by S G Read
‘Unfortunately a man took up residence in the old scout hut, a man who was selling drugs. He has been killed and I was hoping to persuade you to let me arrange for a caretaker, to make sure that it doesn’t happen again.’
‘You want to arrange for a caretaker to oversee the old scout hut?’ Lady Carstairs asked. ‘Why not just pull it down?’
‘It is a large structure and is in very good condition, considering the length of time it was empty. One day it might come in useful again.’ Clayton answered.
‘How much would this caretaker cost me, inspector?’
‘The caretaker I have in mind would not charge you anything at all but he might turn it into some kind of youth club.’
‘If it is not going to cost me anything I have no objection to the scout hut being used, as long as proper insurance is arranged, to make sure there are no problems.’ Lady Carstairs replied.
‘The insurance necessary will be in place before any youth activity begins Lady Carstairs.’ Clayton assured her.
‘Would this caretaker answer directly to you?’ Lady Carstairs asked. ‘In fact, does this caretaker look like you, inspector?’
‘The spitting image, Lady Carstairs.’
‘I thought as much, inspector. Use it as you will and as long as there is no trouble, I will not worry.’
‘Thank you, Lady Carstairs.’
‘No thank you for ridding the scout hut of a drugs dealer.’ Lady Carstairs answered and stood up, denoting an end to the interview.
‘I have yet to find the person or persons responsible for the death of the drug dealer, Lady Carstairs.’ Clayton replied as he stood up.
Clayton was shown out and started to walk down the drive toward the gate.
‘Is your driver waiting outside, or do you have your car?’ Lady Carstairs asked from the doorway.
‘No, I find it not worthwhile to have an automobile in London.’ Clayton answered. ‘I am going to find a taxi.’
‘Round here, I rather think not. Beecham will drive you to where you want to go Inspector Moore.’ She more or less ordered and closed the door again.
A Rolls Royce appeared from the garage and Clayton did not resist climbing inside. He was driven back to the police station. He waved to the chauffer as the Rolls Royce drove away and walked inside.
‘Is there any breaking news, sergeant?’ He asked as he hung up his jacket.
‘The street value of the drugs recovered is around three hundred thousand pounds and Bill’s first thought is that they were imported.’ Rebecca answered.
‘So there isn’t a drug factory on my patch as well, that is something to be thankful for. I wonder if Leslie Felltham went to the area where Deng Lee was living, for some reason and saw something he shouldn’t have.’ Clayton mused. ‘That might have got him killed.’
‘And some locals witnessed it and they buried him alive as punishment?’ Rebecca asked. ‘It doesn’t really make sense. They could have bashed Deng Lee over the head and buried him in that patch of woodland. No one would have found him there.’
‘That also goes for Leslie Felltham. If Deng Lee had killed him, he could have just dug a shallow grave and dropped him in it then that would have been it!’
Gerald walked into the office, passed Rebecca with a nod of greeting and on into Clayton’s office. Rebecca followed, she hoped for good news.
‘Well I did a bit of digging to see what your charity worker was up to.’ He announced. ‘It was not easy to find but she just bought a holiday package to Australia. A month in Australia and then two weeks in New Zealand on the way back.’
‘She did, did she? And how did she pay for it?’
‘She paid with cash. I also traced a payment to her from the jewelers on Cartwright Street, for none other than a diamond earring, just one!’
‘Well done Gerald, if a little late.’ Clayton replied.
‘If I tendered my resignation, I’m afraid he would accept it.’ Gerald declared.
‘He will accept mine one day, he’ll have to.’ Clayton replied. ‘Thank you Gerald, let’s go and talk to a charity worker sergeant.’
They hurried out and Rebecca drove them out to the charity shop, in time to see the woman they wanted to question, walking away. Rebecca followed her in the car and stopped in front of her.
‘Hello again, do you remember us Mrs. Pointer?’ Rebecca asked from the car. ‘We have more questions and this time we would like you to come to the station with us to give us a sample of your fingerprints, as the watch concerned has proved to be stolen property.’
While she talked Clayton had slipped out of the car and walked round to the same side the woman was on. He wanted to be standing behind her when she tried to walk off in the opposite direction than she was walking. He expected it and that was just what she tried to do.
‘It is not a request.’ Clayton explained when she came face to face with him.
She turned back but by now Rebecca was out of the car and was waiting for her.
‘Just get in the car please or I will have to arrest you.’ She warned.
The woman gave up and climbed into the back seat.
‘I was in a hurry.’ She complained.
‘If you have anyone we need to notify or arrange to be collected, we can do that for you Mrs. Pointer.’ Clayton answered.
They drove to the station and Amelia was shown into an interview room. A constable appeared and electronically took her fingerprints then she was left alone for a few minutes. The door opened and both Clayton and Rebecca walked in. They sat opposite her, placing three files on the table between them and Amelia.
‘The interview is with Amelia Pointer, of Ten Primrose Walk and begins at one minute past twelve in the afternoon.’ Clayton announced. ‘Present are Inspector Moore and Sergeant Stone. Mrs. Pointer, you were previously questioned about a Rolex watch which was given to your charity shop. This is now classed as stolen property and although we are not charging you with handling stolen property, we do have questions about a single diamond earring and a large, hither to unknown sum of money. We have testimony from the jeweler you sold the earring to and we know how much you were paid for it. We also know that you recently paid cash for an extended holiday in Australia and New Zealand. Have you anything you want to tell us?’
