Wrongful Death

by Lynda La Plante

  Anna was still examining the pictures when the door banged open, and both she and Dewar turned as the man in the picture with Josh walked in carrying a briefcase and a box of Cristal champagne, which he put down beside the desk.

  ‘Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Marcus Williams, owner of the Trojan.’

  He could have made a good entrance anywhere. He was at least six feet four, exceptionally handsome, with Afro hair braided and tied back with a black band. His skin was light brown, and he had very chiselled features and blue eyes. He was wearing a grey suit, white collarless shirt, and a cashmere navy coat.

  Dewar smiled, stood up to shake his hand and introduced herself. He had long tapering manicured fingers, with a large gold ring on his left little finger. He turned to shake Anna’s hand as she walked over and introduced herself, then tossed his coat over the back of his executive chair before he sat down to face them. Anna explained that Special Agent Dewar was on attachment to the Metropolitan Police and working with her team.

  ‘How can I help you ladies?’ Williams asked.

  ‘We are from the murder squad and it’s been alleged that Josh Reynolds may not have committed suicide,’ Anna said, getting straight to the point and before Dewar could say anything. Williams looked shocked as Anna continued, ‘There are certain issues from the information we have received that raise concern, however that does not mean he was actually murdered.’

  Anna noticed that Dewar was looking around the room impatiently, chewing her bottom lip, clearly frustrated that she was not the one asking the questions. To add insult to injury Anna asked Dewar to take some notes and then wondered if Williams could go over the events of the day when he last saw Josh to when he was informed of his death.

  Williams took a deep breath. ‘It’s hard to remember now. He came into work about twelve noon and was organizing the food-and-drink delivery for the VIP event that evening.’

  ‘How did he seem?’

  ‘Okay, but to be honest, he’d not been himself after his mother died. He’d also lost his father the previous year.’

  ‘What do you mean by not been himself?’

  ‘Looking back he must have been suffering badly from depression. I just wish he’d told me so I could have helped him through it. Who knows, maybe even have stopped him from taking his own life,’ Williams said emotionally.

  ‘So did his mood worsen that day?’ Anna asked.

  ‘I’d been out to get some lemons and limes for the bar and he was walking out the back as I returned. He looked like he was really upset about something.’

  ‘Did he say if anything was wrong?’

  ‘I asked but he just mumbled something about having to go out and see someone on business.’

  ‘What time was that?’ she pressed.

  ‘Half-three, maybe four, I can’t be certain now.’

  ‘Did you see or speak to him again that day?’

  ‘He rang me at about seven and said he was going home as he had a stomach upset and felt sick. It hurts that the last time we spoke I was annoyed with him.’ Williams paused and ran his hand across his face. ‘I felt he was leaving me in the lurch with the VIP do that night.’

  Anna asked Williams how he had heard about Josh’s death and he told her that when Josh didn’t turn up for work the next day he just assumed he was still ill. It was about six in the evening when Donna’s mother Gloria phoned the club and told him that Josh had been found dead in his flat by Donna. Gloria had also said that as a result of the post mortem, and a suicide note left by Josh, the police thought that his death was not suspicious.

  Anna asked Williams how he and Josh had met and the partnership formed. Williams told her sadly that he and Josh had been friends since grammar school and went to the same university. On graduation, Josh went to work in the City and moved up the ladder quickly, earning good money and big annual bonuses. Williams said he himself had worked for a business risk management company and he and Josh had remained best friends and regularly went ‘out on the town’ together.

  ‘Josh saved and invested his money wisely, but about two years ago he got made redundant by the bank and got a good payoff. He wanted to start up a small drinks club in central London, but I suggested a lap-dancing club.’

  ‘Why was that?’

  ‘Look around outside – it’s all sleazy clubs and sex shops. There was nothing upmarket slap in the middle of Soho. This place was a rundown shit-hole and going cheap. Josh was worried he might go under before he even got off the ground, so I said I would like to be his partner.’

  ‘You saw its potential to make money?’ Anna asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Were you equal partners?’ Anna continued.

