The interview with Fisher had travelled along similar lines to the one with Peter Vince; if anything, it seemed that Fisher had dealt better with the pressure. He had been more annoyed at Sokoloff’s treatment of Julie Shapiro and more descriptive of how unpleasant the Londoner had been back in July, but in all key respects they had told the same story.
Summing up, DI Terek said, ‘The theory that Sokoloff was murdered as part of some London-based gang business is still on the table but as yet we have no evidence for it. Sokoloff’s one significant contact in that world leads straight back to the landlady of The Queens Arms in Overy. The three men we have interviewed had opportunity and some sort of motive to confront Sokoloff but all claim that they never saw him on the 10th of this month. As things stand, we cannot show that they did. We cannot put Sokoloff inside the pub on that date, and we cannot put them outside it confronting him. Nevertheless, I believe that he was there and that his car had been vandalised. It’s almost impossible to believe that these three men are not in some way involved, but we have no grounds to arrest them, let alone to charge them. Thoughts?’
A great deal of time is spent talking like this. Usually the setting is less formal than having everyone together in a meeting room but the essential process is the same – the conversation, fuelled by coffee and tea, chocolate bars, biscuits or, late at night by chips and pizza, centres around sentences that begin with ‘What if he…’ or ‘Maybe she did see him…’ or ‘But if he is lying, you’ve got to consider why…’ Our behaviour is driven, ultimately, by a tiny number of forces, but the individual variation possible in how we respond to them is virtually infinite; it can require a hundred detectives to solve the riddle of one murderous moment and its consequences.
Waters spoke up, and said, ‘We haven’t asked why someone slashed the tyres on the Mercedes. If one of the three did that, what was the purpose? It might have been spite, or a warning. Or perhaps they wanted to make sure that he couldn’t leave, mightn’t it?’
Terek said, ‘That’s more premeditation than we’ve allowed for so far. We’ve worked on the assumption that there was a confrontation that got out of hand. On the 17th of July, Williams and the other two wanted Sokoloff to leave as soon as possible – why try to keep him there on the 10th?’
Waters thought it over before answered, ‘Because he’d come back. Because he didn’t stay away. He hadn’t got the message, so they decided to send a different one.’
‘Could be, Chris. In the meantime, we continue the process of reviewing all the statements. I’m meeting with someone from forensics who’s come from Norwich to see if there is anything we might have missed, and DCI Reeve is consulting with her opposite number in London on the second stage of the interview with Francis Jacobs. And I will meet with the sergeants at four o’clock this afternoon. Thanks, everyone.’
Reviewings, meetings, consultations – all par for the course, all perfectly essential, thought Smith as he headed back to his desk, and it looked as if Detective Inspector Terek would be pretty good at that sort of thing, but while we’re doing that we’re only talking to ourselves, and they say that’s the first sign of madness. He checked his work email; new things about the retirement and pension procedures that he could read some other time. One by one the troops came back in and sat at their desks. When all was quiet, he walked out casually enough but Serena Butler was watching, and her quick, dark eyes said be careful.
Chapter Thirty Six
‘Is that Martina?’
‘Yes.’
How does a single syllable tell us that the person with whom we have just begun a conversation comes from at least a thousand miles away? She was east European and young – impressive then, that she become a technical team leader for GoFone here in the UK. But Smith told himself that he need not be surprised; almost three years ago hadn’t he met Andrius Radvila, a man who had once been in charge of printing his country’s currency before he left it to come to Norfolk and make more money picking blackcurrants?
‘I’m an associate of Serena Butler. I think she might have mentioned me to you this morning. Thank you for talking to me.’
‘Yes. That’s OK. What can I do for you?’
Formal and business-like, keeping her distance. Smith had a moment of doubt and was ready to drop this idea right now.
‘As part of an investigation, we’ve been given a mobile number. I’ve already checked and it’s one of yours. I wanted to ask a couple of questions about it – off the record.’
He hoped that she would understand the idiom, but he need not have worried.
‘Serena gave you my personal mobile number. You are not recording this call?’
‘No. I wouldn’t know how, to be honest.’
‘And you are not going to give me an authorisation code for this inquiry…’
Her voice had dropped a little, and he realised then that she was not alone in a room but sitting amongst a team of people.
‘No. As I said to Serena, if that causes you too much of a problem, then-’
‘It’s OK. I make sure I have this account open for another reason. What is it you want?’
That curious directness that sounds abrupt to our ears. He gave her the number and asked her to confirm that it was one that belonged to GoFone. It took her a matter of seconds. As a check, Smith asked her if she was able to give the name of the subscriber – she did so, and it was Mark Williams.
‘Thank you. I’m only interested in one event on this account,’ – which was not true because he would happily have worked through Williams’ entire call history for the past three months – ‘which was a text received in the early morning of Sunday the 11th of September.’
‘Just a moment.’
Smith could hear the keyboard clicks, the sound that during his career has become the universal background accompaniment to every investigation.
‘Yes. I have that on screen.’
Just like that, almost in an instant.
‘This was a text received by Mr Williams in the early hours of Sunday the 11th of September?’
