The murmuring stuttered again for a few seconds.
“With her boyfriend, they hatched a plan. Deborah wanted him to suffer for deserting Jean. It was easy for her to locate him and easy to get the poison. Deborah got Gary’s coat out of his van and used it as a disguise in case she was seen.”
John said, “Did she know about the camera in the birdbox?”
“No. We asked that directly and she was shocked.”
“So, it was just a precautionary disguise.”
“Yes. So was the mud that they stuck over the number plates. It was part of their plan. The car being the same make and model as Munroe’s was also a lucky coincidence for them.”
Prodow said, “I’ll say.”
“Deborah left her boyfriend at the Murrell and drove to the bungalow. She found a key that hung on a nail at the back of the garage for the nurses to get in when the back door was locked. Apparently, it was in full view to anyone walking round the garage and it wasn’t hidden or concealed in any way.”
Prodow interrupted again.
“What was she going to do if there was no key?”
“Knock on the door or break in.”
Sarcastically, he retorted, “Obviously!”
“Once inside she told Armstrong she was the nurse’s supervisor and wanted a few words but asked if she could have a cup of tea first. She made two cups of tea and dropped the poison into Armstrong’s cup. He drained his cup and then Deborah badgered him as to his identity. She became annoyed because he would not admit to her that he was Archie.”
As he began to be overcome by the effects of the poison, he tried to reach the lifeline button or the phone, so she lifted his chair and pulled him out onto the floor. He was shaking about so much that Deborah put her foot on his neck until she thought he had died. Then she washed her cup and saucer in the sink with Armstrong’s saucer. Back in the room, she picked up his cup and thought she saw movement in the drive so put it in a pocket. Running to the back door, she grabbed her jam jar which she had used to carry the poison from the windowsill before leaving. She locked the door and put the jam jar on the floor because it was very slippery to hold.”
Jimmy piped up. “It wasn’t mentioned by the lab that it was slippery.”
Paul said, “I don’t think it really matters now. What did she say about the diary and broken pencil?”
The sergeant continued. “That was something else we pointedly asked a couple of times. She was adamant she never saw the diary or pencil. She could not give an account for them.”
“Right. Sorry. Carry on.”
“When she was out she went back to the Murrell and they both had a drink and took the mud off the index plates. They stayed there till the first emergency vehicles went past.”
John said, “So she knew nothing of the camera in the bird box or that Sally was getting ready to rip him off. Nor that Gary had disabled the alarm. She was one lucky killer.”
The Sergeant said, “She expressed joy at his death and is confident that he was Archie.”
The CC who had been sitting listening intently to the narration said, “Am I missing something here? Is it George Armstrong or Archie who has been murdered?”
Deathly silence. No one could say. Then John piped up.
“There is a simple way to find out.”
“Which is?”
“Take a DNA sample from Jean and compare it to our corpse. The scientists can tell us if they are related or not. If they are: it’s Archie. If not: it’s George.”
“Jimmy. This is your domain. Sort it.”
“Yes sir.”
153
Monday 20th June 2011
Simon arrived at Graham’s and was permitted entry by Ian. Laura was in the kitchen with Carol creating some culinary delight. Alison had badgered John for information during the journey from Sussex which he had made her force out of him. Carol had drifted off to sleep in the car as the two Police Officers sparred with each other. Now the two were in the lounge still going hammer and tongs at each other. John was enjoying himself. Alison was getting more and more crabby.
Graham arrived in his chauffeured car and joined the company after releasing his driver at his front door. Everything settled down and they all gathered in the lounge. John had brought three good bottles of wine and Carol had assumed her normal role as mine host. It was for Simon to let the others know of any problems that may have arisen in Birmingham. Alison frowned constantly as he spoke, still harbouring a grievance he’d left without saying goodbye to her.
Simon was less than candid. He omitted more than he included. They could all see that there was obviously more to his narration, but deemed it superfluous to ask. He told them he had disabled the three guards and broken into RD’s house and was talking to Mercedes when she was shot by Greg. Then he decamped believing Greg was trying to kill him. After some time, he returned to the house and found one of the guards, the DCI, had got free and was in RD’s bedroom unconscious with a syringe stuck in his arm. A gun was at his feet and the woman doctor was shot through the eye. RD was on the floor, so he called for an ambulance. Grabbing the guards’ guns, he ran for it. He thought it best to leave the apparent murder weapon on the floor for the Police to find.
At Yusef’s, he found a window ajar and broke in to find him dying on the floor. Yusef was just able to tell him which phone was the one used to call the contact in London. He did a quick search and recovered all the phones. In the process of marking them as he put them into his bag, he heard someone else moving in the house so he bolted from there as well. Naturally he thought it was Greg who was still after him, and did not want to get entangled with him in case the Police were on their way.
