A Killing in the Family

by David W Robinson

  Less than five minutes later, he turned in through the main gates and plodded down the straight drive. He had his arguments prepared. They were thin, but at least he would be able to fight back against Driscoll’s inevitable anger.

  And as he climbed out of his car and walked to the house, he promised himself he would never pull this kind of stunt again.

  Chapter Thirteen

  In the privacy of Sir Douglas’s study, Joe prepared himself for Driscoll letting rip.

  As he had anticipated, the inspector’s temper exploded the moment Joe entered the house and handed over the contents of the large envelope. Driscoll snapped orders at Hollis to find and detain Rodney Asquith, then had a screaming fit at Joe, who, after securing a bottle of chilled water from Alistair, told Driscoll in no uncertain terms to shut it until they could speak in private, at which point the inspector dragged him off to the old man’s study.

  Once seated, Driscoll in the superior position behind the larger workstation, the policeman did not disappoint. “Before I start to think about anything else, you are guilty of withholding evidence, leaving the scene of a crime without reporting your whereabouts to a police officer, and… and… Well, I’m sure I can come up with other charges and, when I do, I’ll throw the bleeding lot at you. Hell’s bells, man, if I’d known about these faked documents, I could have had him under arrest yesterday, and we’d probably have her under lock and key, too.”

  Joe said nothing. He felt his anger bubbling away just under the surface, and there was danger it would explode again. But Driscoll was so livid that such an outburst may be all that was necessary for the inspector to actually charge him. It was better, Joe felt, to let the man get his fury out of the way.

  “I warned you, didn’t I? When I first got here on Saturday morning, I warned you to keep your bloody nose out of it. Why the hell don’t you listen to people, Murray?”

  Still Joe said nothing.

  “For all we know, this bint could be out of the country.”

  “She could have been out of the country before you got here yesterday morning,” Joe told him.

  It was a valid observation. The latest she could have disappeared was 3.15 in the morning, and Driscoll had not turned up until gone seven.

  The truth it might be, but it was not the wisest thing Joe could have said. Driscoll took the opportunity to unleash further venom upon him. “Unlike you amateur muppets, I don’t only have the one case. I have other duties. I got here as quick as I could.”

  Joe had heard enough. He had planned to bring Driscoll round to his way of thinking slowly, but the accusation of being an ‘amateur muppet’ stung. “Like every other case I’ve been involved in the only amateurs I see are in uniform… or in your case plain clothes.”

  “Now, look—”

  “No, you look. Sir Douglas called me in on the strict understanding that the police were not to be involved. I found evidence that Rodney Asquith was scamming them. Evidence, not proof. Katya Nolan had that evidence hidden away. Why? Because she was in on the scam, that’s why. And what does it have to do with the attack on the old man? Bugger all. Or at least, bugger all that you can prove. Considering they were ripping him off, they needed him alive. All right, so Rodney stands to inherit if Sir Douglas dies, but that will is so fresh the ink isn’t dry, and I’m sure the family would contest it. Killing Sir Douglas doesn’t guarantee him anything. Until yesterday, I didn’t know Rodney was pulling a fast one, so if I’d brought it to you, all he had to do was deny it, and accuse Katya of pulling the scam, which he probably still will do. And that’s difficult to refute when you don’t know where the hell she is. And because she’s disappeared, it makes Rodney’s case all the stronger. Even now we don’t know. That’s why Maddy is still out there trying to put it all together. Face it, Driscoll, you have nothing. Even with the evidence I’ve given you, you can’t charge him.”

  “I can hold him on suspicion.”

  “For how long? Forty-eight hours? And if you want an extension, you’re going to need hard evidence. I just said, didn’t I, the bits I’ve given you prove nothing. No member of the family has complained about him trying to scam them, so you’d be on thin ice trying to make that stick. If you could put it to Sir Douglas he’d tell you to mind your own business and he’d refuse to press charges. You should know the Ballantynes. They’re paranoid about bad publicity. What could you do then? Nothing. Use your head, man. Let me help you dig, because I know where I’m looking. I just don’t know what it is I’m looking for.”

