Money, Mishaps and Murder

by David Beard

  ‘Crossworth had sex with her you said?’

  ‘I didn’t! Somebody did but under the circumstances he is the most probable partner. There are no signs of rape or violence of that nature. I can say with confidence that it was consensual, so almost certainly it was with him but the semen will tell us; his genitals may have residues from her.’

  Her dispassionate observations of things so intimate were something Smalacombe could never stomach. He screwed up his nose and huffed, he had heard enough on that issue. It was time to move forward. ‘So, what you are confirming is that they were together when they were murdered.’

  ‘Yes. Their clothes were covered in acidic soil, and more importantly traces of gorse. We can verify the soil with samples if you have an idea of where the crime was committed. What is clear, they were murdered at the same time and in the same place. There are many residues of unidentified DNA over their clothing. Forensics are looking into all of that.’

  ‘Good! By what you say, they were probably murdered close to where Lynley was found but somewhere more isolated than the car park, as the shots would have disturbed someone no doubt. On the other hand, it is not unusual to hear gunshots in that area. People are often shooting something; no end of people have shotgun licences in that part of the world.’

  ‘With regard to the shooting, from the spread I would suggest that the gun was around two metres away from Lynley.’ She noticed Smalacombe’s quizzical expression. ‘I’m sorry, I should have remembered, say six to seven feet. It was much closer to Crossworth and the trajectory was upwards; that is why he lost his chin. Without the cartridge cases, I won’t be able to identify the gun; it was not sawn off but there are residues on Crossworth. The damage was excessive: the cartridges must have been of a high power or special quality. I am not a gun expert so I cannot enlarge on that. What I can say is that it was more than an arm’s length away, which dismisses thoughts of self affliction.’

  Smalacombe smiled, ‘Well now, he wouldn’t have killed himself and then driven back to the canal would he? Are there any other signs of violence other than the shot wounds?’

  ‘There is also a big mark on Crossworth’s chest just to the right of the gunshot damage. He was hit with something there and just before death.’

  ‘Usual description I suppose: blunt instrument.’

  ‘Sort of. I would describe it as a big lump. The marks are irregular. Sorry to be so technical.’ She smiled.

  ‘I can just about cope with that.’

  She carried on, ‘There are various superficial marks and cuts, but all caused after death: probably as a result of moving them around. Crossworth in particular has many scratches and abrasions on the back of his head and neck, which indicates that he was probably dragged around a lot.’

  ‘By his feet? Bloody hell, this gets worse. And Lynley?’

  ‘No, a few marks but she was not mauled around as he was. Blood stains have been found in Lynley’s car and forensics have confirmed they are from her and Crossworth. Lynley’s were on the back seat and his in the boot.’

  ‘Now that is interesting. So, she was transported as well. I suppose we realised that, but the thing is now, where on earth were they murdered? With the position of the stains it seems that both bodies were in the car at the same time. Why dump them forty odd miles apart? She would have been visible.’ He began to think aloud. ‘So, her move would have been a very short one, but his body was hidden in the boot?’

  ‘Yes. As always, speculation is your department, Dexter. When I get all the other results back I will let you know and hand in my report. It shouldn’t take too long. What I can tell you is that Crossworth’s stomach contents were not the same as Lynley’s. He had not eaten since breakfast. She had the last remains of a pasta meal, probably eaten at midday; neither had drunk any alcohol.’

  ‘That does give us something to go on. What about the damned blanket?’

  ‘Again, I am waiting for DNA; some residues. I think it is a car rug.’

  ‘From her car?’

  ‘Too much speculation again. As soon as I get the info I will pass it on.’

  ‘Is that it?’

  ‘There is one other thing. A piece of Crossworth’s shirt, from the damaged area to the tail was ripped off and is missing.’

  ‘Very strange.’

  ‘It may have been used as a rag to wipe off evidence.’

  ‘I thought you said speculation was my department.’

  ‘I withdraw that last statement.’

  ‘Many thanks. I have to go.’

