by Lloyd Otis
Kearns wanted to move this along and prompt Simpson to follow the script.
‘Let us cut you a deal,’ she said. ‘Someone’s got to be held accountable. You know how it is, Jacob. We know that you’re on probation for previous fraud offences so it will be easy for your associates to believe you’ve stitched them up in order to get away with a few things.’
Simpson wasn’t pleased. Whatever he had given the police in the past, it was not something they were later supposed to threaten him with. That pissed him off.
‘Right, looks as if you’ll be spending a longer period of time here because we’ve made no progress,’ Breck concluded. ‘I’ll arrange for officers to go to your flat and search the premises. Who knows what they’ll find.’
‘They won’t find anything, man.’
‘I urge you to tell us what you know about Troy,’ he warned. ‘We can’t protect you if you don’t.’ Simpson threw up his hands.
‘Pringle lied. Troy did go to see him but has now moved on to an unknown location.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Pringle told me after you let him go. He phoned me. I’m telling you, Troy is on a tightrope.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘You know? Tightrope, lose his balance and he’ll fall off.’
Breck turned to Kearns and pointed towards Simpson. ‘This guy’s got a future in show business. Say hello to our resident Tommy Cooper here.’ He returned his attention back to the hippy with a stark warning. ‘Tell me what Troy is up to?’
Simpson winced. ‘OK, you didn’t hear it from me but Troy placed a passport order with a forger. He’ll come back to London to collect it.’
Kearns’ look of surprise wasn’t picked up by Breck. From not initially following her instructions, Simpson had now gone over the top with information that even she didn’t know about.
‘How did he get in contact with the forger?’
‘Through Clarke of course.’
‘That bit will be hard for us to prove. OK, who’s the forger and where is Troy planning to go to?’
‘Man, you can find the guy at Bill’s Snooker Hall most days. Everyone knows who he is.’
‘Well I don’t so have you got a description for us?’
‘He’s a bit of a fruit, in his mid-fifties, and goes by the name of Maurice Mace. Most people call him Mo.’
Breck knew him. ‘Mo Mace?’
‘Yep, I don’t know where Troy is planning to go to but Mo’s turnaround is several days if that helps.’
‘Several days?’
‘He’s old school and won’t rush. Got this thing about quality.’
‘When did Troy first meet with him?’
‘Not sure brother.’
An almost satisfied Breck aimed a wink towards Kearns at a job well done.
She remained in shock at the new revelations, while Breck hoped that the information which Simpson provided would jump start the investigation. He needed it to before it became too late.
FORTY ONE
Several cold black coffees were on either side of Breck’s cluttered desk. He stared at it all, imagining that a letter from the Hardwick Stanfield security firm was just visible underneath a pile of papers. It caused him to panic. He had yet to hear from Mr Garsdale and didn’t believe he possessed a realistic chance of landing the job – a job which he was unsure if he wanted anyway. With weary and stretched faces, he and Kearns continued to mull over Simpson’s information.
Kearns stretched her fingers out on the table and tilted her head towards the ceiling, pretending to be in deep thought.
‘Jacob Simpson is a fantasist, making things up. As for inventing this scenario, I don’t know, I don’t think I buy it.’ Kearns sniffed a couple of times although her sinuses were clear.
‘OK, so we let him go?’
‘He’ll want a deal.’
‘What for?’
‘Future cooperation.’
‘Confiscate the large sum of money he had and tell him we won’t raid his flat. That’s the deal!’
‘If we do that then he might not help us in the future.’
‘We’ve got other people to turn to if that were ever the case. He just happens to be the man of the moment. The best of the bunch for this situation.’
Breck reached for one of the coffees until he remembered it had lost its heat, and followed his realisation with a deep sigh. ‘His future cooperation is not our problem, Pat. I don’t want Jacob Simpson thinking I’m soft. In Troy, we’ve got a killer roaming around London, getting ready to leave. I aim to stop him.’
Kearns stepped in to steer Breck’s thinking back in the direction she wanted.
