by Graham Ison
In theory, the club should’ve demanded some substantial documentary proof of identity, but I knew that such requirements were more often honoured in the breach. The fact that he’d produced the rent book with which Mrs Patel had provided him was not in my view sufficient to meet legal requirements.
In the meantime, of course, and still assuming Ford was the killer, there was a very good chance that he would by now have fled abroad. And if he had any sense it would be to somewhere that did not have an extradition treaty with the UK. Like Congo, Mali, Syria or Iran. But he’d have to be mad to go to any of those places.
For the time being, however, I told Colin Wilberforce to make a PNC entry giving details of what additional information we knew of the mysterious Derek Ford.
‘And when you’ve done that, Colin,’ I said, ‘perhaps you’d see if you can trace any flights in and out of Birmingham Airport that he might’ve taken from, say, the first of June.’
‘Right, sir. Incidentally, there aren’t any direct flights between London and Birmingham, but I’ll see what I can do.’ Wilberforce turned to his computer. ‘Of course,’ he said, swinging back to face me again, ‘if he lives in the London area, it would have been quicker for him to go by train. Or he could drive. He could have done it in about two and a half hours. You’d waste that much time checking in and going through security at an airport.’
‘Yes, I know, Colin,’ I said. ‘Dave and I just did that drive. But Ford could live anywhere in the UK.’
‘Or the world,’ put in Dave. ‘Unless, as I suggested, he’s the same Derek Ford who did a runner from Isleworth.’
I’d only been in my office for ten minutes when Colin Wilberforce came in.
‘There are over twenty airlines using Birmingham International Airport, sir, but fortunately the airport keeps a central computer record of all passengers passing through the airport. It’s something to do with anti-terrorism.’
‘Thank God for that,’ I said.
‘However, sir,’ said Wilberforce, ‘they have no trace of a Derek Ford going in or out of the airport at any time after the first of June.’
‘Thanks, Colin. No more than I expected. But it does seem to point to his having arrived there by train or driven there from London. Perhaps in a Volkswagen Polo,’ I added hopefully, but that was too much to expect. No one had seen Ford in a car in the Birmingham area, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t arrived there in one.
I sent for Dave and Kate Ebdon and brought Kate up to date on the result of our Birmingham enquiries.
‘Have a word with the Ministry of Defence, Kate, and see if they can give you any information about this Derek Ford. He told the armourer at the gun club in Birmingham that he was ex-military, but if he gave them and Mrs Patel a false name we aren’t going to get anywhere. It’s worth a shot, though.’
‘To coin a phrase,’ muttered Dave.
I telephoned Horst Fischer in Essen and told him about our enquiries in Birmingham.
‘If this man Ford did go to Germany with the intention of acquiring a gun, Horst, I was wondering if you had any reports of a stolen weapon in, say, the last couple of months.’
‘Let me have a look, Harry,’ said Fischer, and once again I heard the telltale tapping of a computer keyboard. ‘We’ve had reports of seven firearms stolen nationwide since the beginning of June. Six were from private property, but one was from a gun club on the outskirts of Essen. But losers don’t always report a loss, especially if they’re criminals.’
‘We have a similar problem, Horst.’
‘I’ll make some enquiries and call you back, Harry. You say the man gave the name of Derek Ford?’
‘That’s the name he gave the club in Birmingham, Horst, but I doubt that it was his real name.’
SEVENTEEN
Horst Fischer rang me back the following morning.
‘A bit of luck, I think, Harry. I’ve spoken to officials at the gun club here who reported the loss of a firearm, and they had a new English member. And he gave the name of Douglas Forbes.’
‘Can they be sure, Horst?’
‘There can be no doubt about it. He produced a British passport as evidence of his identity. He attended only a few times, but after the last time he was there, the armourer found that a point-two-two calibre High Standard Supermatic Trophy pistol was missing. They reported it to us, and details of Forbes were circulated to Interpol, but we’ve heard nothing since. I suppose they’ll send out a green-corner circular in due course.’
‘I hope so, Horst,’ I said, not having much faith in the ability of Interpol to move with any degree of alacrity. A green-corner circular is sent to member nations asking for certain criminals to be watched. But no such Interpol information had appeared on the PNC. If it had, Wilberforce would’ve spotted it immediately.
