Jenner’s jaw dropped. ‘But you said he was okay – you fuckin’ lied you bastard.’
‘Sure did,’ said Saxon. ‘But I can live with that – not really as serious as murder though, is it?’
The solicitor representing Jenner was late. Saxon was irritated by the time he turned up. He didn’t seem to fit the usual mould that solicitors seemed to pop out of. To Saxon, Mr Christian Haines was more barrister material. He seemed to be a bit grand – even stately. As usual, he spent some time with Jenner before the interview was started.
An hour after Jenner was brought into the police station and processed in the usual way of photographs and dabs, he was taken to the interview room. Saxon left him sitting there long enough with his solicitor to become even more apprehensive than normal.
Eventually, after Saxon decided that Jenner had simmered enough, he strode in with Parker following behind. He sat and faced Jenner but did not look directly at him – he sat in silence reading from a file on the table in front of them.
Haines became agitated and started to drum his fingers on the table. ‘Oh really, Commander Saxon, can we make some progress here. I don’t think these delaying tactics are really necessary.’
Saxon ignored him for another minute, and then he suddenly looked up. ‘Okay, Jenner, for your information the man you murdered this morning was married, with three grown-up children, and two grandchildren,’ Saxon said, withholding his emotions as much as he was able.
‘That was a mistake – an accident, I didn’t mean to do it.’ Jenner was looking down at the table in front of him, sounding like a spoilt child.
Saxon slid out a sheet of paper that had been hidden inside a folder on the table. ‘Says here that Mr Philip Barnard – that’s the name of the gentleman you murdered this morning, in case you didn’t know that – had been hit several times about the head, with a baseball bat, and then stabbed with a large carving knife. I see here,’ he paused while he read the sheet again, ‘that you stabbed him twice in the chest. Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but that doesn’t sound much like an accident to me.’ Saxon raised his voice, ‘Once, maybe we would have just slapped your wrist and sent you home – but no, that wasn’t enough for you was it? You just had to make sure the poor sod was dead didn’t you?’
Haines put up his hand and glared at Saxon. ‘I don’t think we need to shout, do we, Commander?’
Saxon didn’t take his eyes off Jenner. ‘Answer the question please.’
‘He got in the way,’ mumbled Jenner, sullenly.
‘He got in the way – I see, and did the other gentleman, Mr Varnham, also get in the way?’
‘I lost my temper. I do that sometimes – I just can’t control myself when I blow.’
Saxon managed to calm himself. ‘Why were you in such a hurry when you left the house? You know the lane is narrow and has a lot of dangerous corners. Why the big rush?’
Haines moved closer to Jenner and whispered in his ear. ‘You don’t have to say a word, Mr Jenner.’
Saxon threw in a passing comment. ‘Oh, by the way, we know that you were looking for something – but we found it days ago.’
‘You found the book?’ replied Jenner quickly.
Saxon’s trick had paid off. ‘So, that’s what this is all about, the book. Oh yes, and we are steadily but surely going through all of the names, one by one.’
Jenner looked across at Saxon with a knowing look. ‘If you’ve got the book, you won’t need me to tell you any more, will you?’
Saxon, still trying not to give away the fact that he didn’t know fully what the names in the book represented, added, ‘It will help your defence if you cooperate more.’
Jenner sat back and folded his arms. ‘You’ve got no fuckin’ idea what the book is all about – you think it’s just a load of names, don’t you?’
Saxon didn’t respond.
‘You and your sister were in it together, weren’t you?’ added Parker, with even more bluff.
Saxon continued to use the same tactics. ‘We know that you and Barbara were not as estranged as you would want us to think. We found plenty of evidence in the house – and then there’s the fact that you have been watched for the last six months, and I suppose I should add…Well, no maybe I will keep that bit of information to myself, because if you refuse to help us, I can bring it up in court and the jury will not be at all lenient. You’ll go down for a very long time – and Liz, your slag, as you so politely call her, will probably go off with some other thug.’
