by Alan Fisher
“Can you remember if Van der Klerk was into gambling back then?”
“Not running any gambling places, no. That wasn’t his thing”.
“What about involvement as a player?”
“He liked an odd tickle as I recall, nothing major though”.
“What about cards, poker maybe?”
“Oh that, yeah he did like to play a game of poker every now and again. But that was recreational rather than some big gambling deal. He used to invite some of his mates down to the club about once a month for a private game like. They always went in through the back door as I recall, secret like, and up to a couple of private rooms above the club. A small private gathering for the select few, business colleagues I guessed”.
“Were you ever stationed on the door to let through these select guests, these so-called business colleagues?”
“Occasionally”.
Jack quietly pulled out the copy of the photo from his pocket and slid it across the bar.
“Recognise any of the faces?” he asked.
Stone reached under the bar and pulled out a pair of glasses, putting them on and looking at the photo. He looked far less intimidating with his reading glasses on Jack thought.
“Age catches up with us all Mr Collier. That’s Mr Van der Klerk in the front with his arm on the judge. I don’t know the other blokes, is that the best angle you’ve got? Can’t really see them properly” said Stone.
“It’s all we’ve got. Can you remember any of the names of his select guests, any at all?”
“We were never given any names. We all knew the judge of course. One or two of us had been in front of him in a professional capacity, but the others arrived by car with Van der Klerk’s drivers, so no names were necessary”.
“Remember any of the driver’s names?”
“Only first names, Jimmy, Wheels, and Preston, I think. Don’t suppose that’ll help you overmuch”.
“Whereabouts?”
“Not a clue, it was a long time ago”.
“And the woman in the photo?”
“Arrived same as the others, I don’t think she was a player though”.
“What was she there for then?”
“Entertainment as far as I can remember”.
“What kind of entertainment?”
“It was the 90’s Mr Collier, use your imagination. Now unless there’s anything else, I’ve got a bar to clear”.
Jack knew when the conversation had been ended and he was reluctant to push. He took a card from his coat pocket and slid it onto the bar, taking back the photo in the same movement.
“Thanks for your time, give me a call if any of your old friends gets in touch or if you remember anything else will you”.
Stone took the card and slid it under the bar almost before it had time to rest on the grimy surface.
“Yeah, no problem” he lied.
Jack left the bar satisfied that he had gained useful information, even though he was no nearer identifying any of these select guests. He made his way back to the car and decided he’d better check in with the rest of the team to see if anyone was having better luck.
Chapter 47
Jack returned to his car, parked in the multi-story car park on Percy Street and took out his phone as he closed the car door. One by one he rang Oliver, Robbie, Paul and Debbie; but none of them had managed to find anyone who could identify any of the faces on Robertson’s photo.
Oliver was in Durham City waiting for a bar to open because he’d been given a tip that someone called Conrad was working there and he may have worked for Van der Klerk in the past. He wasn’t even sure if the timeline would be accurate but felt the need to check it out anyway.
Robbie was still touring the pubs and restaurants in Stowell Street but had advised Jack that half of the people he’d spoken with pretended they didn’t understand English, and the other half barely looked at the picture before claiming ignorance.
Paul had left the Durham courts, having achieved no success at all, other than ascertaining that just about everyone recognised Justice Robertson. He was heading back to Newcastle Quayside to see if he would have any more luck at Newcastle Courts because he’d been told that Justice Robertson sometimes sat there.
“Debbie was still at Durham Council having seen dozens of individuals and had a fair few more to talk to; but nothing so far.
When Jack finished his last call, he dropped the phone on the passenger seat beside him. It was not going well. Somebody had to know these people, why was no-one talking?
Because of Stone’s story, Jack was so convinced that the answers lay in finding the select guests at Van der Klerk’s poker nights, he’d forgotten to contact Jason. But just as he remembered, his phone sounded. He picked it up and saw that it was Jason ringing.
“Collier”.
“It’s me sir, Jason. I’ve got it” he said excitedly.
“All of them, investors, directors etc? That’s brilliant work”
“Yes sir, thank you. But it wasn’t too difficult, just took a bit of time. There are actually only five people registered as directors, all of them are registered as the only directors with all of the companies involved in the land transfers”.
“Hang on a second Jason” said Jack as he put his phone in the mobile holder on his dashboard so he could find his pen and notebook. “Ok, go ahead”.
“McMillan actually isn’t a named director, but I suppose that would make sense. It would preclude him from even sitting on the Planning Committee, so whoever surmised that part was wrong. I don’t think it takes him out of the consortium, it just means he wasn’t named as being involved in the companies moving ownership of the land around”.
“I get that, and the others?”
“Justice Robertson is confirmed. The missing one who we thought might be McMillan is in fact Barry Carmichael, owner and publisher of a series of questionable men’s magazines back in the 90’s. The high ranking bank official is Walter Brooklyn. He was Head of Land Requisitions for Barclays Bank as far as I understand sir, a natural fit you might say. The prominent businessman would appear to be Mark Johnstone, owner of several textile outlets around the North East”.
