saying. I cannot recall anything specific but yes I'm sure they could have heard. Is that important?”
“It could be. Is there anything more you can think of? Have you ever seen any of the people before?”
“Not really. I think I may have seen one of the three men in the town before but I'm not sure. I just know I'm a lot of money out of pocket. They are not the sort of men you approach and ask if they gave you fake money if you know what I mean.”
“I completely understand. Probably very wise. Okay, thank you for your time. By the way, why did it take you a few days before you reported the fake notes?”
“I thought there was no point really. I knew I wouldn’t get my money back. I did consider trying to spend them at Tesco's. But then if these men had conned me they are probably doing the same to other people. So I phoned you.”
“Thank you, Mr Kappas. It was very wise of you not to try to spend the money. You could have got yourself into a lot of trouble. By the way, I've eaten in your restaurant and the food is excellent. Hopefully I'll see you again soon.”
“Yes. You'll be most welcome. Please call in again anytime.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
The day after his visit to London to interview the antique dealers James Sheldon walked into the Albion Hotel. He found Diane Dempsey the hotel assistant manager sitting behind the reception desk. She was on the phone.
“No, madam, I’m sorry but we don’t allow dogs in the hotel rooms at the moment. It is something we are considering for the future. You could try the Milton Motel. I know they allow pets. Thank you. Goodbye.”
She replaced the phone and looked up as if expecting to see a guest then smiled as it became clear she realised who was standing in front of her.
“Hello, Diane. How are you after the trauma and what with Jonathan away on holiday? How have you coped?
“Hello, Mr Sheldon. After the initial shock it’s all been fine. Everyone has rallied round. George Leeman is over his flu and is back at work. He’s been a real treasure. He got rid of all the newspaper reporters and photographers and once they had gone the place returned to normal quite quickly.”
“That’s good. I wonder if you can find someone to take over reception for a few minutes and we can have a quick chat. Say for around ten minutes or so?”
Diane found Belinda who worked part-time in the office and often staffed reception. James and Diane went through to the bar and found a quiet table in the corner. She brought the cup of green tea she had brewed earlier in her left hand, and she and James sat down.
“So, you’re aware that before I won the Lotto and bought the hotel I was a police detective. Nowadays I leave the running of this place in the capable hands of Jonathan and people like you. I’m a partner in a local private detective agency. I’ve been retained by the man accused of the murder to try to prove his innocence, despite what the police say.”
“Oh, how exciting. I watch all the
CSI and detective TV shows. You know once I saw the body I didn’t touch anything and closed the door so no one else could disturb the crime scene. I’d love to help if I can. What do you need to know?”
“Tell me anything you know about Mr Winston-Moore. Was this the first time he stayed here and when and how did he book the room?”
“I’m pretty sure this was his third time. I think Dawn mentioned he first came two years ago and also I think last year. He may even have stayed here before that but no one would remember. The turnover of staff, you understand. I’ve been here just over two years. The only people who have worked here longer than me are Dawn and Wayne, the chef. I’m not sure if you’re aware that as well as being the housekeeper, Dawn also works on reception three days a week in the afternoons and some evenings for the overtime.
“Anyway. We were chatting about him, Mr Winston-Moore. The last time he came he was in his Bentley. That’s why we remembered him. We don’t get many guests in cars like that. Oh, we get a lot of the usual Mercedes, Range Rovers but cars like Bentleys and Rolls Royce you tend to remember. You know the police removed it from the car park on Saturday, don’t you?
“Yes I do.”
