Fatal Love

by Michael Patterson

  Jenny started to laugh. ‘That’s not what I heard.’

  Under normal circumstances Tom might start to get defensive about such a comment, but with Jenny he had found that was never the case. He always came away from seeing her in a much happier frame of mind.

  ‘To answer your question, though,’ she said, ‘we seem to be getting on really well together. But, as I told you the last time you asked, it’s still early days.’ She paused before adding, with a bit more seriousness in her voice, ‘Sometimes it’s difficult for him to unwind, especially when there is a big investigation going on. I can almost see his mind still thinking about it.’

  Tom resisted the temptation to say that it came with the territory and that, based on his own experience, it was only likely to get worse as his career progressed. Instead he simply said, ‘That’s why he’s such a good copper. You never know, it might be him’ – pointing towards Superintendent Birch’s office – ‘sitting in that office someday.’

  Coincidentally, the very same door then opened, and Superintendent Birch appeared. ‘Morning, Tom. Good to see you. Please come in.’

  Tom followed him into the office, followed in turn by Jenny carrying the coffee tray. She placed it on the large table and then walked back out, although not before giving Tom a final friendly smile.

  ‘I understand your missing person investigation has now turned into a murder investigation,’ Superintendent Birch said.

  ‘Yes, unfortunately, that’s right,’ Tom replied, before giving him a brief update.

  ‘Any significant leads so far?’

  ‘Not at the moment, although we do have a number of different things we are pursuing. It seems there are several people he has come into contact with recently who didn’t especially like him, but that, of course, doesn’t mean that they would murder him. One thing all this has done, however, is expose me to the world of golf. I always thought it was something elderly men did after they had retired, but it would seem that’s not the case.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Superintendent Birch.

  Tom suddenly had a thought. ‘You’re not a golfer yourself, are you, sir?’

  ‘Actually, I am,’ he answered. ‘I’ve been playing for over twenty years. It’s something I really look forward to. It seems to help me relax. And as far as I know I haven’t retired yet.’

  ‘Well, according to Mrs Burton, his golf did exactly the opposite and he often came back more stressed than when he left.’

  Superintendent Birch started to laugh. ‘Actually, that’s true as well. You have to understand that all golfers are masochists. Otherwise why would we return every week to put ourselves through the same stressful few hours? I have yet to meet any golfer, amateur or professional, who doesn’t still, at least occasionally, beat themselves up after playing a round of golf. Sometimes the feeling lasts until you get the chance to play again. Even then you never fully know what’s going to happen. In fact, with golf, you never quite know what’s going to happen from one shot to the next.’

  ‘So why do you still play?’ Tom asked, genuinely interested.

  ‘Because we like to. It’s that simple. It’s the thought that, one day – just one day – you will have the perfect round,’ he answered, almost wistfully. ‘But I accept it’s difficult for non- golfers to understand that.’

  ‘Strange,’ replied Tom, still struggling to understand the logic. ‘What I have found out, though, is that being a member of a golf club is much more than just playing the game. Infidelity, high finance, envy and jealousy all seem to be there. Well, at least at the West London Golf Club.’

  ‘I suspect that they are far from being the exception,’ answered Superintendent Birch.

  For a moment, Tom thought about asking him to explain, but instead he said, ‘Anyway, I’ll keep you updated. Although, if I need to learn more about the goings-on at golf clubs, I now know who to speak with.’

  Taking Tom’s lead, Superintendent Birch then said, ‘You asked to speak with me. Nothing serious, I hope. It seems, just lately, when you ask to speak, it’s never about anything mundane.’

  ‘Well, there’s always a first time and I think today is that day,’ replied Tom, in an equally light tone of voice. ‘I just wanted to ask if it would be okay if I took some more time off. I wouldn’t normally, especially after just returning from holiday, but something has cropped up at home which means I will need to be around.’

  Although Superintendent Birch had not been in charge of the station for too long, he did know Tom’s reputation for being a real workaholic. ‘Is everything okay?’ he asked, his earlier joviality now replaced with concern.

