A Killing in the Family

by David W Robinson

  “Not easily, and perhaps not all of it, but yes, theoretically, it could be done. Tell me your thinking, Joe.”

  He took a long draught of his lager, and put the glass down, his glazed eyes staring at the pub entrance with its mock familiars and witch dolls suspended between the hanging baskets, and decorative cauldrons.

  “This thing is so complex, I’m not sure what to make of it,” he announced. “I think Rodney and Katya were in league, trying to scam the Ballantynes for a fortune. The old man told me he’s already handed over a quarter of a million to Rodney. So here’s how I see it. Katya has been in residence for six months or so, working on the family history. This girl has an eye to the main chance, and suddenly Rodney pops up claiming to be the long lost illegitimate son. All the checks are carried out and he’s kosher, but Katya is sent to follow up, and she learns he isn’t. It’s all a huge scam. So she twists Rodney’s arm and says, ‘cut me in or I go to Sir Douglas’. And Rodney agrees. You’re with me so far?”

  “Sound as a pound from my point of view,” Maddy agreed.

  “On the surface, yes, but start to dig in and it becomes shakier. How did Rodney get hold of the DNA report to fake it? How did Katya get hold of the real one? Did Rodney fake the birth certificate, and if so, how did Katya get a copy of the real one? And finally, who the hell was the fake solicitor, Annabelle Immerman? Sir Douglas and Rodney travelled to her office and met her, remember, and Dennis, the chauffeur can vouch for that.”

  “The birth certificate is irrelevant,” Maddy declared. “It says father unknown. It could be a copy of the genuine one in Sir Douglas’s safe.”

  “Okay.” Joe shrugged. “And the DNA report?”

  “More difficult,” Maddy said. “Someone must have had the original DNA report on Sir Douglas or they couldn’t fake it, and the blood samples were sent from a hospital, so that means it was probably done by an accredited laboratory. That will be so easy to check online. It means that Rodney had access to someone in the laboratory, and he was able to persuade him or her to fake the analysis. What price the person concerned and the fake solicitor are one and the same?”

  Joe whistled. “And what price he or she is Rodney’s girlfriend, even his wife? So how did Katya get hold of the real report?”

  “An excellent question, Joe, and one I can’t answer without confronting the girl, and since she’s disappeared…” Maddy let the idea hang in the air. “The solicitor thing is easy to set up, though. All you need is an office set-up and air of assuredness.”

  “According to the old man she had her diplomas and stuff hanging on the walls.”

  Maddy rode roughshod over Joe’s objection. “There are those people we trust implicitly. For instance, how long have you known your doctor?”

  Without the faintest idea why she was asking, Joe thought about it and replied, “I’d guess about twenty years. He took over after the last one retired.”

  “Two decades. Good. And when did you last see his qualifications?”

  “I, er, I don’t know that I have. He’s a Fellow of the Royal College of General Practitioners according to his rubber stamp.”

  “I can get a rubber stamp that reads Madeleine Chester, FRCGP for about a tenner. You haven’t seen his qualifications, Joe, because it never occurred to you to check them. And it’s the same with lawyers. We visit them in their offices and they have the various diplomas hanging on the walls, but we never look at them. For all we know, your lawyer may have put up his Cycling Proficiency Certificate in a frame. And in any case, I could fake the real thing on a computer inside a couple of hours. If this woman, this Immerman person, was pulling a scam with Rodney, all they had to do was rent an office for a day or two, kit it out properly, get Sir Douglas in, and once he falls for the scam, the solicitor and the office disappear. Oh, and they could have arranged a faked DNA analysis.”

  “And later, Katya finds out about it, and joins them.”

  “For all we know, Katya could have been in it from the start.”

  Joe shook his head. “I don’t think so. The old man came by her via one of his daughters. Hermione. How could she be sure that Hermione would recommend her? No, Maddy. I don’t like coincidences, but in this case, I think Katya came on board for the job she was hired to do, and when Rodney turned up a few months later, she saw her chance and took it. She was simply in the right place at the right time.”

