“Your sister.”
“Yes. She said that she needed to store some things, as she was buying a new house in Wimbledon, and this young man”—she tapped Adrian Summers’s photograph—“drove up and stored them in the old henhouse.”
“I see. So when you knew the police were making inquiries and returning with a search warrant, you agreed to move these items to Mrs. Eatwell’s garage?”
“Yes.”
“If they were just household items, why did you bother moving them?”
“Julia told me to; she said a few things were very valuable.”
Anna wrote in her notebook, before she gave a smile to Honour. “Thank you. So this means that, contrary to what you said earlier, you were still on reasonable terms with Julia.”
“She was my sister.”
Anna took out the mortuary shots of Julia’s injured body and passed them across the table. “The brake wires of her Mercedes were sliced in two. She was driving at over ninety miles per hour when her car jackknifed across the dual carriageway into the path of a truck. As you can see, she was decapitated.”
Honour turned away.
Next, Anna put down photographs of the boat anchored in Chelsea harbor, with the two children on board. She kept up an easy conversation about the children being well cared for, and the fact that the boat had also been anchored previously in Brighton Marina; she showed pictures of the rented house in Hove. She could sense that Honour was unaware of the floating palace owned by Fitzpatrick. “Did you ever pay a visit to this boat, or the property in Hove?”
“No.”
“So you were unaware of Fitzpatrick’s lifestyle, and that he intended to take the two children out of the country? The harbor was also, we believe, where Julia was heading the night she was killed.”
Honour was frowning, staring at the pictures. Webb interrupted, asking what these new pictures had to do with the charges against his client. He was ignored.
“Julia was going to join Fitzpatrick; she had some jewelry with her, and we discovered the rest of her valuables on board the boat.”
Again, Honour seemed perplexed, shaking her head.
“After attempting to cut out Fitzpatrick and keep his money for herself, the couple obviously came to some very amicable arrangement. As I have said before, Julia was very beautiful: he must have still wanted to be with her. He never used her to store his illegal drugs, did he? Just you. Did you know Fitzpatrick was even at her sham of a wedding? We believe he instigated it, as a means of moving out his money—”
“No, that is not true.”
“You know about the wedding; we discussed it, Honour. You said you were unaware she had even married Frank Brandon—I think you said he didn’t appear to be her type! You were used by the pair of them, isn’t that correct?”
Every time it looked as if Honour was going to open up, she recoiled in her seat. She was now very tense and sat hunched over the table.
Anna was basically “hoofing” it, trying to dent Honour’s confidence. She was certain that she was moving in the right direction, but unsure where she could go next.
Latching onto Anna’s theme, Langton rocked back in his chair. “Whatever lies you were fed to protect him, Honour, must now seem sickening. What did you believe? That you would replace Julia in his affections? That it would be you, living a life of luxury? You can salvage some self-respect by giving us information about where we can find him. It will also help your defense.”
Honour began to cry, covering her face with her hands. Her braids had come undone and her hair was hanging loose in waves. Anna could see there was a thick gray line in her parting; now the hippy style made her look old-fashioned, almost frumpish. They let her cry, passing over a box of tissues. As she wiped her eyes and blew her nose, they waited; the floodgates were about to open.
Two hours later, Honour was led back to the cells while Anna and Langton looked over the ten-page statement.
It had been painstakingly long and drawn out. Even though they now had more pieces of their jigsaw in place, there still remained one gaping hole: where was Alexander Fitzpatrick? Honour denied knowing where he was hiding out, but said she was waiting for him to contact her. According to her, over two years ago, Fitzpatrick had surfaced in Oxfordshire. He had turned up unexpectedly at the farmhouse and was staying at his mother’s cottage. He explained that there had been some disastrous investments and he had lost most of his fortune. He had said that he was preparing to go back to work; neither Honour nor Damien queried what that would be. He had returned to the U.S. after a few days, but began seeing Honour again when he returned. She did go with him to the house in St. John’s Wood, and lived with him on and off for a few months. She admitted that she was obsessed by him, but was concerned that Julia would find out.
