No, it wasn’t, reflected Marvik, recalling those he’d known who had been killed and the loved ones left behind. His thoughts shifted back to Terence Blackerman and he wondered how he was feeling, after learning that his only son had died as a result of wounds inflicted in action. A son he had hardly known and one he had sacrificed his freedom for as a result of that night in November seventeen years ago.
‘You did voluntary work, but what was your job after the army?’ Marvik asked.
‘I worked in the stores for Ford in Southampton,’ Stisford answered a little uneasily, probably, Marvik thought, because the job lacked prestige and perhaps the voluntary work gave Stisford back some kudos.
He said, ‘Did you see anyone leave the bar at the same time or just after her?’
‘I wasn’t really taking any notice. And I didn’t know the lift had broken down until the police told me.’
‘When did they tell you?’ Marvik jumped in before Helen could say anything.
Stisford was beginning to look frazzled and Marvik could see his right hand trembling, which was either the symptom of an illness, the sign of strain or the need of a drink. And Marvik thought it was the latter two.
‘Monday morning. I was at home at Marchwood. I didn’t even know Esther was dead. You didn’t tell me.’ He threw Helen a hurt and puzzled look.
‘It wasn’t top of my list of things to do,’ she said caustically. But Marvik hadn’t asked her how the police had broken the news to her, or when. Or what had happened next. He would, but later.
‘It came as a great shock.’
Marvik felt Helen’s body go rigid, with anger he thought at Stisford’s rather obsequious manner more than distress at the memory. He threw her what he hoped was an understanding and pleading look but she wasn’t looking at him. If he put a hand on her arm he knew she’d shake it off.
Quickly he said, ‘Can you remember what they said? I know this must be as difficult for you as it is for Helen, which is why I’m here to help her.’
She flashed him a furious look. He hoped his eyes said ‘ease back, it won’t be long, we need this information’. She obviously understood the message because she took a breath and forced a sad smile from her tight lips.
Stisford said, ‘I’m not sure how I can help but I do understand that sometimes piecing together traumatic events can make towards a better understanding of what happened and assist some people in coming to terms with it.’ He cast a sympathetic gaze on Helen. Marvik thought she might hit him, but again she smiled tightly and he saw her fists clench as they rested on her knees.
‘I tried to do that with Jean to help her come to terms with Jim’s death. We talked for ages about it and the past. I like to think it helped in some way. It certainly helped Esther but you, Helen, were too young of course.’
‘What did the police tell you?’ Marvik persisted. Stisford had avoided the question, but whether deliberately Marvik didn’t know.
‘That Esther had been found dead in the room and they were treating it as suspicious. They asked me more or less what you have and I couldn’t help them.’
‘Can you remember their names?’
‘Yes. It was a DI Grainger and a DS Ross from the Metropolitan Police.’
‘Did they return to question you?’
‘No. I made a statement and that was it.’
‘They didn’t ask you if you knew Terence Blackerman?’
‘No.’
‘Did you?’
‘No.’
A lie or the truth?
‘I attended the trial. I found it hard to believe a navy chaplain could have committed murder and did wonder if he’d been suffering post-traumatic stress, but the medical people said he hadn’t. Still, not everyone recognizes it and it can show up in different ways. Oh, I’m not excusing what he did,’ he added hastily. ‘But—’
‘Did you see him in the bar that night?’
‘No. But then it was very busy. He could have been there. He might have followed Esther into the lift.’
But he couldn’t have known it would break down or that Esther would invite him to her bed, unless they had already known one another and were having an affair, which would explain why Esther had got in the lift in the first place. Perhaps that was the reason Esther had gone to London the day before and stayed over on Saturday night, and when Irene Withers had conveniently died they thought they’d make use of the double room, albeit with twin beds.
‘Is he still in prison?’ Stisford asked.
Helen answered. ‘Yes.’
‘I’m sorry, Helen. There’s nothing I can tell you that can help. You must try to get on with your life. Esther wouldn’t want you dwelling on it and going over it all again.’
Marvik thought it best to leave before Helen exploded. He rose and thanked Stisford by extending his hand. Stisford’s grasp was firm but his palm moist. Hastily they extracted themselves from the dreary, dirty bungalow. Marvik gripped Helen firmly by the elbow and steered her down the road and around the corner before she could say anything. Only when they were out of sight he eased his grip and she shook him off.
‘What a creep. I didn’t like him in 1997 and I like him even less now. He stinks.’
‘Of booze and sweat,’ Marvik said.
‘You know what I mean,’ she flashed at him.
He did.
‘I bet he was trying to get into Esther’s knickers, she rejected him and he killed her. He was a soldier, trained to kill.’
‘Then why weren’t his DNA and fingerprints in that room?’
‘Maybe he cleaned it up before leaving her.’
They began walking through the estate towards the main road.
‘He wouldn’t have been able to eliminate all trace of his DNA.’
‘Then the police covered it up.’
‘But why would they protect John Stisford? You saw him and that bungalow. He’s not important enough.’
She scowled. ‘Maybe he knows something about one of them and threatened to expose it.’
‘If he did it’s not made him rich.’
‘He could have spent it all on booze and gambling.’
