by Gwyn GB
Claire stopped a moment and looked at him. She drank in his eyes, his face, his body, everything.
‘I think that can be arranged.’
They kissed again until they heard footsteps head towards the open briefing room door. Then with a last touch on her hand he was gone.
Claire floated down to the garage, where she signed out one of the pool cars and headed east. As she turned on to La Route du Fort she forced herself to push Mark from her mind and concentrate on what she needed to do.
The accountancy firm where David used to work was located in a small farm conversion. These were a common sight all over Jersey. Sprawling granite farms converted into multiple homes and occasionally offices. She knew the area it was in, but couldn't remember ever having gone there before so she plugged the address into her Google maps app and a robotic woman guided her. She was accurate, although her pronunciation of the French road names would have had Claire's old French teacher turning in her grave.
David's old boss turned out to be an overweight Lurch from the Addams Family. Tall and angular, but horizontally challenged, he clearly spent too long sitting at his desk and not enough time exercising. He was pale too, almost translucent, another effect of long working hours and rarely getting out on the beach. He didn’t exactly look a picture of health.
'Morning Mr Havers, thank you for seeing me,' Claire said and offered her hand.
Simon Havers gave her hand a slow, long shake. One of those handshakes where you are just about to feel uncomfortable. His hand was icy cold, so maybe he was just trying to warm it up with hers. The whole office felt on the cool side and she wondered if that was because he liked it that way or if he was trying to save on the heating bill.
His heavy gait led her into his office where he motioned for her to sit at a table.
'Tea, Coffee?'
'I'm fine thank you, just had one,' Claire replied. Sometimes getting the person you're talking to making a cup of tea worked well. It calmed them, gave you a chance for them to get used to your company before you started the questions - a bit of acclimatising. Today though, she didn't feel that was necessary and it would only serve to separate them. Mr Havers could potentially be a suspect. Could David have uncovered something that his employer hadn't wanted anyone knowing? It was a possibility, but by the way Simon Havers greeted her and talked about David, she guessed he had no idea about his death. She was right, the shock seemed genuine.
'Oh my word! Poor Alice,' he said, what little colour he did have in his cheeks, drained. 'That is just so awful, he was so young.'
Claire nodded. 'We are trying to find out who would want to kill David, and we have reason to believe it is something to do with his time in Jersey.'
Simon Havers looked even more shocked. 'Nothing to do with his work here I can assure you. We deal with small businesses. I don't think any client turns over more than a few hundred thousand.'
'Did David have any particular clients that he dealt with?'
'Yes we each had our own. He was a competent accountant.'
'Did he freelance at all? Have any clients outside of this business?'
'I don't think so, he should have brought everyone into the company here. I never saw any indication of it.'
'Did he ever seem worried about anything or anyone? Mention something you thought was strange?'
Simon Havers thought carefully and shook his head.
'I was surprised when he said he wanted to leave Jersey. If he'd told me he was joining one of the big accountancy firms here I'd have been less surprised, he'd seemed to enjoy the lifestyle.'
'Did you notice any change in him prior to that decision?'
'Well, now you come to mention it, he was more withdrawn. Thoughtful. I assumed it was because he was contemplating the move.'
'What kind of a man was David?'
'He was the man next door,' shrugged Simon, 'Not overly ambitious, which was a shame because I think he could have had a great career in financial forensics. He could spot patterns I never could. A bright man.'
Claire wondered if that clever pattern spotting was what got him killed.
'Could you please give me a list of all the clients he worked with, those who he met and would have had any relationship with in particular?'
'I can. But you're not going to start questioning them all are you? It will ruin my business if people think I hand their details on to the police.'
'If people have nothing to hide Mr Havers, then I'm sure they would be happy to help us catch a murderer.'
Simon Havers showed Claire to David's old office. It was still empty.
'I've not been able to find anyone to replace him. It's tough getting good people here, I'm competing with far bigger firms. I'd managed to get David over on a licence, but they're harder to get now. I'm going to probably have to take on a trainee, but that will be a big drain on my resources.'
The added workload explained his paleness and as the overheads for an office like this would still be the same even with half the work being done, it also explained the lack of heating. None of this information brought her any closer to tracking down David's killer. She hoped the list of David's clients would. Could David have been blackmailing one of them? Perhaps he'd put two and two together with Terry's accounts and discovered that a client was illegally earning a substantial amount more than just a few hundred thousand. They had no guarantees that David's death was linked to James Parkin's potential insider dealing. They absolutely had to keep their minds open at this point of the investigation.
Just before she left Claire remembered one final question, 'Does the name Melusine ring any bells with you?'
'Melusine, that's the snake woman. She was said to be beautiful, half snake and half woman. Legend is that she told her husband never to look at her when she bathed - but he did, saw her snake tail and she disappeared. It's an old story.'
'Yes, that's right, knew I remembered that name from somewhere - but do you have any companies or accounts with that name?'
'No, nothing. I'd remember that.'
