‘Ah, Tanya,’ Tim Burman said. ‘Just in time to make this gentleman and myself a cup of coffee. You don’t mind, darling, do you?’
‘Of course. How you like?’ Her voice was low and heavily accented as she addressed Harry.
‘White, no sugar, thanks.’
She nodded, returning Harry’s look with a timid one of her own before turning round and heading back out of the room again.
‘My girlfriend,’ Tim said easily.
‘Where’s the accent from?’
‘Turkey. She’s studying English over here. We bumped into each other, literally, in Waitrose and that was it. Funny old thing, love.’
He looked a bit embarrassed and shrugged. ‘Now, what can I do for you?’
‘We’re investigating Paul Copeland’s murder, as you know. Obviously we’ve got the written statement you gave to my colleague, but I wondered if you’d mind answering a few more questions?’
‘Sure. Fire away, though as I already said to the other guy, I don’t think there’s much I can say that will be of use to you.’
‘Well, you’ve already answered some of what I was going to ask. You’re an antiques dealer, you say? Do you have an office address I could make a note of?’
‘No. I work from here. Sell most of my stuff through eBay. It’s so simple these days. No need to pay out for an office.’
‘What sort of car do you own?’
‘A silver Mercedes-Benz 190 Coupé. And a van and larger truck for my imports.’
‘And where do you keep those?’
‘In a storage facility in Hatfield.’
‘Did you know the tenant downstairs, Paul Copeland?’
‘Only to say hello to.’
‘And you didn’t see him on the day he was murdered?’
‘No. I said that in my statement. Shocking business.’
‘We’re trying to get a picture of where he went that day. You can’t help us with that at all? You didn’t see, or maybe hear, him leave the building that morning?’
The man shook his head. ‘I’m sorry. Not much help, I know, but to be honest, we had very little to do with each other.’
‘Any strange happenings that ever caught your attention?’
Tim Burman looked at him curiously. ‘What sort of strange happenings?’
‘I don’t know. People hanging around outside? Stuff like that?’ He was thinking of Ken Lazard, but again Burman shook his head.
‘Not that I noticed. And I’m here at the flat a fair amount of the time, when I’m not abroad.’
‘I believe you had a visit from Dominic Cartwright, the managing agent for this flat, a couple of days after Paul died?’
Tim looked surprised at the change of tack. ‘Well, yes – apparently so, but I was out at the time. Personally, I’d have made him book an appointment to come back – he’s meant to give us notice of anything like that, but …’ He shrugged. ‘Tanya wasn’t to know that, of course, and her English isn’t very good, so she let him in. A couple of my mates were here at the time. They said Cartwright carried out a quick check of the flat and then he left.’
‘Were you aware that he’s also dead now?’
‘No. Christ, what happened?’
‘Hit-and-run. We’re trying to see if there could be any connection between the two deaths and obviously the family are keen to get some answers.’
‘God, I’m sorry about that. It’s surreal. I mean … I know it’s stuff you probably deal with all the time, but …’
He shook his head, and Harry closed his notebook, standing up to take his leave. ‘Could I have a quick word with your girlfriend about Mr Cartwright’s visit?’
‘Sure. Though as I said, her English isn’t up to much yet. Sorry about the coffee … Don’t know what’s happened to that.’
Harry smiled. ‘No worries.’
‘Tanya?’
There was a small delay before the door opened again and the girl walked in, but five minutes later Harry was taking his leave, none the wiser. Her English had been appalling and most of her responses limited to a helpless look in Tim’s direction, with nothing new to add at all. It was clear he was going to get little from that quarter.
‘Well, if anything should come to mind,’ Harry said, offering Tim Burman his card, ‘just give me a call on one of these numbers and I’ll get back to you.’
‘Sure thing,’ Tim said. ‘Sorry I couldn’t be more help. I hope you find whoever did it. It’s all rather put the wind up Tanya and it would be good to be able to reassure her.’