There was no reply to the question.
‘Amelia Pointer I am arresting you for stealing money and goods from the very charity shop you are supposed to be working for, anything you say will be…’ Clayton started.
‘It was with the watch and there was so much money. I have never had a proper holiday you know. It was too hard to resist and when I saw that the diamond was real I sold that as well.’ Amelia blurted out. ‘I don’t suppose I could pay all the money back and you would say nothing?’
‘Not only have you stolen from the charity, you have obstructed the police in a murder inquiry!’ Clayton answered. ‘I want all the details of what you found and when you found it. How much money there was in the roll and if you have any idea who put it through the letter box?’
Amelia started crying but it did not stop Clayton, he was angry. By the time Amelia was released on police bail, she had answered all his questions, to the best of her knowledge and they knew how the money, watch and earring came to be for sale in the charity shop.
‘So they take everything from Deng Lee but don’t keep it, only post it through the letterbox of a charity shop. There was a lot of money there, so why didn’t the killers keep it?’
‘Maybe they were afraid of reprisals?’ Rebecca asked.
‘But he was in a hole in the ground, sergeant. He could not have known what they did with the money from that position, he would have assumed that they kept it anyway, if he survived.’
‘Unless they said they were going to give it to a charity shop.’ Rebecca suggested.
‘Which would propound the theory that they were not trying to kill him, so what the hell were they up to and why?’
‘Teaching him a lesson?�
� Rebecca asked.
‘So, if that was the case, why were they trying to teach him a lesson?’
‘He might have been selling drugs where he shouldn’t?’ Rebecca suggested.
‘Well the boys said he was selling his wares outside the school, what if the parents at the school got together and decided to teach him a lesson, so that he moved on to sell his wares somewhere else?’ Clayton suggested in return.
‘What, like a vigilante parent teachers association?’ Rebecca asked.
‘Could be but who, where and when?’ Clayton asked. ‘Still at least it is another direction to look. Call up the school on the internet and see if any of the parents at the school live in Amber Close.’
‘You think they were the ones who phoned in to let us know where to look, sir?’
‘It is possible. They obviously did not find his drugs if they searched for them and might have wanted to make sure they were found. If so they must have took his keys and either dumped them in the woods after searching the scout hut, or they took them home with them.’ Clayton answered. ‘Organise a fingertip search of the wood and let me know what you find.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Meanwhile I will try to move the Leslie Felltham murder forward. I could do with a break though in that one.’
While Clayton worked on the Felltham murder, Rebecca worked on the parent teachers, association list from the local secondary school. It was hard work going through the web site to find them. She started with the board of governors and printed out the list and moved on to the parent teachers, association. She printed, that list out as well then decided to check the two lists against each other, to see who, if any, belonged to both. As well as doing that she arranged for the wood to be searched.
‘No one is a member of each and none of them live in Amber Close.’ She declared after an hour.
‘Another dead end, this case is one long dead end.’ Clayton complained. ‘I’ll think about it tonight while I am cooking dinner, I do my best thinking then.’
‘Did you move the Felltham murder on any?’ Rebecca asked.
‘No. He was obviously in the wrong place at the wrong time but where and when? Someone knocked him on the head for some reason but why, if he was such a nice man.’
‘We could interview Lady Carstairs’ butler, to see if he did it?’ Rebecca suggested.
‘Very funny, mind you, maybe I should go back to basics on this one and look at it again; but not tonight, now I am going home.’
Later Clayton cooked a large dinner in his kitchen. As he cooked, he thought about both cases, thinking up ways to move them forward and then dismissing the idea when it was not viable. He prepared vegetables, stopping to think in the middle of preparing them. He roasted a leg of lamb and then added potatoes, he was partial to roast potatoes.
Finally an idea came to him which was neither preposterous, nor ludicrous. He made a note on a serviette and then, went on cooking. When the meal was ready to serve he opened his front door and walked to his neighbour’s house. He rang the bell twice and walked back to his house. A few minutes later, his neighbour, Mrs. Brent, arrived and they ate the meal together with a bottle of wine.
She was a widow, living on her pension and Clayton liked to cook. He asked her round to enjoy one of his meals one day and it had ended up as a regular occurrence. Mrs. Brent had taken to bringing a bottle of wine to drink with the dinner and he supplied the dinner. For him it was better than eating a nice meal on his own and then eating the leftovers the next night, as the leftovers were another meal. The roast, he decided, was definitely not as nice warmed up!
In the morning, when Rebecca collected him, he was raring to go.
‘I want you to check for students at the school who have either been arrested for possession of drugs, or who have been injured by them. Include deaths as well, Rebecca. Then cross check for any of them who live in Amber Close!’
‘You think that whoever phoned in was angry enough about her child getting into trouble because of Lee to kill him?’ Rebecca asked.
