Prodow sat in Pauls vacated chair, and Groves saw the seat opposite empty and made for it. The phone flew off the desk and caught Groves at thigh height in the groin before dropping to the floor. All present except Groves suppressed laughter, but Prodow surrendered any pretence, and finally burst out with a loud roar.
“At least when I collect it, it falls straight to the floor. You shouldn’t be in such a rush.”
Groves was in temporary pain, and furious with himself for catching the blessed wire which he had avoided like the plague every time he had entered the office. To be criticised by Prodow though compounded the pain as he was the only one who on a regular basis had the phone off the desk.
“Right, sorry I’m late,” John could not believe his ears, “I’ve been at the lawyers picking up a copy of the will,” and with a flourish he removed a long thin brown envelope from his inside jacket pocket and gave it to Paul.
Doreen, who had been reading her book when both John and Alison had arrived, was studying Prodow now with intense interest as she had never heard him apologise to anyone for anything let alone unpunctuality. Prodow had thoroughly enjoyed the meeting with the lawyer which had adjourned at its conclusion to lunch and drinks in a local club.
Mr Aldwright, the lawyer, had suggested the possibility of him working for the group of seven practices as a legal representative between them and Police when certain of their higher profile clients were arrested. Because of this, he was in an exceptionally good mood and nothing was going to upset him. Paul gave him the briefest of updates which he joyfully praised, and he turned to John in anticipation of an update from him.
“We have been to Crawley and perhaps Alison would be the better to update you.” Alison was not expecting a speaking part during this meeting, and seemed to splutter into life like a motor boat starting up on a pond. She was careful what she said, and like Paul extremely brief, and to her shock was also praised by Prodow.
“That’s the problem working with an awkward bastard like John, you never know when he’s going to drop you in it, but you recovered well.” Alison turned a pleasant shade of red. Groves was also showing more interest in Prodow’s remarks and couldn’t make out what was wrong with him.
“Right Jimmy, your turn, let me have it.”
Jimmy was ready and prepared, and set off in a chronological order of the events at the lab with an over enthusiastic detail of results of every day poisons.
Prodow showed great interest in his narrative, and at its conclusion quite openly said, “If any of your relatives drop dead, we’ll know what to look for,” and sniggered at his slight joke. “Doreen, is there anything you want to add?”
That nearly made her fall off her chair as in all the enquiries she had been on, no one had ever deemed to ask for her opinion, “Err, no.”
“What are you reading now?”
“A book on Troy.” She’d known for years that he had probably been aware she read in the late afternoons, but he had never once previously alluded to it.
“Mr Groves, anything you need to let us know?”
“No.”
“Well that’s it, thank you all for your hard work and keep it up,” and with that, Prodow was out of his chair and towards the door like a man half his age followed by Groves who reminded Doreen of an obedient poodle.
Paul said, “What the hell is up with him?” but didn’t get any response from the remaining little group who had all witnessed the departure with differing degrees of incredulity.
36
Wednesday 8th June 2011
Paul opened the envelope, and removed a vertically folded, certified copy of George Armstrong’s last will and testament. He read this a lot more sedulously than the papers John had given him. Apparently, when the will had been made, his wife had still been alive and they had a clause that allowed the first person’s monies to go to the survivor. As George had survived his wife, he was her beneficiary. There were no known relatives shown, but the final bequest was that all his monies go to similar charities, which he had listed. Paul gave the will to John who opened it and placed it flat on a desk so that both he and Alison could read it.
“What do you make of that?”
John said, “Very philanthropic.”
Alison was studying the list of charities, and said, “Why so many different charities when they are all supporting basically the same thing, why not just one?”
Paul said, “Don’t know, and at the moment, don’t really care although duly noted,” and then to John, “Nearly forgot, the video is ready to go.”
Alison handed the will to Jimmy who laid it flat on Paul’s desk before pouring over it trying to find something the others had missed that was relevant to the enquiry written thereon. His patience expired rapidly. He soon gave up, and was astonished when Doreen asked to see it. Handing the open will to her, he returned to his fortified desk to get his exhibit book, and a clear bag to place the will in. Doreen had enjoyed the fact that she had been included by Prodow in the meeting although she had no contribution to make, so now she wanted to get more involved.
She studied the will intently as Alison, Paul and John were making for the door and said, “I didn’t know he was a smoker.”
Paul stopped dead, and said, “He wasn’t, why did you say that?”
“These charities are all for chest and breathing complaints.”
Paul knew that little things mattered in major enquiries, and that information could be gleaned from the most insignificant of sources, not that he considered Doreen insignificant. He made a mental note to discuss this with her the following day, and then trailed after the others down the stairs to the conference come briefing room to check out the video. John had the remote in his hand and was speeding the video forward saying that all he wanted to check was where the panic alarm and the lifeline button were. Soon the recording slowed to normal speed and the lifeline button was clearly visible because of its bright red coloured button, on the top of the mantelpiece.
