Blazing Obsession

by Dai Henley

  “James. I got back a bit early, thought I’d make a few calls to my contacts before I called you. Have you heard? The police have just found Hartley alive and well. They caught him boarding a cross-channel ferry from Dover. The police had put out an All Ports warning and an eagle-eyed passport controller recognised him.”

  “That’s a bloody relief.”

  “Even better, they’ve arrested him on suspicion of the murder of your family.”

  I fell onto my chair and steadied myself by gripping the arm. I could hardly speak.

  “Hello? James, are you still there?”

  “Yes… yes… of course. That’s fantastic news. When can we come and see you? There’s much to talk about.”

  “Let me make a few more calls first. I’d like Simon Brotherton here too. Why don’t we meet up lunchtime tomorrow? I’ll spend the rest of the day assessing where we are, OK?”

  *

  The next day, I drove from Blackfriars to Southwark Police Station with Alisha and parked in a side road. She stayed in the car whilst I reported in precisely on time at 10am. I was paranoid about missing the appointment. I didn’t want to be re-arrested for breaking the conditions of my bail.

  We decided to leave the car parked and walk through Borough Market and on to the Thames Embankment, heading for RP’s office. The sun shone brightly through the freezing air and our breaths turned to vapour as we spoke.

  The smell of fruit and vegetables fought for prominence over the hot fast-food stalls purveying everything from steaming paella to German sausages and hot roasted chestnuts. We grabbed a coffee and sat with our coats tightly wrapped around us.

  I said, “It’s great news about Hartley’s arrest for the arson attack, but one thing worries me. There’s been no mention of him being accused of Johnson’s murder. And Flood’s hell-bent on charging me.”

  “Let’s take it a step at a time. James. Hartley’s arrest is progress isn’t it?”

  “I suppose it is. It worries me, that’s all.”

  We got to RP’s office around lunchtime as agreed. It felt like a second home to me. I could find my way there blindfolded.

  Simon Brotherton had already arrived. Papers cluttered RP’s usually immaculate desk.

  “James, Alisha, come in. Sorry to hear about your arrest, James.” RP stood and shook hands warmly with us both in turn and introduced Alisha to Simon.

  “And Alisha, I hear the detectives have been giving you a hard time.”

  “Nothing I can’t handle,” she said, tossing her head.

  RP’s ever-elegant PA brought in the, by now, familiar tea set.

  “Thanks, Lucy. Please make sure we’re not disturbed, OK? We’re going to be some time.”

  As he poured the tea, he said, “Simon and I have been studying our position. We’re trying to assess the strength of the police’s case against you, James and seeing what we have to do to convince them that Hartley’s their man for all five murders: your wife and children, Greenland and Johnson.”

  The mention of five murders brought home the extent of our predicament. I had no idea RP’s plan would end up like this. I reserved telling him until after I’d heard what he had to say.

  RP continued, “All we know for certain is that Hartley’s been arrested for the fatal arson attack, but not yet charged. We don’t know specifically what the police have discovered about Johnson’s murder. I’m still working on that.”

  “I told Alisha, Flood’s looking at me for that,” I said.

  “I know. Let’s start with your family, James. What worries me and Simon is that the police are implying that you discovered Lynne’s affair with Hartley and his claim to being Emily’s father. Therefore, you’d have been motivated enough to eliminate them.”

  “That’s absolute balls! I had no idea! And there’s no proof that I wasn’t her father.”

  “I know. I’m playing devil’s advocate. Stop me, Simon, if you don’t agree.”

  Simon nodded and said, “If you look at it from a police point of view, it’s a definite runner. There are precedents.”

  “But James wasn’t there,” Alisha said. “We know Johnson did it. That means James must have hired him, which is crazy, isn’t it?”

  RP responded, “Well, James’s alibi is that he spent the night at home alone. Why couldn’t James have hired Johnson? The police have already questioned why he didn’t go down to Lymington with the family for the first time ever. It’s entirely plausible.”