“Not Van der Klerk then?” said Jack
“No sir” said Jason, and Jack could hear the deflation in his voice. “Apparently not”.
Jack could also sense some hesitation, and he knew why.
“And the senior police officer, is that confirmed?”
“Yes sir, I’m afraid it is. It’s Superintendent James Laidlaw, retired Chief of Durham.
“Jesus”.
“What do you want me to do sir?”
“Get yourself back home Jason, it’ll be yon time before you get there anyway. Make sure you have copies of all the documentary evidence, I need to think”.
“This lot aren’t connected to the murders, are they sir” said Jason with both certainty and disappointment.
“It doesn’t look that way, no, but I still can’t be sure. The lack of Van der Klerk being involved, plus other things that have come out today, lead me to consider another direction. But I can explain all that later and it doesn’t detract from the work you’ve done. It might have been an accidental find, but it’s still a crime and should be followed through, so well done. Get yourself home and a good night’s sleep, I’ll catch up with you in the morning”.
“Yes sir will do”.
Jack switched off the phone and threw it on the passenger seat for a second time. He needed to get back to headquarters. He had to decide how best to proceed and to do that, he needed to talk to Superintendent Fox.
Chapter 48
Wednesday morning brought a change in the weather with clear skies and a low early morning sun that made driving conditions difficult as Oliver made his way to work just before 8am.
He’d had no luck the previous day in trying to identify any of the people in Robertson’s photograph and he’d assumed, because of the lack of any phone call, that no-one else
had managed it either. The only message he’d had since speaking with Jack late yesterday afternoon was a text from Jack advising him that there would be a team briefing at 8.3oam and he’d got out of bed a little earlier than usual to make sure he was at work in plenty of time.
He was not surprised to find that he was not the first to arrive at work, only Alan Cuthbert and Debbie were missing. It also came as no surprise that Jack’s door was shut, and that DS Jason Glover was already inside, briefing Jack privately.
By the time he got back from the canteen with a hot coffee in his hand, the rest of the team had arrived, and Jack’s door was open. Jason Glover was back at his desk, and everyone seemed to be waiting in anticipation. Eventually, Jack emerged and moved to the incident board.
“Ok then. Firstly, thanks everyone for getting here on time this morning. I’ll give you a quick update on where we are and what the next steps will be and then we must press on. I think we all know now that a pattern has emerged on these killings and time is of the essence if we are to avoid finding a fourth victim. At the last briefing we talked about having two avenues to explore, one of those is almost concluded and DS Glover along with Alan will hopefully bring that to a final conclusion in the next day or two. The dossier that we managed to get from Tom Campbell has turned out to be pretty accurate and thanks to the excellent work of DS Glover and Alan, we have a list of names of those involved in a potential land fraud in Durham back in the 90’s. But the question is; are these the people who have been targeted by our killer. McMillan and Robertson are on that list, but Van der Klerk isn’t, so there has to be an element of doubt. However I am not prepared to take any chances that we might have missed something or misread some evidence and therefore potentially put these other people’s lives at risk. I had a chat with Superintendent Fox late yesterday and we agreed that we would put these people, or rather the ones still resident in this country, in protective custody until we can be sure. We managed to achieve that by midnight, so we can all rest assured that they are safe for the moment. However, regardless of a connection, or lack of one, with the murders, this is still a potentially serious crime. Therefore the investigation on the fraud will continue, as I said, and DS Glover will interview the people involved on the Durham Planning Committee later today to tie up the loose ends. So that leaves the rest of us still trying to identify the faces in Robertson’s photograph. None of us had any luck yesterday, but I was able to get something from an ex-bouncer at one of Van der Klerk’s clubs. He told me that Van der Klerk used to host a private poker game about once a month at the Lamplight Club, near Pudding Chare in Newcastle, naturally it’s closed down now. He recognised Judge Robertson instantly, but none of the others. He said all the guests at these private events were brought to the club by Van der Klerk’s drivers, including the woman. That piece of new information suggests that this woman is not just a waitress, but part of the event. However when I pushed him on it, he indicated that she was there for the entertainment, and suggested that it may have been of a sexual nature. The conclusion I drew was that perhaps she was a high class stripper, pole-dancer, maybe even a prostitute. And that changes the way we see her. We thought initially that she may have known McMillan or Robertson, but that’s not necessarily the case. I want you all to widen the search, talk to all your known contacts to see if we can find her, and don’t forget, this photo is at least twenty five years old, so her appearance will have changed. But this is the clearest picture we’ve got. Somebody knows her, I want her identified, today. Now let’s get to it”.
Jack went back to his office and closed the door. Oliver could feel the tension in the room, the pressure had just been hiked up another couple of notches and everyone was feeling it. Before Oliver could start to think about what he might do, Jason Glover was already heading out of the office with Alan Cuthbert close behind him.
Oliver looked at the faces on the rest of the team and made a quick decision.