‘We’ll do our best,’ Harry said. ‘And thanks for your time.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Beth could hardly wait for Harry to come in. Her delving around that morning had borne results and she was eager to share them. She read the report on her desk again just to make sure she’d got all the relevant details firmly in her head, and checked her own notes. She was well aware it could all be coincidence and might not change anything, but it seemed to throw the door wide open again as far as suspects for Paul Copeland’s murder were concerned and she couldn’t help feeling chuffed that she was the one who’d spotted it.
‘Morning, Beth, good weekend?’ Harry’s voice was casual and upbeat as he passed her desk and headed for his own. She wondered if he’d had a date yesterday to put that smile on his face and spring in his step.
‘Fine, thanks.’
She made two coffees, giving him time to settle himself in, then took them over to him.
‘Hey … where’s mine?’ Geoff Peterson called out as she walked past his desk.
She grinned at him. She quite liked the dark-haired, lanky, bespectacled Geoff, even if he was a bit of a quiet one. He’d asked her out for a drink one night – just as friends, he’d quickly assured her – which she was still thinking about.
‘Sorry – only got one pair of hands. Anyway, isn’t it your turn to make me one?’
‘I was definitely born in the wrong generation,’ he said, shaking his head ruefully.
‘Whereas I was definitely born in the right one.’
She moved on. ‘Oh, thanks,’ Harry said with an appreciative smile, taking the cup from her. ‘You didn’t need to do that.’
‘No problem, I was making one anyway. Got a minute?’
‘Sure. How are you getting on trawling through everything? Anything new?’
‘I think I have, as it happens. An interesting coincidence, if nothing else.’
‘What’s that?’
She could see she had his full attention as he waited for her response.
‘Well, everything was just coming up blank, so in the absence of anything else to look at, I took a quick look at Mrs Wilkins’ background – Ken Lazard’s bit on the side,’ she added, seeing his blank look.
‘Oh, right.’
‘And guess what?’
‘What?’
‘You remember how her husband is also in a wheelchair and attends the day care centre? That happened because he was attacked by some drunken yob at a party, who pushed him off a first-floor balcony. The poor guy broke his back.’
‘Jeez.’
‘Yeah, but what was worse was that the guy got off with community service because he claimed Phil Wilkins attacked him first and it was self-defence – even though Phil had a slashed cheek where the other guy had gone for him with a broken bottle. Kathy was the only witness and obviously was never going to be unbiased, and in the absence of any specific proof, he got off. Apparently he two fingered Kathy and her husband as he walked free from the court. She also claimed afterwards that he was harassing them – hanging around the house and jeering at the fact her husband was now in a wheelchair.’
‘Charming.’
‘I know. Anyway, that guy, Gary Lytton, is now dead. Fell under a tube at Covent Garden last year.’
‘No kidding?’
‘Yup. I’ve got the file here.’
She handed him a blue folder. ‘It was an open verdict because no one saw exactly what
happened – it was pre-Christmas with masses of people on the platform. They don’t know if he fell, committed suicide – or was pushed. Either way, he ended up very dead, and by the time our lot arrived there weren’t many witnesses still around. Odd, though, isn’t it, that now the guy who put Maggie Lazard in a chair should also be dead?’
Harry took the file from her and, for only the second time since this investigation had started, experienced the surge in adrenalin that came from discovering a possible breakthrough.
‘Quite a coincidence. Well done. Even if it comes to nothing that’s a good piece of detective work – which definitely needs following up.’
She looked embarrassed, and said gruffly to cover it up, ‘How did you get on with Burman?’
Harry shrugged. ‘Didn’t learn much. He didn’t see or hear anything – confirmed what Paul Copeland’s girlfriend said – that they hardly knew each other.’
‘What was he like?’
‘Pleasant enough. Antiques dealer. Well dressed and educated, drives a Merc.’