  ‘No. Josh put more money in than me so we split the profits sixty-forty. He dealt with all the club’s finances and we shared the day-to-day running. We trusted each other and worked well together.’

  ‘Did he ever say anything about wanting to pull out or sell the club?’

  ‘Never, Josh was very keen to make the club work, we both were, and the pair of us put in hours of hard graft. Reality is, it has only just taken off, and if part of the reason Josh committed suicide was because he thought the club was going to fail then he couldn’t have been more wrong.’

  Having got the pleasantries out of the way Anna felt it was now time to bring up Delon Taylor. She paused briefly and Dewar took the opportunity to jump in.

  ‘Did a Detective Simms ever take a statement off you?’ she asked.

  ‘Erm, Simms, no. We only spoke on the phone.’

  ‘Why doesn’t that surprise me,’ Dewar remarked and looked at Anna.

  ‘How did Josh get involved with Donna?’ Dewar asked.

  ‘She was one of the first dancers we hired. Josh made a bee-line for her; she didn’t stay on the poles for long. They got engaged and then married and he made her the head hostess. Josh never really liked her working here, used to get very protective as she was a very sexy lady and had a lot of admirers.’

  ‘How did that affect their relationship?’

  ‘Josh told me it caused arguments. Mixing business with pleasure is never easy.’

  ‘Did he force Donna out?’

  ‘No. Josh adored Donna and they wanted to start a family. Donna didn’t like the long days, finishing work in the early hours. She left here of her own accord and went to work for her mother.’

  ‘Were you one of Donna’s admirers?’ Dewar demanded.

  ‘She’s a special lady, everyone here liked her.’

  ‘How much did you like her?’

  He stared at Dewar and shook his head.

  ‘Listen. Josh and me were like brothers and I’d never shit on my own doorstep.’

  ‘Delon Taylor said you did,’ Dewar remarked, hoping the mention of the man’s name would be like a red rag to a bull.

  Anna knew what Dewar was trying to do and was surprised when Willams leaned back in his chair and laughed.

  ‘Oh, I see. Taylor’s your red-hot informant, is he?’

  ‘You framed Taylor because he found out what you were up to—’ Dewar accused but Williams interrupted.

  ‘You’ve got it all wrong, lady, Josh caught Taylor stealing money from the tills and I sacked him. And hypothetically speaking, if I murdered Josh, why didn’t I kill Taylor as well?’

  ‘Suicide or murder, you still benefited from his death,’ Dewar insisted.

  ‘No, I didn’t. I had to pay for the final refurbishment. I thought Josh had arranged the finances before he died but he hadn’t.’

  ‘How much did you pay Donna for Josh’s share of the club?’

  ‘I never approached Donna about selling Josh’s share. She shut herself off after his death. I saw her at the funeral but we haven’t spoken since then.’

  ‘So how did you come to buy the Trojan outright?’ Dewar wasn’t prepared to let go of this line of questioning.

  ‘Donna’s mother called and told me that her solicitors were handling Donna’s affairs
and they wanted a quick sale so Donna could move on with her life.

  ‘How much did you pay?’

  ‘I don’t see that’s any of your business,’ Williams observed.

  ‘I can always ask Gloria.’

  ‘That’s up to you but the sale was all above board. I don’t deny I got a good deal, but I still had to pay fifty K out of my own pocket after the final refurbishment.’

  ‘Did you use money from a prostitution racket to pay for the club?’ Dewar said, leaning forwards.

  ‘No, I did not. I can’t believe you’ve been taken in by a scumbag like Delon Taylor.’

  ‘How did you know it was Taylor who said that?’ Dewar asked, obviously thinking Williams had slipped up.

  ‘Because it’s the same lie he told Josh. Do you think he would have kept me on as a partner if it was true that I was risking the business to line my own pockets?’

  Dewar glanced at Anna as if looking for support, but Anna said nothing, feeling that the agent should have been more thoughtful and cautious in her line of questioning.