“Paul, Robbie, Debbie, and yes, you as well Kevin; pull your chairs over and let’s have a quick conference, see if we can throw a few ideas around and co-ordinate our search”.
All four pulled chairs across to surround Oliver’s desk, although Kevin appeared slightly reluctant.
“What’s on your mind Oliver?” asked Robbie.
“Finding this woman. I’ve never seen the Chief so stressed. He told me there was a bit of pressure from above because of the media attention what with the victims being a politician and a judge; but I had no idea it was getting this intense. We need to find this woman and fast. Anyone any ideas? We need to co-ordinate our search”.
“Well we went through most of the known contacts of Robertson and McMillan yesterday, no point in re-visiting old ground” said Paul.
“I’ve still got a few people left to see in Durham, old colleagues of McMillan who weren’t at work yesterday and perhaps a few more who were too busy to see me” said Debbie.
“No reason to finish that now though is there, given that the character description of the mystery woman has changed. We’re looking for a professional escort or the like, not a co-worker in a Council” said Robbie.
“I’m not as convinced as you seem to be” said Debbie.
“You don’t believe the Chief? said Robbie in astonishment.
“I wouldn’t put it as strongly as that” said Debbie quietly.
“What’s bugging you?” asked Oliver, knowing full well what it was like to have doubts about something that, on first impression, appeared certain.
“It’s the photo, I mean; does that look like the clothes that someone invited to a private function to provide entertainment for the boys would wear? She looks like a mum on a night out with the girls; tidy, quite smart really, but hardly risqué. I know this was taken over twenty odd years ago and I was probably still in nappies at the time, but it just doesn’t add up for me”.
Oliver looked at the photo again and had to admit she had a point.
“I see where you’re coming from, but maybe we’d be better served if we didn’t rule anything out, or anything in for that matter. What about you Paul? Anything to throw into the pot?”
“I was wondering if it might be an idea, based on what the Chief thinks, if we contacted Vice in both Newcastle and Durham areas. I’ve a mate who I went to college with, who’s in Vice. I could give him a call and set up a meet. They might have old mugshots or there could be some guys who were around at the time and might be able to identify her”.
“That’s a great idea. If you could take Newcastle Paul, and arrange for Robbie to see someone in Durham, at least we’ll be seen to be doing something. Take Kevin with you Robbie, I think he could do with some time out of the office for a change”.
“Fine by me” said Kevin, without any enthusiasm whatsoever, or indeed any emotion at all.
“What about me Oliver?” asked Debbie.
“As I said, I don’t think we should rule anything out until we have to. I know what it’s like to have doubts, so I think you should finish what you started down in Durham. At least you can put it out of your mind when it’s done”.
“And you? what are you going to do mate?” asked Robbie.
“I’m going with Debbie; I trust her instincts”.
Chapter 49
Oliver was surprised at how fast Debbie was driving as they made their way south on the A1 towards Durham. He’d only been in the car with her when he was driving and his car just wouldn’t have reached the speed that Debbie was doing, not without one of his wing mirrors falling off anyway.
In record time Debbie pulled into the car park at Durham Council and was out of the car before Oliver had even undone his seatbelt.
“You all right Oliver? she asked as he eventually climbed out of the car.
“Fine. You always drive like that?”
“Like what?”
“As if you’ll miss the last parking space if you don’t get a move on”.
“You should see me on a racetrack” she laughed.
> “Maybe I’ll pass on that” said Oliver as he zipped up his coat. “What’s the plan?”.
“I’ve got a room booked and one of the staff kindly sent e-mails out to all employees asking them to come and see me for a minute to look at some photos. I got through hundreds yesterday. Most of them I could dismiss as soon as they walked through the door because they were simply too young to recognise someone from a twenty-five year old photo. The rest took literally a few seconds each, so hopefully we’ll get through the rest today. I have to see them all because to ask just to see anyone who knew McMillan might have given the game away”.
Debbie opened the front door as they reached the top of the steps and Oliver felt the warmth of a centrally heated building wash over him as they stepped into reception.
“I hope you’ve got a plan for what we do next if we strike out here” said Debbie as she crossed the floor to the reception desk.
Oliver didn’t have time to reply before Debbie was speaking to the receptionist, which was fortunate; because despite his best efforts, no such plan existed.
Half an hour later and armed with fresh coffee and a selection of chocolate biscuits, Oliver and Debbie sat waiting in one of the small meeting rooms for members of staff to arrive. Debbie had asked the receptionist to send a fresh e-mail out to all staff asking those who had not been to see them to do so as quickly as possible, adding that the task was simply to look at one photograph.
With such a vague and inconsequential request, the staff started to turn up quickly and they were soon seeing more numbers coming through the doors than they had expected.
But none were able to put a name to the face of the woman in the photo. The numbers eventually dwindled and at a little after 1pm Debbie decided to call it a day as it had been almost an hour since the last member of staff had been to see them.
“I think we might be done now, anyone who was intending to come has probably been. Let’s pack up and get back to headquarters; it may be time for plan B”.