‘By the way, Harry, we’ve released Wilhelm Weber, the man who lent his camper van to Eberhardt,’ said Fischer. ‘I’m satisfied he didn’t know anything about Eberhardt’s activities.’
It was after that conversation with Fischer, that Kate Ebdon came into my office.
‘No luck with Derek Ford at the Ministry of Defence, guv, but—’
‘Doesn’t matter, Kate. Try this one.’ I gave her the details of Douglas Forbes that Fischer had passed on.
Half an hour later she returned. ‘I think we’ve got a result, guv,’ she said, waving a sheet of paper. ‘The army turned up Douglas Forbes in their records with the same date of birth; he’s now aged twenty-five. Apparently he was accepted for the Royal Military Academy six years ago, but after two months at Sandhurst turned out not to be up to their exacting standards. They didn’t specify what his shortcomings were, but as a result he was returned to his unit and discharged from the army.’
‘We’re getting somewhere at last, Kate.’
‘And some, guv. I interrogated the General Register Office’s computer at Southport and came up with some interesting connections.’
‘Well, don’t keep me in suspense.’
‘Douglas Forbes is the only son of Philip and Nancy Forbes.’ Kate looked up with a wide smile and an expression of triumph on her face. ‘And Nancy Forbes, née Fairfax, is the daughter of Catherine, Lady Fairfax and the late General Sir Michael Fairfax.’
‘Got him!’ I exclaimed, although I was doubtful that it had been that easy. ‘Well done, Kate.’
‘Unfortunately I haven’t been able to find an address for Douglas Forbes, or for his parents.’
‘At least we know where Lady Fairfax lives, Kate. That’ll be a good starting point, but I don’t know how we’re going to break it to her that we suspect her grandson of being a murderer.’
‘If he is,’ said Kate.
‘He’s got to be, Kate. His grandmother was swindled out of forty grand. If that’s not a motive, I don’t know what is.’
‘Unless someone assumed his identity, guv.’
‘But why should they do that?’
‘Perhaps Lucien Carter masqueraded as Forbes,’ said Kate, throwing cold water on her own discovery. ‘Assume for a moment that Carter had been swindled by Eberhardt, Schmidt and Adekunle. He might’ve decided to take them out. And he’d’ve known who Forbes was. Carter’s little firm had seen Forbes’s grandmother off for forty grand.’
‘Unfortunately, that’s not now easily resolved,’ I said. ‘And I doubt that Carter would’ve known of Douglas Forbes’s existence. Anyway, Carter’s dead. Someone topped him in Rikers, but I suppose the FBI agents in New York found out what he’d been up to before he was stabbed to death. Although Joe Daly said that according to Carter’s passport, he hasn’t been out of the States for some years. No, it’s got to be Forbes in person.’
‘D’you think Lady Fairfax will give up her grandson?’ asked Kate.
‘There’s one way of finding out.’ I glanced at my watch. ‘You and I will pay her a visit this afternoon.’
During the drive out to Pinner, I’d been turning over in my mind how best to broach the thorny subject
of Douglas Forbes. By the time we arrived at Lady Fairfax’s house, I’d formulated a rough plan.
Catherine Fairfax might’ve been in her late seventies, but she was still very alert and recognized me immediately.
‘Chief Inspector, do come in. Have you got some good news for me?’
‘I’m afraid not, Lady Fairfax,’ I said, as we followed her into her sitting room.
Catherine Fairfax glanced at Kate, and I effected an introduction.
‘This is Kate Ebdon, Lady Fairfax, one of my detective inspectors.’
‘How d’you do, my dear.’ Lady Fairfax shook hands.
‘Ripper, m’lady, thanks.’ Kate always interpreted that quintessential English greeting as if it were a genuine enquiry into the state of her health.
For a moment or two, Lady Fairfax seemed slightly bemused by Kate’s response, but then she smiled. ‘You’re Australian,’ she said.
‘Yeah, how did you guess, ma’am?’
‘My husband and I spent three years in Australia when Michael was military attaché at the high commission in Yarralumla in Canberra. It’s a lovely country.’
