So, two people, probably arriving in a single vehicle, waiting for Sorrento to arrive. Sorrento would have known at least one of them. Or maybe someone he knew and trusted drove him to this secluded spot under some pretext or other. Whichever it was, he was hit on the head with a rock on arrival, and his body dragged away and hidden. The two vehicles were then driven away, one man in each. Or maybe there were more than two assailants? One good thing, something the assailants presumably hadn’t thought of, was that if one of the vehicles had been Sorrento’s Range Rover, then it was traceable. The registration was on record, thanks to the boss’s observations the previous weekend.
The rock used in the fatal assault hadn’t just been carelessly tossed aside, so what would they have done with it? Taken it with them for a couple of miles, then disposed of it somewhere else on the heath, maybe hurling it out of the car window? It hardly mattered. There were so many lumps of rock around the place that it would never be found, particularly if they’d taken the time to drop it in one of the dozens of small, boggy pools.
Marsh now felt that he understood the sequence of events surrounding Sorrento’s murder. But why would he have been killed? The DCI was fairly confident. She felt that internal tensions within the gang had erupted into violence following the death of the old leader, Phil Woodruff. Maybe Sorrento had made a move for the top job and had underestimated the opposition he’d encounter. She’d been puzzled by the prison visit to Frimwell. That alone could explain the descent into extreme violence. Had Sorrento upset Frimwell in some way? Had Frimwell got a message to the outside world, instructions to deal with the over-confident Sorrento?
Marsh walked to his car and drove back to the incident room. Too many imponderables. He arrived to find his boss staring out of the window, seemingly deep in thought. She looked up as he approached.
‘Morning, ma’am. I’ve been back to the nature reserve to check over the tyre track patterns. I think I see how it fits.’ He went on to explain his ideas.
‘Sounds right,’ she replied. ‘Good work. We need to start tying it all together. We have so many loose ends it’s like a tangled ball of wool at the moment. Can you start tomorrow on this councillor, Blythe? He could be the link between the Armitage murders and Sorrento’s.’
‘Of course.’ Marsh looked at the clock. ‘I need to be going soon. I’ll get a quick sandwich in the canteen, then I’ll be off. Gwen’s coming over this afternoon. We’ll probably go for a walk along the front, then we’re heading out for a meal this evening.’
‘Well, give her my best wishes. I’ll be here for an hour or two yet, then I’m off for the rest of the day. We all need a few hours to unwind, Barry. By the way, I need to find something to keep Blackman and McCluskie occupied. But whatever it is, it can’t be anything sensitive. I can’t have them blundering about putting things at risk. Any ideas would be very welcome.’
* * *
Marsh made his way to the jewellers, as he’d arranged the previous week, then drove back to his flat in Swanage. It was about time he moved somewhere closer to his work, but it would have been premature to do so with his relationship becoming more serious by the week.
The afternoon stroll was very relaxing and enjoyable. The sun glinted on the rippling wave-tops as he and Gwen strolled along the promenade at Swanage, and then out to Peveril Point before returning to the town for a cup of tea. They returned to his flat to change before heading out for the evening. Barry had booked a corner table at the local Italian restaurant, and by mid-evening the couple were enjoying their food.
‘Wow, fantastic wine, Barry. It’s not like you to splash out on one this expensive. Is it a special occasion? Have I missed something?’
He answered quietly, ‘Yes it is.’ He reached into his jacket pocket and extracted a small, velvet-covered box, placing it on the table in front of Gwen. He flipped it open, revealing a glinting diamond ring. ‘Gwen, will you marry me?’
She was silent for what seemed like hours, looking alternatively at the ring and her boyfriend. Tears began to glisten in the corners of her eyes. ‘Oh, yes,’ she finally said. ‘Yes, yes, yes.’ She reached across the table and put her arms around him, and the couple half-stood, hugging each other. Then Gwen pulled away, allowing Barry to slide the ring onto her finger, to a ripple of applause from the nearby diners, who’d all been watching in smiling silence.