Julia had discovered that he was having an affair; she did not know for some time that it was with her own sister. When she did find out, she traveled to Oxfordshire and confronted Damien, who didn’t really care either way. Honour explained that she and her husband had an open marriage, Damien constantly having affairs with his young students.
As his investments went into a downward spiral, Fitzpatrick became worried that he could not get the finances for his latest drug deal. He had joined up with two Chicago mobsters, and they had agreed to part-finance the shipment; however, Fitzpatrick was then being screwed over by Julia, who was moving all his money into accounts that he couldn’t access. She was eaten up by jealousy over the affair and wanted to pay him back. It was at this point he had forced her to give him the four million pounds to pay off the Chicago mobsters and to bring in the shipment to Gatwick. He was waiting to take possession of the drugs when it all started to fall apart.
Julia was scared, and so hired Frank Brandon to act as her bodyguard, but Fitzpatrick was onto it. He used Frank to help him transfer money, and promised him big dividends, enough to set him up for life. Having sorted out Julia, promising that they would leave England together, he then set about using Honour to store the drugs. He was still in debt to the gangsters, but believed he would be able to get away with it. His plan was to hide the drugs, but hold on to one box of samples; this was the box discovered by Julius D’Anton.
Honour could not recall the exact order of events. She knew that Adrian Summers was going to deliver the crates; she helped him store them. The piece of the jigsaw that had constantly bothered Anna was the handwritten note with directions to the farm. Honour explained that Damien had to visit London for a lecture; he had met Adrian and given him directions. She maintained that Damien had no knowledge of what was going down. She was deeply in love with Fitzpatrick and believed his promises of living a new life in the U.S., which is why she agreed to do everything he wanted. The crates were driven to the farm, and loaded into the henhouse. At this point, Anna and Gordon paid a visit; scared the police were onto him, Fitzpatrick had insisted they move the crates to his mother’s garage. He said they would find a better place at a later date.
Honour corroborated Adrian’s story about D’Anton turning up first at Mrs. Eatwell’s and putting the fear of God into them all, then driving to the antiques shop to pick up the table in the Mitsubishi. Honour was unable to explain how Donny Petrozzo came on the scene, as she had never met him. She just knew that the last time she had seen D’Anton was when he came into the antiques shop. Fitzpatrick was told what had happened by Adrian Summers.
“I don’t know exactly what happened,” Honour said, “but Alex was in a rage, and said that D’Anton had stolen something from him. I knew it had to be part of the shipment, but I never asked him about it. He didn’t know where D’Anton lived; he was in a really unpleasant mood and very concerned.”
Langton looked to Anna. Concerned? They wondered if this was the moment that D’Anton contacted Donny Petrozzo. Did he then give him a sample to sell to the drug dealers? That would make sense, but they had no way of finding it out. The only solid facts were that the two drug dealers agreed to pay five thousand up
front and another five when they got more Fentanyl. Again, Honour could not give details of these transactions, as she didn’t know about them; all she could give was her side of the events.
She recalled Fitzpatrick turning up at Honey Farm, wounded. It was not a bad wound; the bullet had cut clean through the tip of his shoulder blade, but it needed attention. While it was healing, he stayed at his mother’s cottage, having left a trail she knew nothing about: the bodies of Frank Brandon and Donny Petrozzo. With Frank dead, all the financial deals they had made with Rushton didn’t make sense, so Fitzpatrick had to go and rearrange the transfers. Again Honour had no idea who Rushton was, or that he had been murdered. She maintained that, throughout all the “problems” Fitzpatrick was going through, she just remained at the farmhouse.