  “Well we’re in the same boat, aren’t we?”

  On Driscoll’s final announcement, a grumbling silence fell between them. Joe took a long sip of his water and stared at the safe.

  “Did Toby give you the original threatening letters?”

  Driscoll nodded with a grunt. “Nothing unusual on them. The old man’s dabs, Toby’s and some smudged ones which look like Katya’s. And we’re only assuming they’re hers because we’ve found similar on other equipment which we know she handled.”

  “Sounds about right. If anyone was going to set it up, it would be her.” Joe’s frown deepened. “Why warn him? Huh? Why send those notes? If you’re gonna bump him off, you just do it. You don’t warn him in advance.”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  More silence. Joe decided it was more unnerving than the shouting. “Are you taking Asquith down the station?”

  “Not yet. Half our people are out on the moors with the burned out car, the other half are here, and the other half are looking after routine policing.”

  “That’s three halves.”

  “Shows you how stretched we are, then, doesn’t it? I’ll keep Asquith under house arrest here until I can speak to him. First off, I have to decide what I’m gonna ask. I’ll also need a word with Toby. Pressure him into pressing charges.”

  “No chance,” Joe declared. Taking another swallow from the bottle, he considered his words carefully, and eventually, went on, “Do me a favour, Driscoll, and hear me out before you shout me down. Let me have a go at him. You don’t have to make it formal. No recording, no statement, just let me throw a few questions at him.”

  The inspector snorted. “Why? What good do you think that will do? What good do you think you can do?”

  “You’d be surprised. I’ve done it before, and it’s amazing what people will say when they know it’s informal, and the police can’t back it up. Not that they ever confess, but often, they’ll say something which points you in a specific direction. And get this, because it’s not recorded, he can protest to his lawyer later, but you can deny the conversation ever took place.”

  Driscoll’s eyebrows rose. “And you’ve done this before?”

  Joe nodded slowly, his thoughts on Filey and Lincoln, two cases where he had done exactly that.

  “He could say enough to incriminate himself?” Driscoll asked.

  “Or clear himself.”

  The angry scowl turned more vicious and Driscoll’s eyes narrowed on Joe like tiny darts ready to impale him. “I don’t want him to clear himself. Now that I have this, I know he did it.” He gestured at the large envelope. “I just want to prove it.”

  “Even if he’s innocent?”

  “He’s not bloody innocent.” Driscoll was raising his voice again.

  “You don’t know that. You’re just assuming it.” Joe leaned forward to press his point. “As far as I’m concerned he’s guilty of trying to scam the family. And I can’t even prove that. Personally, I think he’s up to his wedding tackle in the whole circus, but I don’t think he planted the knife in Sir Douglas’s shoulder. I didn’t think it was Katya, either, but now I’m not so sure. If Asquith knows she’s leaving him to carry the can, he may just say something, but not while you don’t have proof.”

  “And how do you know he didn’t stab the old boy?”

  “I was fastest out of the room when the siren went off. At that time, Rodney was at the far end of the landing. He could no
t have got that far from Sir Douglas’s room to turn round and come back. But I’m sure he knows more about it than he’s letting on. Let me have a go at him.”

  Driscoll sneered again. “Get real, Murray. I have community support officers who can work that one out. I did a reconstruction this morning with my sergeant, and there are ways Nolan could have got away out of your sight. But now that I know Asquith was scamming these people, there’s an even simpler explanation. Where were you when the siren went off? Your room. It sounded as if it came from across the landing, but it didn’t because it wasn’t the old man who let the siren go, it was Asquith, and he had the siren with him at the end of the landing. When he joined you it was in his dressing gown pocket, and when you thought he bent to pick it up, he actually took it out of his pocket.”

