by Angie Smith
As Barnes ended the call, Woods pulled into the side of the road.
“As of now we’ve got two murder investigations and two suspicious deaths. The only links are similar Roman numerals and Pauline Crean, whose husband died two years ago. What are the odds on his death being suspicious?”
“Look at the numerals: 1516, 1316, 1116 and 916. All the deaths so far occurred in that descending order. Maybe there’s a clue.”
Woods yawned again. “You could be right.”
“But are we missing deaths?”
“We need to speak to Mrs Crean. Listen, I’m tired and I need to have a quick shave. I’ve got a portable razor in the glove compartment; could you drive?”
Barnes agreed and they changed seats. “It can’t be far now,” she said. “I think we turn right just as we enter Hawes, and then it’s up a lane somewhere down there.”
Fifteen minutes later they arrived at the farmhouse.
“Is this where she lives?” Woods asked, looking around in amazement.
Barnes pulled up in front of an impressive pair of automatic wrought iron gates. There was a metal pole with an intercom mounted on it and she lowered her window and pressed the button.
“Hello,” a male voice said.
“Hello, this is Detective Sergeant Maria Barnes, and Detective Superintendent Greg Woods. We’re from the West Yorkshire Police and we’d like to speak with Mrs Pauline Crean please.” She held her ID badge up at the camera on the gatepost.
The gates opened slowly and she drove in up to a gravel parking area adjacent to a string of four stone built garages. Woods looked around at the large Victorian stone detached farmhouse, the cobbled courtyard, stables, barn, ménage, and the neatly fenced paddocks beyond. Everything was immaculate.
As they got out of the car he pointed at the black Range Rover, parked next to a silver Mercedes four-by-four, “Look at the registration plate.”
“CXV1,” Barnes said. “That’s 116; are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
They walked up to the entrance and as Woods went to knock on the door it opened. A smartly dressed man appeared. “Jonathan Plant,” he said holding out his right hand.
Chapter 7
Friday 25th May.
Woods and Barnes were shown into the drawing room at the rear of the property.
“Pauline’s just taken the dogs out in the fields; she’ll be ten minutes. I’ve telephoned to let her know you are here. Can I get you a coffee?”
“Yes please, milk and two sugars,” Barnes replied, noticing Woods gazing out of the French doors at the stone flagged patio and expensive ornamental plants.
“What about you Superintendent?” Plant asked.
“Black coffee, no sugar.”
Plant disappeared, presumably into the kitchen, and Barnes went over to the window admiring the neatly fenced paddocks. There was a further gravelled parking area on which stood a two-tone black and silver Scania horsebox, complete with living accommodation. “This is how the other half live,” she said quietly.
“Did you see the ornaments and sculptures as we walked through the hallway?” Woods whispered.
Barnes nodded. “She must be absolutely loaded. Who’s he?” she mouthed pointing in the direction Plant had gone.
Woods shrugged.
“Here you are,” Plant said, as if he’d been looking for them. He handed the coffees over. “Please make yourselves comfortable.”
They settled on the cream leather sofa, Barnes next to Woods; she placed her cup down on the large black marble coffee table and Woods did likewise. “Do you live with Mrs Crean?” he asked.
Plant who was sitting opposite smiled. “No, I’m just staying here for a few days.”
In the background there were the sounds of someone entering the farmhouse, and then scuffling paws skidding on the solid oak hallway floor as the three Labradors bounded in and made a beeline for Barnes. “Hello,” she said, stroking the excited trio.
Barnes caught sight of Woods’ eyes widening as Pauline appeared at the door, resembling a model from an up-market equestrian magazine; she was wearing spotless cream jodhpurs, shiny black leather riding boots and a fitted designer shirt. Her long flowing auburn hair accentuated her tall slim figure. It was unmistakeable; it was the appearance of wealth. “Right, that’s enough boys… In your baskets,” she commanded. The dogs scurried off. “Hello,” she said smiling, “I’m Pauline Crean; I understand you would like to talk to me.”
