EG04 - The Trail of the Wild Rose

by Anthony Eglin

  “I did, and he could have, but until we find him, and he confesses, we’ll never know.”

  “All right, Doctor, if we’re to accept this . . . shall we say, resourceful hypothesis, of how Jenkins was murdered, what about motive? Why had it become necessary to kill Jenkins?”

  “Before I try to answer that, Inspector, may I just say one more thing about Hobbs?”

  “Go on.”

  “Well, if Hobbs had indeed committed the murder, it raised a number of questions. Even considering the fact that we know virtually nothing about him, or his past, I still find it doubtful that he personally had it in for Jenkins. There’s no evidence whatsoever to suggest that.”

  “We’re hoping that Ben can shed some light on all this. The Met have him into custody on the unlawful imprisonment charge. I’m going down there the day after tomorrow to interview him.”

  “He knows his brother’s dead, I take it.”

  “He does, yes. If your theory turns out to be correct, he’ll also be charged as an accessory in Jenkins’s murder.”

  “Getting back to Hobbs, he had no direct connection with Jenkins that we know of. So, if someone had ordered him or paid him to do it, that would logically be Spenser Graves, or Julian Bell, or both.”

  “We’ve rather deduced that by now, haven’t we? You haven’t answered my question: Why do you think it became necessary to kill Jenkins?”

  “I was coming to that.”

  “Go on, then.” Sheffield’s impatience was palpable.

  “To best answer that question, we must reconstruct the case from the very beginning, starting with what happened last year, on that mountain in China, with Peter Mayhew’s death.”

  Sheffield was shaking his head. “For God’s sake, man. How many times have we done that?”

  “Surely one more time won’t hurt, Inspector? Besides, with Hobbs implicated—and it certainly looks that way—it’s reasonable to expect that his complicity may help explain certain of the other incidents.”

  “Go on then, if you must.”

  Kingston adopted his barrister summing-up mode. He would have preferred to stand so that he could pace and use hand gestures, but Sheffield would never go for that. Instead, he would employ a little verbal theatricality. He knew that doing so could easily invite Sheffield’s scorn, but the quotation was germane, and he decided to risk it. He cleared his throat and began.

  “Sherlock Holmes stated, ‘When you have excluded the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.’ However, it was a gentleman from the Times who pointed out that, while it was a fine notion, it was too elementary and imprecise. If we are to rule out the impossible, he maintained, all that remains is what is possible; indeed, an infinite number of possibilities, but only one of which is the truth.”

  Sheffield’s sigh was louder than necessary for Kingston’s liking. Its meaning was clear, though.

  Undeterred, Kingston continued. “I’m theorizing—for now, anyway—that Peter Mayhew’s death was indeed an accident. If it turns out to have been murder, it doesn’t change things. So from the beginning, trying to establish who would have wanted to kill Mayhew, and why, was a specious line of reasoning. It led us— me, I should say—in the wrong direction.” He looked down for a moment, not at his notes but only to give himself sufficient time to couch his next words.

  “The crux of this case is the planned theft of the Chinese bowl—specifically, what happened on the day Graves and Bell were in the temple, and no less important, what took place in the hours that followed. The discovery of the remains of the Chinese man near where the fieldwork was being conducted could be chalked up to coincidence. But the fact that forensics has determined that his death occurred at approximately the same time the plant hunters were in exactly the same area brings us closer to the truth.”

  “Closer to the truth meaning what?”

  “What actually happened.”

  Sheffield sighed. “All right, go on.”

  “The Chinese man in question observed Bell and Graves in the temple, seeing them where they shouldn’t be, handling the highly visible blue-and-white bowl, and assumed that they were up to no good. What were they to do? Their carefully laid plan was about to be torpedoed. If they were exposed, it would be a disaster. Certainly, criminal charges would be filed against them. Exactly what happened next we may never know, but it would be logical to conclude that an argument followed, threats were made, and a struggle ensued, during which the man was killed before he could sound the alarm. Most likely it was Bell who did him in. They couldn’t leave the body in the temple; they had to take it with them. With their vehicle right outside, that posed little risk. On the way back to the camp, they hid the body until they could return later, to bury it.”