‘I understand but I do think we should focus more attention towards Norway. It’s too much of a coincidence that our POI had a flight booked on the day he reported the attack. We may not know how he is linked to the victims at this moment but we know their connection is Wade Van Bruen. Our POI could have an unknown issue with the CEO.’
‘I’m not going there Pat and I’ve been getting the impression that you think I’m wasting my time following our prime suspect.’
‘To an extent, but I know we have to look at all avenues. Contact your man in Oslo and see if he’s heard anything. It might even be an idea for you to pop over there.’
‘Let me give you an update on something. I have our POI’s car registration number which the yard’s security cameras picked up when he arrived at the station to report his attack. From that, we now have an address so I plan to send a few officers up to his Camden home for a surprise visit. Even though he is missing somewhere in Norway his home just might reveal a few important clues.’
Breck had kept that from her and for the first time, Kearns noticed a real look of suspicion on his face. It made it harder for her to keep up pretences while Breck felt that they needed to put their heads together and figure out the whole stolen identity issue. Not waste time on Norway. They were decades away from pressing a button on a computer and getting an immediate answer. A little bit of indecision followed until Beatrice popped up with a message for Breck. Before she could deliver it though, he asked her a question.
‘Bea, got any ideas on how we can pinpoint the real Troy?’
‘What have we come up with so far?’
‘Well...’
Kearns jumped in. ‘Excuse me. This requires real detective work, Arlo. Not for a DC to give us three guesses.’
‘Give her a chance. She’s entitled to have her say. At the moment, if Bashir wanted me to give him a result I wouldn’t be able to, and I don’t want him to force additional assistance on me in the form of someone like Ray Riley.’
Kearns’ partial sulk did little to dim Beatrice’s enthusiasm, but after much head scratching she drew a blank too. They all took turns to stare at each other until Breck called an end to the informal gathering. It saw Kearns disperse back to her desk while Beatrice saw Riley head over, looking like he wanted trouble so stayed put.
‘I heard things are not going so well for you,’ Riley said when he reached Breck.
‘Where did you hear that?’
‘Everywhere I turned, people told me things. You can always join my team if this case becomes too much. I’ll give you easy tasks that you can manage. Like, getting my tea and cleaning my shoes.’
Breck shot up from his seat and went nose-to-nose with Riley. He had enough and Beatrice intervened when Breck looked like he’d thump him.
‘I’ve got a message for you and it’s from a male,’ she said. Breck backed down. ‘He claimed to be Alexander Troy, the one we’ve been chasing.’
For Breck, no one in their right mind would pretend to be Troy right now so it must be genuine. He wondered why the message had just reached him but carpeting the lazy sod that handled it seemed fruitless. It would take an age to sort out and with things as they stood, it wasn’t worth the hassle.
‘What did he say?’
‘The transcript is on my desk, come on.’ Beatrice pulled B
reck away from Riley, as she had intended, to diffuse the situation. ‘You shouldn’t let him wind you up. He’s not worth it.’
‘He’ll get what’s coming to him one day, you can be sure of that.’
She handed over the transcript and Breck let the delicate touch of her hand brush his for longer than he should have.
‘I thought you said it was on your desk.’
‘I didn’t want to see you get into trouble over Riley. It was best to get you out of the way.’
Breck appreciated the thought but it became an awkward moment for them both until he focused on the transcript and began to read it.
ALEX TROY: This is for Arlo Breck of Cransham Police Station. I’m Alexander Troy, wanted for Janet Maskell’s murder. [Pause]. I’m innocent, didn’t do it, but I’ve gone and done your job for you. A man followed me to a pub in Blackfriars. I was able to evade him by hiding out in its upstairs gym but I think he could be the one setting me up.
OPERATOR: Sir if you could just...
ALEX TROY: Listen to me!
The call ended abruptly.
‘Why did he just stop?’ Breck asked the question but Beatrice couldn’t give him the answer. ‘Where did he make the call from?’
‘He made it from a public telephone box in the Rotherhithe area.’
