“Reasonably well,” was the reply.
“Right I’ll look forward to seeing you on Monday.”
“Oh, by the way, could you book me into a hotel for the night please, nothing too expensive though.”
“No problem Inspector, I know just the place, I’ll do it right away.”
“I fancy a pint,“ said Mick “anybody want to join me?”
Bob and Emma said they would but Matt had to be somewhere. Mick rang Sue and told her what had happened during the day. His journey to Fareham, his lunch break in Winchester on the way back and his meeting with George Appleton, the Deputy Chief Constable.
“And on Monday I’m going to Germany for two days, have we still got that English – German phrase book?”
“Good god Mick, I haven’t seen it for ages, still I can pick one up tomorrow when I go shopping.”
“Are you going anywhere tonight, only I’m just going down to the Swan for a couple with the team and I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind coming over to drive me home and run me back in the morning to get the car?”
“Yes all right” she said I’ll be there at eight.”
*
They made their way to the pub which was already busy with people having a drink on their way home after a hard weeks work. Mick was first to the bar and ordered himself a pint and turning first to Emma said, “what would you like Emma?”
“Pinot Grigio please, just a small glass.”
“And I’ll have a Becks please,” said Bob without waiting to be asked. They spotted a group getting up from a table and Bob was over there in a flash claiming the empty seats before anybody else could sit down.
“So how do you think your first week with us has gone Emma?” asked Mick.
“Apart from my cock-up over the sex of the major, I’ve quite enjoyed it.”
“Don’t worry about the major, we all make assumptions sometimes, particularly if we’re reading body language and listening to the emphasis people put on certain words. The trick is to write down the exact words used, not what you expected to hear. Anyway, tell us a bit about yourself, I know from your file that you’re single – are you in a relationship?”
“Not really. I sort of have a boyfriend but he works away, something to do with maintenance of Industrial Turbines. We see each other when he’s home but it’s not ideal.”
*
The three of them chatted amicably for half an hour or so, Bob bought another round of drinks which Emma passed on and said good-night adding, “Have a good trip to Germany, I’ll see you on Wednesday.”
“What’s this about a trip to Germany,” said a voice from behind him. Mick turned to see Steve Milken and a couple of others from the station.
“Special request from on high, they want someone with a brilliant mind to help them out.”
The remark was met with the expected groan and a certain amount of ribbing.
Before it got out of hand Mick whispered into Steve’s ear
“Keep it quiet Steve, this has come from the Deputy Chief Constable and I don’t think it’s a subject for gossip in the pub.” Mick had a couple more pints of lager and just as he was handed a pint, Sue walked in.
“Is it that time already? Would you like a drink, I’ve just got one in.”
“Just an orange juice then please.”
“I’ll get that Mick,” said Steve Milken.
Mick turned to Bob and told him to make sure that any outstanding queries were chased up, particularly the bank and credit card statements as they had heard nothing from his bank in Paderborn. Also any outstanding reports from the path lab and scene of crimes.
“Have a good look at those CCTV recordings you got, now we know what the Major looks like there’s just a chance you might spot her getting into a car.”
As they got near home Mick asked Sue to go via the chip shop, he had suddenly realised why he was so hungry, he hadn’t eaten anything since his salad in Winchester at lunchtime. He bought his favourite takeaway, plaice and chips, and when they got home he sat in his armchair with his supper on a tray. Sue brought him a mug of tea and pinched a couple of chips from his plate.
CHAPTER NINE
Saturday morning and for the second week running they had breakfast outside.
“What’s your plans for the day sweetheart?”
“Shopping trip with Helen, she’s buying a new outfit for her nephews wedding.”
They finished their breakfast, Mick went in to make some more coffee and just as he was about to take it out, his mobile rang.
“Inspector Joyce?”
“Speaking,” confirmed Mick.
“Inspector Reynolds here, from Guildford, we met last week when you came to see Mrs Austen.”
“Yes that’s right,” said Mick.
“Well I was at the golf club last night and I told a few friends there about the death of Phil Austen, without going into detail of course. One of the group, Kenneth Taberner a financial advisor that quite a few of the members use, waited until just he and I were alone and he said did I know about Phil’s financial situation. I said I’d not heard anything from Phil for quite some time and he told me that Phil was investing a lot of money in shares, he thought the amounts involved were far and above what he would be earning from the army. I thought you ought to know Inspector although I don’t know if it’s important.”
“I’m not sure if it’s relevant or not but I will certainly enter it on the file, it may prove to be important. Thank you for ringing Inspector.”
Mick rang his oldest friend from outside the job, Ronnie Townley, to tell him that he couldn’t go to the match that week-end because of work. Mick was a season ticket holder at White Hart Lane. Ronnie was a year older than Mick and they had been friends since that day in the park on the way home from school when Mick was being bullied by two older boys and Ronnie had intervened.
Sue drove Mick into work and he spent the day reviewing the information that they had got to date and planning the trip to Germany. He made several copies of the photos of Phillip Austen and the Major.