  ‘Everything is fine,’ Tom answered. ‘It’s just that my son Paul and his family will be visiting the UK soon and I would like to spend time with them before they return to Australia.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Tom, but I didn’t know you had a son. I knew you had been married but not that you had family.’

  So Tom told him about his family. In fact, he found himself perhaps saying more than he had intended. He told him about the failed marriage. He told him about how his ex-wife had then taken their son to live in Australia and that he hadn’t seen Paul since that time. He told him how it had been Mary who had established contact with his son. He even told him just how apprehensive he was feeling about seeing Paul, after so much time had gone by.

  As he did this he suddenly realised that, even though he was now in his mid-fifties, he didn’t have any real close friends. Yes, he had many acquaintances and colleagues, but no one who he felt comfortable confiding in. In fact, when he had finished, he felt much better, glad that he had found someone he could open up to.

  This wasn’t lost on Superintendent Birch. ‘I appreciate you sharing this with me, Tom. You really didn’t need to, though. I know you well enough to realise that if you ask for time off then there must be a good reason.’ He paused. ‘It’s not for me to offer you any advice, but . . . I will do anyway,’ he said, a slight laugh in his voice. ‘Just enjoy the experience and the time you have together. I’m sure your son will be feeling equally nervous.’

  ‘That’s exactly what Mary said.’

  ‘She sounds like a wise woman,’ replied Superintendent Birch.

  ‘Yes, she is,’ Tom said, more to himself than in reply.

  ‘Tom, there’s something I’d like to speak with you about,’ said Superintendent Birch, this time in a far more serious tone. ‘I was going to wait a while before I told you, but I think now might be as good a time as any.’

  ‘You’re not making me take retirement, are you?’ he asked, still in the light-hearted manner of their previous conversation.

  ‘Is that what you want?’

  ‘No. Well, not yet anyway.’

  ‘No, it’s not about that. I wanted to update you on the situation regarding Commander Jenkins and Charles Cope.’ He paused briefly before continuing. ‘I suspect you are not going to like what I tell you, but I thought you should hear it from me rather than from someone else. Commander Jenkins will be retiring from the force at the end of this month. Charles Cope will resign from his role as an MP at the same time. The official explanation will be that he has some health problems. Confidentially, I understand that, like you, he has also recently established contact with his son and wants to try and spend time with him and his family. It’s rather ironic, really, don’t you think, that it was you who first told him he had a son?’

  Superintendent Birch fell silent, allowing Tom to comment on what he had just been told. Eventually Tom responded. ‘It doesn’t surprise me. I could see which way the wind was blowing some time ago. Does this mean that any charges will be dropped and that there will now not be a court case?’

  ‘It looks that way, I’m afraid,’ Superintendent Birch replied, surprised by Tom’s calm response.

  ‘And that they will retire with their index-linked, gold- plated pensions, I suppose?’

  He chose not to reply specifically to Tom’s question. ‘What they wo
n’t have is any official recognition for their time in office. No knighthoods or other honours. I suspect, more importantly, though, they will not have the respect of their peers. At least, that is, from those who know the details.’

  ‘It still sends a message, though, that, if you are in a certain position, then you can, literally, get away with murder. It seems that, actually, you can be above the law.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Tom. I know it’s easy for me to say, but I’ll say it anyway. I don’t agree with it, and, incidentally, for what it’s worth, neither does DCS Small. My understanding is that even the Commissioner himself fought against this decision. Frankly it stinks. But the decision was a political one and so, ultimately, was taken out of our hands. They believed there might be a security risk, and that it was not, therefore, in the national interest for this to become public.’

  ‘I suppose it also means that the confidentiality order I signed will remain valid.’

  Superintendent Birch simply nodded in agreement. ‘The same will have to apply to DS Milner and DC Bennett. It’s likely you all will receive a visit from the security services to remind you of that point.’