Both detectives stood up, shook hands with her and introduced themselves.
“You have a really nice home Mrs Crean,” Woods said, sitting back on the sofa.
“Thank you, but please call me Pauline,” she replied, her warm friendly tone complementing her appearance.
“Would you like me to go see to the horses?” Plant asked.
“No, of course not,” she replied, sitting down next to him. Then, looking over at Woods, she asked, “I’m intrigued, what can I do for you?”
“We’re investigating two murders and two suspicious deaths and we understand you knew the four deceased.”
Barnes took out her notebook and pen, and prepared to make notes.
“I know a lot of people, Superintendent; could you give me their names?”
“Christian Bulmer; Jim Broadbent; Abdul Hussain and Paul Mateland.”
Pauline frowned. “Yes, I knew them, but it was a very long time ago. I knew three of them had passed away recently, but I was told Broadbent had been seriously ill, Bulmer had got inebriated and drowned, and I read in the newspaper that Hussain hanged himself from Scammonden Bridge. I’m a little perplexed - which two were murdered?”
“Hussain and Mateland.”
“Oh, to be honest I’m not surprised Mateland was murdered, he upset everyone he came into contact with, and as for Hussain, well the less said about that snake the better.”
“I understand you worked for both Bulmer and Broadbent.”
“Yes, at Strynes.”
“Was that straight from university?”
“Yes. Broadbent got me the job; he was a close friend of my parents, he’d known me since I was a child. He co-founded Strynes with Bulmer. Originally they were based in London and were quite successful, then in the 80s decided to open a branch in Leeds. The idea being that Broadbent continued to run the London office and Bulmer the one in Leeds. I’d recently qualified and they were looking for a talented lawyer to assist in the new office; he put my name forward to Bulmer.”
“What about Shelly?” Barnes asked. “Did she work there?”
Pauline frowned again. “If you know about Shelly, you must have really been delving back into my past.”
“Part of the investigation into Hussain’s murder,” Woods said. “So did Shelly work with you at Strynes?”
“No, they only needed one solicitor at that time and Broadbent made out he was doing me a big favour.” She stopped speaking and gazed out of the window.
“What is it, Pauline?” Plant asked, turning towards her and placing his hand on hers.
“Really he was trying to buy my silence,” her voice turned acidic, “and make amends for his disgraceful sins.”
“What had he done?” Woods asked.
Pauline sighed and took a moment to frame her words. “I was only discussing this particular demon last week and coincidently Hussain’s demon. I thought I’d finally conquered them both.”
“Would you like to explain?” Barnes said quietly.
“No doubt you’ll know about Hussain and what he did to Shelly.”
Woods leaned forward. “We’re building up a picture, but can we first concentrate on Broadbent?”
“Broadbent abused the trust my family and I had placed in him, in the most despicable and unspeakable way he could. I was only fifteen and what he did will stay with me for the rest of my life…” She swallowed. “Is that enough, or do you want a diagram?” she snapped.
“He abused you?”
Barnes was staggered by Woods’
insensitivity, and watched Pauline glare at him with hate-filled eyes. “Yes Superintendent, he abused me. And I hope he’s rotting in hellfire.”
There was a long silence, where it appeared no-one knew what to say next. Barnes looked down at her notepad, but was overwhelmed with emotion and couldn’t write anything. She was having difficulty focusing. She looked up at Pauline who was red-faced, then across at Woods, who finally appeared to realise the situation his crassness had caused. He glanced across at her and mouthed “Are you okay?” She nodded and looked away.
“You never mentioned anything about this to me,” Plant finally said quietly.
Pauline took a deep breath. “Before today I’d only discussed it with two other people; my Consultant Psychologist, who I told last week, and Gerrard.”
“Do we need to have a break?” Woods asked.
“Good idea,” Plant said. “I’ll get some fresh coffees; anyone care for biscuits?”
“Yes please,” Barnes replied, wiping her eyes, “Could I use your loo, Pauline, I need to freshen up?”