“He stayed with Doris looking after him. He had a high fever, as the wound was infected, but we couldn’t call a doctor. He then became very agitated, as he said he had two men looking for him; they were from America. He said that he had been able to string them along, and that they were looking after Julia until he could raise the money he owed them. I think it was a considerable amount; he was angry with Julia because of something she had done with his money in England. He said that they were threatening him, so he got up too soon, because he said he had to find Julius D’Anton.”
Again, Langton glanced at Anna: this matched up with his audacious visit to the station. He cannot have known D’Anton was dead.
Honour was adamant that Fitzpatrick did not have anything to do with Julia’s death. She was unsure if he had arranged for the children to be taken, as she did not know about the boat. She said that she did have one call from Fitzpatrick: he was shocked by the news of Julia’s accident and also desperate for news of his children. When Honour was asked if, at that time, she felt he was lying, she refused to answer.
“But surely you must have seen all the news coverage about the missing children, the au pair?”
“No, I didn’t know. I hardly ever read newspapers.”
Anna and Langton stitched together their scenario. They reckoned that, to make sure Fitzpatrick didn’t back out of the deal, the two thugs had threatened Julia. Their threats had proved to be very real: they cut her brakes and she died in the accident. Now Fitzpatrick was really up against it, because the police had tracked down all his money. If he withdrew any cash, they would be able to trace him.
A depressed and dejected Honour repeated over and over that she did not know where he could be. She had no energy left, her eyes were like dark-rimmed saucers. She asked if she could see her husband, but permission was refused. She yet again repeated that Damien was innocent and had known nothing about the drug deal. She began crying again when she said that Fitzpatrick had promised to take her away and that they would bring up the little girls together.
“I have been a fool. He took me in, just as you have said he took everyone else in, but I loved him—I always had from the first time Julia brought him to meet me. She was young, and here was this handsome, charismatic man. I didn’t believe all the things I read about him in the papers. Julia didn’t even seem concerned. I have spent my whole life scrimping and saving, and living in rented places, while she has lived in the lap of luxury. If Alexander was a criminal, he never seemed to have to pay the price. He was always so glamorous, so generous, and…” The tears rolled down her drained face. “He made me feel special.”
Langton stood up, the interview over.
“If you think of anywhere he might have gone to ground, it will help your defense if you assist us. We have to find him, Honour.”
She made no reply, her head bowed. Her lawyer helped her stand, even picking up her hairpins for her, as she was led out and taken back to the cells, where she would remain until she was brought before a magistrate for the charges to be listed. As with Adrian Summers, Langton expressed concern over bail being granted: he was certain that Fitzpatrick would make contact with her.
Gathering up the photographs and paperwork, he sighed as he placed Fitzpatrick’s photograph on top of the file. “The longer he’s free, the less likely we are to find him.”
“I know,” Anna said quietly. She too packed up her notes, placing them into her briefcase.
It was in many ways “case closed,” apart from the capture of Fitzpatrick. Langton headed into the incident room to give an update, and Anna went into her own office.
Gordon tapped and entered. “Well, that was very satisfactory,” he said.
“I felt sorry for her in the end. She’s going to spend a lot of time in prison, all because she loved him.”
“But she doesn’t know where he is?”
“No, and to be honest, we don’t have the faintest idea either. He’s had days to go Christ knows where.”
“But he’s broke and we’ve got all his passports, so he might not have left the UK.”
“Maybe not, but the thing about Fitzpatrick is the way he always covers his back. He could have more fake passports stashed, he could even have access to cash—we just don’t know.”
“Where would you go?”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“Gordon, I have no idea.”
Gordon swung the door back and forth. “Eurostar, St. Pancras—that’d be the best place. Hop on the train, be in Brussels in just over an hour.”
“Well, we’ve pumped out his photograph, and we’ll probably keep that going until we get something back.”
“What if we don’t get any feedback?”
Anna rubbed her head. “Then we’ve lost him,” she said flatly.