  Joe spent a long time considering the possibility, and he had to acknowledge it, but it still did not persuade him. “I don’t accept it. You need to take in the big picture, Driscoll. Even if he isn’t a Ballantyne, Asquith is certainly a nurse. I saw him with that wound. He knew what he was doing, and he was the one who reported to the paramedics. Now explain this. He knows exactly where to stab the old man to make sure he’s dead, yet he stabs him in the shoulder. Why? Because Sir Douglas fought back and a part of that fight, was blasting the air horn. The attacker knocked it from his hand, which is why Rodney found it on the floor. The noise panicked the intruder into running for it.” Recalling the number of times he had run the various scenarios through his head, Joe grunted. “Yes, and this is the fourth different explanation I’ve thought up for it.”

  “So you don’t know either.”

  “In truth, no I don’t. None of it makes any sense. You can answer one set of questions or the other, but not both.”

  “All right, try this, then. Asquith and Nolan are working together. She’s already gone. He attacks the old man and stabs him in the shoulder. He knows it won’t kill him, but he’s confident the old boy will bleed to death. He goes to the end of the corridor, lets the siren off then comes back to help you, leaving all of us, you, me, half the British police, looking for Katya Nolan.”

  Again Joe considered it and found it not beyond the bounds of possibility. But he was not completely persuaded. “Then how come he did such a good job of saving the old boy’s life? He could have botched the job while we were waiting for the paramedics and made sure Douglas died.”

  Driscoll shrugged. “Getting himself in the old boy’s good books. Laying the blame on her, and looking for an even bigger payout?”

  Joe shook his head. “No. That’s not the answer. The only way he’ll get his hands on the millions is if Sir Douglas dies, and Asquith went out of his way to make sure that didn’t happen. Driscoll, all Asquith has to do is keep his trap shut, which he will unless and until you can come up with concrete evidence against him.”

  “Well, I know where to get that.” Driscoll picked up his phone and punched in a series of numbers. “Hollis? Ted Driscoll. Get onto forensics. I want the fingerprint report on the air horn. And when you’ve done that, get Asquith in here.” He cut the connection. “Five minutes, Murray. I’ll give you five minutes with him. No longer.”

  ***

  Despite the shock of his sudden arrest, Rodney Asquith appeared cool and collected when Hollis led him into the study.

  Joe was not fooled. Like a swan swimming on a river, under the surface, he knew that the young man would be on edge, careful to choose his words, ultra-careful not to incriminate himself.

  He was seated opposite both Joe and the inspector. Hollis brought tea for them, and then left after assuring them that there was a constable on duty outside the door.

  “Right, Asquith,” Driscoll began. “This little tête à tête is off the record. We’re not recording it, we’re not taking notes and you don’t have to answer Murray’s questions, but I’m warning you, if you don’t, I will ask them again under caution at some stage. You understand?”

  “Perfectly,” Rodney replied. “What I don’t understand is why I’m being questioned at all. I’m completely innocent.”

  “Now, you and I both know that’s not true,” Joe told him. “You’re a fake. You’re no more a Ballantyne than I am. I’ve given the inspector a second set of documents which I found amongst Katya’s possessions, and they prove it.”

  Rodney sipped his tea and shook his head. “Those are the fakes. Mine are genuine.”

  Joe shrugged and putting aside his bottle of water, he, too, took a sip of tea. “Watch much TV, do you?”

  The question puzzled Rodney. For a moment he was silent. “A little. I don’t get much time, to be honest. Shift work. You know how it is.”

  “I do. I have to crawl out of bed at five every morning, so I don’t have the time to watch a lot of telly, either.” Leaning back in his chair, Joe put on a forced air of nonchalance. “You won’t know about Maddy Chester, then?”

  “I’ve heard of her. One of those daytime bimbos who clog the screen up.”

  While Joe would have accepted the term ‘bimbo’ to describe many of the modern TV celebrities, its use in connection with Maddy irritated him. “Yes, well, this particular bimbo is a personal friend of mine. I’ll tell you something else, too. She’s a genealogist. Just like your friend Katya.”

  Rodney maintained his implacable calm. “Well bully for her.”