‘Barry! You fantastic, lovely, thoughtful person. You’ve totally surprised me, and I didn’t think that was possible.’
‘I do love you, Gwen,’ he whispered.
‘I know.’ She took a gulp of wine. ‘And I’ve known for ages that you’re the one for me.’
They continued to look at each other, smiling, over dessert.
CHAPTER 28: Dark Horse
Monday morning, Week 3
Detectives Stu Blackman and Phil McCluskie made their way apprehensively towards Sophie Allen’s office. She was reading the preliminary autopsy report on Tony Sorrento, and set it aside as the two men knocked on the open door.
‘Come in, guys.’ She pointed towards the two chairs in front of her desk. ‘You did a good job on crosschecking all the forensic data, so thanks for that.’
The two men visibly relaxed.
‘I have another job for you. It’s a good bit trickier, but I’m sure you’ll cope. There’s a company operating out of Bournemouth that owns a string of bars, pubs and clubs. Maybe even a couple of massage parlours. They’re all spread out across the Bournemouth and Poole area. They’re involved in these murders, but we don’t know how or why. Sorrento was one of their directors. We need to gain a good bit more intelligence on them, and that’s your job. Find out everything there is to know about them, but without raising any suspicions on their part. Keep it completely low profile. The company’s called Woodruff Holdings. Barry and I have already visited their registered office a couple of times, so they know we’re interested in them. Don’t go near that place or approach any of their senior staff. You can visit a few of the places they run, but keep it very low key and don’t let on that you’re cops. Don’t approach any other CID units about this. It’s got to be completely internal to us for the time being. Clear so far?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ Blackman sat up, straight and businesslike, as if trying to impress. Shame about the ketchup stain on his tie, thought Sophie.
‘Fine. So I want a detailed dossier on them as soon as possible. You have a couple of days. You can move back to your own base now, by the way. This incident room is getting a bit too crowded, and we need your desk space. But don’t talk about this, not even to your CID buddies. Barry’s created a skeleton framework for your report with headings for what we want to know. You’ll find it in our group folder on the server. Here’s a hard copy. It has the network address on it. A word of warning. If you find anything unexpected, like links to other businesses or individuals, don’t follow them up without talking to me first. Any questions?’
They shook their heads in unison.
‘Phil, this is an opportunity for you to redeem yourself. Show me the good detective that I know you can be. Okay?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ he replied.
They left the office and went to their desks to clear their few belongings and take them back to the CID office. Marsh watched them leave, then went into Sophie’s office.
‘How did they take it, ma’am?’
‘Don’t know and don’t really care. Hopefully we’ll get something useful from them. Blackman looked as though he was all fired up, but it’s impossible to read McCluskie. He’s too hard-nosed.’
‘I see they’ve moved out. I didn’t know you were planning that.’
‘A safety precaution. If word gets out about what they’re doing, it’ll be taken as a routine CID investigation, not linked to us. And I expect word will get out. It’ll be hard for them not to blab to someone, particularly once McCluskie has had a few drinks. I don’t want our mole to have his suspicions aroused more than necessary.’
‘Won’t
you tell me who it is, ma’am? If you know?’
‘No. And I do know. At least I think I do. But don’t try to find out, Barry. If you do, you might raise the alarm. He’ll be looking for signs of someone doing some digging.’
* * *
‘Well, what do you think of that?’ Blackman dropped into his chair and sat back, his chest swelling. ‘We’ve impressed the powers that be. We’re back in business. She’s seen the light at last.’
‘Fuck that. She’s up to something,’ McCluskie said, wearily. ‘I just wish I knew what it was.’
‘Don’t be such a cynic, Phil. Why can’t you take it at face value?’
‘Because I know her. All that crap about me redeeming myself. It was all for show. She may have impressed you, but she sure didn’t impress me. So the question is, what is she really up to?’
‘Listen, we do what she asked, okay? I’m fed up with the reputation I seem to have got since we started working together. I want to get back into mainstream work, and this might be my chance. So we do exactly what she asked. We find out everything there is to know about this shady outfit and we don’t blab. Let’s do this right.’