‘Ah, a smoothie – I’m getting the picture.’
Harry laughed. He looked at her closely, suddenly remembering.
‘How did your visit to the grandparents go over the weekend?’
‘Alright,’ she said carelessly. ‘We got on okay and they seemed pleased to see me. I was right about the reasons they fell out. My grandparents don’t live in a posh area, but you can see as soon as you walk into their house what sort of people they are. Everything neat and tidy, in its place, photos of their son and grandchildren dotted around. But none of me or my family – they’ve cut themselves off completely from my mum, and I can’t say I blame them.’
‘Maybe you’ll be the catalyst that reunites them all?’
She shook her head vehemently. ‘No chance. My family haven’t spoken to me in four years, since I joined the police. They see me as a traitor. Both my brothers have been in trouble, and my father’s been a chancer all his life.’
Harry was careful not to show his surprise. ‘That’s tough for you.’
She shrugged. ‘I wasn’t much better myself when I was younger, but fortunately I turned things around, with a lot of help from Andy – my boyfriend,’ she clarified. She gave a thin smile. ‘He made me realise I had to get out before it rubbed off on me, too. I decided maybe I could do more good being on the other side of the fence – working from the inside out, if you know what I mean? I know it makes me sound a bit of a do-gooder – but it’s why I joined the force.’
‘It’s why most of us are here, isn’t it? To try and make a difference.’
Her eyes sparkled their response. ‘It doesn’t sound so stupid coming from you. It was hard going against family pressure, though, and it can be pretty lonely at times. Not that my family ever did much for me – but they were all I had.’
Harry found himself thinking of his grandmother – how she was pressuring him to do something that would undermine the very foundations of the career he’d chosen. Beth was right, it was hard going against family pressure.
‘Except that now you’ve discovered your grandparents,’ he said.
She nodded and smiled. ‘Yeah. They’re going to arrange for me to meet my uncle and cousins next. It’ll be weird but I’m sort of looking forward to it. Don’t know what they’ll make of me, though.’
‘They’ll see what I see – a committed young woman doing well for herself.’
Her lips twisted wryly. ‘Thanks, Harry – nice to know someone’s got confidence in me.’
‘I’m not bullshitting you. I’m not the only one who recognises your qualities. You should have more confidence in yourself.’
‘And here endeth the lesson for today?’ she quipped.
‘No – here starteth the lesson for today,’ he grinned. ‘Plenty more where that came from.’
She laughed. ‘Don’t think I can take it. By the way, I forgot to tell you, there was a call from someone called Claire. She said she was round at your gran’s and asked if you could call her when you got in. Sorry, I should probably have told you that straight away.’
‘No worries. I’ll call her now.’
Harry picked up his phone. ‘I’ll hang onto this file and have a read. Then maybe we’ll pay Mrs Wilkins a visit.’
He waited until Beth had moved away before dialling Claire’s number. He wondered if she’d given as much thought to where they might be going after that kiss as he had. It had been awkward when she’d come round later last night to help his grandmother. Neither of them had referred to what had happened between them, and there’d certainly been no repetition of it. Maybe she felt the same as he did … that she needed a bit of time to assimilate things.
‘Claire?’
‘Oh, Harry, hi. Sorry to call you at work but … your gran called me about an hour ago and said she wasn’t feeling too good, could I go round? I nipped over between calls and I’m sorry, but I’ve a feeling she’s going downhill – and quite rapidly. She was adamant she didn’t want me calling the doctor, though. I thought you should know.’
‘Hell. Thanks. Are you there now?’
‘No, I had another call to make and I’m in Whetstone at the moment. I could go back if you want but … there’s an added complication.’ He sensed her choosing her words with care. ‘Your parents arrived just as I was leaving. Your mum seemed quite agitated at seeing your gran like that. She was talking about calling the doctor and maybe transferring her to the hospital.’
‘No.’