  “Okay, let’s go from there. Why kill the old man? Or why try to kill him?”

  Again Joe considered the question while sipping at his lager. He put the glass down. “Rodney has his hands on a quarter of a million. He’s ready to cut and run when Katya applies pressure. He has to stay now to see the old man off and take a cut from the will, which won’t be the same as the other three get, but will still be worth millions.”

  Now Maddy paused, took a drink from her lemonade and nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

  “Except for a couple of things,” Joe argued. “Rodney doesn’t know he’s mentioned in the will. All right, so he could have second-guessed it. That aside, neither Katya nor Rodney could have done it. I mean it, Maddy. You don’t know how quickly I got to the window this morning.”

  She shook her head and her blonde curls swayed seductively about her face. “You’re not thinking straight, Joe. Where did you find the air horn?”

  “On the floor, far side of the bed from the window.”

  “All right. Let’s imagine Katya has already knifed the old man in the shoulder. She takes the air horn, climbs out onto the ladder, lets rip with the siren, throws it and then gets away. How much time has she gained?”

  The light dawned in Joe’s eyes. “She could have been down there, nipped along the wall of the house and been hiding round the corner. It was a good half hour before the ambulance arrived which is when I learned she wasn’t there. Her Mini-Cooper could have been there all along.”

  “Even if it wasn’t, that half hour would give her plenty of time to get out of the grounds to wherever she had it parked.”

  “She then moves it to the moors, torches it, and…” Joe trailed off. “So where is she?”

  “Didn’t you just say there had to be a third person involved?”

  “And that third party was waiting to get them both away. Damn. Why didn’t I think of this earlier?” He took another swig from his lager. “I’d better get this stuff back to Driscoll. He needs to be brought up to date on it.”

  “No. Don’t do that, Joe,” Maddy urged. “It won’t get you or them any closer to her. I think we should make our way to Manchester and the Maitland Hotel. Let’s see what they can tell us.”

  Joe was dubious. “You’re hoping we can track down this solicitor-stroke-analyst?”

  “Over the weekend, no chance. Monday, yes. Right now all I’m interested in—”

  “We don’t have until Monday,” Joe interrupted. “Katya and whoever the other party is, are getting further and further away, and we need something to kick the cops up the backside. Get them to move. I have to bring them up to speed.”

  “Have you tried ringing her? The solicitor, I mean.”

  Joe was flustered. “I, er, well… to be honest I don’t have a number for her and I don’t really want to ask Rodney. It may put him on his guard.” He chewed the problem over in his mind. “I could ask Toby. All the documents relating to Rodney are in Sir Douglas’s safe, and Toby is the only other person with the code. The old man showed me a letter from this Immerman woman, and I’m sure her number will be on it.” He chewed his lip. “But that doesn’t mean the number will be genuine.

  “Won’t the police have sealed the room off?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” Joe shrugged. “I don’t see why they should. It’s not like the crime took place there.”

  “Well, I tell you what. Manchester is how far from here? Thirty miles? Why don’t we jump into my car and drive down there. See if anyone at the Maitland knows who this girl met there in May.”

  Joe laughed and he was certain Ma
ddy picked up the nervousness in the laughter. “They’re not gonna tell you.”

  “Never underestimate the power of a TV presenter. I told you, I’ve stayed at the Maitland a few times, and they know me there. Come on. Drink up and we’ll take a drive to sunny Manchester.”

  Joe stayed her. “Let me get in touch with Toby first.” He took out his mobile and dialled. A moment later he was through. “Toby, it’s Joe. I’m with Maddy in Sabden, and I need a favour. The solicitor who confirmed Rodney’s, er, bona fides. Annabelle Immerman. I need her telephone number, and the name of the DNA laboratory. They’re amongst the bits and pieces in your father’s safe. Can you get it and text it through to me?”

  “You’re looking to prove Rodney is a fake? I knew it. I damn well knew it.”

  “Keep your Y-fronts on, lad,” Joe advised. “I’m not doing anything of the kind. I’m looking into Katya’s work as I said I would, and that visit to Birmingham was a part of it. Now will you get me the number?”