He had to be certain; having gone out this far on an illegal limb, there could be no mistakes.
‘Yes.’
‘Are you able to give me three pieces of information about the text?’
‘Go ahead.’
‘The time at which the text was received?’
‘Zero one twenty eight.’
‘Thank you. The number from which the text was sent?’
She told him. He read it back to her and asked if that was also a GoFone account – surely too much too hope for, and indeed it was.
‘Thank you again. Is it a very long message?’
‘No. You want I should read it to you?’
Gordon bloody Bennett – at this rate he’d have to fork out for a new set of squash balls! Yes, he said, as calmly as he could – that would be nice.
‘Says “All taken care of”.’
Four short words, five syllables, but men and women have been convicted on less than that. He wrote them down, lightly with a pencil, in the Alwych notebook, taking his time.
‘Martina, thank you. I promise that you will never hear from me or about this matter ever again. It is and it will remain entirely off any record anywhere.’
The tone in her voice became a shade less formal and precise, then.
‘I am pleased to help. Serena talk about you to me one time. She says you are one of the good guys.’
‘Really? And I thought she was smart!’
Laughter, and then she was gone.
Smith slipped the notebook back into his inside pocket, as carefully and thoughtfully as if it was a stick of gelignite – and it might as well have been. Intelligence gained like that is not only inadmissible in the courtroom; sharing it with another officer implicates them as well if they do not then immediately report the matter. But in the other courtroom, the one inside Smith’s investigating consciousness, the judge had begun his summing up, thanks to those four short wo
rds, those five syllables.
The plan had been to go back into room 17, give the new mobile number to Serena and ask her to find out to whom it belonged – he had a short-list with two names on it – but when he went in, there was something of a commotion in progress. Four or five people were gathered around Richard Ford’s desk, including Waters and Serena herself.
Smith glanced at the screen of Ford’s desk and said, ‘What’s up? Have you completed the Young Detective’s I-Spy Challenge already?’
Serena said, ‘Better than that, DC. He’s gone straight to – watch out, here’s the DCI!’
Reeve had obviously been sent for in the absence of Terek, but both had now entered the room together. Smith leaned in and began to read what was on the screen; it was a page from Companies House. Meanwhile, Alison Reeve had arrived at the desk. She looked at the screen, and then said, to the astonishment of most, ‘Shit! Richard, I’m sorry! I forgot every word about you. Have you been doing the Lexus thing since yesterday morning?’
‘Yes, ma’am. It’s what you told me to do. I-’
‘I’m really sorry! I just thought…’ and then she realised that Ford had not even been allocated to a team yet – there was no-one to blame but herself.
John Murray said, ‘It’s a good thing you did forget about him, ma’am.’
Composure regained, Reeve said, ‘OK. I asked Richard to look at any traceable movements of Lexus cars in the county during the week that DC and Chris encountered the one near The Queens Arms. We can’t do that of course because we haven’t had the investment in cameras, but Cambridgeshire have. There are three average speed cameras, one on the M11 and two on the A10, and I thought as that’s the most obvious route from London to here, it would be worth a look.’
Everyone there, including Richard Ford, understood that this was the equivalent of putting on a Disney video to amuse the children while mother got on with the housework, but mother had forgotten the poor little mite, and Ford had been watching the same video, more or less, for thirty six hours. The detective chief inspector still managed to look mortified but she had realised by now that her forgetfulness had somehow produced a result.
Ford said, “So, after I’d got in touch with Cambridgeshire traffic and they’d given me access to their data, I checked the northward movements first. There were one hundred and eighteen recorded movements of Lexus north along that route for the week you asked me to look at. It’s weird but there are only eighty four going back the other way…’
Smith said, ‘Ah, that’s been known about for years. It’s even worse for Porsches.’
Reeve pursed her lips before saying, ‘Thank you, DC. Go on, Richard.’
‘So then Chris suggested focusing first on the ones registered to London addresses as the case has a London end, which I did. That brought it down to forty eight vehicles. Then I looked at the registration details for each one to see if they cross-matched against any names in the case, so I had to read all the central files first and make a list, which took ef-, which took ages, ma’am.’
‘All of yesterday and then again this morning? I’m sorry!’
‘None of the thirty one names matched, which left seventeen company-registered cars. So then Chris said it might be worth looking into those as well…’
Smith looked at Christopher Waters then, but Waters was leaning his height down so that he could read more of the screen that Richard Ford had open. Waters hadn’t even noticed that his name had been mentioned again or that other detectives were looking at him as Ford explained.
‘… so that’s what I did next. This was number twelve.’
Ford’s office chair had wheels and he pushed himself aside so that the DCI could see the screen properly.
Alison Reeve read out, ‘Greenwich PMS Ltd. What’s that?’
Ford said, ‘Property Management Services. It’s what they call a holding company, a sort of umbrella for several other property businesses.’
Smith saw the lights come on in DCI Reeve’s eyes then, but she said to Ford, ‘Go on – give us the rest.’