  Angela Marriot lent across expecting a peck on the cheek. Smalacombe decided to oblige as he didn’t want things to descend to animosity. ‘I wish you well, Angela, I really do.’

  *

  The dogs sniffed around Emily Corndon’s ankles as she followed Geraldine Crossworth into her front room. She was granted the informalities of a cup of tea and sensed that the widow was much more at ease with her alone. They spent some time discussing the weather, the art works again and anything that cropped up other than the business in hand. Emily felt it was necessary to build a close relationship with her and when she assessed that she had gained the lady’s confidence she began to address the issues.

  ‘I’m sorry to have returned so quickly, Mrs…’

  ‘Geraldine.’

  ‘Thank you. But, something has cropped up and we need to get to the bottom of it pretty quickly. The computer wipe is a great mystery to us and did he have a laptop as well?’

  ‘He did not have a laptop. He used his mobile for most everything; texting, emails and so on. The computer was used for what he referred to as the heavy stuff: business.’

  ‘Geraldine, I have to stop you. We are not confident that you are telling us everything you know. Now is the best opportunity you have to put that right.’

  Geraldine Crossworth hesitated; she got up from her seat, went to the window and studied her dahlias. She turned and faced the sergeant in a determined manner. She took a deep breath. ‘I was out on the Friday afternoon before…oh dear,’ she found it difficult to address the events of the following Sunday, she waited and composed herself, ‘…and I had a phone call from Henry telling me that his keys had been stolen…’

  Emily interrupted her again, ‘Does this fit with the premonitions you have mentioned?’

  ‘It does and precisely. That last week was horrendous and unusually, he kept me informed and sought my support. He had discovered that his company’s records were being doctored.’

  ‘I don’t follow. Someone was hacking into them?’

  ‘Yes. But they were not removing them, and as far as he knew not using them, but subtly corrupting the data; altering things in a way that might not be noticed until it was too late. A nought would be added or removed here or there or a four changed to a two: it compromised the records completely. They have back-ups of course and it was those that highlighted it. However, just think of the work involved in checking every single digit and then trying to resolve wrong invoices or payments.’

  ‘If someone was trying to destroy his business then why didn’t he approach the police?’

  ‘I sensed that he only realised what was going on in the week before he died. I am sure that was his next step but he was too busy fending off irate phone calls and trying to patch things up.’ She paused once again as she had to consider her next comment carefully; indeed she was not sure she should go further. She looked back to study her garden. Emily sensed she was in a quandary and waited patiently. She had a feeling the next comment would be momentous.

  Eventually, Geraldine turned, moved to an armchair and sat down, not at ease but on its edge, leaning forward with her forearms on her thighs and playing with her fingers. She had resolved to continue, ‘Anyway,’ she used a mot vide to give herself a little more time, ‘when he rang me that afternoon he also asked me to wipe his computer as he felt that was the next thing they wanted to access. He told me it was all backed up; no doubt your lot found that when they came
in. As the car wasn’t stolen he was sure this was why they took the keys.’

  ‘No, we haven’t found the backups. It seems you are suggesting that he worked out that the keys were taken to give access to the house and to the computer. So, his idea was to make sure there was nothing on it for them to see. You did wipe the computer?’

  ‘I hadn’t got a clue how to do it. He said, all I had to do was to…uhm, reformat, I think…’ Emily nodded. ‘Remember, I was away on that Friday afternoon. By the Saturday I was really uncertain what he had told me of the procedure. I managed it much later but not until after your first visit. That’s why I stalled: I didn’t want to let Henry down; nothing more. Maybe it was too late by then and the wrong thing to do.’

  ‘I’m afraid it was the wrong thing to do. Tell me, over the weekend, did you have any concerns that you were broken in to? May I enlarge; not necessarily broken in to but, did you ever feel there was someone else on the premises?’

  ‘Give me a moment. I’ll get another cuppa.’ She took the two cups and disappeared into the kitchen. When she returned, with them refilled, she had recounted the weekend and could give an appraisal. ‘There was something odd,’ she began. ‘The dogs did bark in the middle of the night.’

