by Alan Fisher
“I know I said that this connection with the playing cards was a bit loose sir” he offered as Jack turned off the spine road, heading towards Cramlington. “But I’m starting to wonder if there might be a grain of truth in it, however ridiculous it sounds”.
“I wouldn’t disagree. But if that’s the case, who and why, would anyone nickname a judge, a politician, a nightclub owner, and God knows who else, after playing cards. I suppose if we knew that, we might be a bit closer to understanding all this. I’ve been thinking as well. The only way we’ll know for sure is if we can identify who else was in that photo. When you borrowed the photo from Robertson’s home, you had no idea why, did you? Just a feeling”.
“Yes sir”.
“We didn’t ask Mrs Wallace about it, understandably. But surely if anyone knows who these people might be, it will be her. I think we should head straight back to Corbridge and ask her. What do you think?”
“Sounds like a good idea to me sir. The rest of the team are exploring other avenues, I doubt they’ll have thought about Mrs Wallace”.
“Ok, Corbridge it is”.
A few minutes later Jack drove past the turn off for headquarters and continued on until he reached the A1 heading South. He checked his watch;
“Perhaps a nice late lunch in Corbridge wouldn’t be a bad idea either” he thought.
Chapter 44
“It’s Tuesday and good morning from a wet and windy Northumberland where our sources have discovered the identity of the second victim following the murder of politician Andrew McMillan last week. I can now reveal that the second victim, reported to you last Wednesday, was a retired Judge, Justice Archibald Robertson of Corbridge. A Police spokesperson advised reporters that they believe that Justice Robertson was the victim of the same killer who took the life of Andrew McMillan. Enquiries are intensifying but the police do not appear to be close to an arrest at this moment in time. In more breaking news, our sources have informed us that a third body was discovered somewhere in the Blyth area of Northumberland, yesterday morning. It is believed that the victim, as yet unidentified, was left in an industrial bin and had a playing card in his mouth, the Jack of Clubs. There can be no doubt that the similarities between all three deaths suggest a serial killer is at large here in the North East, who has claimed three victims so far. We will update you as we get further information.
This is Jonathon Souter reporting from Police Headquarters in Ponteland, Tyneside, back to the studio.”
Jason Glover switched off the TV set in his small but clean hotel room at the Travelodge Covent Garden and went back to packing his small overnight bag.
“Shit” he said, rather more loudly than he intended.
He reached for his jacket to find his phone. Despite his earlier desire to hold onto the information he’d obtained so far, he knew the discovery of another body changed everything. He would have to call Jack even though his visit to Companies House on Oxford Street would be slightly delayed.
“Collier” came a familiar voice after Jason had speed dialled his mobile number.
“Morning sir, it’s me Jason”.
“Morning Jason, where are you?”
“Still in London sir, I stayed overnight in a hotel near Oxford Street. I made a lot of progress yesterday but needed to check something else out and didn’t get to Companies House in sufficient time to go through their records. I’ve an appointment with a guy called Karl shortly to try and trace either directorship identities or shareholder identities in the trusts and companies whose hands those land deals moved through before ending up where they are now, and there’s a lot of them. I’ve just been watching the news before I set off. I assume you’ve seen it?”
“I have. Got a call late yesterday morning from the Super. Body was found in an industrial bin on the Kitty Brewster Industrial Estate just outside Blyth town centre”.
“Same as the other two?”
“Identical, even down to his phone going missing. If you’re looking for names in these land deals to connect Robertson to the McMillan consortium, you can add another one. I know the TV didn’t give his name, but we have identified him. His name is Juste Van der Klerk. Mid-sixties businessman, born in South Africa, owned a string of night clubs back in the 80’s and 90’s”.
“I’ll keep an eye out for it sir” said Jason, scribbling down the name on the back of his hand because his notebook was still in his jacket hanging on the trouser press. “That information from Swan was extremely useful sir, nice bit of work that. York Holdings was the last company to hold title to the lands before they were sold on to the present owner. If I can confirm that the money Robertson received was as a direct result of ownership in that company, we’ll have a connection”.
“That would be good news Jason, and if Van der Klerk is involved as well, you’ll be on the money. And if that’s the case, the sooner we find out who else had a financial interest in those companies the better. One of them may well be next on the killers list”.
“Yes sir, I understand”.
“When do you expect to conclude your investigation and get back here?”
“I’ve no idea. I don’t know how long it’ll take to access the records and go through them. Hopefully I’ll catch a train home later today, but I’ll ring you as soon as I have positive conformation and the names of anyone else financially involved sir”.
“Ok, best get to it. Sooner you start the sooner you finish”.
“Yes sir, talk to you later” finished Jason and he clicked shut his phone.
Jason pulled on his jacket and picked up his bag before heading out of the room. He had mixed feelings about the conversation. Another name to add to the equation did not increase the odds of finding the connection, and being away from headquarters when a third body was discovered didn’t help his plans either. Other people could get more involved in the investigation. Someone might get lucky and find the killer before he did, and that just would not be acceptable. He needed to get those names and get them fast. And then get home to resume his place at the front of the investigation team and control everyone else’s involvement.