‘Then he’d have gone back for more.’
‘Not if the cop who covered up for him is dead. Grainger.’
‘His death is too recent for Stisford to be living like that. Even if he had managed to squeeze more money out of Grainger, or Duncan Ross for that matter, Stisford couldn’t have spent it that fast.’
‘No? Just give me a few grand and I’ll show you how quickly it can be spent.’
‘It’s not him, Helen.’
After a moment she said, dejectedly, ‘I know.’
‘But he’s not telling us everything.’ And Marvik would like to know what it was and why he felt the need to hold back.
‘Do you think he knows Blackerman?’
It was what Marvik had been considering. ‘It’s possible. But I can’t see Blackerman protecting Stisford, certainly not going to prison for him, and as I’ve already said Stisford’s not Esther’s killer. Do you remember seeing Stisford at the trial?’
‘Yes, but I didn’t sit with him. I couldn’t bear him near me, not even then. He made my flesh crawl, still does.’
They turned on to the main road and began walking in the direction of the marina. It was at least three miles but Marvik made no attempt to volunteer to call a taxi and Helen didn’t ask him to. It was as though they needed the fresh, cold March air to blow away the stench of that bungalow and to rid themselves of Stisford’s sycophantic manner.
‘When did the police break the news to you, Helen?’
‘Sunday morning. It was just after eleven. I was in bed. I’d been at a nightclub until two, drinking and mucking about – yeah I know I was under age but no one bothered to ask me for my birth certificate and I took advantage of Esther being away. I had a hangover and I ignored the bell for as long as I could, hoping that whoever it was would go away but they didn’t. Then I looked out of the window and
saw the police car and I thought, shit, they’ve come after me because I lied about my age and got drunk. It put the fear of God in me. I staggered down and looked into this police woman’s eyes and my … well I threw up all over her before she even told me. The rest is a blur.’
He reached a hand and took hers. She didn’t recoil but gripped it firmly. They didn’t speak for some moments but continued walking.
‘The next thing I remember was being told by this fat copper, who was DI Grainger, that Esther had been murdered. He asked me if she had a boyfriend. I said no. They wanted to look around her room. They’d already done so once but they did it again. They went through her books, looking for letters I guess. She didn’t have a mobile phone or computer – yeah, hard to believe now. She must have used a computer at work though. I guess they looked at that.’
And Marvik wondered what that had revealed. Probably not much given that the Internet and email were not as freely used then as now.
‘They asked me about a diary, just as you did, but I said Esther didn’t keep one or if she did then I hadn’t found it. They also asked me what train she caught to London on Friday. I had no idea, only that she was going from work.’ She withdrew her hand and pushed it through her hair.
‘Do you know what she did at Danavere?’
‘Secretary I think, something like that. I can’t remember and I didn’t bother to ask her about it. Like I told you I was a self-obsessed teenager with a bloody great chip on my shoulder.’
Marvik stopped outside a café. ‘Fancy a drink?’
She nodded. When they were seated with teas in front of them, she said, ‘I remember at the trial they said she left work at four. But no one knew where she went after that. I guess the police might have checked the hotels in London but that’s a hell of a lot of hotels to check and nothing was mentioned about any money coming off her account. Now, come to think of it, there were no payments made out either that night or Saturday but then the room in the Union Services Club had been paid for earlier. So Esther must have stayed with someone Friday night.’
‘Yes and he or she never came forward.’
‘Do you think it’s her killer?’ she said eagerly.
‘It’s possible.’
‘How the hell do we find out who that was? Unless it’s Blackerman. Maybe Esther did know him and spent both Friday and Saturday night with him. She wanted to end the relationship and he flipped.’
‘She might have known him but he didn’t kill her. And if she had known him, why didn’t he say?’
‘Because it would make matters worse for him.’
‘But that doesn’t explain why someone is intent on preventing us from looking into it. And how would Esther have known him? He was navy and your father was army. I suppose he could have met your father in conflict or on a joint exercise.’ Marvik thought he’d get Strathen on to that unless Crowder cared to give him that information, if he knew it.
Helen shrugged and sipped her tea. Marvik said, ‘Apart from her job, how else did she spend her time?’
‘Looking out for me. She didn’t go out or have any hobbies or interests.’
‘Did the police ask you this?’
‘I don’t remember. They must have done.’
Marvik stared out of the window, scrutinizing the busy road. ‘Did Esther go to church?’ He wondered if she’d met Blackerman there.
‘Sometimes. Christmas, Easter, the anniversary of dad’s death and then mum’s.’
‘Where?’
‘Not locally,’ she answered, eyeing him sharply. ‘She liked the big services at the cathedrals, that’s what appealed to her about the Remembrance Service at the Albert Hall.’
Perhaps she’d met Blackerman at one of these.
‘This doesn’t seem to have got us very far,’ Helen said dejectedly. But Marvik thought it had got them another step forward.
‘Finish your tea. I’m going to make a call.’ He indicated the public pay phone opposite, from where he called Strathen. ‘Esther Shannon worked for a company called Danavere Medical,’ he said as soon as Strathen came on the line.
‘Danavere!’
