“Are you trying to scare me? Stop me from investigating this murder?”
“I’m trying to do what’s best for Great Britain,” says the agent in a pretentious tone. “And let me make myself clear, the British government does not want something from twenty-five years ago to come out of the shadows to be scrutinized.”
Before Darrell can say another word, Superintendent Groves quickly stands and thanks the agent for coming in. “Duly noted,” the superintendent says, shaking Agent Somerset’s hand.
Darrell knows that the superintendent and he have to bow to the powers-that-be, but he can’t help thinking the MI6 has just a little too much power in this instance. A murderer will go free if he is not able to proceed with this investigation, and why? Is it because the MI6 is afraid of looking bad? Or is there more to it than that?
When Superintendent Groves returns from seeing the agent out, he shuts the door anticipating a loud reaction from Darrell.
“In all my 15 years as a detective, I have never been asked to not investigate any crime, let alone a homicide!” Darrell yells.
He tells the superintendent about how the threatening letters that Mike received were typed on Copse Publishers’ stationary, and how an employee at the publisher’s office, Ingrid Bauer, is a viable suspect. The fact that a scene in the book strongly mirrors what actually happened to her father could very well have incited her to commit a murder. And now because the MI6 wants to cover up an old story, she is to remain free?
“Do you think that this Ingrid Bauer thought Mike Davies made light of what happened twenty-five years ago and that angered her?” asks Superintendent Groves. “Or do you think this angered someone in the MI6?”
The two men sit and ponder this for a while. Was it that Mike made light of that event or did he share too many details about what happened? One thing is for sure – if his book is the motive of his murder, he certainly paid for writing about that time in history with his life.
“I need to at least interview Ingrid Bauer, sir?”
“I’m inclined to agree with you Darrell,” says the superintendent. “I don’t like the idea of a murderer going free either, just because the MI6 decides they don’t want their skeletons to fall out of the closet.”
Superintendent Groves tells Darrell that he will talk to his own superiors immediately and get to the bottom of this – to find out whom, from on high, is calling the shots about the murder investigation of Mike Davies.
Chapter 6
Upset and frustrated from his meeting with Agent Somerset, Darrell needs to blow off some steam. Although for a brief moment he is tempted to blow off everything and go far away to some fishing cabin in Scotland, or even Canada for that matter, he quickly decides he is not going to give up. MI6 or no MI6, Mike Davies deserves justice.
Darrell calls his wife Claire to tell her he’s going to visit Diane Dimbleby before going home. Claire can sense the strain in her husband’s voice and she’s grateful he’s found someone he can talk to when times get tough, as she knows a role in law enforcement often does get challenging emotionally, not that Darrell would ever admit this. Before his mum had passed away she had been a great comfort to her son. It seems Darrell has a similar bond with Diane, except that she also seems to like to get quite involved with investigating murders – something Darrell’s mum did not like so much.
When Darrell arrives at Diane’s Apple Mews home, she, as always, is not surprised. She’s made an extra large pot of tikka masala, and anticipating the inspector might stop by, she’s added more chicken than she might normally – she usually adds as many or more carrots and beans as chicken to the mix.
“You’re just in time to have some chicken and veg masala,” says Diane, opening the door.
“I’m sorry for not calling first,” Darrell says almost meekly.
“No need to call first, my friend,” says Diane. “If you don’t mind me saying so, you look as if you’ve just been in a boxing match, although there is no clear sign of who won.”
“Well, you’re not far off,” says Darrell, managing to crack a small smile.
Sitting down at the table, while they tuck into the deliciously spicy dish, Rufus does a good job of calming Darrell down and even cheering him up. The dog cannot seem to get enough of the inspector’s attention. Rufus has quickly realized that he loves to lie across Darrell’s feet. When his deep breaths become louder and louder snores, Darrell for a time forgets about how angry and frustrated he is, and bursts into laughter.
“I think you make Rufus very comfortable… literally and figuratively,” smiles Diane.