  We sat in silence for a moment, which Simon broke.

  “The weakness in the police’s position is the lack of hard evidence. However, I agree with Roger. There could be a case to answer.” I shook my head in disbelief.

  RP took up the argument again. “Now let’s look at Hartley. He has a strong motive too. Plus, he demonstrates the classic symptoms of a sociopath, swinging from being utterly charming to callously controlling. And we know from what Greenland said, he was absolutely furious with Lynne for marrying you and you both bringing up his baby daughter whilst he rotted in Belmarsh prison.”

  I shot RP a disparaging glance. He countered by holding up both his palms facing me and said, “I know it’s something you don’t want to hear, James, but let’s say, for the moment, it’s a reasonable argument.”

  Alisha said, “But surely Hartley wouldn’t murder his own child?”

  Simon replied. “It’s happened before. I’ve dealt with cases where men like Hartley can’t stand the thought of losing their child to another man. The fact is, when he went to jail he lost control of Lynne. He couldn’t accept ‘control’ had passed to someone else. And he blamed her. That’s why he set up the arson attack. Sociopaths never think it’s their fault.”

  “Obviously not,” I spat out.

  He continued, “As far as evidence is concerned we know the police have got the mobile messages connecting Johnson with Hartley. Not sure it’ll be admitted in court, though. The defence would argue the police obtained the information without the defendant’s permission. That would infringe his human rights.”

  “That sounds too bloody familiar!” I shouted, recalling the judge’s comments when he acquitted Johnson.

  Simon ignored my outburst and said, “And remember, Alisha, when questioned by Flood, told him she knew about Hartley’s affair with Lynne. But didn’t know if James knew or not.”

  I fumed, “But I didn’t know anything about it until this week, for God’s sake!”

  Simon nodded and said, “I believe you. And it’ll be the police’s job to prove that you did know before the arson attack. Most of the other stuff they’ve got is circumstantial. That’s not to say the court won’t accept it. Circumstantial evidence is like an electric cable; full of different leads but in the end they all connect to the same point.

  “It’s my view the case against Hartley for the arson attack is good, James, but it’s by no means perfect. It rests on whether the police can prove you knew about the affair.”

  “Well, hang on a minute,” I said. “Hartley’s been arrested for the arson attack, hasn’t he? And Flood and his team aggressively questioned me at the time. If they thought I had anything to do with it they’d have arrested me, wouldn’t they?”

  RP came straight back. “Yes, James. But we know Hartley’s a particularly plausible liar and con man. He’ll say anything to avoid being charged.”

  I shook my head again.

  RP continued. “Let’s look at the Greenland murder. You and Hartley both had motives for wanting him despatched. If the police can prove that Alisha mentioned to you Greenland’s role in setting up the meeting between Hartley and Johnson, you’d know he’d played a part in the arson attack.”

  “But I’ve only ever seen him twice. And I told the police I was at Alisha’s flat at the time of his murder and she confirmed it.”

  RP responded. “But you could have hired someone else to stab him and dump him in Victoria Park, couldn’t you?”

  “This is getting bloody ridiculous!” I snapped.
>
  RP ignored me and continued, “On the other hand, we know Hartley shared with Greenland his deepest thoughts about his relationship with Lynne. Maybe he regretted it, got worried about Greenland. Didn’t want him going to the police. Especially after your visit.”

  Simon turned to me and said, “And as far as we know, there’s no other evidence to implicate you. Flood would have you back to the station in a heartbeat if he did.”

  Alisha, who’d been hanging on every word Simon uttered said, “Couldn’t Hartley have used someone else to carry out his dirty work, just like he did with Lynne?”

  RP replied. “That’s right. I think that’s the most likely explanation. The SOCOs will have crawled all over Greenland’s flat. We’ll have to wait and see what they come up with. Let’s hope you didn’t leave any evidence of your visit, James.”