*
Mick drove home with one of his favourite CD’s on, ska music from the late seventies and early eighties, Madness, Desmond Decker, The Specials, music from the time that he was working hard and playing harder. It was at a disco that had a ska night every Friday that he had met Sue. He had his new suit on, she was wearing a black and white checked dress fairly short and tight fitting, with her short dark hair it was lust at first sight. They had hit it off straight away, they had the same sense of humour, liked the same music, both had jobs with good prospects and lived reasonably close together, he in Enfield and she in Cheshunt.
*
He pulled onto the drive behind Sue’s Mini and went in.
“Did Helen find an outfit?”
“Yes, a lovely salmon pink dress and jacket.”
“Did you treat yourself to anything?”
“Just a skirt and top for work.” she said “And I got you an English – German phrase book. It’s on the desk.”
“Danke mein fraulein,” he said laughing.
*
That evening they ate their steaks and drank the wine, an Etta James CD playing and the light dimmed. Mick was fairly quiet and Sue knew the signs, he was deep in thought.
“What are you thinking about Mick?”
“Oh, sorry, it’s just this trip to Germany. I need to make a list of everything I need to do, the questions I need to ask, the people I need to see.”
“Well you can do that tomorrow, tonight you can pay some attention to your wife of twenty five years and one week.”
She cleared the table and took the dirty dishes into the kitchen and put them into the dishwasher. She ran some hot water into the sink, added the washing-up liquid and started to wash the saucepans. Mick walked into the kitchen and put the kettle on. Standing behind Sue he slid his hands around her waist and then under her white sleeveless jumper, kissing her neck as he did so.
*
Sunday morning dawned and Mick was up before eight, he wanted to go and see his father at the hospice. He shaved, showered and dressed and drove to the hospice in Stevenage, parked under the chestnut tree and went in.
“Go straight up Mr Joyce,” said Mrs Carmichael “I think he’s eating some breakfast so you might be able to have a few words with him.”
Mick walked up the stairs, along the corridor past the picture of Rydal water which he particularly liked and went into his father’s room.
“Morning dad,” he said cheerily.
There was no response, Bernard Joyce was sitting up in bed drinking a cup of tea, but didn’t look up.
Mick tried again “Morning dad.” His father looked up and struggled to focus on his sons face.
“Oh it’s you Mick, how are you.”
“I’m fine dad, more to the point, how do you feel?”
“Tired son. Tired.”
*
Bernard Joyce was once a fine figure of a man, not particularly tall but athletically built and still very active until well into his seventies. His skin was now pale and drawn and his hair was thin and grey.
Mick sat with his father for an hour but it was impossible to have a proper conversation, they sat in silence. Bernard drifting off into sleep and Mick looking out of the window at the rain. Mick stood up, said “bye dad” and left.
He called into Hatfield where Bob and Matt were working and he made a list of any documents that would be useful, bank statements, credit card statements hire purchase documents and the like. Oh, and any documents relating to share purchases. He made a note to take extra copies of the two photos, one of Captain Austen and the one of the Major, he would show the one of the major to everybody he came into contact with in Paderborn, somebody must know her. He would also take the loose leaf folder with the coded letters and numbers, Lieutenant Jordan might know what it means.
*
After chatting with the other two for a few minutes he left and drove home.
He pulled onto the drive and went in.
“How is he?” said Sue.
“Seems about the same,” replied Mick as he went into the lounge, settled into his armchair and reached over to the coffee table and picked up a pen and note pad. His mind was now back on the case and he made a list of the people he wanted to talk to, the people he wanted to know about, the neighbours, and the people Captain Austen knew or at least had contact with.
They had a quiet day together, Sue made a late lunch about three and they chatted about Micks father, his trip to Germany and whether or not they would get a holiday in the autumn. Mick packed his overnight case, checked that he had his passport and the various papers and photos he was taking. About ten Mick said “I’m off to bed sweetheart, I want to be up before five in the morning, I’ll try not to disturb you too much.”
CHAPTER TEN
Mick set off for Stansted at five fifteen and got there just after six, parked and hurried to the check in desk. He checked in and went through security and placed his overnight bag on the conveyor belt together with his shoes, belt, watch, mobile, wallet and small change in the tray but as he passed through the scanner the security guard waiting at the other side stopped him and indicated for him to stand still with his arms out. He ran his arms expertly down around Micks body and then said
“Would you turn out your inside pocket of your jacket sir.”
Mick looked slightly puzzled and then realised what the Security guard had felt. “Sorry,” he said as he took out his warrant card and handed it over, the guard examined it and without any further comment, nodded and handed it back waving him through.
Mick replaced his watch, belt and shoes, collected the remaining items in the tray, picked up his bag and headed for the departure lounge.