McCluskie curled his lip. Blackman started searching through the network for the skeleton report they were to flesh out. For once he felt enthusiastic.
‘Here it is.’ He scanned through the document. ‘Okay, I can see what they want. Let’s go for the first couple of sections just now. I’ll do the top half of the list, you do the bottom half. Then we can review midday and decide on the next step. Okay?’
McCluskie scowled, but started work.
* * *
Sophie, Marsh and Rae had coffee together mid-morning. Marsh decided to tell the two women his news. He knew he’d not be easily forgiven if he kept them in the dark about his engagement.
‘Just to let you know, Gwen and I got engaged yesterday evening.’ His heart was beating rapidly. Why was this almost as nerve-wracking as the proposal itself? He wasn’t prepared for the resulting onslaught. Sophie threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly.
‘Barry! You’re a real dark horse. I had no idea.’
He was puzzled by this. Why would she expect to have an idea? Was it that big a deal to anyone other than himself and Gwen? Clearly it was, judging from the reaction of these two women. Rae could barely keep still for excitement. He had only just managed to extricate himself from Sophie’s embrace, when Rae threw herself at him and nearly knocked the wind out of him.
‘Congratulations, boss! It couldn’t happen to a nicer bloke. Trust me, I know, I was one myself once.’
‘Celebration lunch!’ Sophie cried. ‘Oh no, we can’t. We’re in the middle of a triple murder inquiry. How about when we finish this evening? Fancy a quick drink? I know, let’s have a meal out at the weekend instead. What do you think, Barry? We could get Jimmy across, and ask some of the old Swanage team along.’
It fitted in with his own thoughts exactly. Barry had already decided on Saturday as an ideal day to celebrate. He nodded. ‘The Black Swan on Saturday. I’ll book now, and if anyone needs to spend the night in my flat, I have a spare room and the couch in the lounge.’
‘Sounds great,’ Rae replied.
‘Ideal,’ Sophie said. ‘But I won’t stay over. I’ll get Martin to come and chuck me in the car and take me home. My days of sleeping rough on makeshift beds are long gone. We were in need of a pick-me-up, Barry, and you’ve supplied it. And you and Gwen suit each other so well. I’m thrilled for you both.’
* * *
As requested, Pete Armitage called into the police station later that morning. Sophie and Marsh interviewed him.
‘You do lot of decorating jobs for Woodruff properties, Mr Armitage,’ Sophie said. ‘None of their properties are local to Blandford, so why did you land the contracts?’
Pete narrowed his eyes. ‘I thought you asked me in to talk about Ted and Sylvie’s deaths? What have the Woodruff jobs got to do with that?’
‘There’s a strong possibility of a link, so can you answer the question, please?’
‘They notify me when they’ve got a job due. I put in a bid, and sometimes I land the work, sometimes I don’t. There’s nothing shady about it. What’s the problem?’
Marsh picked up a list that he’d brought in with him. ‘All the other decorating firms they have on their books are based in Bournemouth or Poole. You’re the furthest away by far. It seems a bit odd.’
‘Well, it isn’t. I always do a good job, and they know it.’
‘How did you first make contact with them? How did you get on their list in the first place?’ Marsh continued.
‘I think it was through Rod. It was when I first took him on, years ago. He told me about a club in Poole that had been bought by new owners who planned to spruce it up. He talked me into putting in a quote and I landed the job.’
‘Did you think you were in with a chance?’ Sophie asked. ‘Were you surprised at all when you got it?’
Pete paused for a few moments. ‘I s’pose I was. A bit, anyway. I probably wasn’t the cheapest estimate, I never am. But I’ve got a good reputation for quality work, and they saw that after the first job. It’s stupid for a company like theirs to go for the cheapest. Those bars and pubs need to bring in the public and they only do that if they look attractive. It’s a speciality of mine, pubs and the like. I know what works, and I tell the owners. Most of them listen to what I say.’
‘So was it just by chance that you landed that first job for them?’
‘Rod knew the manager of the place at the time and swung it. It was only a year after I took him on. Once I did one, the rest of the jobs followed.’