When Darrell’s laughter subsides, he tells Diane about the meeting he had with his superintendent and the MI6 agent, Agent Somerset.
“He basically had the gall to tell me not to carry on with the investigation. He said the British government does not want events from twenty-five years ago to be public knowledge…”
“Has Agent Somerset read Mike’s book?” Diane asks.
The question catches Darrell off guard; he hadn’t thought of that. He has no idea whether the agent would have read the manuscript, but how could he of? Well, he is a spy so he must have his ways…
It would make sense that Agent Somerset read the manuscript, since he was hinting about not wanting the events that happened twenty-five years ago in Berlin – events that inspired Mike’s novel – to come to light.
“Do you think he did?” asks Darrell.
“Well, if this Agent Somerset knows about the book and its contents, he could have been the one who decided to eliminate Mike, with the MI6’s blessing of course,” Diane says.
Darrell shudders. Would the MI6 actually kill one of their own? Still, he agrees that it is an avenue worth exploring. Being in a room with Agent Somerset again could potentially make the inspector’s blood boil. Darrell would have to make sure to mentally prepare for that interview, so he wouldn’t let his anger flare up again, although it rarely did.
“Well, if Somerset or any of his fellow agents had something to do with Mike’s death, it makes sense that he told me that the highest authorities do not approve of me investigating,” says Darrell. “It’s the perfect cover. For all we know, his superiors might not even know about Mike Davies.”
Diane suddenly has a flashback to a time before Mike had even joined the MI6.
“He must have been barely 18,” Diane tells Darrell. “My family was visiting with his in London. Mike had joined the army and was going off to the academy for training in a few days. His mother made him try on his uniform for us. When he came out in his camouflage and cap, I remember he was blushing. He wasn’t ashamed I don’t think, just unsure. It was always expected he would join up just like his dad. He was perfectly capable – both athletic and intelligent. I do remember him admitting to me though that he was scared. Of course he did fine, so fine that he was a top choice when the MI6 was recruiting.”
Darrell’s mobile phone rings. He apologizes to Diane, but he has to pick it up – it’s his superintendent calling. Superintendent Groves says he’s sending a female officer to spend the night at Diane’s home. He’s just got off the phone with a friend in London who knows a little more about the ins-and-outs of government agencies.
“Your friend is in serious danger,” says the superintendent.
“Diane? Are you sure? Why?” Darrell asks.
“Well, let’s just say the MI6 might stop at nothing to eliminate any possible witness, someone privy to an event that might make the agency vulnerable… an event like in Germany, twenty-five years ago,” says the superintendent. “They do not want to compromise their security… their secrecy… their integrity.”
Darrell is beyond surprised that Diane has been identified by the superintendent’s ‘intel’ as a serious target. Sure, Darrell himself had been worried about her when they were on Lundy Island, so close to where the murder happened. But surely her life isn’t at risk while she’s in her very own Apple Mews… at least her life shouldn’t be at risk ag
ain. Like they say, “lightning never strikes the same place twice” – or is that just a myth?
“Do you really think MI6 would kill an innocent civilian, superintendent?” asks Darrell “I mean it’s plain barmy! And besides, wouldn’t the five people who work at Copse Publishers also be on their… kill list… too?”
“I know it sounds ludicrous,” says Superintendent Groves. “But until I speak to the top brass in London tomorrow morning, and find out who is in charge and who is actually a threat, I want to make sure Mrs. Dimbleby is safe. Besides, her life has been threatened more than once during… ahem… several other murder investigations.”
The superintendent is right. How can Darrell even question the presence of an officer keeping an eye on Diane? He vividly remembers the time she was kidnapped and could have been easily killed, and the time that dreadful Mrs. Rosalyn Thomas and her son broke into her house to take her down. It’s amazing that this brave woman is still willing to be Darrell’s confidant and fellow sleuth.
They hear a knock at the door.