‘A car registered to this company travelled up along the A10 and most likely into Norfolk on the 14th; it went back the same way in the early hours of the 15th – 04.12 to be precise, at the M11 camera. It’s a black Lexus GS300, which fits with what DC – with what Sergeant Smith and Constable Waters reported after the incident near Overy. Anyway, I know this is all perfectly normal except,’ and then Ford clicked the mouse and a second screen appeared, ‘when you look at the list of directors on Companies House. Just there…’
Waters stepped back so that Reeve could read it more easily. Then she straightened up slowly and said, ‘Sorry, but I have to say it again. Shit! And well done, the two of you.’
Smith sat in Reeve’s office along with Terek and Wilson, listening to one end of her conversation with DCI Jacqueline Lilley. The discovery that the chairman of Greenwich PMS Ltd was one F Jacobs had complicated matters and moved back their second interview with him – before that could take place, the head office would receive a visit in which all the vehicle’s documentation needed to be examined. Once that was secure, and the car’s present whereabouts was established, the names of the persons - presumably employees of Greenwich PMS, but who knows what stories would arise – who had been using the car between the dates on which Richard Ford had monitored it would also need to be forthcoming. A new inquiry and a new set of interviews would then follow, relating to the attack on the side door of The Queens Arms public house.
And new difficulties soon became apparent, even from listening to one end of the conversation. DCI Lilley now had intelligence that Jacobs was planning to return to the south of France sooner than expected, possibly by the end of the week – few prizes for guessing why that might be. Neither would it surprise anyone if this year he decided to spend the entire winter there. On what the combined police forces had so far, a warrant for anything was out of the question, and so Jacobs would effectively be beyond their reach for as long as he wanted to be.
On the other hand, if they could get to him, they could put him under considerably more pressure; not only would he face questions about his history with Julie Shapiro, there was now good circumstantial evidence that employees of a company with which he was associated had continued the threatening behaviour begun by Bernard Sokoloff. None of which, reflected Smith, was going to lead directly to any sort of arrest up here in the sticks, not even for the pathetic attempt at arson.
Alison Reeve put down the phone and said, ‘It’s their move next. I doubt very much whether anyone from up on our bit of the coast is communicating with anyone in the Sussex commuter belt, but we’ll wait and see what they come up with – I don’t want us to be accused of making Frankie Jacobs disappear. They’ll be ready to go late tomorrow or early on Wednesday. We can hold off until then.’
Wilson said, ‘Hold off on what? We don’t have anything solid on Williams, Fisher or Vince, not that I can see.’
And Smith had to agree; apart from what he had very recently pencilled into his notebook, they didn’t. Terek had already reported on his meeting with the forensics lead, who had said that she didn’t think they had missed an opportunity as far as her department was concerned. All four of the detectives in the room were sure to have at least two of the three men – Williams, Vince and Fisher – in their sights but there was simply no way that they could justify pulling the trigger.
If the text message “All taken care of” was from Vince or Fisher, it was going to be very awkward for someone to explain; in themselves the words were innocuous enough but Smith wanted to be there to hear why they were sent to Mark Williams at 01.28 in the morning, and on the night in which Bernard Sokoloff had been killed. Serena was checking into the number now, and he would soon have the answer to that one. And then? He still couldn’t use it in the usual way, still could not reveal to Reeve, Terek and Wilson what he had found. Its use would require some very specific circumstances, and even Smith wasn’t entirely s
ure what those might be.
DCI Reeve had taken her time to respond to Wilson’s question.
‘Well, let’s use the time that DCI Lilley needs to sort ourselves out, shall we? I like John Murray’s ideas on the car, so let’s put extra people on that. Let’s go back to The Royal Victoria hotel and make sure we’ve spoken to everyone who might have seen or heard anything the night that Sokoloff’s stuff disappeared. Get staff lists from the manager and make sure that everyone is ticked off. We’re not going to get an eyewitness turning up out of the blue, we know that, so this is going to be done the hard way, the old-fashioned way.’
When Terek and Wilson left, Smith stayed behind, saying that he needed a private word – it made no difference whether they thought it was about the case or something personal.
Reeve said, ‘Go on. What would you do differently?’
‘No, it’s not that. We’re stuck in the slow lane on this one until something breaks.’
‘What else? You want your letter back?’
‘No, thank you. Nice of you to ask, though. It’s Waters.’
She nodded and frowned, and it was only then that he noticed she had had her hair cut shorter – he would have described it as noticeably shorter except that he hadn’t actually noticed until now. Should something be said now? Possibly, but experience tells us this is a minefield.
Reeve said then, ‘That was clever, wasn’t it? OK, the genius bit came from me but the way he worked it out? And the way he got Richard Ford involved?’
‘He was being fast-tracked for a reason. I know it’s only been a couple of years but I think he needs moving on – moving up.’
‘Sergeant?’
‘Why not? It doesn’t have to be here. He’s got no ties that I know of – he could go anywhere in the county, or out of it, come to that. Someone should at least be helping him to get ready.’
‘Someone who knows him well, you mean.’
‘I feel a bit responsible for him coming off the fast-track. I wouldn’t want him held back just because I won’t be here to get him onto it again. Waters shouldn’t have to wait around while a new DI sorts himself out – and I don’t mean that disrespectfully in any way.’
Time and Tide Page 34