David and Alice Lyle's former neighbours were understandably shocked to hear of his death. They talked about a nice young couple who enjoyed socialising, were model neighbours and kept themselves to themselves. There seemed to be nothing they could add to the picture Claire already had of David and Alice Lyle.
She was back in the office by lunchtime to find a sealed envelope on her desk. Inside was a note, "Really enjoyed last night. Looking forward to your return Mark x"
Her heart sank and she allowed herself five minutes of mourning. It would have been wonderful if he could have stayed, but she understood that he couldn't, and in all honesty she just wouldn't have got any work done with him tempting her. She put the note away carefully in her handbag, she didn't want anyone finding it and she'd read it again later.
Gavin Watson, the lead investigator with the Financial Crimes Unit B-lined her, parking himself on the corner of her desk.
'Any headway this morning?'
'I've got a list of David's clients from the Accountancy firm. I'll get those logged for you. Other than that, nothing.'
'OK, well that's something. We'll get on to them. We're all set up and ready for full surveillance on James Parkin, but we wondered if you'd go and stir things up a bit for us. See if we can get him to show his hand?'
'Yeah of course, always game if it helps,' replied Claire. She still wasn’t convinced they were heading down the right route, but then she hadn't met the guy. At least if she went to see James Parkin she could assess him for herself.
25
Claire, Thursday 9th November 2017, Jersey
James Parkin lived in St Brelade's Bay, a sweeping semi-circle of sandy beach, bookended by granite arms which wrapped protectively around it. Hotels and restaurants ran along the beach top: L'Horizon, Sugar Reef, Crab Shack, Oyster Box and the Golden Sands. In the summer the beach was a magnet for tourists and locals alike. Honey coloured sand, gentle seas and all the amenities t
hey needed. In November, the bay was quiet, a few dog walkers strode across the sand, their canine companions running circles around them, sometimes noses to ground, or running flat out in pursuit of a ball. The odd jogger steadily made their way along the waterline. On the road, the obligatory lycra-clad cyclist came speeding towards Claire as she drove down the hill.
Up above the beach were houses, expensive houses, big multi-million pound residences, where the wealthy incomers to Jersey flocked. Amongst the new wealth lived successful local residents, nestled into the hillside.
The bay brought back some happy memories for Claire, hot summer days playing on the beach or in the sea with her mother and school friends. She couldn't remember her dad ever going with them. Couldn't imagine him sitting on a beach relaxing.
Claire arrived at the Parkin residence to find electric gates barred her way. She leaned out her window to press the intercom button.
'DI Claire Falle for Mr Parkin,' she answered the 'hello' from the speaker.
There was a low buzz and the gates swung silently open. Once she’d driven through, Claire found herself on a short, neat gravel drive that curved around a garden and ended at a large white colonial style residence. Everything was immaculate, the gardens didn't seem to have a leaf out of place.
The house was on the side of the bay and she guessed that all the back rooms must have a view over the sea. How the other half lived, she mused. Anyone living in Jersey could benefit from the 360 degree sea views – but they were unlikely to have an uninterrupted sea vista from their bedroom windows.
An equally immaculately presented woman opened the door to her. She wore expensive clothes, had perfectly manicured nails and it looked like she had just walked out of the hair salon.
'Do come in,' she said, 'I'm Melanie Parkin, James will be with you in a moment, he's just finishing a phone call.'
Claire was shown into a sitting room that stretched the length of the house and ended at large patio doors through which she could see just a trim of green at the bottom, with the rest of the view filled by sky and sea.
'Tea or coffee?' Melanie asked.
'Coffee would be lovely thank you.'
'Cappuccino? Latte?'
'Latte, thanks,' replied Claire. She should have known that the Parkins would have a cafe grade coffee machine.
While Melanie disappeared, Claire wandered over to the patio doors, drawn by the view. The garden was short but sufficient. A pool covered for winter to the left and steps which led to a lawn and gazebo with patio BBQ area. It was built into the sloping cliff and at the end was a line of short trees after which, Claire guessed, was nothing but air and sea.
The room she was in showed little of the character of its occupants. There were no family photos or mementoes, it was like the rest of the property - immaculate and tidy. A show home.
'Sorry to have kept you,' a man gusted into the room his arm extended for a handshake. He was average build, a fit looking early fifty-something with greying hair that gave him an intelligent, mature look. He did have the air of someone almost too perfect, an android with beautifully tanned skin. It was the look of the wealthy, someone with money to spend on himself, his clothes and frequent holidays in exotic places far away from the winter weather.
'James Parkin,' he added unnecessarily.
'That's fine, no problem at all,' replied Claire. 'Thank you for agreeing to see me.'
'Is Melanie getting you a drink?'
'She is.'
'OK good,' he said settling into one of the armchairs, 'So how can I help? Your call was a little vague. Something to do with a telephone call to a broker, is that right?'
'Yes, we are investigating the murder of Terry Morgan, a shares dealer here in Jersey. We are talking to all his clients who had dealings with him shortly before his death.'
'Terry Morgan! I saw something about that in the JEP, but I don't believe I know him. I'd heard of the fellow, but I'm definitely not one of his clients.'