“That’ll be the officer that’s coming to stay the night,” says Darrell, opening the door. “Hello Shannon, thank you for coming.”
Darrell introduces Diane to Constable Shannon Toft. While Diane does not feel she needs the extra attention, she’s happy for the company. The inspector takes his leave and Diane puts on the kettle so the two women can share a cuppa before Diane and Rufus head up to bed.
♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠
While Diane sleeps soundly for the first time since Mike Davies was killed, Darrell does not sleep a wink. But he hasn’t been tossing and turning in bed next to his wife – the inspector has intentionally stayed awake.
After leaving Diane’s place the night before, Darrell headed to Birmingham. More specifically, he drove to a street with a series of three to five-storey apartment buildings. Inside one of these buildings is the flat that Ingrid Bauer calls home. Darrell is parked across the street from said building and has successfully managed to stay awake. It hadn’t been an easy task, since the cumulative lack of sleep has been catching up with him. To keep from dozing off he consciously tried to think of highlights of his children’s lives from every year they’ve been alive.
Darrell had no problem thinking of examples – their first steps, holidays and fishing excursions, Chloe scoring her first goal, Jeremy winning an art contest – but it had been a little difficult to figure out how old they were when certain events happened. He had to stop himself from calling Claire a couple times to say, “Do you remember when….” He’s sure she would have liked to share these memories with him – just not at three o’clock in the morning.
But now it’s just a few minutes after six and the first sunrays are shining through his Range Rover’s windshield. Darrell is starting to wonder if he’s wasting his time. It’s probable that like most people, Ingrid Bauer sleeps at night. Why did he think he’d catch her sneaking away from her apartment in the middle of the night? And for what reason? If she had killed Mike Davies, there isn’t anything for her to clean up in Birmingham… or is there?
Still Darrell decides he’ll stay until 8:30 or 9, when Ingrid might be more likely to head out, possibly even to the publisher’s office.
Darrell’s determination is slightly rewarded. To his sheer luck, he sees a man unlock the little news stall that’s on the pavement just a few metres away. By the looks of a poster on the side of the stall, it looks the small business not only sells newspapers and magazines, but also coffee and tea. Darrell would even settle for a lukewarm beverage at this point.
He gives the owner a few minutes to get settled before heading over to see if he’s able to purchase a small bit of comfort in a Styrofoam cup, all the while keeping an eye on Ingrid Bauer’s building’s main entrance.
“I don’t suppose you have any coffee brewing?” Darrell asks.
“I do,” says the short, thick side-burned man, who looks to be around Darrell’s age. “By the looks of it, you could use a whole pot!”
“How about we start with a cup,” Darrell laughs.
“I saw you in your car when I got here. Were you waiting for me to open? I didn’t think my coffee was that good,” the gentleman laughs.
“Truth be told, I’m doing some surveillance,” a tired Darrell says somewhat recklessly.
“Not on me, I hope,” the stall owner laughs.
“No,” laughs Darrell. “But just to warn you, I’ll be here for a few more hours.”
“I’ll keep the coffee coming then,” the man smiles.
“Ta,” says Darrell, pouring more sugar and cream into his cup than usual.
Sitting in the driver’s seat and devouring the hot newsstand coffee, Darrell gets a second wind, or perhaps a third or a fourth. He’s staring intently at the people in business suits and casual dress, and the mums or dads with their kids in school uniforms, rushing out the door of Ingrid Bauer’s building. He quickly looks at his watch to realize it’s already a few minutes after 8 am. Just as Darrell takes out his mobile, about to ring Claire to see how she and the kids are getting on, somebody knocks on the passenger door window. It’s the newsstand owner – bless him, he’s carrying another cup of coffee. Darrell lowers the window.
“This is on the house,” says the newsstand man. “It’s not every day I can show my appreciation to a copper!”
“Ta,” smiles Darrell.
“There’s something I’ve been wondering if I should tell ya,” says the man.