  “Leave it with me. I’ll send it in a few minutes.”

  Joe put the phone away and beamed on Maddy. “There you go. Done deal.”

  She got to her feet. “Come on, then. Let’s hit the big city.”

  ***

  After opening the safe in his father’s study, Toby sat a few minutes reading through the three threatening letters, then spent a further twenty minutes looking through the correspondence and Katya’s report on Rodney.

  He had never believed that Rodney was related. He was convinced that the man was simply a fortune hunter playing on the fact that Sir Douglas had had a fling with his mother. Toby was also convinced that his foolish father had been so flattered by fond and distant memories of lusty afternoons spent with Frances Asquith that he was too ready to believe Rodney’s story.

  Katya’s report was, at best, skimpy. Her explanation at the time had been that she had too little time to do a thorough job, but Toby had always believed that she had simply disappeared for a day or two and made it all up. His father, typically, would not accept that, and Katya was paid a bonus of £1,000 for the work. Easy money to her, or so Toby thought at the time. With the attack on his father, he had changed his mind. Without one shred of proof, he now believed that Katya and Rodney were working together, and that plan involved murdering the old man in the hope of taking a slice of the family fortune from the will.

  Likewise, he did not believe Joe’s excuse for wanting the solicitor’s number. True, he had warmed to the little Yorkshireman, but he believed Joe also suspected collusion between Rodney and Katya. He simply did not want to commit himself at this stage.

  Toby had no such qualms. He had not succeeded his father as head of the largest, privately owned mail order company in the country without developing the necessary courage for confrontation. He was just as ready to fight off strangers wheedling their way into the family as tackling hostile competitors.

  His anger growing, he texted the solicitor’s number and the name of the DNA laboratory to Joe, then collecting everything together, he photocopied it, and finally left the study and marched to the drawing room, where he found most of the family in mufti, and Sergeant Hollis sat at the escritoire, cataloguing evidence and statements.

  “You’re holding work produced by Katya Nolan.”

  “Yes, Mr Ballantyne.”

  “Well before it goes for analysis, I’d like to photocopy it.”

  Hollis was clearly taken back. “I’m sorry, sir, but that won’t be possible. It’s already gone to the station for forensic checks.”

  “And how long before it comes back here?”

  “I’m not sure, sir. A few days, I should think.”

  Toby leaned over the sergeant. “Now listen to me. You know just how important the Ballantynes are in this area. My father numbers the Chief Constable and the Lord Lieutenant of the County amongst his personal friends. Much of that work is highly confidential, and if anything should happen to it, sergeant, I shall hold you responsible. If I were you, I’d get onto the station and tell them to photocopy it before they start poking around, looking for fingerprints or DNA or whatever it is they do. And I want that copy back here, pronto.”

  The sergeant swallowed hard. “I’ll do that right away, sir.”

  “Good. And while you’re at it, you’d better take these.” He handed over the threatening notes. “I only learned of them a little while ago. Apparently my father received them anonymously a week or two back. I’m sure you’ll find Katya Nolan’s fingerprints all over them.”

  ***

  Built in the early years of the 20th century, constructed of dressed stone, while the exterior of the Maitland Hotel may not have looked much different from the old cotton mills for which the city was famous, the interior was the last word in opulence, as Joe discovered when he followed Maddy into the place. Huge chandeliers dominated an intricate and ornate, alabaster ceiling, a broad, carpeted staircase curved its way up to the upper floors, and the oak reception counter gleamed with a polish to match the commissionaire’s boots.

  Joe had stayed in hotels as classy as the Maitland on many occasions, but as he sat back in reception and Maddy approached the counter, he felt uncomfortable.

  “This place needs the arrogance of a TV presenter,” she had warned him when she left her car in the hotel’s underground parking area. “Leave the talking to me.”

  He felt like a kept man as he waited for her to complete negotiations with the counter clerk, and Joe was used to being in control.