Haines, who was making notes, paused and threw his pen down.
‘I really must protest, I don’t think that sort of attitude is called for, do you, Commander?’ Saxon didn’t answer.
Jenner turned to his solicitor, and they conducted a whispering session for about a minute. Parker leant over towards the tape recorder. ‘For the record, Mr Jenner is whispering to Mr Haines.’ Then he looked at them both as if to infer that it was not permitted.
Saxon started to drum his fingers on the table. ‘Please can we get a move on? If you wish to confer with your client, Mr Haines, then we can stop the interview for half an hour and resume when you have got yourself up to speed.’ He knew that would hurt.
Haines showed no emotion. ‘Commander, I will take you up on the offer – half an hour it is then.’
Saxon walked out of the room, leaving Parker to make the relevant comments to the tape recorder. He then followed Saxon and found him waiting along the corridor.
They walked out onto the fire escape and found a shady spot. Saxon smiled and gently punched Parker on the shoulder. ‘Good move, Parker; I think you have the makings of a fine detective.’ Parker, not quite realising what the compliment was for, took out his cigarettes and offered one to Saxon – who took it eagerly. There was a moment of silence as they topped up their nicotine levels. Then Parker had to speak.
‘Which bit, precisely was the good move, sir?’ he said hesitantly.
‘Don’t be a twit – the bit about him and his sister, being in it together. I must admit, that angle hadn’t occurred to me…’ he paused, ‘…yet, at least. Anyway, he now thinks we know a lot more than we do. In fact, let’s face it, Parker, we know sod all. Let’s keep bluffing – he may end up telling us everything, whatever everything is.’
‘What do you suppose they’re planning in there, sir, maybe a plea?’
‘If they are, then they won’t get far. That bastard in there murdered a man because he was driving his tractor too slowly down a country lane. He’s going down for murder. We can pretend to go along with the idea of him taking a lesser charge, but however we do it, Shithead is going to be off the streets for a long time.’
They returned to the interview room. Jenner and Haines were shouting at each other. Saxon’s appearance was enough to make them stop. Parker moved to start the tape. Haines asked him to wait a second or two, and then looked over the top of his glasses.
‘Commander Saxon, before we make this interview formal, my client is willing to give you as much information as he is able. He also regrets greatly the events of earlier today and feels that he is in need of psychiatric treatment to help him curb these uncontrollable outbursts of temper. Mr Jenner has remarked to me that his memory of what happened this morning is already becoming a bit of a blur. Therefore, if a plea of second-degree murder, on the grounds of diminished responsibility were to be accepted, then he would benefit more from the justice system if he was committed to a secure hospital where he could receive treatment.’
Jenner looked up at Saxon with pleading eyes. Saxon half smiled as if he was sympathetic to him. But shook his head slowly, giving the impression that with a little more persuasion he may be tempted to change his mind.
‘Mr Haines, you of all people should know I can’t go around making that kind of promise. Besides, your client may just tell us everything we already know. He probably can’t help us very much at all. Now, I think we should stop all this time wasting and get on with the interview befo
re everything becomes a total blur, don’t you?’
Jenner had started to shift around in his seat as he saw his chance of avoiding prison floating out through the window.
‘Wait,’ said Jenner quietly, ‘I’ll tell you everything.’
Saxon leant forward and cupped his hand as if he were slightly deaf. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear you.’
Jenner increased the volume. ‘I said, I’ll tell you everything you want to know, but I need guarantees.’
‘You are in no position to ask for anything, Jenner, or have the events of this morning blurred into total insignificance? If you help us, we can make recommendations, but that’s all. We’ll see what we can do if you help us sufficiently – do you understand? We can only do so much, but you’ll be in a better position if you cooperate fully. Now let’s get moving,’ he said sternly.
Parker flicked the switch, and he and Saxon sat back to listen. They waited for Jenner to compose himself. ‘Well, first of all Barbara and I met up once every two months for the handover of the stuff.’