  “All right, Doctor. I’ll buy what you’re saying but how do Jenkins and Lester fit into all this? Their murders?”

  “It’s my theory that Lester, curious to know where Bell and Graves were going that day, followed them to the temple and witnessed that murder, unseen.”

  Sheffield frowned. “Wouldn’t Lester have followed them afterward? He must have been curious as to how they planned to dispose of the body.”

  “It’s possible, but it would have been difficult to do so without being spotted. But there is the possibility that Lester trailed Bell when he left, later that day, to bury the corpse. Remember, Lester was a photographer. One of the reasons he was on board was to document the expedition.”

  “So he could also have taken photos of Bell burying the body.”

  “He could have.”

  “That would have been incontrovertible evidence.”

  Kingston nodded.

  “That’s your theory, eh?”

  “More than a theory now. It’s supported by hard evidence.”

  Sheffield looked perplexed. “Evidence? You’ve been withholding evidence?”

  “If you call forty-eight hours withholding.”

  “Christ! Explain yourself, Doctor.”

  “Two days ago, I received a letter from Alexandra Graves. She said that in combing through the estate’s financial affairs, the auditors had discovered an offshore account belonging to Graves. Further investigation showed that over a period of time, large sums had been withdrawn in cash. Curiously, the span of time corresponds with the period immediately following the expedition up until the time Lester was killed. No withdrawals thereafter.”

  “You’d better let me have that letter.”

  “I brought it with me.” Kingston reached in his pocket, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to the inspector. “She also included the two photographs,” he said.

  Kingston waited while the inspector read the letter and studied the photographs.

  At last, Sheffield looked up at Kingston. “What do the photos prove?” he said. “It’s just Bell and Graves exiting a building, and the two of them looking up the street. China by the looks of it.”

  “I’m certain that it’s the door to the temple. We can easily find out.”

  “Even so, they’re hardly what one would call proof.”

  “Not on their own. I’d be willing to bet that Graves and Bell received other photos along with these.”

  “From Lester?”

  “That’s what I’m suggesting. He’d followed them and captured much of it on film. Maybe not the killing inside the temple, but certainly their removing the body from the temple and loading it in the car.”

  “Why would Graves have kept these two?”

  “Hard to say. They weren’t incriminating. Maybe he simply put them aside as a reminder of his guilt. Atonement, maybe, mea culpa . . . who knows? He was a complex man.”

  “So how do you think Lester found out about the planned theft of the Chinese bowl? How he came to be at the temple in the first place?”

  “We’ll never know for sure. The most likely answer is that it was by chance. He might have become suspicious, figuring that Bell and Graves were up to something other than collectin
g seeds. Like I said, he might well have become curious when Graves and Bell took off for the temple. We’ll never know.”

  Sheffield looked into space for a moment, then back to Kingston. “If you’re right about all this, it confirms that Lester was blackmailing Graves and Bell.”

  “Which explains why they would want him dead.”

  “Why did you say that it was most likely Bell who did the killing?”

  “I did say Bell, didn’t I?” Kingston paused, thinking to himself, then continued. “Let me explain. You see, over time I met Graves on several occasions, and while I don’t claim to be a good judge of character, I came away each time convinced, almost beyond doubt, that Graves was not the kind of man to take another’s life. Discounting his station in life, his lineage, his reputation as a pillar of the community—and taking into account our brief relationship—I still perceived him as a man of character with a strong sense of family and moral values. Knowing what we know now, that may sound contradictory.”

  Sheffield didn’t venture an opinion.