  Stepping out to the rear mews of the Trojan club, Dewar said nothing as she got straight into her unmarked car and started the engine. Anna shouted that she would meet her in the road outside Gloria Lynne’s house, and watched as Dewar drove out, skirting around crates of empty wine bottles and refuse bins. A sweating Curtis appeared from the exit carrying a four-foot bronze statue of a Trojan soldier holding a sword and shield. He placed it down and removed a tin of metal polish from his pocket.

  ‘Curtis, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yep. Curtis Bowman. Bloody statue – unlike me, you have to polish and buff it up once a week so it keeps its colour,’ he said, guffawing at his own joke while pulling a duster from his back pocket.

  ‘Have you worked here for a long time?’

  ‘Yes, I was the handyman when it was called Doobies. Mr Reynolds kept me on when he and Mr Williams bought the place. They did it all up and renamed it – Mr Reynolds said they named it after me because I work like one,’ Curtis said with a proud smile as he started to rub the polish into the statue.

  ‘You must miss Mr Reynolds being around?’

  ‘Couldn’t believe it when I was told. He was the quiet type, you know, but always friendly and got things done. Mr Williams is a good boss as well but different from Mr Reynolds.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Well, firing and looking out for fingers in the tills was always down to Mr Williams, he’d not take any thieving and in a place like this you got to watch out. He was the tough one of the two. Not afraid to go head-to-head with punters that got out of order with the girls. Strict look-but-don’t-touch policy.’

  ‘Funnily enough he mentioned that Delon Taylor was sacked for stealing.’

  ‘Bad ’un he was, with a short temper. Best rid, I say.’

  ‘Did you see Mr Reynolds the day he died?’ Anna asked.

  ‘A few times, but only when he asked me to do something round the place.’

  ‘How did he seem to you that day?’

  ‘Fine. That’s why I can’t believe he shot himself like that.’ He shook his head.

  ‘Neither could his wife. She used to work here, I believe?’

  He pursed his lips and nodded.

  ‘Was she friendly like Josh?’

  ‘I don’t want to speak bad about her, but she started work here as a pole dancer, then she hooked Mr Reynolds and married him. She was always a bit hoity-toity. When she became head hostess she started throwing her weight around a bit, said she was taking over running the club. To be honest she couldn’t run for a bus, and she put a lot of people’s noses out of joint, mine included. The girls didn’t like her.’

  ‘Maybe they were a bit jealous she’d been promoted?’

  ‘I heard Mr Reynolds and Donna having a real row about her working here. I don’t think he liked the way she dressed and flirted with the VIPs.’

  ‘Was it just flirting?’

  He hesitated before answering. ‘I really don’t know. I try to mind my own business, but I didn’t like her for personal reasons. She’d park her car here in the yard and tell me to give it a wash, and to keep an eye out for the traffic wardens. She must have had Christ knows how many tickets and would blame me. I only got one pair of eyes and can’t stand out here until six p.m. every day.’

  A large rubbish truck began to back into the small yard, Curtis jumped into action, gesturing for it to move slowly towards him. Realizing she needed to get a move on, Anna left him to get on with his work.

  Chapter Nine

  Anna drove down a narrow lane flanked on either side by hedgerows and fields of rapeseed with blazing-yellow flowers that brightened up the countryside. It was such a contrast to central London, with its exhaust fumes and stop–start traffic, and she could feel herself beginning to relax. At first, she thought the satnav had directed her to the wrong location until she saw Dewar’s car parked up on the nearside of the road. Anna pulled up behind her and looking out of the window saw a set of large decorative wrought-iron gates tipped with spikes. A plaque on one of the gate pillars read LYNNE HOUSE and below it was a CCTV intercom system and lockable mailbox built into the stonework. On the other side of the gates there was a long tree-lined gravel driveway that rose gradually upwards to an imposing Georgian manor house. Anna got out of her car and approached Dewar, who was still in her car.

  ‘Some place, isn’t it. I may as well leave my car out here and go in with you.’

  ‘We’re a bit early. It’s only five-thirty.’