  “She’s a handy lady,” Joe went on, again quelling his instinctive annoyance. “See, when we found that second set of documents, Maddy volunteered to backtrack on Katya’s work. And when we couldn’t get an answer from the fake solicitor’s number, she decided to drive off down there and confront the Immerman woman in person. And guess what? No such solicitor. Just an office which you and Sir Douglas visited, but which was empty before that visit, and is empty again. In fact, it’s been vacant since forever. Now how long do you figure it’ll take the cops to find Immerman, or the woman who played her? She must be someone from your past, and I reckon a few inquiries at the hospital where you work, plus a little digging at Descant Laboratories should expose the whole scam.”

  Rodney’s aplomb wavered before he forced it back into place. “I, er, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You’re good. I’ll give you that. Either that or you’re in complete denial.” Joe laughed and leaned forward again, jabbing his finger into the desktop to emphasise his words. “You set out to defraud the Ballantyne family after you learned that Sir Douglas had had an affair with your mother about nine months before you were born. When Katya followed up, she learned the truth, but instead of letting Sir Douglas know, she saw an opportunity to make some serious corn. She pressured you into cutting her in on the scam. If you refused, she would rat on you.”

  This time the façade broke. “I did not attack Sir Douglas. I was at the end of the corridor when you came out of your room.”

  “With the air horn in your dressing gown pocket,” Driscoll insisted.

  “No. I picked the air horn up when I was in the bedroom. He saw me.” Rodney pointed at Joe.

  “I saw you bend down, I saw you come back up with the canister, but for all I know, you could have pulled it from your pocket.”

  “I didn’t do it.” The calm, which had personified his demeanour when he was first shown in, was gone. He was a drowning man, and not far from total panic.

  Joe was pleased to see it, and relaxed again. “Why don’t you tell us everything? This is off the record, but obviously, you’ll need to repeat it under caution for Inspector Driscoll.”

  For a long time, Rodney stared around the room, repeatedly sighing. When he finally concentrated on them again he appeared close to tears.

  “I knew I should never have got involved. But it was so simple that I don’t know how it went so wrong. It wasn’t my idea. I knew nothing about the Ballantyne family. I didn’t even know they were from this area, and in any case, I was born and brought up in Birmingham. I only knew my mother was from Sabden because she told me. It was all Katya’s
idea.”

  “Interesting,” Driscoll observed. “It was all her idea, yet she’s done a runner? Doesn’t quite square, does it?”

  “You must believe me,” Rodney pleaded.

  “Try telling it like it is,” Joe suggested.

  Again there was a long silence, during which Rodney drank more tea, and looked around at the surroundings. Eventually, he put down his cup and saucer.

  “While she was digging into the Ballantyne past, she came across Sir Douglas’s affair with my mother. I was born about year later, not nine months, but Katya knew the old man couldn’t recall the exact dates, so it was easy for me to pass myself off as his illegitimate son. She’s good at her job, that girl. She traced my mother and through the Register of Deaths, tracked me down to the hospital where I work, and she put the scam to me. I wasn’t up for it. I may not be anyone special, but I’ve led a fairly honest life, and I work for my living. She pressured me and I began to see the sense of what she was saying. Do you know much I earn as a nurse? It’s not bad, but it’s not spectacular either. Here was an opportunity to make mega money, and all right so it was crooked, but Katya had it well-organised, and these Ballantyne bastards could afford it. So, she talked me into it. We were going to make a lot of money fast, and then disappear. She was in a better position than me. No one would even know about her part in it. All we needed was a fake DNA analysis, and she had a way of sorting that. Then we needed a fake office setting up, and someone to play the part of the lawyer. Katya and her friend arranged the office, and that same friend acted the part of the lawyer.”

  “So you didn’t know this Annabelle Immerman?” Driscoll asked.

  Asquith shook his head. “I met her, I think, three times, and the last time was with Sir Douglas. All I know is, she was a friend of Katya, and she lived north of Birmingham, and the office they hired was in Erdington, just off Spaghetti Junction.”