“Go on,” says Darrell.
He tells the inspector about how yesterday, a car had been parked in the very spot where Darrell is now, for several hours. He remembers it well because it was a BMW Series 4 Gran Coupé, and cars like that seldom make an appearance in this neighbourhood. The windows were tinted, and since he thought no one was in the car, the newsstand man took a couple pictures with his phone – he was going to show them to his son, who loves cars.
“Well, as soon I started taking pictures, someone got out of the car and started yelling at me.”
“What did he look like?” asks Darrell.
“He was tall, about your height, brown hair… he had on a suit and some sunglasses. After I told him I was just going to show the photos to my son, he still made me delete them. He then got back in the car and stayed for another hour…”
“Thank you for telling me,” says Darrell.
There could be a thousand explanations as to who the man in the BMW was and what he was doing parked here for so long. For all Darrell knows, the mystery man could have been pulled over to have a lengthy chat on his mobile with his mum. But is there a possibility it could have been MI6?
Just as the inspector starts to wonder again whether he’s wasting his time, just sitting here waiting for perhaps nothing that will help solve the case, his mobile starts to ring. It’s his superintendent calling.
Darrell picks up and learns the most unexpected… the most startling… the most eerie news – eerie because he’s so physically close to the person and place for which the superintendent is calling about. Superintendent Groves has just said, “Ingrid Bauer is dead.”
A neighbour had found her body. Apparently, the neighbour heard Ingrid’s cat meowing, which wasn’t out of the ordinary except that this morning it had been so loud that it caused the neighbour to be concerned. She opened Ingrid’s front door – which by chance happened to be unlocked – after knocking for several minutes. It doesn’t necessarily matter how or why the neighbour found Ingrid dead, unless Ingrid died by foul play, and if that was the case, the neighbour’s story would have to be questioned and analysed.
But Darrell isn’t thinking about all of this… yet. He takes in a deep breath and, for some reason, his first thought is that the MI6 definitely has something to hide.
Superintendent Groves tells Darrell that police have been dispatched to the scene. Darrell decides he better wait for them to arrive before going into the apartment himself.
When the Birmingham police
cruiser arrives, Darrell walks over and introduces himself to the constables. He briefly explains that Ingrid Bauer, the person who is presumably dead, is involved in a case he is currently working on. The officers voice no objection and in fact take the senior officer’s lead in approaching the apartment.
They walk into the lobby, and Darrell and the constables show the concierge their ID. Darrell tells him they’ve been called to investigate Ingrid Bauer’s apartment and the concierge obligingly takes them up in the elevator to the third floor. The concierge is all set to let them into her flat, except they find that her front door is already wide open.
“Thank you for taking us up here,” says Darrell to the concierge. “We’ll take it from here.”
The concierge hesitantly returns to the elevator, while Darrell and the constables slowly walk inside the flat. In the room closest to the door, they see a young woman, clearly in shock, sitting in a chair next to a body lying on the floor. The young woman is almost certainly the neighbour, and the body is almost certainly Ingrid Bauer. Although Darrell has thought about Ingrid Bauer almost constantly for the last 24 hours, he suddenly realizes that he has never actually met the woman in the flesh.
Now he’s staring down at her – someone still too young to have left this world – and clearly sees the bullet wound in her head and the gun lying next to her side. Without saying a word, the woman in shock stands and passes Darrell a piece of paper.
Before he even reads the words on the page, Darrell finds himself looking for any distinctive watermark on the piece of paper, but does not find any. In typewritten font, the note reads,
“NOW THAT MY FATHER’S KILLER IS ELIMINATED, I’VE NOTHING ELSE TO LIVE FOR.
SINCERELY, INGRID BAUER”
This sounds like a suicide note and a confession all in one.
Darrell notices in the corner of the room, a desk with both a laptop and a printer – this could have been where the letter was produced.
Murder on a Yacht: A Diane Dimbleby Cozy Mystery Page 6