  ‘I’m sure they won’t mind,’ Anna said, going over to the intercom as Dewar pulled up in front of the gates. Anna held her warrant card up to the camera, the gates slowly cranked open and they drove up the long gravel drive to the house. Once out of the car, they stopped to take in the breathtaking view across the front of the house down to a large lake and surrounding woodland.

  ‘It’s not just a house, it’s a country estate!’ Anna breathed.

  ‘Wonder how much it’s worth,’ Dewar remarked.

  ‘In this area, with all the land . . . millions!’

  ‘Those cars are worth a few bucks as well,’ Dewar said, drawing Anna’s attention to a four-bay detached garage. There were three cars parked in front and a man in his mid-fifties was washing one of them.

  ‘That’s the new Bentley Mulsanne he’s cleaning. Costs over a quarter of a million. The others are a Maybach 62 and a Mercedes McLaren 722. They’re not far off a million put together.’

  ‘Didn’t have you down as a petrolhead, Jessie.’

  ‘It’s not just boys with toys. My dad was a head mechanic on the Indy-car-race circuit and then he opened his own repair shop. Used to help out whenever I could.’

  Anna nodded in approval at Dewar’s skills.

  The front door was opened by a stocky middle-aged grey-haired woman. In broken English with an eastern European accent, she said that she was Katrina the housekeeper and Mrs Lynne had asked that they make themselves comfortable in the library. Katrina escorted them through the vast entrance to the library, giving them little time to take in the large marble-floored hall with its T-shaped stairwell, emerald green carpet and oak banisters. Katrina asked if they would like a drink and they both said water would be fine.

  In contrast to the hall, the library was much brighter as natural light streamed through the multi-paned sash windows. Oriental rugs covered parts of the polished wooden floor and there were two red leather armchairs, a matching sofa and small coffee table in the middle of the room. The two end walls were covered by elegantly ornamented bookshelves that had been positioned to avoid the direct sunlight. The shelves nearly touched the high ceiling and contained hundreds of old and new books.

  ‘The rooms like something out of Sherlock Holmes,’ Anna remarked, taking a couple of steps up the library ladder to view the books.

  ‘Olde-worlde isn’t my kind of thing. Don’t mind a bit of art but those two paintings either side of the fireplace
don’t go with the room,’ Dewar said.

  Anna turned to where the agent was pointing. One picture with a black background was of three sepia-coloured, very old and haggard-looking women. Two were in the foreground of the picture standing side by side, one leaning from behind on the shoulder of the other, their heads turned towards each other as if engaged in whispered conversation. Dressed in head-scarves and shawls they looked similar, as if sisters. The third woman was in the background with only her face showing, floating like an eerie shadow while watching the two women in front.

  The other painting was different: light, colourful and vibrant, it depicted a dreamlike scene with blue skies and wispy clouds. There were also three women in it but they were young, curvaceous and sensual. Two floated like angels above the third, who was lying on her side upon a stone table.

  ‘I think they are meant to contrast each other. You think they might be originals?’ Anna wondered.

  ‘Original crap more like,’ Dewar said.

  ‘Do you think the old women in that picture on the left are beggar women or witches?’ Anna asked.

  ‘I think one’s a psychopath and the other’s Spider-Woman. The one at the back with the duster is obviously the cleaner,’ Dewar said.

  ‘What on earth are you talking about?’ Anna asked, looking closer at the picture. ‘Oh, I see what you mean.’ She laughed as she noticed that the woman in the background was holding a bundle of sheep’s wool on what appeared to be a cone-shaped spindle. One of the women in the foreground of the painting had in her hands a pair of shears while the other woman held two strands of fine thread. The strands did indeed look like silk from a spider’s web.

  Anna was about to examine the picture more closely when Katrina came into the room carrying a silver tray with litre plastic bottles of both still and sparkling mineral water, crystal glasses, a bucket of ice and lemon slices in a bowl.

  ‘Have you worked here long, Katrina?’ Dewar asked.

  ‘My husband Dawid and I been here a few months now.’

  ‘What’s he do?’

  ‘He Mrs Lynne’s driver and look after nice cars.’

  ‘Was that him outside washing the “nice cars”?’ Dewar asked.