As he left the hotel he doubled his pace; time was of the essence.
Chapter 45
“That was DS Glover on the phone” said Jack to Oliver who was sitting opposite him in Jack’s office.
“He’s still in London?” asked Oliver sipping his coffee.
“Stayed over last night. He’s tracked down all of the corporations and holdings and suchlike that held the title deeds to those lands in Durham right through until the current day. And that information from Debbie on Robertson’s financial activity ties him in to one of them. York Holdings was the last company to own the land before it was sold to the present owners”.
“That’s pretty impressive sir, there’s not many could dig so deep so quickly”.
“He’s off to Companies House now to try to trace some names, particularly those that may have had a financial interest in any of those corporations”.
“I heard sir; you think if he finds some names that they may be in danger. If this is the connection, they could be the killer’s next target?”
“No, but I have to accept it’s possible. You don’t sound convinced”.
“My view hasn’t changed sir. Even if it turns out there was some huge land fraud or scam thirty years ago, I cannot see where the playing cards come in”.
“Is it not possible that the names of these company directors or investors were kept secret from each other and that they were all given pseudonyms to maintain anonymity?”
“Anything’s possible sir, but as DS Glover will find out; everything has to be legally recorded if it concerns directorships and investors. And if it’s recorded, it’s not a secret. I get the impression that these pseudonyms or nicknames were not connected to any legal entity. I’m not even convinced that the individuals concerned knew about them”.
“So you don’t think that McMillan knew he was known, or referred to, as t
he Jack of Diamonds?”
“No”.
“Why not”.
“Nicknames are given to people for a lot of different reasons sir. If we knew why, we’d know where to look for the killer. But if you look at any stage of life, from school, to work, to leisure, to celebrity, to sports; people are given nicknames. And in more than enough scenarios, the recipient is unaware. I mean; do you know what your nickname here is with the team?”
“Not a clue, but I guess it’s something unpleasant or unrepeatable. Want to enlighten me?”
“Actually I’m not aware you have one” said Oliver, honestly. “But you take my point. Not everyone will be aware that they’ve even been assigned a nickname, particularly if it’s derogatory”.
“You ever had a nickname landed on you?”
“At College sir. My closest rival for top of class nicknamed me Sherlock”.
“Figures” smiled Jack.
“It was meant in derogatory terms; he was trying to take the piss, but he just ended up looking like an idiot. I probably had a few names when I was at school but I’m not aware of any”.
“So you think it’s possible that McMillan, Robertson and Van der Klerk were all given nicknames without being aware of it?”
“Yes sir”.
“Then it’s possible that they were given the names by people who worked for these companies that DS Glover is investigating, just as my team might have given me a nickname; and I’m still not convinced they haven’t”.
“It’s possible, yes”.
“But you don’t think so”.
“I don’t know sir. My guess, for what it’s worth, is that these companies won’t have had a workforce. It’ll be one or two individuals who have the ability to move land and property between companies and holdings and shell corporations and God knows what else to create a maze of activity that protects their anonymity. If the judge turns out to be implicated, I wouldn’t be surprised. Who better to guide the consortium through the legal minefield of company law and registry of land holdings. But I don’t think that connects them to the murders”.
“So it’s back to the card game”.
“That’s my belief sir, but I fully understand if you prefer to follow the other lead. This is not a competition sir, it’s a puzzle; and all I want to do is solve it”.
“I know and I’m with you on that. I only hope I don’t have to choose if it gets down to the wire and lives are at stake. Both lines of enquiries have merits but if DS Glover comes up with a list of names and all three victims’ names are on it; I’ll have to run with that and trace the other names. If something happened to one of them and I did nothing….”
Jack made a gesture of running a finger across his neck.
“But the same could apply to your line of thinking. I could certainly do with something concrete that tells me which is the more likely line to follow. But we’ve got bugger all here” sighed Jack. “The visit to see Mrs Wallace was a waste of time, I got the impression she hadn’t even noticed the photograph before”.
“It was worth a shot sir; it might have paid off”.
“Well it didn’t. Anything from the rest of the team yet? Are they still out looking to see if they can find anyone to identify the faces?”
“Yep, except Robbie. He was out late last night checking casinos in the region and didn’t get home until 4am. I’m told he’ll be in a little later this morning”.
“And no-one recognises any of the faces?”
“Or isn’t saying anything even if they do. You know how these things can go sir”.
“Bugger. We can’t talk to any of Robertson’s family because he doesn’t have any. Talking to McMillan’s wife would be pointless because this photo was taken before they were ever married. And Van der Klerk is divorced with his family back in South Africa. Who else can we talk to; I can’t just sit on my arse and wait for someone to say something. Any ideas?”