‘Did Rod say how he knew them?’ Sophie asked.
‘It was a late night club in Poole with a casino. I think he was a punter there. Look, I don’t like talking about my family, and with the kind of stress they’re under it doesn’t seem right.’
‘But you’ve just sacked Rod, haven’t you? Hasn’t that put him under far more stress than we ever could?’
Pete didn’t answer immediately. ‘He was taking money from me. From the business, I mean.’
Sophie raised her eyebrows. ‘How much? And how did he do it?’
‘It worked out at a couple of thousand. He had a bank card for small purchases. It was meant for small-scale stuff that he needed quick like, to get a job done. He’s been taking out cash as well and wasn’t telling me.’
Marsh looked puzzled. ‘How did it get to that amount? Surely you’d spot it in your monthly bank statements?’
There was no response.
‘Mr Armitage,’ said Sophie, ‘This is a murder inquiry. The next step is for us to get your statements from the bank and go through them with a fine toothcomb. We’ll be doing that anyway, but we can save time here. You know we’ll get to the bottom of it, so why not tell us now?’
Pete cleared his throat and scratched his head nervously. ‘Sylvia did my accounts. I never looked through my statements, not until a couple of weeks ago, after she died. I didn’t know what was going on.’
‘Was it really just a couple of thousand?’
He shook his head. ‘That was the amount each year. Probably more like twelve grand over five years.’
Marsh sank back into his chair. ‘So Rod was stealing money from you, with Sylvia’s knowledge?’
‘Yeah, but I had nothing to do with her death. If I’d have killed anyone, it would have been Rod, not her. It explains why she was so nervy in the last few years. I think she must have been terrified of me finding out.’
‘Do you know what Rod was doing with the money?’
Pete shrugged. ‘Drugs? Gambling? Women? Probably all three.’
‘Do you think Ted knew?’
‘I didn’t even know myself until after they died. So how could I tell?’
‘But you must have wondered in the days since then. He was your brother, after all.’
‘Yes, but we weren’t that close. I got on much bette
r with Sylvia. Or I thought I did. I’m not sure of anything now.’
‘I’ll ask again, Mr Armitage. Do you think Ted knew what was going on?’
‘Possibly,’ he whispered. ‘I wonder if it may have caused all the friction between them. But it’s only a guess. And how can I tell now?’
‘Who was your contact in the Woodruff business?’ asked Marsh. ‘Who issued the job descriptions when they needed decorating done?’
‘Justin Griffiths. But that very first one came from Toffee Barber. He’s the manager and seems really pally with Rod.’
Sophie shifted in her seat. ‘I think we should call it a day now, Mr Armitage. We’ll get the bank statements right now to check what you’ve alleged, though there’s no reason to doubt what you’ve told us. It makes a whole lot of things clearer. Please keep all this to yourself at present while we check further. And stay away from Rod. Leave it all to us to handle. There’s a lot more work for us to do. How’s Sharon bearing up, by the way?’
Pete rose from his seat. ‘I’m a bit worried about her. I thought she’d have been looking a bit better by now but, if anything, she seems worse.’
The two detectives showed Pete out of the building, then walked back to their office. ‘Do you know, Barry, his story has a ring of truth in it. I think he might be a decent guy underneath and is genuinely perplexed by what he’s discovered. Maybe you could pop round and see Rod but don’t question him on any of this, not yet. Keep it low key. Just to keep an eye on him. We’ll let Rose and George know, so they can do the same, but don’t share any details with them, not yet. It solves one of the main problems, doesn’t it? Ted and Sylvia’s murder had to have some kind of family involvement, what with the chosen site being Morden Bog. It would have been fine if we’d fallen for the suicide line, what with it having such good memories for them when Sharon and Rod were small. But once suicide was ruled out, it pointed only one way. And now we know Rod has a link to the Woodruffs.’
‘It’s going to be hard to pin it all down, ma’am. It’s like trying to nail jelly to the wall.’
TWISTED CRIMES a gripping detective mystery full of suspense Page 17