  She was at the counter for quite some time, and once or twice the clerk had to wander off to arrange something for her. At length, she returned to Joe, and smiled on him.

  “I told you, didn’t I? The power of TV. They’re speaking with the maître d’ to arrange a table in the restaurant. It should only be a few minutes.”

  “You will let me pay,” Joe insisted.

  “Good god, no. I’ll charge it to expenses. The TV company will pay. Now don’t be awkward about this, Joe. I’m having fun and the channel can afford it.” She sat alongside him, and patted his knee. “You were right about one thing. They wouldn’t go into details about that receipt.”

  “Told you.”

  “So you did. But when I threatened them with full exposure on a reality show, they buckled slightly. Not much, but it might be useful.”

  “Oh. And?”

  “That bill was paid with a company credit card.”

  A light of joy lit in Joe’s head. He had entertained the notion earlier, which was why he had asked Serena about using the card, but he had not expected it to bear fruit. He sought confirmation from Maddy. “And the company in question was Ballantyne Distribution.”

  “Got it in one.”

  Joe stood up. “We’d better get back to Sabden and tell the cops.”

  “No way,” Maddy insisted. “They can wait until tomorrow.”

  “Maddy—”

  “Joe, I’ve just booked a double room for us for the night. Don’t let me down now.”

  ***

  Sheila and Brenda were enjoying the afternoon sun, watching Quentin practice his swing, when Inspector Driscoll got back. He appeared from the house, having walked through, and made straight for them.

  “Where the hell is your boyfriend?” he demanded.

  “I don’t have a boyfriend,” Sheila snapped, “and I’ll thank you not to take that tone with me.”

  Brenda was a little softer, but more sarcastic. “My boyfriend? Which one? Most of them are in Sanford. Do you want their phone numbers? Only I must warn you, not many of them are interested in men.”

  The twin attacks drove the already-exasperated Driscoll to the point of total confusion. “What are you on about? I’m talking about Murray.”

  “Joe Murray is not my boyfriend,” Sheila told him.

  “And he was one of mine, but we called it quits about a year ago.”

  Driscoll clenched and unclenched his fists. “God give me strength.”

  “It’s brains yo
u should be asking God for, not strength,” Brenda observed. “If you want to know where Joe is, then ask.”

  Driscoll let his breath out in a large sigh. “Where – is – Murray?” He punctuated the question with deliberate spaces. “I just asked my sergeant, and he hasn’t seen him all afternoon.”

  “He went into the village to meet a friend,” Sheila reported. “That was about five to one.”

  Driscoll was suddenly nonplussed. “He left? Without reporting to my officers?”

  “I don’t think he knew he wasn’t supposed to,” Brenda said, leaving the policeman to wade through the plethora of negatives to ascertain her precise meaning. “Why do you want him?”

  Driscoll’s venom became even more acid. “He was bloody right, wasn’t he?”

  “He usually is. What was he right about this time?”

  “The report on Katya Nolan’s car reached the Fire Service at two this morning. The attack on old man Ballantyne didn’t happen until turned three. That means she shifted and torched the car earlier, just like he said.”

  “That is typical Joe,” Sheila said. “And now you want to know what else he might know that could be of use to you?”

  “Something like that, yes. Who’s this friend and where are they meeting?”

  “Maddy Chester and The Coven Inn, in that order.” Brenda checked her watch. “But that was over four hours ago, and I can’t see them hanging about that long, which means they’ve probably sneaked off somewhere else for a bit of how’s your father.”

  “I’ll check anyway, but if you see him before me, tell him I’d like a word, would you?”

  “Of course,” Sheila agreed, “But a word to the wise, Inspector. Snap like that at Joe and you’ll find that not only can he bite, but he has this remarkable ability to make you look two feet tall.”

  They watched Driscoll storm back into the house.

  “I wonder where Joe and Maddy are,” Sheila said.

  “The Maitland Hotel, Manchester,” Brenda replied, and when Sheila raised inquiring eyebrows, she took out her phone. “He sent me a text.”

  She accessed the message and passed the phone to her best friend.