Laura butted in and said, “It didn’t take long to ascertain the numbers that each phone called. We have been able to identify one to the CC of the West Midlands and one to his deputy, one to the Leader of Birmingham council, one to the Clerk to the Magistrates, one to the deputy prosecutor, one to the editor of the Birmingham Newspaper, and some people running brothels in both Manchester and Birmingham. Then of course, Nicholas Boon. A couple I can’t identify: two unknowns who must have disabled the phones at their ends.”
Graham said, “The CC of the West Mids has committed suicide. Nicholas has died in a major road accident. Tomorrow, with the Home Secretary’s authority, I shall be speaking to all these other people. I expect they will all be resigning their positions and departing the UK. A week will be ample time in my opinion, otherwise they will likely be arrested. I have been contacted by Heathrow Special Branch who have identified Greg from his TV still, as leaving under a false name for New York. The Americans are already looking for him.”
John said, “That’ll be some arrest if they find him.”
Simon said, “He’ll shoot it out, I have no doubt.”
Alison couldn’t help herself. “I hope they kill him and he dies in pain.” Everyone in the room looked at her.
Graham recognised Simon’s silence as the end of his story.
Addressing Ian, he said, “Is there anyone you know in Kent who could do a discreet security sweep of an office?”
“There is one guy but he only has one arm. Someone would have to carry his gear and set it up for him.”
“Could you act as that person?”
“Yes. When would you want to do it?”
“Tomorrow night, about two ish.”
“Ok. I’ll arrange it with him. Where do you want to meet?”
“At the Home Office front door.”
“You know there are cameras all over the place inside and outside of that building.”
“I know. Can’t be helped.”
“Unless anyone else has anything to add, I would like to eat. Having survived on cardboard sandwiches for a couple of days, I’m likely to start losing unnecessary weight.”
Simon chipped in, “Same with me” ignoring his meal at the Beefeater.
They all started to drift towards the dining room. Graham caught Alison.
“I know you suffered at Greg’s hand, but please make sure you do not let your emotions get the better of you.”
“Sorry Dad” but she wasn’t.
After the meal, Simon who had been deliberately keeping a slight distance from Alison surrendered. With a large glass of red wine, he ambled out of the kitchen door into the freshening air of the late evening. Alison saw him go and made no pretence. She went after him. Everyone saw him leave followed swiftly by her. Graham didn’t know who to pity. He knew Simon could look after himself physically but would be no match for his daughter in a full frontal verbal assault.
All the remaining group assembled in the lounge with their drinks and engaged in pleasant conversation. Simon had reached the bottom of the garden and sat on a rickety old wooden bench. He knew she was coming and was ready. She stood in front of him and launched into a tirade of abuse about him leaving without saying goodbye. He tried to butt in with his reasons, but she wasn’t having any of it. When he took a sip of his wine, it seemed to spur her on. She was tiring as her body had not completely recovered and he could see that. Alison realised that she had been worried that something untoward may have happened to him and she wanted to be with him.
In her anger, she blurted it out. Tears started dripping down her cheeks. Simon was a gentleman, and rising to his feet he guided her to the bench and then sat back down next to her. It was too much. The seat had been there for twenty odd years. It collapsed under their combined weight. Simon caught her as she was falling, and she landed heavily on top of him. His wine had shot out of the glass and covered his shirt, but it was of no corollary.
“You OK?”
“No. My ribs!”
“Don’t move.”
“I can’t. Don’t make me move.”
They stayed there, lying together with her on top of him. She was no longer crying. The closeness was much too much. Her lips met his. The pain in her ribs forgotten. Time passed.
“Can you move yet? They’ll be wondering where we are, and I’m getting cramp down here.”
“Always complaining. You implying I’m heavy?”
“Sorry.”
“Stop saying you’re bloody sorry. Now help me up.”
“How? I’m underneath you for God’s sake.”
“Well I can’t move. I’ll try and roll off you. Just don’t push me.”
“I’ll just lie here.”
She slowly rolled off him to lie on the floor next to him. He stood up and stretched his body to get it working again.
“Don’t just stand there. Help me up.”
Slowly they managed to get her to her feet.
When they walked back in, no one had the temerity to ask how he came to be wearing a glass full of red wine on the front of his white shirt. Carol just handed both a fresh glass of wine and left it at that.
154
Tuesday 21st June 2011
Come the bewitching hour, all bar Graham had left. John and Carol together in the old Vauxhall and Alison and Simon in the still unreported Audi, were heading for Chichester. Ian and Laura, his young apprentice, were heading for Kent. Each had sprayed their number plates as a matter of security. Having been told by Alison that she wanted to go home to renew her acquaintance with her erstwhile feline Hannibal, John was grateful he was in for a relatively peaceful night. What she and Simon got up to was a matter for them.
Seven in the morning saw John in his usual seat stuffing himself with his regular choice of breakfast. Jimmy joined him and put a large manila envelope on the table before going to the servery. Sitting opposite John, he slid a coffee towards him and then slurped his own beverage noisily.
John emptied his mouth. “You have my undivided attention Jimmy. What is in it?”
“The result.”
“I thought so.”
“I haven’t opened it yet.”
“Did the scientist tell you the result?”