  “What I’m getting at is that even with everything at stake— Alexandra, his reputation, his estate—he could still rationalize the theft of the bowl, as he tried to, on that awful day at the cottage. His misguided logic was that if the scheme were scrupulously planned and executed properly, the chance of discovery was negligible. The temple would be none the worse off. Nobody would suffer. The fake bowl would likely remain there for another century. But being complicit to murder was another thing entirely. I still refuse to believe that Graves would willingly accept it.”

  Sheffield frowned deeply. “You’re trying to tell me that Graves didn’t know what Bell was up to? Didn’t know that it was Bell who might have killed Jeremy Lester? Wasn’t aware that Bell and Hobbs had conspired to kill Jenkins? That he wasn’t in on any of it?”

  Kingston shook his head. “I just don’t know. I prefer to think that either he wasn’t aware of some of the things that Bell was up to or, as long as he wasn’t involved personally, he could turn a blind eye to what Bell was doing. It wasn’t until Bell killed the Chinese villager, in front of Graves, that everything changed. From that sickening point on, Bell took complete charge, and Graves was left to sit by, repelled and impotent, while Bell ruthlessly pursued their original goal—to steal the bowl. It wouldn’t surprise me if we eventually discovered that Bell needed the money more desperately than Graves.”

  “That’s possible, I suppose.”

  Kingston frowned. “I forgot to ask. Did you find the safety-deposit box containing the forged bowl, the one that Graves told me about?”

  “We haven’t. Graves dealt with three banks. None had record of any safety-deposit box rentals. We’re assuming that Bell must have taken care of it.”

  “A more likely answer, when you think about it.”

  “So Bell murdered Jeremy Lester?”

  “Yes.”

  “You seem pretty sure of yourself.”

  “There’re not too many other suspects. For reasons I’ve already explained, I’ve ruled out Graves as a murderer.”

  “Graves was an accomplice, though.”

  “In the eyes of the law, yes.” Kingston leaned back, lost in thought for a moment, then continued. “I tried to put myself in Graves’s and Bell’s place when they opened their newspapers a couple of days after the abortive motorcycle accident. What must they have thought when it was reported that the man in hospital was Peter Mayhew? Had he come back from the dead? Between the two, their phones must have been ringing off the hook that day. When it was confirmed that it was indeed Lester, they were in a real bind. If Lester survived, it was all over for Bell—Graves, too.”

  Sheffield was looking antsy again. “Yes, we’ve already assumed all that, Doctor. No doubt you have some ideas as to how Bell managed to murder Lester in broad daylight, in a hospital.”

  “I’ve given it a lot of thought, yes.”

  “Go on, then.”

  “As a doctor, he knew his way around hospitals, understood drugs, had access to them, and knew how to administer them. He probably had a white coat lying around, even an old identity badge and a stethoscope. Even if he were seen entering Lester’s room, who would ever question him? No one looks at identity badges, anyway. They would simply assume he’s a doctor.”

  “You might like to know, Doctor, that we reviewed the hospital’s CCTV tapes—roughly forty hours of tape covering the period after Lester was moved out of the ICU until discovery of his death. The tapes revealed no suspicious activity by persons who might have been posing as hospital staff or service or delivery personnel.”

  “Really? Maybe Bell got lucky, or knowing that the hospital had cameras—which he would, I’m sure—found a way to bypass them. It might be a good idea if I were allowed to review the tapes. I’m the only one who knows what he really looks like now.”

  Sheffield looked puzzled. “What do you mean now?”

  “Well, if I’m right, Bell made one mistake.”

  “He did? Enlighten me.”

  “Yes. It couldn’t be avoided.”

  “Which was?”

  “It was something he had to do before committing the crime.”

  “What was that, may I ask?”

  “He had to shave off his beard. A doctor resembling Rasputin roaming the corridors of St. George’s would hardly go unnoticed by the staff. In pictures of him in the magazine I’d read, he had a full beard. Sally Mayhew described him as having a ‘bushy beard.’ But when he and I met at his farm in Dorset, his beard was trim. I figured enough time had passed since the crime for it to have grown back, somewhat.”