Saxon looked up. ‘Stuff, what stuff. Please be specific for the tape please?’ he said, gesturing towards the recorder.
‘The drugs – coke mostly, some grass but some shit as well, lots of E, in fact, fuckin’ shedloads of the stuff. A friend of hers gets it from another friend. He’s got a small fishin’ boat. It gets passed from boat to boat out in the Channel, so if one of them was checked by Customs and Excise, chances was that by that time, the stuff – the drugs, would have been passed to another boat. It was wrapped in heat-sealed plastic bags, which were wrapped in even more bags, lots of them anyway, and they was washed each time, it’s done like that so the sniffer dogs can’t even tell if the stuff ’s been on the boat in the fuckin’ first place.’
Saxon couldn’t help smiling. In one day, he had caught a murderer and stopped a fairly substantial drug route into the country. ‘Of course, you can supply me with names, Mr Jenner?’
‘Only one – the bloke who owns the boat, Alan Turner, I never heard any other ones.’
Saxon scribbled the question: “Find out if the drug squad knows anything about this”, on a piece of paper and slid it to Parker. He nodded to acknowledge it, got up and left the room.
Saxon continued, ‘I thought you hated your sister.’
‘I had to make you lot think I had nothin’ to do with ’er, didn’t I? For all I knew, you might ‘ave been on my arse.’ Jenner was sweating heavily, sending splashes across the table every time he shook his head. Saxon slid his seat backwards – out of range.
‘What quantities of drugs are we talking about?’
‘As much as you can get in a horse box – one of them double ones. You know the ones what takes two horses.’
‘So then, what happened after your sister picked up the drugs from her fisherman friend? Did she distribute any of the stuff, or was that one of your little hobbies?’ Saxon tried in vain to hold back the sarcasm.
‘She supplied some to ’er friends. You wouldn’t believe how many so-called respectable people are users, believe me. I picked up most of it and took it up to London. Don’t ask me for any names – if I tell you, I’m as good as dead.’
Saxon decided to leave that little task to the drug squad. ‘So tell me, why the rush this morning, why were you in such a hurry to leave Anvil Wood House?’
‘Barbara had a pile of money for me that I was supposed to pay the dealer in London with. It has to be in the house somewhere, but I looked everywhere and I couldn’t fuckin’ find it. I was frightened when I left the house and I was seriously thinkin’ about doing a runner. If you owe these people money and you don’t come up with the dosh, they kill you. Simple as that.’
Parker entered the room and asked Saxon to follow him out into the corridor. Saxon suspended the interview, telling Haines that he would be back in a few minutes. Parker was looking pleased as he gave Saxon his news. ‘Drug squad have no information regarding this at all. They had absolutely no idea what I was talking about, and they were, understandably a bit cagey at first, wanting to know everything now. But I told them it was early days yet and when we have more information, we’ll get back to them.’
‘Good, they can’t have him until I’ve finished with the bastard. Then they can do whatever they want with him.’
They returned to the interview room. Saxon started the questions. ‘Does the name Jake Dalton mean anything to you?’
‘No, never ’eard of him. Should I ’ave?’
‘How about Clive Marks, he’s a doctor?’
‘Now you mention it, yeah, ’is name rings bells. Babs was always sayin’ that she mustn’t forget to get his stuff to ’im on time, otherwise he got really pissed off.’
Saxon struggled to hide his glee. ‘Did Barbara ever say why Dr Marks needed drugs?’
‘Yeah…now you mention it – somethin’ about some of his patients needed shit…you know, cannabis for muscle problems. I think it was Muscular Sclur…Sclera…fuck it, I don’t know how you say the bleedin’ word.’
Saxon said nothing. I don’t think I’ll be pursuing that one then.
‘What about Gertraud Bishop – ever heard of her?’
‘Nah.’
‘Christopher Janson?’
‘Yeah, I heard ’er talk about ’im.’
‘In what context?’
‘What? I don’t understand.’