‘I’m handing this to you. Check all the pubs in London Blackfriars and find the one with a working gym on its top floor, clear?’
‘All clear,’ Beatrice said.
Breck wasted no time popping over to Kearns. ‘Pat, I need you to get Peter Clarke here pronto. I want to question him about his meeting with Jacob Simpson.’
‘It’s a bit short notice isn’t it?’
‘Tell him it’s important.’
Breck readied himself for the meeting he had arranged until the phone rattled and he prayed it would be good news from somewhere, anywhere. After a brief conversation with Home Office Pathologist Bart Redmaine, Breck felt a whole lot better.
He now had the name of a man that could help him determine which Alexander Troy had been telling the truth, and which one had been lying. He couldn’t wait to find out. Breck still wanted to believe in his own competence and looked forward to his impending chat with Peter Clarke, to see what he could extract from him.
FORTY TWO
Peter Clarke appeared to be relaxed. He reaffirmed the identity and occupation of his friend Alexander Troy, while still demanding the arrest of the man that he believed had been impersonating him. Breck closed the door to the interview room, knowing the time was right to question him again. His one regret: not having the resources to plant an officer on him 24-hours a day. Peter Clarke possessed the eyes of someone that knew far more than they cared to reveal. Today though, it was Breck who carried the surprise
He ran through the usual legal spiel and proceedings which Clarke knew inside out anyway, and watched the defence solicitor sniff the stuffy air in the room.
‘Does it bother you being here?’
‘A little but I understand your need to do these things in order to prove the innocence of my friend. What circumstance makes a person steal the identity of another? What sort of rat would do that?’
The question ended with a curious stare and Breck planted his forearms on top of the table, palms flat on the surface.
‘Have you any idea why anyone would want to impersonate Alexander?’
‘For money Mr Breck; people kill for it, don’t they? The man that is impersonating him is delusional so get him the psychiatric help that he needs.’
‘We’ll offer it after we catch him I can assure you.’
‘I have something you may be interested in.’ Clarke dug into the pocket of his trousers and produced a document. He handed over Troy’s birth certificate. ‘I helped with a bit of financial advice before this whole thing blew up and it was left behind.’
Breck never recalled seeing Troy’s name anywhere on Clarke’s client list but kept that to himself.
‘Thank you for this, I’ll need to take a copy.’ The satisfied look upon Clarke’s face blossomed even though Breck wasn’t finished. ‘Let me be honest here and say that we’re at a crossroads. I want to know just who is pretending to be who, and bring justice to the dead.’
‘I applaud your work ethic Mr Breck but in this country a man is innocent until proven guilty. Alexander escaped from custody but it’s not a crime for a man to be scared.’
‘No but it is a crime for a man to protect another that has killed, isn’t it?’
‘Quite.’ Clarke shuffled nervously on his seat.
‘Did you visit a Mr Jacob Simpson, with the prime suspect?’ Clarke had a blank expression ironed into his face. ‘You represented him once on a case,’ Breck stated.
‘Ah yes, a housing issue. Why on earth would I want to see him?’
‘You tell me.’
‘Well I haven’t. Not since we were at court and certainly not with Alexander.’
‘Does Troy know Wade Van Bruen’s daughter?’
‘Sorry, who’s Wade Van Bruen?’
‘The CEO of his firm.’
‘Not that I know of. Should he?’
The two men locked eyes in a mental game of chess that neither would win.
‘Mr Simpson told us you visited him with Troy, and that he recommended a B&B outside of London, owned by a Mr Lance Pringle.’
‘Why would he say that he recommended a B&B?’
‘For Troy to hide out at.’
Clarke’s face tightened. ‘He’s lying and that’s a dangerous accusation. I’m willing to break him down in court to prove it.’
‘There’ll be no need for that, Mr Clarke. I appreciate you coming in at such short notice. Thank you for your time.’
Breck rose to his feet and showed Peter Clarke the way out.
