Dead in the Water

by Wilfred Jules

  “Alistair Holloway.”

  That elicited a few groans around the table. Even Vik Gorti rolled his eyes at that name.

  “Good luck with the interview then,” he commented.

  “Thanks, Vik. We may need some luck indeed. Have you been able to dig up more information from your contacts about Brandon Nicholson or Bert Devos?”

  “Afraid not. I tried a few of them but was not very successful in reaching them last night. I’ll talk to our guys from Operation Flavour after this meeting to see if they have something interesting to say about Mr Nicholson. And I will try my informers again tonight.” Operation Flavour was the long-running investigation of the Sussex Police drug squad into the narcotics scene in Sussex.

  Ianthe nodded.

  “Okay. I don’t have to tell you it’s critical to our investigation that we know if indeed Bert Devos was an established or up and coming drug criminal. And what is known about Brandon Nicholson. Is he a small-time player only or going for the big league as well?”

  “No need to tell me how to do my job, Ianthe. I’ve been at it for quite a few years already,” Vik said grumpily.

  “Then I’m sure you’ll come up with results that I can take to Pooh Bear really fast, Vik,” she replied a little ominously.

  “Ajanta, did you get the information from the banks about Bert Devos’s finances?”

  “I did, ma’am. And it is indeed quite interesting. About two years ago Mr Devos received a fairly big amount in cash from his company, Nokia. Nothing extraordinary about that as clearly it was his severance pay which was substantial as he had been with the company for over twenty years. I will check with Nokia if the amount is correct but there is no reason to wonder about that. It was substantial enough at least to pay for the boat. But it becomes more interesting after that. To begin with, approximately three months after he was let go, Mr Devos has opened new bank accounts with just about every available bank in Brighton and Hove. Before, he just had one joint account with his wife at HSBC, the Lewes branch. Then he goes and opens new accounts on his own name at, wait for it: NatWest on Church Road in Brighton, TSB on Western Road, Allied Irish in Marlborough Place, Lloyds equally on Church Road, Metro on North Street, Barclays again on Church Road, Santander on George Street and Halifax on Western Road. Eight new accounts, all located close to each other in the centre of Brighton.”

  “The only one he missed is Virgin Money,” Ben added.

  “Quite,” Ajanta continued. “And the most interesting thing is still to come. In each of these new accounts he immediately deposits nine thousand five hundred pounds in cash. The same he deposits in his HSBC branch in Lewes. That means a total cash deposit of eighty-five thousand and five hundred quid!”

  That had everyone sitting up. Ben whistled appreciatively.

  “And it doesn’t stop there. After that, every other week he spreads on average twenty thousand pounds in cash deposits over these accounts. Sometimes it’s more, sometimes a little less. The final deposit of twenty-four thousand pounds was two weeks ago. In the two years that he has been laid off, our Mr Devos had amassed approximately one million pounds or about one hundred and fifty-thousand pounds per bank account. What he withdrew corresponds with the down payment for his house, the cars etc etc.. My guess is that he actually kept some of the stash in cash at home as well.”

  “It appears Bert Devos was doing very well in his forced retirement then,” Ianthe commented drily. “The banks didn’t raise any questions?”

  “As you know, it is only mandatory for the bank to report deposits of over ten thousand pounds. They are supposed to ask about the origins of the money if someone makes large cash deposits, but they don’t always do that, in particular not if they know the customer quite well. I contacted two of his banks, and both clerks I spoke to remembered he told them he ran a small side business chartering his boat. They only asked the one time in the beginning, as Mr Devos was smart enough to deposit only three or four thousand pounds per account every fortnight. That is not such a large amount of money for a bank, obviously. So, no alarm bells went off.”

  “Did he make the deposits always on the same day of the week?”

  “Hmm. I didn’t check that.”

  Ajanta looked at the printout in front of her and at the calendar on her phone.

  “I don’t think so actually. I see here deposits on just about every day of the week, perhaps with a preference for the extremities like Monday or Friday. Do you want me to look into that for you?”