  ‘Which night would that be?’

  She thought for a while, mulling over the weekend’s events once more. ‘It would have been the Sunday night. I remember checking the clock: it was about two thirty in the morning and the dogs were barking. They don’t roam the house by the way; at night they are in a small ante room just off the kitchen. They were off again a little while later.’

  ‘You think they heard something?’

  ‘Well, it’s not unusual, the slightest noise will disturb them when I am here alone,’ she pondered. ‘I was aware of the implication of the keys and decided the safest thing would be to keep quiet and I locked myself in my en-suite. I was just annoyed that they had disturbed my sleep.’

  ‘Why didn’t you phone the police?’

  ‘I was going to but you beat me to it. You were here pretty soon on Monday morning.’

  ‘What other keys would he have kept on his car’s key ring?’

  ‘Quite a few. Our front door key certainly; he was coming home at all hours. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Because, I am not sure it was just the computer they were after. Can I look around the office?’

  ‘Of course, but remember, your lot went through it when they took the computer. It is much disturbed and I suspect they have everything they want.’

  CHAPTER 4

  Barry Sheldon handed Smalacombe a list. ‘Crossworth ran a private equity company, sir. That’s where the money came from: A Gate Services, would you believe.’

  ‘I believe anything about this bloody case.’

  ‘I have contacted them, sir and they are in chaos. They were panicking because they couldn’t get hold of him. They didn’t even know that Crossworth was dead. Well, we haven’t released any names yet and it seems Mrs C isn’t answering the phone. But, that’s only part of the problem.’

  ‘They now have problems with their computer?’ Emily Corndon interrupted; Sheldon nodded. ‘That answers a lot of questions, sir,’ Emily addressed Smalacombe and then returned to Sheldon, ‘but, surely, they have back-ups?’

  ‘They do,’ Sheldon answered, ‘but there is always a period between the last update and the current stuff. The MD wasn’t very clear but there is more to it than the computer wipe at Crossworth’s home. Frankly that seems to be a side issue, plus the fact they needed Crossworth’s advice but he wasn’t available.’

  ‘But we now know it was Crossworth who instructed his wife to wipe the computer. How does that fit?’

  ‘I don’t know, in fact it doesn’t fit and I don’t envy them. They have no idea that she did it by the way and, at this stage, I didn’t feel I should tell them all we knew. They wanted to know, as we have recovered the files here, if we could oblige. I said I would find out.’

  ‘We don’t know anything about them or whether they are involved at the moment. I think we must stall that,’ Smalacombe decided.

  ‘You said they were in chaos?’ Emily asked.

  ‘I don’t fully understand his problem; the company’s system is in a mess. Why?’ Smalacombe added to Emily’s query.

  ‘A hacker has been corrupting their data.’

  ‘Mmm, could destroy the whole business,’ Smalacombe assessed, ‘I don’t think we can move on with this until we get more info. I’m going to have to see the MD, but I can’t see me finding the time for a while.’

  ‘Here’s a list of companies A Gate Services have taken over, or invested in, in the last few years.’ Sheldon passed over a file.

  Smalacombe ran his eye down the list and rested on an entry near the bottom.

  ‘Take a look at the last but one on the first page, Emily.’

  ‘Waow! Number one job, sir.’

  ‘Well done, Sheldon, you have given us our next step.’

  Sheldon looked at the list himself and followed Smalacombe’s instructions. ‘Wendy Childs did most of this, sir. So thank her. What’s special about Rollisade and Sons?’

  ‘I’ll let you know when we get back.’

  *

  The pair wandered into the offices of Rollisade and Sons and went to the receptionist who sat behind a very imposing counter, far too big for what was needed.

  ‘I rang earlier and we have come to see Mr. Rollisade as arranged,’ Smalacombe explained and showed the lady his ID card.

  ‘Oh yes, sir, I remember. I’m afraid Mr Rollisade is very busy and he may not be able to see you.’