Harry jumped up from his chair. ‘I promised Gran I wouldn’t let that happen. I need to get over there. Any chance you can meet me? It might carry more weight if there are two of us.’
‘Sure. I’m just finishing up here and then it’s my lunch hour. I can be there in about twenty minutes. I’ll see you then.’
Harry strode over to Beth’s desk. ‘Something’s come up with my grandmother,’ he said. ‘I need to get over there. Do you reckon you can handle the interview with Mrs Wilkins on your own?’
‘I think so.’
‘Don’t be too nice. If she has got anything to hide we want to rattle her – let her know we’re on her case. Where was Ken Lazard when this chap fell in front of the train? Do we know? Was he interviewed?’
‘Yes, because the Wilkins were apparently at the Lazards’ house for lunch when it happened. Their alibis seemed to stack up at the time.’
‘Well, press her on it. Check who else gave evidence that they were there. I’ll call you when I’ve finished with my gran – see where you’re at.’
As Harry opened the front door to his grandmother’s house he heard heated voices coming from the sitting room. He listened as his father said.
‘I just think maybe we should respect her wishes.’
‘But look how ill she is. She should be in hospital. I don’t know what Harry’s been doing. He should have called us – told us how bad she was.’
‘Maybe she didn’t want him to. You know what she’s like. And you know what she said about going into hospital.’
‘Yes, I do know. But it has to be the best place for her. They can make her more comfortable there – make sure she gets the treatment she needs.’
Harry felt his heart sink. This wasn’t going to be easy.
He made a point of closing the front door so they could hear it – grabbed himself some time as he hung his jacket over the banister – then braced himself to walk into the sitting room.
‘Mum, Dad – great to see you! But why didn’t you ring to say you were coming?’
His mother looked at him reproachfully. ‘We thought we’d surprise you. But why didn’t you call us? Mum’s in a terrible state and if Dad hadn’t had to come back for a seminar, we wouldn’t know anything about it.’
‘I’m sorry, it’s only been the last couple of days that she’s deteriorated so much. I was hoping it was a temporary setback.’
‘She should be in hospital, Harry.’
‘She doesn’t want that.’
‘Well, what she wants and what she needs aren’t necessarily the same thing. They can look after her properly there.’
‘We’re looking after her properly here. We’ve put in a request to the hospice care people to come and assess her for home care.’
He could see how distressed his mother was and he softened his voice. ‘Look, I know it’s hard for you coming in and seeing her like this, but it has only been the last couple of days, really – and I was going to call you.’ He hesitated. ‘She’s not going to get better, Mum. The doctors have told us that. So sending her off to hospital isn’t going to change the outcome. She stopped the cancer medication at the beginning of the year because it was making her feel so ill, and she’s been feeling so much better these last few months. But now …’
‘You should have called me.’
‘She was adamant she didn’t want everyone racing back making a fuss.’
‘She didn’t want me here, you mean.’
‘No, that’s not what I’m saying.’
‘She’s never approved of the fact that I followed your father around the world instead of staying here with you and her.’
‘Mum, let’s not go into all that. You’re here now and I’m sure she’ll be glad of that – and so am I. We need to make sure her last days are the best we can make them for her.’
‘Which is why she should be in hospital. They can give her all the care she needs there.’
‘I promised her I wouldn’t let that happen unless it was absolutely necessary.’
‘We can’t look after a dying woman here.’
‘Yes we can. People do it all the time. The hospice will support us.’
‘No.’ He could see the fear underlying the determination in his mother’s eyes. ‘I think we should call an ambulance now. We’re not doctors. I wouldn’t have a clue how to look after her.’
‘You won’t have to do a lot. We already have Claire who comes in twice a day – you met her earlier – and the district nurse is visiting tomorrow to assess Gran’s needs and see what extra help they can put in place for her.’
THE JAGGED LINE A Thrilling, Psychological Crime Mystery (Harry Briscombe Book 2) Page 20