‘Yes, why? Do you know it?’
‘I should, they make prosthetic limbs.’
Marvik could almost hear Strathen’s brain making the same connection as he’d done earlier when Stisford had mentioned it, a medical connection between Esther, Palmer and Charlotte. ‘We need to know what Esther did at Danavere and whether she was working for them on Friday the seventh of November 1997. If so, where, doing what?’
‘I’ve got contacts there. I’ll get on to it right away.’
‘Also see what you can dig up on John Stisford, especially his service record.’
Next Marvik rang Crowder on the pay-as-you-go mobile phone.
‘Any news on a safe house for Helen?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Well hurry it up. I need information on Blackerman’s defence lawyer, Vince Wycombe. Can you get it for me?’
Crowder said he could and rang off. He didn’t ask where Marvik was or what he was doing and Marvik didn’t volunteer the information because Crowder knew anyway.
‘What now?’ Helen asked on his return.
Marvik had been considering that. ‘We talk to Grainger’s sister tomorrow morning. In Bognor Regis.’
‘We going there by boat?’
‘Of course.’
‘Thought you might say that. In the dark again?’
‘No other way to travel.’
She rolled her eyes at him.
‘And the sooner we start the better.’ The nearest marina to Bognor Regis was Chichester. From there it was a twenty-minute drive across the flat arable countryside. He’d call for a taxi to take them. Chichester Marina was sixty-four nautical miles to the east of where they now were. He didn’t tell Helen that the weather forecast for the next twelve hours wasn’t good. It would take them about four hours. He hoped they could make it before the front closed in.
ELEVEN
It was just after ten thirty when Marvik moored up on the visitors’ berths at Chichester Marina. The wind and rain had slowed them. The front had come in quicker than anticipated. It was still raining heavily, bouncing off the boat, and Marvik could see the lights of the yacht club blazing out a welcome. It would have been good to share a drink in the warmth and comfortable atmosphere of the club but Helen looked emotionally drained and slightly the worse for wear after a rough journey across Southsea Bay and Hayling Bay before they’d entered the relative shelter of Chichester Harbour. The ordeal of the last couple of days and the memories of her sister’s death were beginning to take a toll on her, although she insisted it was the extra cream cake she’d indulged in while waiting for him to return from his phone call to Strathen.
He surveyed his surroundings. There was another boat several spaces along and close to the fuel pumps but apart from that it was quiet. The small car park in front of them was deserted. The café was in darkness and so too were the units beyond it.
‘Are you up to eating?’ he asked.
She shook her head. ‘Think I’ll go to bed.’
He made himself a coffee and a bacon sandwich, listening for sounds outside that would alert him that someone was drawing near, but he also listened for the rhythm of Helen’s breathing that would tell him she was asleep. He thought about the day to come and his interview with Amelia Snow. Would she be in? For all he knew she could be on a Mediterranean cruise or touring Australia. And this could be a wasted journey. But he knew that Crowder would have told him if that were the case.
His mind went back to what he had considered earlier, about the intelligence services and the navy being mixed up in this. He wondered if Crowder was from MI5 and their suspect was someone high up in one of those organizations.
He tossed back the remainder of his coffee, made sure that Helen was asleep, then climbed off the boat and headed along the pontoon. He stopped at the only other boat moored there and climbed on board.
So Crowder had known that Stisford was mentioned in the original investigation and that he lived in Weymouth, which clearly indicated he knew a great deal more about Esther Shannon’s murder than he was telling him and that he had no concerns about showing it. What else was he withholding? And why feed him this stuff piecemeal?
Well two could play at that game. ‘No.’ Marvik didn’t mention Danavere. Not yet. He wanted to know what Shaun discovered first. ‘Have you the information on Wycombe?’
‘Yes.’ Crowder nodded him into a seat but Marvik declined.
‘Can we discuss this in the cockpit?’
Crowder rose. He didn’t need to ask why. He’d know that Marvik would want to keep a watchful eye on his boat to make sure that Helen was safe. Crowder followed him up on deck where they stood under the shelter of the helm. Marvik studied Crowder. Behind the inscrutable expression and calm manner was a man of intelligence and cunning. And possibly a dangerous man.
Crowder said, ‘Vince Wycombe is Head of Chambers at Six Blights Court, Chancery Lane, London.’
‘So Wycombe’s risen to the top since failing to get Terence Blackerman off a murder charge.’
‘It seems that way. He’s a criminal barrister specializing in complex and high-profile cases: murder, manslaughter, serious violence, sexual offences. The Chambers acts for both defence and prosecution across the UK and they also handle white-collar crime, serious fraud and have a military practice group.’
Marvik’s ears pricked up.
‘They didn’t have it in 1997,’ Crowder said, reading Marvik’s thoughts.
‘But perhaps that was what kick-started it, although I’d hardly have thought a failure would inspire the military to engage them.’
‘Perhaps it wasn’t a failure as far as they were concerned.’
And that connected with Marvik’s own earlier thoughts that the navy were behind this in some way. ‘You mean they wanted Blackerman convicted.’ But what the hell was happening in 1997 to make the navy so jittery? He’d consider that later.
Silent Running Page 13