“Of course you can, Maria.”
Pauline stood up. “There’s a cloakroom just off the hallway,” she directed Barnes. “I’ll help with the drinks darling; no doubt you’ll want to know who Shelly was.”
While Barnes splashed water on her face and freshened up in the cloakroom her mind raced, trying to unravel the complexities of what they had just been told. Pauline definitely had a motive re Broadbent, but was she the kind of person to get involved in a murder? She appeared warm, friendly and sincere. And what about the other murder victims; what had they done to her? Barnes dried her face, composed herself and went back into the drawing room where refreshments were being served. As she took two digestive biscuits from the saucer and picked up a coffee Woods was already speaking. “I can see how distressing this is for you, Pauline, but when did you tell Gerrard and how did he react?”
“I’m assuming you know Gerrard is no longer with us.”
Woods nodded.
“Well, I told him about twenty years ago; he wanted me to go to the police, but said if I didn’t he’d understand, and be there for me. Just like he always was.”
Woods waited a moment. “Moving on to Hussain, I understand he worked with you at Strynes, but what I’m not sure about is how he became involved with your sister.”
Pauline explained about the work’s Christmas party and the guilt she had associated with bringing the two of them together. She went on to speak about Hussain’s betrayal and dishonesty, and the devastating effect it had had on her sister and ultimately herself.
“Have you had any contact with him since you left Strynes?” Woods asked.
“No, never.”
“What did Gerrard think about him?”
“He disliked him, both for what he did to Shelly and for the consequential distress he caused me.”
Barnes was busy taking notes. Her focus had returned. She wrote ‘clear motive’ on the page she’d started for Hussain, and placed a tick against it.
“Could we move on to Bulmer; did you have any unpleasantness with him?” Woods asked.
“This is going to sound awful, Superintendent, but yes I did, and I had real trouble with Mateland.”
Barnes’ features tightened. I can’t believe this. Again on the pages for Bulmer and Mateland she was ready to write motive and place a tick against it, but waited to hear the details.
“Can we start with Bulmer?” Woods persisted.
“Bulmer had a liking for alcohol and instead of working spent most of his time either fishing or drinking at the bar, leaving me to do all the work. Nevertheless, in the face of adversity I somehow managed to build the business up and everything was fine until I discovered I was pregnant, expecting our first child. Gerrard and I were over the moon and as his business was taking off we’d discussed me going part time. . .”
“What did Gerrard do?” Woods asked.
“He manufactured and supplied equipment to the petrochemical industry, in the end he’d built up a multi-national empire. That’s where all this came from,” she pointed her finger around the room.
Woods nodded an acknowledgement. “Sorry, you were saying.”
“When Bulmer discovered I was pregnant and thinking about reducing my hours he was furious. It was back in the 80s and you didn’t have the protection you have today. Then, out of the blue he accused me of taking backhanders; he said he was terminating my contract. I was astonished; there wasn’t a grain of truth in the accusation, but I couldn’t prove my innocence because he’d persuaded some client to say they’d been giving me money on the quiet. The stress of all this became unbearable and sadly I had a miscarriage. In the end I resigned, I just couldn’t face taking him on in court.”
“What did Gerrard think to all this?”
“He wasn’t very happy and blamed Bulmer for the death of our unborn child.”
Barnes ticked motive on the Bulmer page. She looked at Plant who’d placed his hand on Pauline’s and was comforting her. “Did you know any of this?” she asked.
“No, I had no idea. I’ve only known Pauline for the past few months and we’ve never discussed things like this.”
Pauline smiled and kissed him sincerely on the cheek. “I’m sorry darling; this was all such a long time ago, you shouldn’t have to listen to it, you’ll be getting the wrong idea. I promise you I don’t go looking for unpleasantness, but when you have this sort of lifestyle you can easily get people’s backs up.”
“Can we move on to Mateland?” Woods said.
“If we must; you know he was a prat?”
“I’d rather not comment… but, can you explain how Gerrard caused the scars on Mateland’s face?”