  “Not really,” Ianthe replied. “In any case, so many cash deposits indicate criminal behaviour all right. And we all know in which branch of crime a lot of cash is generally being handled.”

  “Narcotics,” John said.

  “Absolutely. It appears our Mr Devos was indeed not quite the well-mannered businessman he appeared to be to his neighbours and friends.”

  Ianthe looked at Anne Baker, the analyst.

  “Anne, anything from the facial recognition team at the Met?”

  She shook her head.

  “Nothing has come up there. Do you want me to investigate if I can find cases with a similar pattern? Meaning boat owners who were found to be trafficking narcotics?”

  “Good idea,” Ianthe replied. “I do seem to remember Border Force stopped a couple of yachts a few years ago.”

  Anne Baker nodded and made a note in her book.

  “That was extremely interesting information, Ajanta. Good job. Again!” Ianthe showered the praise on DS Ajanta Ghani, who looked a little flustered at that.

  “Vik, I guess you can take that information with you to drug squad and your informers. Anything else from anyone? No luck from the CCTV I guess or from any calls after our rather disastrous press conference?”

  They all smiled, sharing the mutual embarrassment.

  “Nothing from the CCTV indeed, boss,” DC John Ryan said. “There were a lot of ordinary Brightonians around in the Marina. And we saw just a couple of local lowlifes we identified. But we didn’t even see them speak to Bert Devos. I did see your boyfriend Tony there as well in fact, guv. Not that I think he’s a lowlife!” he added hastily, seeing Ianthe’s left eyebrow shoot up. There was some tittering around the table at that.

  “Thank you for that, Detective Constable,” Ianthe replied a little sarcastically.

  “May I add though that I find it more than strange that Josephine Devos would not have been aware at all about these cash transactions. Would you not agree with that, ma’am?” he added boldly.

  “Perhaps,” she mused. “Thanks for bringing that up, John. Josephine Devos struck me as being genuine, but I have been known to be wrong before. Let’s definitely keep that in mind.”

  She looked around the table.

  “If there is nothing more, let’s reconvene here at four pm sharp,” she paused a few seconds giving DI Vik Gorti a hard stare, “For our final briefing today. Ben and I will go interview Brandon Nicholson now. You all know what to do.”

  *

  The interview room at the custody suite of Malling House was bleak and featureless. A CCTV camera high up the wall in one corner made it possible to film the proceedings and follow the interview from one of the viewing rooms. A simple metal table bolted to the floor and four less than comfortable metal chairs were the only furniture. Brandon Nicholson, flanked by his solicitor sat in one of them. Acting DCI Ianthe Seymour faced him with DS Ben Armstrong next to her. The suspect looked particularly rumpled this morning, but not quite subdued, Ianthe thought. She liked to sit into these interviews herself with Ben at her side. She knew her rather diminutive size made her less threatening to male suspects. Ben could use his bulk in contrast and tower over the defendant if necessary.

  Brandon’s solicitor, Alistair Holloway, was a picture of the perfect English gentleman. Immaculately dressed in a Savile Row three piece pin stripe suit, white shirt with French cuffs, navy silk tie, a Rolex Oyster Perpetual on his wrist and a leather bound notebook with a Schaeffer pen lying
in front of him, he was looking expectantly but apparently a little bored at Ianthe and Ben. He just lacked a top hat and cane Ianthe thought.

  “Mr Nicholson, you have to help me with a problem,” she said. “We have found a substantial amount of a Class A drug at your house. Can you tell me how it got there and why you had it?”

  Brandon Nicholson shrugged.

  “I admit I use a little coke once in a while. To be honest I had forgotten all about it already.”

  “A little?” Ben cut in rather ominously. “You call one hundred grams of coke a little?”

  He shrugged again.

  “At current street prices one hundred grams of coke have a value of approximately five thousand pounds, Brandon,” Ianthe added in her most soothing voice. “That’s a lot of money to simply forget about.”

  Alistair Holloway cut in there.

  “Inspector, I assume you have done your homework about the Nicholson family. While five grand might be a lot of money for some, it is perfectly understandable that for Brandon it is not even his allowance for one month.”