‘Canberra’s not so dinkum, but Queensland’s the place to live. Port Douglas just north of Cairns is real beaut.’
‘Is that where you’re from, my dear?’
‘Sure is, ma’am. It’s a great place with weather good enough for me to go skinny-dipping in the Coral Sea a lot of the year.’ Kate sighed. ‘But then I decided to come to the Old Country.’
‘It must’ve been idyllic,’ said Catherine Fairfax, seemingly unsure how to respond to Kate’s unembarrassed claims of nude bathing. She turned to me. ‘However, Chief Inspector, I’m sure you didn’t come here to talk about this young lady’s home town.’
‘No, Lady Fairfax. It’s a rather delicate matter and concerns your grandson.’
‘Douglas? What’s he been up to now?’
‘You don’t sound surprised,’ I said.
‘He was always a difficult child, but we thought he’d be all right after deciding to follow his grandfather and his father into the army. It didn’t work out, though. At Sandhurst, he assaulted a sergeant. That’s the death wish to a military career, of course, and he was returned to his unit and discharged. But by that time Michael was already dead, thank God. Heaven knows what he’d’ve had to say about it.’
‘D’you know where your grandson is now, Lady Fairfax?’ asked Kate.
‘I’m afraid not, my dear, but his parents might be able to help you. I’ll give you their address.’ Catherine Fairfax struggled across to her escritoire and ferreted about for an address book. ‘There it is,’ she said, pointing to an entry.
Kate made a note of the Buckinghamshire address.
‘Might I ask why you’re interested in speaking to Douglas, Chief Inspector?’ asked Catherine Fairfax.
‘We think he might’ve stolen a pistol from a gun club in Germany.’ In fact, I was now satisfied that there was little doubt about it.
‘Oh dear!’ Forbes’s grandmother did not seem at all surprised by this revelation. ‘What on earth would he have done that for?’
‘We’re not sure, Lady Fairfax, but clearly it’s something we have to follow up.’ I decided not to tell her that her grandson was a front-runner for three murders, and might even have been implicated in a fourth, that of Lucien Carter.
‘Of course you must look into such things. There’s so much crime these days.’ Catherine Fairfax shook her head. ‘I don’t know what’ll become of Douglas,’ she said sadly.
I could’ve answered her question, but decided it was politic to say nothing.
It was about 15 miles from Pinner to Stoke Poges. Catherine Fairfax had told me that Philip Forbes was no longer a serving army officer, so there was a good chance of him being at home. Fortunately both he and his wife were there.
‘Colonel Forbes?’
‘Yes, but I don’t use the rank now that I’m retired. Don’t hold with that sort of nonsense.’ Forbes was dressed in a Paisley shirt and khaki linen trousers. His upper lip was adorned by a clipped and greying, guardee moustache and he wore heavy horn-rimmed spectacles.
‘I’m Detective Chief Inspector Brock of New Scotland Yard, Mr Forbes,’ I said, ‘and this is Detective Inspector Ebdon.’
‘You’ve come to see me about Douglas, I take it, Chief Inspector.’
‘Yes, but—’
Forbes smiled. ‘My mother-in-law telephoned me just after you’d left her. It’s an old army habit to share intelligence, you know.’ He conducted us into his living room and indicated a middle-aged woman, clearly of the twinset-and-pearls class, who was seated in an armchair. ‘This is my wife Nancy, Douglas’s mother of course.’ He crossed the room and switched off the television. ‘Now then, tell me how I can help you.’
‘It’s a rather delicate matter, sir,’ I began, repeating the phrase I’d used to Lady Fairfax.
‘There’s no need to beat about the bush, Chief Inspector,’ said Forbes, inviting us to take a seat. ‘Both my wife and I know that Douglas has turned out to be a bad egg. What’s he done this time?’
‘We have reason to believe that he might have stolen an automatic pistol from a gun club in Germany, Mr Forbes,’ I said, thankful for Forbes’s refreshing and no-nonsense reaction. ‘In Essen, to be precise.’
‘So my mother-in-law told me. That sounds like par for the course as far as Douglas is concerned.’ Forbes brushed at his moustache and shook his head. ‘Let’s have it, then.’
I explained what we’d learned from our trip to Birmingham and told him of the report I’d received from the German police.