He bought a hot chocolate and an almond croissant and sat down where he could see the departure board. Air Berlin flight to Dusseldorf came up and Mick was pleased to see that it was on time. The flight was called and Mick proceeded to gate eleven. The plane was pretty well full and Mick found his seat, put his bag in the overhead locker and sat down in the seat next to the aisle. The seat near the window and the middle seat were occupied by an elderly couple. Mick smiled and said good morning as he sat down.
“Guten morgen,” replied the man.
*
The flight itself was fairly uneventful, the couple next to him chatted away in German, the man across the aisle was reading the Daily Mail and the two men immediately in front of him were discussing, in English, their forthcoming meeting at some sort of IT company’s offices in Ratingen which he guessed was just outside Dusseldorf.
The plane landed on time and Mick retrieved his overnight bag from the overhead luggage locker, and made his way to the exit, stopping every few seconds to allow other passengers to leave their seats and collect their bags and coats from above. He eventually left the plane and waiting at the bottom of the steps was what Sue referred to as ‘the bendy bus’, a bus in two sections which had very few seats but seemed to accommodate at least half the dis-embarking passengers.
He reached the terminal building and passed through the security gate marked ‘EU nationals’ without being stopped although he had his passport ready, nobody wanted to look at it.
He passed into the main arrivals area and looked for somebody holding up the ubiquitous piece of cardboard with his name written on it in felt tip pen. He spotted his name ‘Michael Joyce’, not on a piece of cardboard but on a very professional looking sheet of white Perspex with printed letters in dark blue. He walked over to the man holding it.
“Good morning, I’m Michael Joyce.”
“Good morning,” said the man, a good six foot tall with brown hair cut short, aged about thirty five to forty guessed Mick, “I’m Andrew Jordan. The cars just over there if you would follow me, do you want a hand with your bag?”
Mick said he was fine and followed Lieutenant Jordan to the car.
“I half expected to see you in army uniform rather than a suit” Mick said as the settled into their seats.
“We don’t tend to wear uniform much, particularly away from the barracks, similarly your name board didn’t give your rank or any clue as to your occupation.”
Mick realised immediately what the Lieutenant meant, “Security very much an issue is it then?”
“Absolutely,” came the reply.
They exchanged the usual pleasantries as they drove out of the airport and made their way east, skirting around Dortmund and onto the road signposted ‘Paderborn.’
“I’ve arranged to meet the letting agents at Captain Austen’s flat at five o’clock, his neighbours should be arriving home when we have finished in the flat, I thought you might want to speak to some of them.”
“Good thinking Lieutenant.”
“Actually sir, would you mind calling me Andrew rather than referring to me by my rank”
“Of course,” said Mick, “and please call me Michael.”
“Did you get a chance to check if his car was parked at the airport?”
“No need to, I went to his flat last night, it’s only a few miles away from where I live. His car is in the car park. One other thing Michael, we’ll be meeting a German police officer at the flat. Whilst the Military Police have pretty well unrestricted jurisdiction when on army land or dealing with army personnel away from the barracks we do inform them if we intend to interview private citizens or search private property. I’ve told them one of our officers was murdered in the UK and we need to search his flat in Bielefeld.”
They are not particularly interested in what happened in England but did express a wish to be present at the search of his flat, I suppose they want to be involved in case German law has been broken or if a German national is involved in some way.”
“I don’t have a problem with that Andrew but I may want to take some items away with me, I’ll leave you to smooth that over with the German Police if it’s a problem.”
*
It was just after one when they drove into the barracks at Paderborn, although the sign actually said ‘Sennelager barracks’.
“We have several garrisons around here,” explained Andrew, “although we tend to just refer to ‘Paderborn barracks’ there used to be about thirty to forty thousand British servicemen and women here during the sixties and seventies but since the Berlin wall came down that number has drastically reduced. I have an office over here,” he said, gesturing for Michael to follow him.
They passed a security post where a Corporal was reading his paper.
“Bang Bang, “said Andrew as the sentry looked up.
“Very funny Lieutenant but I saw you drive through the gate.”
“That’s as may be but you don’t know who this gentleman is.”
Andrew introduced Detective Inspector Michael Joyce of The Hertfordshire Police.
“Fix him up with a pass covering today and tomorrow please Corporal.”
*
They went into Andrew Jordan’s office and Mick asked him if he had booked him into a hotel.
“Yes, one in the town that we use, it should suit you I hope, mainly businessmen staying there.”
“Sounds fine Andrew thank you.”
“I’ve ordered us some lunch, a cold meat salad, to be brought over to have here, I hope that’s all right. I thought we could talk uninterrupted whilst we eat.”
Mick reached into his overnight bag and took out a couple of folders and from the buff coloured one, extracted a copy of the report he had given to Brigadier Fredericks the Friday before. He quickly ran through it emphasizing the important points.
“So you think Phil Austen was killed by a doctor or a nurse?”
“It’s a fact that whoever killed him had medical training, and we believe that shortly before he was killed, he was dining in a nearby Chinese restaurant with a women he is thought to have called ‘major’. This is a photo of that woman we managed to obtain but we have no idea who she is.”
The Paderborn Connection Page 5