“That was out of his reach then, now where is the living room’s panic alarm?” The picture moved slowly round and picked up the panic alarm on a trailing lead nestling on the floor under the table with the telephone. They all looked at one another.
Alison said, “He could probably have pressed it.”
John said, “Two questions then, why didn’t he have the lifeline round his neck and why didn’t he press the panic alarm?”
Paul said, “We can’t find any records of the alarm company as they went bust years ago, so I don’t know if it’s been serviced lately. Frankly, I doubt it. I’ve spoken to the technical branch, but they say it would have to be a qualified alarm engineer to check it. Prodow has authorised it so it’s in hand. I will write a note to Chaplin because he will not speak to anyone on the phone because of the press intrusions. The local uniform officer can deliver it later tonight. I’ll ask if it was Armstrong’s habit of not wearing the lifeline, and if he often left it on the mantel piece.”
John didn’t bother rewinding the video, he just took it out of the machine and gave it to Paul saying it would be much simpler if it was copied onto several DVDs. They parted company from Paul without returning to the office.
In the car park, Alison started towards her car but was brought to an abrupt halt by John who said, “Remember, be careful.”
“All very well for you, I don’t know what, or who I’m looking for.”
“You’re a Police Officer, be suspicious. If something is unusual or someone asks too many questions, take care.”
“Great!” and with that she got into her car and drove out of the station into the early evening traffic. Within 15 minutes she arrived home at her nice, quiet, small two bedroomed first floor flat in an up-market part of the Northern most area of Chichester. She left her car on the hard standing in front of her allotted garage, making sure it was locked and alarmed, before climbing the external stairs to her front door. Before putting the key in the lock, she hesitated and looked about from
her first-floor vantage point but saw nothing that was unusual. Why on earth, she thought, did she need to worry as she was a baby when the Angolans were fighting each other?
Then she opened the door. There was a swift sudden movement from inside the hall, and an old crystal vase containing roses that was on the hall table hit the wooden floor and shattered sending small shards of glass and water about the floor as a black and white furry cat accelerated towards and past her.
“You stupid bloody idiot! You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
37
Thursday 9th June 2011
She was awoken by the phone’s incessant shrill at exactly five o’clock, which was an unearthly time in Alison’s book as she hated to be disturbed before six. Preferably seven. Checking the luminous dial of her bedside alarm clock, she picked up the phone.
“Hi Dad. What do you want?”
The soft voice of her Father came to her ear, “How did you know it was me?”
“No normal human being would ring at this God forsaken hour.”
“Early bird etc.”
“What do you want?”
“See if you want anything and have a chat.”
“Dad, it’s five in the morning.”
“I thought you would be up getting ready for work: you won’t get far if you lay in bed all day.”
“Who have you spoken to? John or Gordon?”
There was an imperceptible short pause while he considered his options and decided to be as truthful as possible, “Both.”
“I’m ok Dad.”
“Listen to what they say, you will learn more from them than most other Detectives.”
“More than from you?”
“Unlikely, anyway, now you’re up, you can go to work, John’s waiting for you,” and he hung up. She lay in bed looking at the phone still in her hand.
At 7.15am when she walked into the canteen, it had only been open fifteen minutes, but John was in his chair, back to the wall eating what was probably all the unhealthiest choices the canteen was offering for breakfast. The lady at the servery was definitely a morning person, happy to be up early and too chatty by half for Alison’s liking. With two cups of tea for herself, and a cup of coffee, she joined John at what was becoming their regular table. He acknowledged with a nod her arrival, but continued eating as she downed her first cup of tea.
Now she was starting to feel human, “When did you speak to my Dad?”
“This morning.”
“Don’t you people ever sleep?”
“Why waste your life lying in bed all day, anyway, Paul’s in the office and he’ll brief us.”
“What about?”
“The gardener.”
“Of course. I should have known!”
With his last fork full of food about to leave his plate, he said, “Sarcasm I presume.”
Both finished their drinks and Alison managed two poached eggs on toast before making their way up to the office where Paul was brewing his own tea.
They all greeted one another and as was normal, engaged in general conversation. Paul brought the subject round to the murder and the fact that Armstrong employed an elderly man as his gardener. This had only come to light when a man had walked into the station just as Paul had been leaving the previous evening, and asked to speak to someone about all the Police tape that he had found when he had gone to mow the lawn at the Barnham bungalow. Paul had made a quick appointment for the two to visit the bungalow early to meet the man who had given his name only as Dan Smith.
“Sod’s law really. Prodow withdrew the PCSO guarding the place yesterday morning, and this gardener chappie went there in the afternoon.”