'You've never bought or sold shares through Mr Morgan?' Claire asked.
'Nope. They're not really something I go for to be honest. Boring, staid accountant, I tend to go for less risky investment options with a mix of shares, or dabble in things I can get some tangible enjoyment from. We've a couple of classic cars in the garage.'
'Well we have a record of a phone call being made to Terry Morgan from this house just a few days before his death.'
James looked a little surprised and pulled his mobile phone from his pocket, opening the calendar app.
'I schedule everything I do on here, only way I can keep on track with all the events and meetings.'
'It was Tuesday 31st October at just before ten am,' Claire told him, watching him intently.
James pursed his lips and shook his head. 'No definitely wasn't me. I had a major client meeting that morning. I was out of the house and in the office by 8am. I've a room full of people who can vouch for that.'
'What about your wife? Could she have made the phone call?'
'I really don't think my wife would be in any way interested in speaking to a stockbroker. She wouldn't have the faintest, but we can ask her. Are you absolutely sure the phone call was made from this house?'
'That is what Terry's phone records say.'
As if on cue, Melanie Parkin pushed the door open with her Jimmy Choo foot, two cups of coffee in her hands.
'Darling, do you know a Terry...' James looked to Claire for confirmation of the surname.
'Terry Morgan,' Claire added.
'Terry Morgan. Ring any bells?' James repeated.
Melanie shook her head as she placed Claire's cup of coffee on the glass table in front of her.
'Terry Morgan? No I don't think so. He's not Felicity's uncle is he?'
'Felicity?' James questioned.
'Yes you know, Felicity Trent, the pretty receptionist at the doctor's. The Trents from Grouville. Isn't her mother's brother called Terry something?'
James shook his head. 'The detective says that there was a phone call made to this chap on the morning of Tuesday 31st, I was at the office so it wasn't me.'
'I don't think it would be me either, but I can take a look,' Melanie Parkin copied her husband, pulling an iPhone from her pocket and consulting its diary.
'That was one of our ball committee meeting mornings. I was here. Could he be a potential sponsor or supplier?'
Claire looked from one to the other. She was watching them closely, testing their reactions. They didn't appear to be hiding anything.
'Would it be possible to have a list of those who were here that morning please?' she asked Melanie.
'Yes I guess so.'
'Could I also ask you both if you know a David Lyle?'
They both shook their heads.
'I really need to be getting on now if you don't mind. I had to reschedule a meeting for this and it doesn't appear that I can help you.' James Parkin was up and extending his hand for a goodbye. 'Melanie will help you I'm sure. Good day.'
With that he was gone. Claire was left with the impression of an efficient man, but not an overly warm one. Probably more comfortable with numbers and in male company. A calculated killer? Definitely not a man who got his hands dirty, but maybe one who deals with problems effectively.
26
Unknown, Thursday 9th November 2017, Jersey
The detective arrived to see James right on cue. She allowed herself a few moments of congratulations for such a clever plan. James really had no idea what this was all about, what's coming. No concept of her intelligence, but he would soon.
There were times when being invisible had been painful, now it was a blessing. It had been a blessing when she'd watched Terry Morgan get taken away, confirmed her target and seen the female police detective for the first time. It would no doubt be a blessing over the coming week. Most of her work was done, the trail and trap set, the rewards reaped. There was nobody standing in her way now - and God help anybody who did.
27
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br /> Claire, Thursday 9th November 2017, Jersey
As she'd predicted, Claire got back to the office to find an email from Bob with his flight details. He was coming in on the last flight - typical of him not to want to waste a moment of the working day. In one way, she'd be glad to see him, he has been her mentor and advisor and she'd learnt so much from him. She just hoped he was coming for the right reasons and not because he thought she wasn't doing a good job on her own.
In preparation for his arrival she gathered some of the key information together. There were a couple of reports she hadn't read yet and so she printed them out to read at home later. In the meantime, surveillance was underway with James Parkin, she hoped that by the morning her visit would have stirred something up and they might have some news for Bob.
She finally logged off her computer at gone eight pm. The long days were beginning to take their toll and her eyes were dry and heavy. As the computer screen went black she remembered she still hadn't done anything more about her potential sighting of Rachel. Part of her thought it was a wild goose chase. What reason could she possibly have in coming to Jersey? She'd sold her London home and effectively disappeared, she clearly didn't want to be found, so she's unlikely to have turned up on a tiny British island. Another part of her was convinced her eyes hadn't deceived her. It was an itch that had to be scratched, but with Bob coming, her opportunity to investigate had got a lot harder.
When Claire got home her parents were just finishing their dinner. Her mum was delighted to see her.
'I've saved you some dinner love, it's keeping warm in the oven.'
Claire sat down and found herself actually enjoying her mother fuss around after her for a change.
'How's the case going?' her dad asked, always keeping to the subjects he knew well.
'We've got a key suspect under surveillance. I went to see him today.'
'I do hope you're careful with these people,' her mum interjected.