‘Only if she is built like a brick, you know what.’ Clayton answered lightly. ‘But it might be why she was willing to let us know where he hung out, so that any drugs there would not be found by schoolchildren!’
Rebecca searched again, this time through police records and correlated the addresses as she did so. This time Clayton was impatient, this was like the last straw he was clasping at. The work took a long time and Rebecca could not hurry it. Clayton paced and then stood behind her, sometimes touching the screen when he pointed to anything on it.
‘Please don’t touch the screen, sir.’ She asked politely, the first time he did it. ‘It makes smears which I have to clean off.’
That turned to ‘Don’t touch the screen!’ the second time and the third time she slapped his hand before he got anywhere near the screen.
‘Sorry, I just want the case to move forward, Rebecca.’ He replied.
It showed his frustration, as he never called her by her first name inside the station with other people there, calling her by her first name was mainly for when they were alone.
Finally, she had an address in Amber Close. A Mrs. Richards, her daughter had been arrested for possession of a controlled substance and she now had a police record.
‘That is enough to make anyone angry, sergeant.’ Clayton declared victoriously.
‘Are we going to ask her about it?’ Rebecca asked.
‘Not yet, let us find out more about her, her friends and which of the other parents she knows, and whose children have been in trouble over the drugs Deng Lee was supplying.
‘Are you thinking that the parents whose children were sold drugs to and then subsequently were caught by police, might have banded together to rid the area of this menace. Not trying to kill him but trying to intimidate him into moving away.’
‘It could be the case, sergeant but where does Leslie Felltham come into all this? If they were burying Deng Lee alive and only up to his neck when Felltham happened upon them, all they had to do was to explain why they were doing it. I am sure Felltham would have helped them, once they explained. Might even have offered them some horse manure for good measure.’
‘And he would have had sports field soil under his nails instead the soil from his rose bed!’ Rebecca declared.
‘So did he see them from a distance and hurry off to tell someone, without coming near enough to find out what was going on?’ Clayton mused. ‘Damned case, well both of them are really. Get Gerald to dig into the Richards’ private life. See if he can find out, who they know and how well they know them. You can also see if they have records and who, of their friends have a record so that we can check their prints against the partial he found on cable tie.’
‘But Bill said that the print wasn’t good enough to gain a conviction in court and the print off the Rolex, the one which remains unaccounted for was also not good enough to gain a conviction. It could be from anyone who has come into contact with the watch.’
‘But they won’t know that, will they?’ Clayton answered. ‘If I mention prints, I might get someone to speak to me about what went on.’
At that moment Bill walked in. They both looked up at him in surprise.
‘An audience, I love an audience.’ He said when he saw them both together. ‘I am about to astound you with the miracles of modern science.’
‘You always do, Bill.’ Clayton declared, quite happy to be astounded.
Bill handed him a photograph of a shoe print.
‘There were none at either crime scene, I could see that.’ Clayton argued. ‘And it had rained in the night.’
‘No, you are quite right, there were no footprints visible, well not where you could see them but the person or persons who did the burying, trod the soil down and then covered the footprints with loose soil before covering them with the turf.’ Bill explained.
‘But the rain in the night.’ Rebecca replied.
‘The turf protected this o
ne footprint from the rain and we saw it by x-raying the soil, before we dug him out. We excavated the site like time team do on television. Very slowly and very carefully and this is a size nine trainer, made by Dickinson of Lambeth. You find the trainer and I’ll match it to the print.’
‘Will it stand up in court?’ Rebecca asked.
‘Well I won’t be able to say it is the exact trainer, as it is quite new and there is no obvious wear on the soles,’ Bill answered, ‘but I can say it might have been the one.’
Clayton sighed.
‘Still at least it is something I can throw at a suspect, should we end up with any suspects.’ He declared, trying to look on the bright side.
‘So we have a footprint made by a particular trainer, coupled with a partial print and a smudged print. I hope someone confesses!’ Rebecca exclaimed.
‘You never know your luck.’ Bill answered and walked out.
Rebecca worked on while Clayton made the coffee. By the time he came back she had no news and they both sat there reading reports and making phone calls, just to see if they could find something they had missed. They were waiting for Gerald to report what he had found and that did not happen until half way through the next day. They both worked on the cases for the rest of the day and went home without any movement in the case.
It was eleven o’clock in the morning when Clayton’s phone rang. He picked the receiver up without delay, he wanted news.
‘It is Gerald, Inspector Moore.’ The voice on the other end announced.
‘Yes Gerald, how can you help me?’ Clayton asked, he liked it when Gerald phoned him, it meant he had news.
‘I found certain similarities in the habits of several of the people who were on your list of possible suspects. There are credit card payments, on the same night, at the same time, in the same pub, and it happens on more than one occasion. This leads me to believe they at least knew each other. They could have been chance encounters but when the same happened in a different pub and the drinks bill was the same for two of the people who bought drinks; to the penny.’ He answered.
‘So they were at least socializing!’ Clayton exclaimed. ‘Good work Gerald, I think we might bring them in for questioning at least. Still we’ll follow up the prints first, if any of them have form. You can widen your search to see if anyone has used their credit card to pay for some, Dickinson of Lambeth trainers recently.’