  For a few moments nothing else was said. At last Tom spoke again. ‘It makes a mockery of everything I’ve stood for over the past nearly forty years. And, to be honest, it makes it difficult for me to continue as a police officer, knowing this.’

  Chapter 21

  It was a somewhat deflated DCI Stone who returned to his own office on the second floor. Waiting for him were Milner and DC Bennett, and his demeanour was not lost on either of them.

  Typically, given their long association, it was the latter who raised this. ‘Are you all right, sir?’

  ‘Perfectly all right, thank you,’ he lied.

  Not quite believing him, DC Bennett spoke again. ‘You don’t seem to be your usual self.’

  ‘And what is my usual self, DC Bennett?’ Tom asked, immediately regretting his slightly tetchy reply.

  ‘Well, for a start, by now you’d be asking us what we’d been up to over the past couple of hours and whether or not we’d followed up on what you had previously asked us to do.’

  A thin smile appeared on Tom’s face. ‘You really do know me too well. Am I that predictable?’ he asked, clearly not expecting any answer. ‘It relates to the Jenkins–Cope case. All I can say is that you should not, under any circumstances, speak to anyone – friends, family, partners, colleagues, and I mean anyone – about this. Also, you should expect to receive a visit from the security authorities shortly, who will, no doubt, reinforce this point.’

  ‘Does that mean they are not going to charge them both?’ asked Milner, a hint of incredulity in his voice.

  ‘It looks that way,’ Tom simply replied. ‘Anyway, my strong advice to you both is to now forget all about it.’

  ‘But what about—’ Milner began, before he was abruptly interrupted by Tom.

  ‘Milner, please stop. I don’t want to hear you even mention it ever again. Have I made myself clear?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ he replied, taken aback by Tom’s strength of feeling. ‘Perfectly.’

  Tom waited for a moment, until the full implications of what he had just said had sunk in, before continuing. ‘Right, let’s start applying ourselves and solve this murder. As you seem to have anticipated my questions, I hope you can now answer them.’

  It was a still less than enthusiastic Milner who took up the conversation. ‘DC Bennett is meeting with Mr Mercer this evening and I’ve arranged for us to see Roger White at three o’clock this afternoon. In the meantime, I’ve been chasing up forensics to see if they have, at least, a preliminary report.’

  ‘And?’ asked Tom, hopefully.

  ‘So far they haven’t found anything unusual. They made the point, yet again, that any DNA evidence would almost certainly have been affected by its contact with water. But, apparently, there are new techniques being developed all the time. So they haven’t given up hope entirely of making some sort of breakthrough.’

  Now DC Bennett spoke. ‘We do, though, have some interesting news from the techies. You’ll remember that they took away Mr Burton’s computer. Well, they did whatever it is they do and sent me a report. As I said, there are a few interesting things which they found.’

  ‘Such as?’ asked Tom, now fully engaged.

  ‘Well, for starters, there have been a number of unusual cash transactions, and most of them were outgoings.’

  ‘Why would that be unusual?’ asked Tom. ‘Surely that’s what you would expect anyway in their type of business.’

  ‘It’s the timing and scale of them.’ DC Bennett referred to his notebook. ‘Looking at the bank statement, it seems that £5,000 was withdrawn, each month, for the two months leading up to Mr Burton’s disappearance. The last one was just a few days previously. At first I thought that they might be repayments, or some sort of dividend, paid to an investor, but, when I checked further, I found that they were all withdrawn in cash. If it had been an investor then I would have thought that the money would have been paid by electronic transfer. Also, there doesn’t seem to be any paperwork confirming any such transfer.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Tom. ‘That is a bit unusual. Who withdrew the money?

  ‘Craig Blackwell,’ he simply answered.

  ‘It might be that it is a coincidence and he just needed the cash for something,’ suggested Tom.

  ‘That’s always possible,’ said Milner. ‘But haven’t you always said that you don’t believe in coincidences?’ This was not the first time Milner had reminded DCI Stone about this and, no doubt, wouldn’t be the last, but he still quite clearly enjoyed doing so.