“No.”
“I am extremely impressed that you have not looked.”
“I want to give it to the Chief for him to see first.”
“He’s due in the office soon. Shall we go upstairs.”
Both made their way to the office and spoke with Paul. The office was packed with people writing reports and filling forms. All the phones were being utilised by detectives seeking information. Then Prodow and the CC strode in. A hush descended and Jimmy, with a flourish before either had a chance to speak or sit down, produced the envelope.
“Good morning sir. I have here the result from the scientist. I have not looked, I believe that you should be the one to open it.”
The CC took the proffered envelope and put it on Paul’s desk. If Jimmy thought he could milk an occasion, he was a rank amateur compared with the Chief.
“Doreen. I am desperate for a cuppa. As keeper of the accoutrements, what’s the chances?”
“I think I can manage that” and she set about boiling the kettle.
Those that had worked with the CC before knew he wouldn’t open the envelope until he was ready. Others were impatient to know. They were all going to have to wait. Doreen took her time and a few stragglers managed to force their way into the crowded room. Supping his tea, the CC picked up the envelope. Turning it over with his free hand, he put it back on the desk.
It was like a football match where the crowd surged forward in anticipation of their team scoring and then settled back down again when their side was frustrated. He put his cup down and picked up the envelope. This time, he stuck his finger under the flap and prised it open and removed the single sheet of paper. Looking at it, he slowly shook his head.
“Well I’ll be.”
Then he put the paper back into the envelope. The silence was deeper than space.
“While everyone is here, I would like to thank you all for your work in relation to our two serial killers. I know you are working flat out to find out how many they have murdered. It must be traumatic for some of you.” He picked up his tea. “I have been told that Murray will be transferred today to St Richard’s hospital, and our traffic department will facilitate his journey.” Looking at Groves, “I presume you agree?”
“Yes sir.”
“For information of you all,” and he sipped his tea as they all inched slightly forward, “the statement of Munroe came in last night. She has said that she had been promised £5000 to assist our victim to die and the final £1000 was awaiting her at the bungalow. One presumes that was the £1000 found during the search. Apparently, he was in so much pain, he was desperate. She was going to supply him a concoction of barbiturates, that were also delivered with this statement: which taken altogether with alcohol would have achieved his goal. Therefore, she has admitted an offence of preparing to assist a suicide. I, with Mr Prodow, have consulted the CPS and it has been agreed that it would not be in the public interest to prosecute.” He sipped his tea again as the gathered officers considered the decision.
“Good. I think that’s all. If there’s anything else?”
The harshness of the noise was nearly deafening.
“What? Oh, the result?”
Various officers could take no more. Discipline and self-restraint flew out of the window. The CC didn’t mind. In fact, he quite enjoyed it. He picked the envelope back up and removed the paper.
Like a TV host, “The result is in. Our corpse was not related to Jean. Therefore, we must assume it was George Armstrong.”
A slow hum developed as more and more started to talk to each other. They all now knew that Deborah had without doubt killed the wrong man.
Paul took the paper and envelope from the CC.
Doreen, who was standing by her desk and next to Prodow and the CC said to him, “You can still command an audience.”
He just winked at her and smiled. His appointment later with the Police Authority was going to be just as much fun. Everything had started to come together well.
Sussex Police seemed to be riding on the crest of a wave and he was the top
surfer.
155
Wednesday 22nd June 2011
At 1.55am, Graham walked up to the main entrance of the Home Office carrying his briefcase. Then at 1.58am he was joined by Ian and Victor who were carrying three cases between them. The two security officers sitting at the reception desk just inside had watched them all arrive via their CCTV screens and became instantly worried. At exactly 2am, the Home Secretary entered the foyer from within the building and spoke briefly to them. It had a calming effect and they opened the door. All three entered and were logged into the building under pseudonyms before following the Minister to her office.
Once in her sanctum, Ian placed a twelve-inch square silver box just three inches deep on her desk and turned it on. Nothing lit it up. There were no listening devices active within her office. Graham introduced both Ian and Victor to her. With little pre-amble, Victor asked if he could place one of the cases on her desk and she cleared some room to allow it. When he clipped the lid up, she saw it was filled by a stainless steel unit with various lights, dials and switches. They all burst into life as Victor put a long round key with angled teeth into a hole and turned. The Home Secretary sat behind her desk watching. She and Graham were mere onlookers as Ian and Victor spoke in technical gobbledegook to each other. Ian had opened both other cases that were on the floor with their lids resting against the desk.
Victor only had one arm and hence one hand. It was all he seemed to need. Ian, at his request, passed him what looked like an old fashioned microphone on the end of a wire. He plugged it into a socket in the main case and hit a switch. A couple of dials twitched before returning to their resting position.
“Interesting.”
Being handed an A5 size box he turned another switch on and walked the perimeter of the room.
“Very interesting.”
He spoke directly to the Home Secretary. “Whose office is on the other side of that wall?”
“My personal secretary. Kathy.”
An Urgent Murder Page 50