She sighed. “After I’d left Strynes, Gerrard and I moved to Penistone and for a while I stabled my horses on the same farm that Dawn Mateland used for hers; that’s how I first met him. No-one at the stables liked him; he was perpetually obnoxious to everyone. Anyway, he must have thought I had a proverbial screw loose because he made a pass at me. Could you imagine having anything to do with something like that?”
Barnes held back a smile.
“I told him where to go and he didn’t take too kindly to it; consequently he caused all sorts of trouble at the farm; lying about me, trying to have me barred, spilling contaminates on hay bales and horse feeds and trying to lay the blame on me. It was nonstop hassle. Fortunately the farmer was well aware of his antics and didn’t take any notice of the accusations, and everyone else at the stables didn’t believe a word he said. But, then, things took a sinister turn when he started threatening and stalking me. He’d follow me every time I left the stables. I was petrified, and I felt so intimidated. That’s what spineless men like him do for kicks, isn’t it?”
Barnes nodded in agreement.
“So what did Gerrard do?” Woods asked.
“He hatched a plan to trap him. We agreed that after leaving the stables one evening I would drive down one of the nearby single track roads. Then as Mateland followed me, Gerrard would drive our truck in behind him. I was to stop at a pre-determined spot and Gerrard would pull up trapping Mateland in. I know it’s not funny, but when he realised what was happening Mateland was terrified and locked himself in his Land Rover. It was in the days before mobile phones, so he couldn’t summon help, and what he didn’t appreciate was Gerrard had a key - somehow he had found the serial number and had one made. You should have seen the look on his face when Gerrard calmly walked up to the Land Rover door, unlocked it and tore it open. He dragged Mateland out, roughed him up, smashing his face into the windscreen. That’s how he got the broken nose and scars on his face.”
Barnes noticed Woods looked as though he was deep in thought.
“Did you have any more trouble from him?” Plant asked.
“Hey, I’m asking the questions if you don’t mind,” Woods barked.
“Sorry, Superintendent, you looked miles away.”
“Well, he didn�
�t report the incident,” Pauline answered. “Gerrard said he wouldn’t, because he’d be in serious trouble for stalking me. But not long after that, we moved my horses to another farm closer to home, where there was more grazing land available, and one night someone — we always suspected it was Mateland — poisoned the stallion’s feed and he died two days later.”
Barnes ticked motive on the Mateland page.
“Who are you?” Woods said turning to Plant.
“I’m a friend of Pauline’s.”
“And what exactly do you do for a living?”
“I work for the Foreign Office. I’m in the Diplomatic Service.”
Pauline smiled and rolled her eyes.
“Okay,” Woods said. “I need to check your whereabouts on a few dates.”
“Are we suspects?” Pauline asked, looking perturbed.
“That depends on the answers to these questions. Where were you between 9.00 and 11.00 p.m. on Tuesday 15th May?”
Pauline stood up. “I’ll have to fetch my journal,” she said.
“I was out of the country,” Plant replied.
“Where?” Woods asked.
“He’s not allowed to say… Official Secrets Act,” Pauline shouted from the hallway.
Plant smiled. “I was in South America, that’s all I can say.”
Pauline returned. “According to this I was here, I’d a Skype call from Sarah at 10.00 p.m., could that prove where I was?”
“Yes,” replied Plant.
Woods shot him a disapproving look. “Who’s Sarah?” he asked.
“My daughter,” Pauline said. “She’s travelling around Asia with my son Scott.”
“What about Thursday 22nd March, between 9.00 p.m. and 1.00 a.m.?”
“I was out of the country,” Plant repeated. “This time in Asia. But not with Sarah and Scott.”
“I was here. I had a phone call from a friend, Tracey Proudfoot. She was the one who told me about Broadbent and Bulmer’s deaths. It was around 9.30 p.m.; again that should be able to confirm my whereabouts.”
“What about Wednesday 7th March between 10.00 and 11.00 a.m.?”
“Asia again,” Plant said grinning.