Alison said, “Interesting coincidence, don’t you think?” No one bothered to answer.
In the yard, John’s car was in its normal place, but he headed straight past it towards Alison’s and got in when she unlocked it. They were soon travelling towards Barnham using the exact same route that she had driven previously. For some reason, she felt quite perky now, even having got up earlier than she normally did and not even having a proper full breakfast.
John hardly said a word as she babbled on about very little including the near heart attack her cat had given her the previous evening. He liked cats and only commented about the cruelty of leaving one locked in a house all day. She was going to answer but swung into the drive of Armstrong’s bungalow, and pulled up behind an open back pickup truck with three different size lawn mowers on the back. The PCSO and his land rover had already gone which afforded more parking spaces and turning capabilities, although the pickup seemed to have been abandoned in the driveway.
Both got out of the Ford as a man well into his sixties walked into view from the side of the garage. He was dressed in a pair of old brown cord trousers with a couple of holes in both legs, ‘not designer holes’ thought Alison, and an old green fleece over an un-ironed checked shirt which was all topped off with a French beret.
Alison said, “Good morning, we are from the Police, I presume you must be Dan?”
“That’s right luv,” and Alison visibly winced at being called luv.
“What happened here then?”
Before she could respond, John said, “Dan Smith. You sure? What’s your real name?”
“Dan Jones.”
“Is that who your wagon is registered to?”
“Yeah.”
“You know I’ll check?”
“Yeah.”
“And you’ll be easy to find in that,” and indicated the truck, “if you are telling us a porkie?”
“Yeah. I don’t like Police Stations at the best of times, so I use Smith.”
“Jones doesn’t seem much better.”
Indignantly Dan said, “What’s wrong with it? It’s my real name.”
John said, “OK Dan, I believe you” and left a pause which Alison took as her signal to outline some brief details which had already been emblazoned across the front pages of the papers and headlined on the television news channels.
When she finished, Dan looked at both of them in astonishment, and started to shake his head.
Alison asked him, “Don’t you believe me?”
Dan kept shaking his head. “He told me his pain was getting worse. I suppose it could have been a blessing in disguise. I still wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”
Pausing in what Alison thought was a respectful silence, Dan suddenly took of his beret and stuffed it into his pocket.
“Come on. Follow me. The time is right.”
“Sorry. I don’t follow?”
“You’ll see luv.”
He set off towards the road but walking down the middle of the front garden passing all the unusual and ornamental trees still shaking his head. About two thirds of the way to the road, he stopped, and pointed to a large overgrown mahonia.
“There.”
Both John and Alison said in unison, “What?”
It had to have been the only un pruned bush in the entire garden. Dan walked towards it, pulling at the marginally prickling branches and moving them aside as he forced his way forward towards the centre of the shrub. A circular piece of concrete which was concealed from the casual onlooker by the density of the bush became visible on the ground. John, who was accustomed to hiding places, was impressed at how well hidden the piece of concrete was, and it was obvious to him that it was also the cover of a hole in the ground.
“Dan, I’ll give you a tenner if you can cut a path into this bush so we don’t have to fight our way in.”
“You’re on” and Dan headed off back towards his truck, and delved into the back seat area for his petrol driven Black and Decker chain saw.
It was clear to both Alison and John that Dan did not proscribe to Health and Safety standards as there was no sign of goggles, ear defenders, protective clothing or anything else.
Alison said, “Shouldn’t we get this filmed before he cuts himself or this bush to ribbons?”
“It was on the original vid
eo, so no problem there, and I’m fascinated with what’s in the hole, aren’t you?”
She was, and said so, and watched in anticipation when Dan scythed through the foliage clearing a path to the concrete circle.
With the path cut, John handed over a crumpled £10 note to a grateful Dan who added it to his bulging wallet. Moving to the concrete lid, John tried to prise it open by getting his fingers under it. It was too tight a fit and obviously heavy. John examined the circle of concrete but could see no way of getting any purchase on it. The concrete was surrounded by a thin lip of weathered wood which was obviously what it was seated upon, and was the circumference of the actual hole.
John looked at Dan and said, “How do you open it?”
“You give me another tenner.”
“You must be a very rich gardener.”
“I do all right.”
“OK. A tenner.”
Dan was off back down the garden towards the house, but not towards his truck, he went to the shed and both Alison and John watched in disbelief as he opened it with a key. In less than 30 seconds, he was out carrying two jemmies and on his way back down the garden.
Alison queried, “You’ve got a key to the shed?”
“Cause I have, I’m the bleeding gardener, where do you think all the stuff is kept that I need,” and he cast his eyes upwards for a second and tutted.
John looked at Alison, “He’s got a point,” then to Dan and said, “Have you ever seen a jar of poison in the shed?”
An Urgent Murder Page 11