  “Point taken, Mr Holloway, but you will no doubt agree with me a judge and jury may have problems being convinced by that. A substantial amount like this automatically leads to a suspicion of intent to supply.”

  “It would be my task to convince them of the contrary, Inspector,” the solicitor said affably.

  “It’s detective chief inspector, actually, Mr Holloway. And unfortunately for your client we have several witnesses willing to state that Mr Nicholson sold a Class A drug to them.”

  Alistair Holloway was obviously taken aback by that message. It appeared his client had not fully informed him.

  “You know the penalty that intent to supply a Class A drug can carry,” Ben delivered another blow. “With aggravated circumstances that it was actually supplied to minors.”

  “Perhaps you can allow me a moment alone with my client?” the solicitor asked.

  Ianthe nodded.

  “It may be the right time for your client to think carefully about the next steps,” she said.

  Ianthe stopped the recording. She and Ben rose and stepped outside. They went to the coffee machine in the corner, close to the stairs.

  “Several witnesses, huh?” Ben commented drily.

  “Define ‘several’,” Ianthe grinned. “We do have Helen Devos right now. I don’t doubt she was telling the truth, so it can’t be too hard to come up with a few other names. I’ll ask DC Ryan to talk to her again. He’s younger than us, drives a motorbike. She might tell him more than she would tell us,” she smiled. “And of course, DI Gorti may be able to come up with something useful.”

  “What do you think is going to happen now?”

  “I think Brandon had omitted to tell his solicitor a few things. Alistair is not stupid at all. He will have realised his best bet now is to get Brandon out on bail and try to avoid the case going to Crown Court. He has no priors so if it is limited to a drug offence, even with intent to supply, he has a fighting chance to convince the magistrates not to pass it on to the Crown Court.”

  “Do you think he will tell his solicitor if he murdered Bert Devos?”

  “Actually, I doubt it. I think he prefers to keep his cards close to his chest. He may have realised who has ratted on him and try to implicate Helen Devos. That’s my guess.”

  Ianthe called DC John Ryan to instruct him to go over to Lewes again with DS Ghani, and talk to Helen Devos, in the presence of her mother, to see if he could wrest a few more names of customers of Brandon’s out of her. After ten minutes, they knocked on the door of the interview room and entered again.

  “My client would like to make a statement,” Alistair Holloway announced.

  Not surprised, Ianthe nodded at that.

  “I would like to state that the cocaine you found in my room did not belong to me. I was holding it for someone else.”

  Ianthe’s left eyebrow shot up.

  “Would you care to elaborate on that Mr Nicholson?”

  He hesitated a fraction of a second.

  “I was holding it for Mr Bert Devos from Lewes, the father of my girlfriend Helen Devos. I was not even aware of the contents of the package although I admit I did have some suspicion as I knew that Helen Devos had a coke habit. I did not sell those drugs or any other drug to Helen Devos or anyone else. If they say I did, they are lying.”

  “And Mr Devos is conveniently dead, as you most likely know,” Ianthe added sarcastically.

  Brandon Nicholson continued to look her straight in the eye but did not acknowledge her comment or say anything at all. His solicitor replied in his place, however.

  “Detective Chief Inspector, if I may say so, the provenance of the narcotics found at my client’s home is now clear. The late Mr Bert Devos, as was indeed already suggested in an article in the Argus earlier this week, was most likely involved in drug trafficking. The man probably supplied his own daughter with drugs. He may have sold them even to other people in her environment. Or, who knows, Helen Devos herself may have done that. No doubt your investigation will clarify that. My client was only doing the father of his girlfriend a favour by hiding them in his home. Which was clearly a major mistake. But Brandon is young and young people make mistakes. More likely so if they are in love.”

  Ben commented: “Helen Devos told us however that the relationship between Brandon and herself was over.”

  “Ms Devos may say what she wants, sergeant,” the solicitor commented. “She has everything to gain from trying to blame my client, would you not agree?”

  “Be that as it may, Mr Holloway,” Ben replied. “You do know that holding narcotics for someone else in the eyes of the law equals intent to supply.”