FORTY THREE
Ceinwen’s visit to Marcin still left Troy shell shocked. He underestimated the strength of his feelings towards her, which meant he failed to detach himself from the hurt and humiliation. However, with the situation calmed, she told him she’d take a nap. Troy tried to forget about it.
He switched on the television to take his mind off things but received a shock. Troy increased the volume because against a backdrop of blue partitioning, he saw his photo and that of Janet Maskell’s on display. Flanked by Janet’s distraught sister, a pre-recorded press conference saw Detective Inspector Arlo Breck address a room with a dozen microphones pointing towards him. The broadcast appeared to be a replay from a previous day and nearing its end. Breck seemed to be staring straight at him through the television as he described Troy as dangerous and advised members of the public not to approach him.
Troy switched off the television in disgust and paced up and down, trying to prevent his temper from exploding. Breck now believed he was an imposter and not the other Troy. Of that there was no doubt. His movements which were once cloaked, had been made much more difficult because everyone now knew his face. He’d lost a crucial advantage and he needed to react.
It took Troy a few seconds to reach the bathroom and locate a pair of scissors. He hacked off his flowing locks without a second thought and watched the long strands of hair fall like autumn leaves. Troy opened the cabinet to see if he could find anything useful to colour his shorn hair, and spotted the hair dye that he bought last month. Back then he toyed with the idea of changing the colour and left it in Ceinwen’s bathroom. Now he needed to. After reading the instructions he applied it to his hair and it wasn’t long before a new black no nonsense military cut, made Troy look older and more distinguished. Added to the stubble of growth hedged around his jaw, he could see the dramatic change in his appearance which pleased him. But the knock on the door didn’t. Troy froze, dropped the scissors into his pocket, while Ceinwen slept.
He inched downstairs to see that someone had popped a note through the letterbox and peeked through the window. He didn’t spot anyone. He returned to the folded note and opened it up to see Tyler, Cardiff, and an add
ress, written inside.
He needed to speak to Proctor.
Proctor always seemed to know where to find him, a job which he did rather well. Yet, it made Troy wonder who had tracked him and when? Did Proctor always have his back or was that an illusion? It was hard to say but he’d rather have someone like Proctor with him than against him.
Troy dialled his number but the phone continued to ring. He hoped that someone would answer but they never did. He recalled Proctor once telling him that the number would never ring without answer. He lied. After ending the call Troy tried again but received the same outcome. It worried him and he wondered what had happened to Proctor.
Troy called Clarke then re-read the note that pointed him towards the safe house in Cardiff. After that he waited around for a while, spinning a lot of scenarios though his mind, then took a few five and one pound notes from Ceinwen’s emergency money tin. She still slept and he didn’t know if she’d be safer staying, rather than going with him. In the end, Troy grabbed a rucksack and decided to bring her along. He called out to her but received no reply.
Troy trotted up to her bedroom to find it empty. She had slipped out of the house without telling him. He had little option but to leave, he couldn’t hang around, and when he heard Clarke arrive he opened the door and rushed out to meet him. Through the open window of the Range Rover, Troy handed the Vespa keys to Clarke.
‘It’s outside the pub in Blackfriars that I told you about, but I’ve got to leave now. I need to get to Paddington to catch a train to Cardiff.’
Clarke’s face curled. ‘Are you trying to do a runner?’
‘No, just getting help. It’s complicated.’
‘I’ve a bit of bad news.’
‘What?’
‘The police contacted me again. Breck interviewed me not too long ago.’
‘Why?’
‘He found out that we went to see my contact Jacob Simpson.’
‘Does he know about my passport request?’
‘He never mentioned anything but it looks like Simpson told them you travelled down to Yorkshire. He might have done it to buy you some time.’ Clarke paused, what he had to say next wouldn’t be easy. ‘He threw a strange one at me though. Breck asked if you knew Wade Van Bruen’s daughter.’ Troy was as puzzled by that as Clarke expected him to be. ‘From my time as a solicitor I know they only ask questions linked to a case so I did a bit of snooping outside your workplace before I came here. I had a conversation with one of the employees who had popped outside.’