‘In what way did she talk about Christopher Janson?’
‘Why didn’t you say that in the first place? She just said that he told ’er that he was hoardin’ the drugs she sold him so that if he got cancer or somethin’ like that, he was going to top ’imself with it.’
‘Did your sister’s friend Poppy have any idea what was going on?’
‘Not a fuckin’ clue – shit for brains that one, I can tell you. You see, most of the drugs never got to Babs’ house – we transferred it all to one of my vans in a lane somewhere in Sussex. Daft bitch didn’t know what planet she was on half the time. Couldn’t stand the cow.’
Saxon stopped him. ‘I’m not interested in your personal opinion of her. Is there anything you would like to say before we end this interview?’
‘No, except my fuckin’ ’ead ’urts somethin’ rotten – I must ’ave a mental disease and I feel a bit dizzy,’ said Jenner slyly, thinking that he really had convinced them that he was suffering from some kind of mental disorder.
Parker ended the recording. He and Saxon sat while Jenner was taken back to his cell. Haines packed up his papers and left without a word.
Parker slumped down next to Saxon and offered him a cigarette.
‘Thanks, I must buy some, I seem to always be smoking yours,’ said Saxon as he drew in the smoke.
Sergeant Dowling entered the room looking pleased. ‘Good news, sir, Mr Varnham is going to be okay – hospital just called. They’re going to keep him in overnight and tomorrow morning and probably take him home during the afternoon.’
‘Thanks, Sergeant, so we have a confession and a witness. Things are improving. All we need now is a something to go on regarding our shape-shifting friend. The rate he’s been bumping off his victims, we should hear something very soon.’
Chapter 14
Sunday, June 16, 8.00PM
Saxon sat alone in his apartment. Again. He hadn’t heard from Emma for some time and, although this upset him, he didn’t feel the pain of the separation in the same way anymore. In the beginning, particularly during the first month after she left, he would pace around, listening to sad music, almost swamped by his misery, occasionally drinking too much wine, and certainly regretting it the following morning.
Sometimes the despair he felt would be so all-encompassing that he almost cried with pain. However, as usual with him, the safety switch in his head would kick in and push the pain away.
The weather was still freaky. There were reports in the news of water shortages, and of the ground drying up so much that the foundations of some rural buildings wer
e becoming unstable. It made him think of his childhood – were the summers really hotter? Or was it the fact that children overheat faster than adults, and that memory, more often than not, plays tricks?
He didn’t have the answers. Just memories. Some of which he preferred to store in one of the deeper recesses of his mind. But like a nagging pain; they would always surface just when you don’t want them. One of these unwelcome memories was of his father – the father he had hardly known – the father he had been deprived of. Saxon was so young at the time of his death that the majority of his memories comprised of Saxon senior telling him a few stories of the war, combined with glimpses of days in the country, growing up in idyllic surroundings and living in a Tudor cottage in Sussex.
Richard Saxon was an enigma. He was a quiet man with great inner strength and had led an eventful life. During WWII, he was a squadron leader, flying Spitfires, Hurricanes and occasionally Lancasters, on bombing raids deep into Germany. Once, he was shot down near Berlin but, remaining calm, he managed to walk out of Germany, into France and eventually, after meeting up with the French Resistance, was smuggled back into England. Only to be given another aircraft – a brand new Spitfire – in which he was shot out of the skies by an anti-aircraft battery on the south coast of England. Apparently, one of the ladies who were plane-spotting on that day thought his aircraft sounded like a Fokker. Not exactly the word he used, but close enough.
Saxon loved to hear his father describing his fighting escapades. He thought that it was really what every little boy wants – the memories of his father from a child’s point of reference, without seeing the imperfections that all children start to see as they get older and realise that their poor father was not Superman after all.
The slightly inebriated reminiscing was abruptly halted by a knock on his door. He didn’t bother to look through the spy hole; after all, he was a big tough policeman, so why bother.
Saxon Page 25