  ‘So that’s now both of you who seem to know me a little too well for my liking,’ Tom replied, taking the opportunity to lighten the mood after their earlier discussion. ‘I think we should go and pay another visit to your favourite person, DC Bennett, and see what he has to say about it.’

  ‘Is there something going on which I’m not privy to?’ asked Milner.

  ‘Mr Blackwell, for some reason, doesn’t seem to be DC Bennett’s cup of tea. Personally, I think DC Bennett is just jealous of his good looks. Plus, of course, he’s also quite wealthy.’

  Although Tom had said this, at least partly, in jest, DC Bennett clearly failed to see the funny side. ‘He might be wealthy, but he suddenly had to find another £5,000 each month for something. You mark my words,’ he said as he made his way out of the office, ‘that man is up to something and I’m determined to find out what it is.’

  Tom and Milner were now alone in the office. ‘Why is DC Bennett so fixated on Craig Blackwell?’ asked Milner. ‘It’s almost becoming personal. Do you think I should have a word with him?’

  Tom looked directly at him. ‘And what are you going to say? Just ignore what your instincts are telling you. My advice is to allow him his head – well, at least up to a certain point. I’m sure there will come a time when the evidence will answer DC Bennett’s theory, one way or another.’ He paused and then added, ‘But, of course, it’s your call. You are his boss.’

  Milner, on his way out of the office, suddenly stopped and turned to face Tom. ‘Sir,’ he said, in a quiet but nonetheless clearly concerned tone, ‘you are not going to do something silly with that copied file relating to Commander Jenkins and Charles Cope, are you?’ This was a reference to the file which Tom had, at one stage, asked Milner to look after for him.

  Tom was momentarily taken aback by Milner’s obvious concern for his wellbeing. ‘Just make sure you and DC Bennett do as I suggested,’ he replied.

  Chapter 22

  This time, Tom and Milner were able to find the West London Golf Club much more easily than the last time they had been there. As they drove through the gates, they were also able to take in more of the features of the club.

  ‘There’s so much land here, sir,’ said Milner. ‘You wouldn’t expect it, with it being so close to London.’

  ‘That’s just what I was t
hinking,’ said Tom. ‘It’s like a large, hidden oasis. Unless you’ve been here before, you just would- n’t know it even existed.’

  ‘Perhaps that’s the intention,’ replied Milner.

  They parked the car and got out.

  ‘So it must have been around here where Mr Burton and Mr Preston did their pushing and shoving.It would certainly have been in full view of everyone.’ Tom said, pointing towards the nearby clubhouse, which directly overlooked the car park. ‘I wonder what the other members made of that. Anyway, as we’re a bit early, let’s go for a little walk,’ he suggested, before heading towards the eighteenth green, on which a group of golfers were still playing.

  Tom and Milner stood watching them until they had all finished playing, shaken hands and then started to walk back towards the clubhouse.

  ‘Very civilised. Good manners,’ Tom whispered to Milner.

  ‘Can we help you?’ one of the golfers suddenly asked.

  ‘We were just admiring the view,’ replied Tom. ‘It’s a beautiful golf course.’

  ‘You do know this is private land?’ said one of the other golfers, quite threateningly. ‘It’s for members only.’

  ‘Yes, we are aware of that,’ answered Tom, in a matter-of- fact manner. He then took out his ID card and showed it to the man who had challenged him. ‘I’m Detective Chief Inspector Stone, from West London police, and this is my colleague, Detective Sergeant Milner.’ He glanced at Milner, who also showed his card. ‘We are investigating the murder of one of your members. Mr Glyn Burton.’

  Tom was certain they already knew Mr Burton’s body had been found and that a missing person inquiry had now turned into a murder investigation. Nonetheless he paused, briefly, allowing what he had just said to fully register with all of them. It seemed to work as it was clear that he now had their full attention.