  Simon added, shaking his head, “It’s a real shame about what happened to Greenland. He’d have been the prosecution’s perfect witness.”

  RP said, “I agree. He’d have made all the difference. Anyway, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m hungry. I’ll get sandwiches and a fresh pot of tea sent in and then we’ll look at the Johnson murder.”

  *

  We left RP’s office at various times to use the washroom, check our mobiles and stretch our legs. We tackled the sandwiches unenthusiastically; none of us had much of an appetite, except RP.

  Between bites, he spent most of the break with his phone crooked between his neck and shoulder scribbling notes.

  Returning to his desk, still chewing his last bite, he said, “I’ve just heard from one of my contacts. The early signs are that any forensic trace evidence left in the boot of Hartley’s car has been destroyed.”

  “Bugger! That’s not helping, is it?” I said.

  “No, it isn’t. But if the police can prove he torched the car, they could argue he did it to destroy the evidence.”

  A frown creased his forehead. “You know, it’s still bugging me who drove Hartley’s car when you were abducted, Alisha.”

  “Me too,” she said.

  “We’ve got nowhere on that,” RP continued. He hated not having an answer for everything.

  “And as far as the Johnson murder is concerned, I’ve heard the police have found the stuff you planted at Hartley’s flat. They’re waiting for the results from the forensic team.”

  “Is that going to be enough?” Alisha said.

  Simon, who’d been making notes, said, “Taken with the phone messages proving that Johnson was blackmailing him, I’d say the police would have to look at Hartley very seriously. But Flood may consider that you, James had a far stronger motive. After all, Johnson’s the actual guy who destroyed your family.”

  I moaned, “Oh! Wonderful.”

  Ignoring my sarcasm, Simon continued, “And there’s another point; we only have Alisha’s witness statement to corroborate your alibi. If it got to the point where the police charged you with Johnson’s murder and it went to trial, counsel would robustly cross-examine you, Alisha, given what they will know about your relationship with James. I’m sure you’re both aware that perjury is a serious crime.”

  Alisha nodded and said, “Flood made the same point when he interviewed me. Don’t worry; I’m sure I’ll cope.”

  We’d come to rely a great deal on Alisha.

  “I’m sure you will,” RP said. “I’m confident it won’t come to that.”

  I couldn’t share his assurance. I began to doubt his infallibility.

  He continued. “Of course, the big unknown here is the conversation Flood’s having with Hartley as we speak.”

  He checked his notes yet again. “And from what Simon’s told me, Flood appears determined to find hard evidence, especially against you, James.”

  “I know. That guy really winds me up!”

  “I’m hoping you didn’t leave any clues at Hartley’s flat. We can’t deny your motivation and your actions at the Johnson trial. All perfectly understandable, but added to any forensic evidence they come up with, that could prove fatal.”

  Simon spoke again. “And the police have already arrested you for this specific offence.”

  I glared at both of them in turn. “In other words, it’s looking fucking awful for me. Is that what you’re saying? I might as well hand myself in and confess to all the murders!”

  “Don’t be silly, James!” Alisha laid a hand on my arm.

  RP was stuck for an answer. I’d never seen that before.

  Eventually, he said, “OK, I’ll try to get more information about the evidence they have on you. At least Hartley’s under arrest for the arson attack. We’ve got to hope that Flood can pin Johnson’s murder on Hartley too.”

  I stood and shouted, “So that’s it, is it? My life depends on the hope that that cynical bastard, Flood, buys our plan.”

  Alisha tugged at my sleeve, trying to get me to sit down. I pushed her aside and walked around the room.

  Simon remained seated, but turned round in his chair and addressed me directly. “Actually, it’s not like that. The police will have to present a file to the CPS. There are a few hoops they’ve go to go through. Then they’ll decide whether there’s enough evidence to prosecute. It’s extremely thorough.”

  “Simon’s correct,” RP said. “And the CPS is paranoid these days about what the public think. They won’t want to waste money on a trial if there isn’t a realistic chance of a guilty verdict.”