‘Why d’you think he wanted this weapon? Allowing, of course, that it was in fact Douglas who stole it.’
‘At the moment, sir, we haven’t discovered a reason.’ It didn’t seem a good idea for me to accuse Forbes’s son of being a murderer; we didn’t have any direct proof. Yet.
But Forbes was ahead of me. ‘D’you think he might’ve murdered someone?’
‘I suppose it’s a possibility,’ I said cautiously.
‘Good God, man, what other reason does one have for going about stealing firearms?’
‘What can you tell me about your son, sir?’ asked Kate.
Forbes raised his eyebrows at Kate’s Australian accent, but didn’t comment on it. ‘As Lady Fairfax probably told you, Inspector, he got the sack from Sandhurst. The bloody young fool struck a directing staff NCO in front of several witnesses. In my day that would’ve merited a court martial, but instead he was discharged with ignominy. Sufficient punishment in itself, I suppose.’ He shook his head at the apparent leniency of the modern army.
‘What did he do after the army discharged him, Mr Forbes?’ I asked.
‘He spent a year or two hanging around in the West End of London doing God knows what, but I’m sure he got in with some bad hats. Then he went to Germany and spent a year or two there.’
‘Whereabouts in Germany?’ asked Kate, her interest suddenly aroused.
‘Hamburg, I believe. We know he got mixed up with some German girl over there, even talked about marrying her. But then he found out that she was taking part in pornographic films and he said that that was too much for him. I suppose he did have some standards, but I have to say they were damned difficult to find.’
‘D’you happen to know the name of this woman, sir?’ Kate asked.
‘I certainly can’t think of it offhand, Inspector.’ Forbes glanced at his wife. ‘Can you remember her name, my dear?’
‘It was Trudi Schmidt.’ Nancy Forbes had no problem immediately recalling the woman’s name.
‘Are you sure about that, Mrs Forbes?’ I asked.
‘Positive. On one of the rare occasions Douglas did drop in to see us, he showed us a photograph of her. She looked like a tart.’ Mrs Forbes was scathing in her dismissal of someone whom she would have loathed having as a daughter-in-law.
‘Is that name of some significance, Chief Inspector?’ asked F
orbes, and paused to glance at his wife. ‘D’you think she had something to do with this swindle that was perpetrated on my mother-in-law?’
‘We’re considering every possibility, sir,’ I said, unwilling to divulge too much about our enquiries, ‘but until we can speak to your son we can’t rule it out. Do you know where we can find him?’ I wanted to avoid further discussion about the fraud.
‘The last we heard of him he was living in some sleazy bedsit in Pimlico, but we don’t keep in touch.’ Forbes paused. ‘Well, the truth of the matter is that he doesn’t bother to keep in touch with us.’
‘He doesn’t even send us a Christmas card,’ said Nancy Forbes sadly. It was obvious that her errant son’s behaviour affected her more than it did her husband. ‘To be honest, the only time we see him these days is when he wants money.’ That, and the revelation that her son might be in serious trouble, had almost reduced her to tears, but not quite. If she was anything like her mother she was of the stiff upper lip class.
‘And he doesn’t get any cash,’ said Forbes. ‘Not any more.’
‘Do you happen to have your son’s exact address, Mr Forbes?’ asked Kate.
Philip Forbes picked up a Filofax from a nearby table and jotted down the address on a blank page. Tearing it out, he handed it to Kate. ‘That’s the last address we had for him, Inspector. As I said, it’s in Pimlico, but that was a year ago. I somehow doubt you’ll find him still there.’
‘D’you know if your son owns a car, Mr Forbes?’ I asked.
‘Probably,’ said Forbes, ‘but I’ve no idea what it is.’
‘Do you really think he stole this gun, Mr Brock?’ asked Nancy Forbes.
‘Everything seems to point to it, Mrs Forbes,’ I said.
We thanked Douglas Forbes’s parents for their frankness and assistance and took our leave.
‘I’ll see you out, Chief Inspector,’ said Forbes, and accompanied us to the front door, making sure that he closed the sitting room door. ‘I didn’t mention it in front of my wife, but isn’t Trudi Schmidt one of the people who was murdered in Richmond in that camper-van fire?’