  Sheffield no longer looked relaxed. He held up a hand, fixing Kingston with a jaundiced eye. “Look, Kingston. I’ll accept most of what you’re suggesting—despite what the tapes showed, and I’ll let you review them—but aren’t you forgetting one important thing? Bell’s alibi?”

  “It’s damned convincing, I’ll be the first to admit. Even to the point where—according to what you said—he was in no rush to volunteer producing the petrol receipt until you inquired about it. That was brilliant. Then I reminded myself that we were dealing with a clever and ruthless man. Don’t forget, he was the one who came up with the ingenious scheme to steal the bowl.”

  “So how do you explain his alibi?”

  “I’ll try to make this brief.”

  “That would be appreciated.”

  “The first part of his alibi—his being in Cornwall, staying with Jenkins and dining out that evening, was factual. Although the restaurant waitress couldn’t describe the man with Jenkins, the meal was paid for with a credit card, with Bell’s signature. But this was the evening before Lester was murdered. That was a setup.”

  Sheffield nodded. “That would jibe with your beard theory. She would more likely have remembered him if he still had his beard.”

  “Exactly. Next, they had to account for the following day, when Lester was killed in Oxford.” Kingston paused. “By the way, what time of day did that happen?”

  “About one o’clock in the afternoon, as I recall.”

  “That would agree with my time line.”

  “Then what?”

  “The next morning, Bell left Cornwall driving a car lent to him by Jenkins. Using the M5, he drove to Oxford, arriving with plenty of time to do Lester in. Later, probably sometime after two, Jenkins leaves Fowey, drives Bell’s Jeep to the petrol station at Buckfastleigh and fills the tank, paying with Bell’s credit card. Yes, Bell’s Jeep was at the station all right, but Bell wasn’t in it.”

  “The time on the credit card receipt puts the car there a little after three, as I recall.”

  “That would be about right. I timed it out on a map.”

  “So later—after Bell had killed Lester—the two met and switched cars. Right?”

  “Yes. At a prearranged midway location that suited both of them, probably somewhere near Yeovil in Somerset, I figured. There, Jenkins gave Bell the receipts for the petrol a
nd returned his credit card. They then exchanged cars and Bell returned to Dorset in his Jeep while Jenkins drove back to Cornwall.” Kingston leaned back and folded his arms. “What do you think, Inspector?”

  “It all sounds plausible. We’ll have to go back and read the transcript of Bell’s and Jenkins’s testimonies, of course.”

  “That would be necessary, yes.”

  “Well, you have been doing a lot of thinking, I must say,” said Sheffield. “So when they came back to England, that’s when Lester started blackmailing Bell?”

  “That’s what Graves’s withdrawals tend to confirm.”

  “Are you saying that it was Bell who attempted to kill Lester on the motorbike?”

  Kingston shook his head. “It’s possible but doubtful. It’s more likely that Hobbs was driving the car.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Something that you’d said earlier, Inspector, plus . . . let’s call it intuitive reasoning.”

  Sheffield looked perplexed.

  “You said that attempted vehicular homicide cases were quite rare because there’s usually no guarantee that the victim will be killed. That suggested the risk of its backfiring, for something to go wrong—even the possibility that the driver of the car could also be injured in the accident or his car disabled. If it were revealed that Bell was behind the wheel of the car that killed Lester, it would raise a lot of awkward questions. What were they both doing on the same road at the same time? Why didn’t Bell stop after he hit the motorcyclist? Did he know it was Lester on the bike? Added to which, Bell wouldn’t have known that it was Mayhew’s bike; that could have created a real problem, given the manslaughter charge in the death of Bell’s daughter. Then there’s the car, which could have been traced by forensics. On top of that, it was well established that the two knew each other. It would be far too risky for Bell. I think that Bell and Graves paid Hobbs or someone else to do the deed.”