  Alistair Holloway shrugged and made a dismissive hand movement.

  “While strictly speaking that may be correct, my client is an upstanding young man from a well-known family in this city. He has no prior convictions. He is only guilty of the ‘crime’ of being naïve. I am quite certain the magistrates will look at this in the same light.”

  They looked at each other in silence for a moment. When it started to become uncomfortable, the solicitor said: “If there is nothing else, I would like my client to be released on bail. He will gladly hand over his passport and …”

  “Where were you last Tuesday early morning, Mr Nicholson?” Ianthe interrupted him.

  Both Brandon Nicholson and Alistair Holloway sat up at that. At least the solicitor looked genuinely surprised, Ianthe thought. He had not seen this one coming.

  “Tuesday morning?” Brandon Nicholson asked with a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

  “Between midnight and two am, to be precise,” Ianthe added.

  The suspect’s hesitation was obvious to all. The attorney chipped in.

  “Where is this going, chief inspector?”

  “You will find out soon. Please answer my question Mr Nicholson. Where were you between midnight and two am in the night of Monday 12 to Tuesday 13 May, which is last Tuesday morning. That isn’t such a difficult question, is it?”

  Again, the reluctance of the defendant to answer was evident. At last he said: “Far as I remember, I was at home, in my bed.”

  “Is there anyone who can vouch for that?”

  He had found his composure again and shrugged.

  “Perhaps my mother. I was alone if that’s what you’re referring to.”

  “You do know that Mr Bert Devos was found murdered last Tuesday morning.” Ben cut in. “Do we need to understand you have no alibi for that?”

  Brandon’s legal representative bristled at that.

  “Come on, sergeant. Are you trying to blame my client for that as well? You can’t be serious! Do you have any evidence for such an outrageous statement?”

  Ianthe ignored the solicitor’s intervention.

  “Brandon, you have admitted you knew Bert Devos and his family. You have admitted that you knew him actually well enough to hold a package from him that
you suspected might have contained narcotics. You are no doubt a smart guy. That means you understand you have multiple motives to have killed Mr Devos. Perhaps you had a fight over your relationship with his daughter? Helen Devos told us her father was not too happy with that relationship. Or you had an argument when you found out the package you held for him contained a Class A drug? Or maybe you just wanted to protect Helen Devos against her dad? There may be so many reasons. If you just tell us what really happened that Tuesday morning a jury may be quite lenient. If you choose however not to cooperate and the evidence against you becomes even more staggering than it already is, you may be looking at consecutive life sentences for intent to supply a Class A drug to minors as well as murder. And no amount of money would be able to save you from that. I will give you the chance to think this over carefully, young man, with your legal representative.”

  Then she added to his solicitor.

  “Obviously, bail will be refused for the time being.”

  “Are you charging my client with murder, chief inspector?”

  “Not right now,” Ianthe had to admit. “But the charge of possession of a Class A drug with intent to supply is more than sufficient to refuse bail I believe. I would strongly recommend you have a good talk with your client, Mr Holloway.”

  She ended the interview and signalled to the guards. Ben and Ianthe left the room and made their way back to the conference room.

  “That went well,” Ben enthusiastically said.

  “Relatively speaking,” Ianthe replied. “As I expected he tried to put the blame on someone else and chose Helen Devos because she ratted him out. But it was not so smart to admit he procured the drugs from her dad. Why did he not just say he bought the drugs for himself? I found that puzzling. The magistrates may have found that story acceptable as he doesn’t know the value of money. Why bring in Bert Devos? In particular if he didn’t have an alibi. That was a mistake. Perhaps he hadn’t mentioned those details to Alistair Holloway.”

  “Well, maybe he believes himself to be smarter than he actually is.”

  “There is that,” Ianthe admitted. “We do know that most criminals aren’t half as smart as they think they are. And if he killed Bert Devos, it’s more likely it was not premeditated, so not thought over well but rather in anger. So, he might be thinking that reinforcing the Argus’ article actually helps his own case. Quod non. Let’s see what Alistair Holloway can get him to say.”