Gordon nodded and then leaned against the door frame. “Strange, isn’t it? If it hadn’t been for Honour Nolan covering for him, we’d probably have picked him up. If you think about it, we were spot on when we first went to her farmhouse.”
“Yes,” she said, wishing he would leave.
“You were—you had him in your sights from early on.”
“Yes.”
“Why do you think Honour took such a risk? She didn’t seem the type, you know, to be infatuated. I mean, he’s no spring chicken.”
“There’s no reasoning with infatuations. She was taken in by him, fell in love with him. Mix that with envy and sibling rivalry, and don’t forget the promises—he must have laid them on with a trowel.”
“But what about her husband?”
Anna shrugged, impatient with Gordon’s hovering. “Open marriage—he’s younger than her, screws his students. She maintained that he was totally innocent.”
“Well, up to a point. He had to have met Fitzpatrick, so he knew who he was—he could have blown the whistle on him.”
Anna sighed. “Gordon, can you hop it? I need to go over Honour Nolan’s statements and type up the report.”
“He’s just been released. No charges.”
Anna looked up as Gordon strolled out. “Damien Nolan’s been released?”
“Yeah, he was waiting for a taxi in reception.” The door closed behind Gordon.
Anna sat down again. She didn’t want to, but she couldn’t help thinking about what Gordon had said. In reality, Damien had to have known who Fitzpatrick was.
She got up and opened the door. “Gordon!” she called as he was just turning into the main corridor. “I asked you to check on Damien Nolan’s background, birth and marriage certificates.”
Gordon hesitated. “Shit, yes—I’m sorry, I was going to get onto it but Phil wanted me to do something.”
“Do it now, Gordon. Thank you.”
She closed the door and rested against it for a moment. She then checked her watch; she knew by the time she had typed up her report and filed it, she wouldn’t get out of the station until early evening.
Unlike any other case she had worked on, when coming to the conclusion had always been a high, this felt quite the contrary. Fitting all the jigsaw pieces together at long last should have been a very positive feeling, but the one vital piece was still missing. If Fitzpatrick wasn’t cap
tured, it would always remain incomplete.
25
The following morning, as the team prepared the wrapping up of the case, Anna submitted her report from the previous evening. They still had a list of interviews to be completed, along with various charges, but, to all intents and purposes, the case was closing. Obviously, the search for their prime suspect, Alexander Fitzpatrick, would be ongoing but, even without him in custody, the cases would go for trial.
Honour Nolan was taken before the magistrates; she was not granted bail, due to the gravity of the charges leveled against her, and was taken to Holloway Prison. Adrian Summers was to await trial at Brixton Prison. They were minor players in comparison to Fitzpatrick, but they would still have to pay the price of their association with him.
The incident board was testament to the complexity of the inquiry; just how many hours of police work had gone into the investigation was obvious. No matter that so many loose ends had been tied up, it was still an unsatisfactory end to a long investigation. Although they did have the drug haul, and they were able to knit together the events from the night Frank Brandon was murdered, charges against his killer were still in the pipeline.
The photographs of the victims were being taken down and boxed, ready for the trials:
Frank Brandon: shot by a lowlife drug dealer who mistakenly believed he had been at the Chalk Farm drug squat to make an arrest
Donny Petrozzo: murdered because of his attempt to force Fitzpatrick into cutting him in on the deal, with an overdose of Fentanyl
David Rushton: murdered, again by Fitzpatrick, because of his association with Julia Brandon and his movement of her funds, with an overdose of Fentanyl.
Julia Brandon: murdered by persons unknown but possibly the men connected to Fitzpatrick’s drug deals, her car brakes tampered with, resulting in a head-on collision
Julius D’Anton: possible death by his own drug addiction and use of Fentanyl, but also connected to Fitzpatrick
Sandra D’Anton: murdered by unknown assailants connected to Fitzpatrick; the suspects were still at large, but one of them had been identified from the thumbprint taken from her neck
Deadly Intent (Anna Travis Mysteries) Page 47