  I stood with my back to them, gazing down St James’s Street, watching the endless trail of headlights heading for Piccadilly in the fast-fading light.

  RP said, “I’ll see if I can find out how Hartley’s interview with Flood is progressing. I can’t promise anything. We’ll have to wait for the police to make the next move.”

  I felt like the first prize in an arm-wrestling match between RP and DCI Flood.

  *

  When I got home at 5.30pm, the red light on my answer phone flashed continuously. My gut wrenched when I played back the only message. Flood wanted to see me urgently. He said it couldn’t wait until the next morning, when I was due to sign in as a condition of my bail.

  I called him back immediately, hoping there had been positive developments in my favour.

  There weren’t.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  November 1999

  The phone magnified Flood’s brusque tone.

  “I’ve more questions for you. You need to get down here as soon as possible. You should bring your solicitor with you.”

  My insides churned. I called Simon, who said he’d be at the police station within the hour.

  The Christmas lights had been switched on in central London. They got earlier every year. Westminster City Council had made a special effort because of the Millennium celebrations. As the traffic would be more of a nightmare than usual, I took a minicab for the six-mile trip from my home in Blackheath to North Greenwich tube station and boarded the recently opened rapid Jubilee line to Southwark. A short walk later, I arrived at the police station at 6.30pm.

  A PC escorted me to the same interview room. Simon joined me shortly afterwards.

  Flood and the monosyllabic DS Lyle swaggered into the room, the latter clutching a large file, which he dumped on the desk.

  Flood said, “We have more questions we’d like you to answer, mainly in connection with the murder of Leroy Johnson.”

  Why ‘mainly’, I thought? Did he have something else on me?

  I guessed it might be as a result of his interrogation of Hartley in a similar interview room in the same building.

  “We’re applying to Tower Bridge Magistrates’ Court at 10am tomorrow for an extension of the time we can detain you.”

  “On what grounds?” Simon shot back.

  “We believe we can convince the magistrates we need more time for further questioning that will yield additional evidence. Also, we’ll have the forensic reports available soon. You will, of course, be given the opportunity to make representat
ion against this detention.”

  Simon responded. “We most certainly will object.”

  “Your client will be detained tonight and we’ll see what the magistrates have to say in the morning.” He left the room with the DS in his wake.

  That was it. Interview over. If Flood wanted to unnerve me, he’d succeeded – yet again.

  Simon and I held a quick debrief before a PC escorted me to the cells once again. Simon felt sure Flood had applied to the magistrates’ court for an extension of time for Hartley too.

  Neat.

  Flood would have us both in the same building for a further three days’ questioning. The forensic details would be flying in thick and fast; time enough to put a case to the CPS against either of us.

  *

  The thought of two more nights in the cells didn’t thrill me. And I wasn’t looking forward to three more days answering questions either. Flood’s cynical goading and contemptuous manner was out of order and there was litttle I could do about it.

  I focussed on the fact that at least, with Alisha, RP and Bruno’s help, I’d dealt with Johnson. They’d helped ensure partial justice for Lynne, Georgie and Emily. Whatever happened to me, it represented a result… of sorts.

  Lying on the blue plastic covering of the firm mattress, amongst countless other thoughts, I replayed in my mind a conversation I’d had with Alisha previously.

  I’d said, “The more I think about Hartley’s ludicrous claim to being Emily’s father, the more I hate him. If it’s true, what sick father would pay someone to burn down the cottage where his daughter slept?”

  “I know,” she said. “I don’t understand. Some men are born evil.”

  Shaking my head, I responded. “The man’s deranged.”

  The following morning, a squad car, driven by a uniformed police officer, accompanied by another sitting next to me in the rear passenger seats, delivered me to the magistrates’ court in Tooley Street, a short distance from Southwark Police Station. Simon had already arrived.

  I got the distinct impression my detention was already a done deal. The chief magistrate listened to both arguments intently, but asked few questions.