  ‘I’m sorry but that is not an option. Please tell him we are here and we expect to see him now.’

  ‘I’ll try but he doesn’t like to be pushed around.’

  ‘Funny thing, neither do I. Where is his office?’ He looked to his colleague, puffed his cheeks and exhaled loudly. ‘Good start,’ he muttered with irony.

  ‘It’s the door at the end of the corridor, his name is on it, but I didn’t tell you that. Please say you worked it out for yourself.’

  ‘We’ll make our own way there.’

  They walked along the corridor, and both noted a large communal office on their left behind a glass frontage. Emily picked out an empty desk, which she assumed was Samantha’s old station. They arrived at Rollisade’s door and knocked but there was no reply. They looked at one another, Emily nodded knowingly and Smalacombe turned the doorknob. As they walked in they noticed Rollisade sitting at his desk. When he saw them he replaced the telephone on its console, as his receptionist had changed her mind and warned him of the impending visit.

  ‘Excuse me, this is a private office. What do you think you are doing?’ Rollisade spoke and stared angrily at the chief inspector.

  ‘Well now, we knocked. We knew you were in here, but as there was no reply, we were concerned for your welfare.’

  Rollisade shook his head and snorted. ‘Look, I don’t have time; I have too many important things to do without wasting it with you lot over some petty problem.’

  ‘A double murder is not petty and it takes precedence over everything, Mr Rollisade.’

  ‘Double murder? It’s nothing to do with me, as you well know. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go.’ He stood to go and Smalacombe moved to the door. He was not prepared to give an easy ride to anyone who could callously dismiss murders in such a fashion. There was another door on the side of the office. Emily could see what was necessary and she moved and stood in front of it. It occurred to her that it might be the entrance to the managerial toilet but she couldn’t take the chance if it was another escape route.

  ‘You are intimidating me.’

  ‘On the contrary, we are spreading out rather than encroaching on your space. Now, if we delay things, it gives the culprit a head start and we must therefore press on as quickly as possible. Mr Rollisade, we have not come here on a cold call. We have done our homework and there are things we
need you to confirm.’

  ‘Not without my lawyer you don’t.’

  ‘We are not here to question you. We simply want to be sure of the facts in order to safeguard you from, perhaps, unnecessary intrusions in the future.’

  ‘Hmmph. Straight out of the training manual. Can you only operate as an automaton?’ Rollisade moved up to Smalacombe and stared at him; eyeball to eyeball.

  Emily felt the need to comment. ‘Now, who is doing the intimidating?’ Rollisade looked angrily across to her and then stepped back. The two officers sensed that he was close to losing control. This pleased Smalacombe as it was a scenario that usually helped him. Such angry dispositions often suppressed the need to think things through before answering a question.

  Smalacombe felt the need to explain. ‘If you had cooperated, by now we would be on our way. I’m not leaving here, and neither are you until you confirm a few facts. The two victims are Henry Crossworth and Heather Lynley. Did you know them?’

  ‘Of course not. You know full well that I have the right to remain silent; check your damned manual again. Now, it’s time for me to get on,’ he returned to his desk.

  ‘You are correct, Mr Rollisade. You have every right to say nothing but I am not here to question you, simply to collect some facts. Your way can only delay things – no more.’

  Rollisade picked up his pen and took a paper from his in-tray and addressed his computer.

  ‘You see it is quite straightforward. Who owns your company?’

  ‘What a stupid question. Have you seen the name, or is that beyond you? I do.’ Rollisade shouted at him and shook his head angrily but he never looked up from his desk. ‘Why are you still here?’

  Emily felt the need to intervene. ‘Then where does the private equity firm fit in?’

  ‘I don’t know what you are talking about,’ Rollisade commented whilst feigning to concentrate on his work, with his pen hovering over the paper pretending to take information from the computer screen. ‘I’ve explained my rights, now clear off,’ he answered dismissively with a much quieter voice and began writing.