“If we just think about the people in the photo, we can only identify two; Robertson and Vander Klerk, we assume McMillan is there, but we can’t be sure. From the setting in the photo it looks like they were at some secret or reserved card school; it could even have been at one of Van der Klerk’s clubs for all we know. Playing cards is hardly something that a judge would talk about publicly; so if anyone was open about the activity, it would be Van der Klerk. Some of his staff would probably know if he was into that sort of thing, particularly if he had private games at one of his clubs. If we could trace ex-employees…..”.
“I like it; makes sense. Right, get me a copy of the list of clubs he owned, I’ll take the ones north of the river, you take anything south. Let’s see what crawls out from under the rocks”.
Chapter 46
“When Robbie Wainwright finally arrived at headquarters, just in time for lunch, he found the office empty. However, someone had at least done him the courtesy of leaving the wipe board by his desk with a list on it of where everyone was and what they were up to. He scanned the board as he was taking his coat off, it read;
Whereabouts
DCI - chasing Van der Klerk contacts, Newcastle
Oliver – chasing Van der Klerk contacts, Durham
Paul - chasing Robertson contacts Durham Courts
Debbie chasing McMillan contacts Durham Council
DS Glover – in London looking at land records
Alan – looking for members of Planning Committee
All contactable on mobiles
DCI wants you to look into possible illegal gambling in Chinatown (Stowell Street area) see if anyone recognises the faces in the photo.
ps hope you slept well, see you later
pps Kevin is supposed to be manning the phones, but I expect you’ll find him in the canteen
“Thanks guys” said Robbie out loud to the empty room. “Think I might grab some lunch first if that’s all right with you”.
And he put his jacket back on and headed for the canteen.
The whole situation was becoming extremely intense, highlighted by the fact that every member of the team was out looking for something or someone, and they were all on their own. Communications were possible by phone, of course, but it was unusual for them all to be working individually rather than in pairs.
Jack was reflecting on how thinly stretched they were with so much ground to cover as he walked towards The Hotspur pub in Haymarket at the top of Percy Street in Newcastle. The Hotspur was one of the oldest pubs in the city; situated on the west side of Percy Street and opposite Marks and Spencer’s and the Haymarket Bus Station. It was hugely popular, particularly with football fans on match days, and students, on any days.
It was late afternoon and Jack had heard nothing from any of the team, which could only mean that no-one had managed to find out the identity of any of the faces on Robertson’s old photo. He checked his watch; it was a little after 3pm and he was late, parking in Newcastle City Centre was never easy.
He’d spent lunchtime seeing an old acquaintance of his, or at least that was the title he gave him, to try and get some old information on Van der Klerk and his nightclubs. He’d been lucky too, having been given the name of an ex-bouncer who’d been employed at the Lamplight Club near Pudding Chare, one of Van der Klerk’s earliest establishments.
Jack’s “acquaintance” had informed him that the bouncer had gone on to work in a number of similar establishments since the club closed down, but had been working as a barman at The Hotspur for the last couple of years. His name was Charlie Stone, otherwise known as The Dentist for what Jack thought may be obvious reasons, and Jack was on his way to see him now.
He entered the bar and was pleased to see that the attendance of only a handful of customers meant it was not a popular day for drinking. There was only one barman on duty, a tall heavy set man, probably in his early fifties, with short brown hair tinged with grey, crusted skin, and a nose that looked like it might have been broken more often than not. Everything about the barman suggested that he was Stone, so
Jack approached the bar, with perhaps a little more caution than usual.
“I’m looking for a guy called Charlie Stone, is he in today?” asked Jack.
“Who wants to know?” said the barman, wiping down the bar with a dirty cloth, but looking Jack straight in the eye.
“Collier, Jack Collier. Are you Stone?”
“Might be. But tell me Mr Collier, why would Charlie Stone want to talk to the police about anything?”
Jack was used to the reaction. People who’d been in and around criminals and police officers could smell either one of them a mile away.
“Mutual acquaintance suggested you might have some information for me. There’s a fifty in it for your time”.
Jack took a fifty pound note from his wallet and laid in on the bar, seeing the cash often helped to make the conversation go more smoothly he had found.
“Who is this mutual acquaintance” said Stone, but the fifty pound note disappeared quickly into a breast pocket as he spoke.
“Sam, Sam Parling, out at The Badger” said Jack.
“How is he since you arrested him a couple of years back?”
“Better since we cleared up that misunderstanding”.
The half-smile on Stone’s face told Jack that he was ready to talk.
“It was hardly that Mr Collier, false arrest is what I was told, but you did all right by Sam. So ask your questions; but keep it down will you, I don’t want the whole world to know”.
“I’m trying to trace some people who might have known one of your old employers, Juste Van der Klerk”.
“Christ that’s more than twenty five years ago, I doubt I’ll remember much from back then. It was a time of sex, drugs, and booze and just about anything else you can imagine. Not many people remember those days”.
