Trespass (P.I. Johnson Carmichael Series - Book 2)

by Stephen Edger

  He looked around for any sign of life outside on the street. A white haired man was walking a West Highland Terrier along the pavement. Carmichael stepped away from the door and walked after the man.

  ‘Excuse me?’ he said. ‘Do you live on this street?’

  ‘The white haired man eyed him suspiciously.

  ‘It’s alright, Carmichael offered, ‘I’m not trying to sell you anything. I was just wondering if you know the Benolds at number six.’

  ‘Oh, yes, they’re a lovely couple.’

  ‘Good, have you seen either of them about this morning?’

  ‘No, sorry,’ the man said and then continued his walk.

  Carmichael jogged back to the property and took up his position on the door mat again. He still couldn’t hear anything so he entered. He moved from the kitchen to the dining room to the lounge but there was no sign of Frankie. A loud bang on the floor upstairs caught his attention and he moved quickly to the staircase and began to ascend. The stairs creaked against his weight. The sounds of movement above him grew louder and when he reached the top stair he was sure he had disturbed a burglary. Whoever the intruder was, they appeared to be banging about in the main bedroom where he had woken the previous morning.

  He moved forward and opened the door. A man dressed head to toe in black was pulling drawers out of a chest and emptying jewellery into a pillow case. The man sensed Carmichael’s presence and turned to see who had interrupted him.

  ‘Hi,’ said Carmichael, pleased to have caught him off guard. ‘This is only going to end badly for you. You can try and run, but you won’t get away from me. You can try and attack me, but I am bigger and undoubtedly stronger than you. The best decision you could make right now would be to put the pillow case down, remove that balaclava and sit and wait for the police to arrive.’

  ‘You’re bluffing,’ the man replied, trying to disguise his voice.

  ‘Want to bet?’

  ‘You’re trespassing here just as much as me. You wouldn’t risk it.’

  ‘Listen, mate,’ Carmichael said calmly, ‘put that down and let’s be men about this.’

  The man looked down at his bag of loot, considering whether to drop it or chance his luck. He chose the latter.

  The pillowcase of metal was flung at Carmichael’s head, narrowly missing its target. The man in the mask leapt across the bed, separating the two of them, and crashed into Carmichael’s midriff. The velocity of the attack caught Carmichael by surprise and he stumbled backwards before the two men collapsed to the floor.

  The man in the mask jumped up and moved towards the bedroom door, but Carmichael grabbed and twisted the burglar’s foot, causing him to fall again. He held onto the foot and dragged him back into the room. He picked the wiry man up by the back of his top and flung him over the bed and onto the strewn drawers, before proceeding round to where he had landed. The man, reached out for anything he could grab to defend himself and threw a drawer at Carmichael, catching him off guard again. He stumbled back towards the walk-in wardrobe and the burglar charged him, the two men crashing through the doors and into a room lined from floor to ceiling with shoes of varying heights and colours.

  He pushed the man off him, and both attempted to punch out at the other with neither really connecting. Carmichael grabbed at the man again but he slipped out of his grasp and started to run. He ran after him, leaping and landing on the man’s back and they were down again. Carmichael made the most of his advantage and pulled the man’s balaclava from his head. He recognised the dark grey hair immediately.

  Benold.

  Carmichael turned him over to confirm facial recognition.

  ‘Why are you burgling your own house?’

  Benold didn’t answer and instead threw a punch that connected with Carmichael’s left cheek, toppling him off. Benold clambered up again and headed for the stairs. Carmichael chased after him but Benold made it down first and ran into the lounge. Carmichael leapt down the last three stairs and charged into the lounge after him. He didn’t see that Benold had stepped in behind the door but he felt the pain of a table lamp smashing down on the back of his head and then everything went black as he crashed to the floor yet again.

  32

  Carmichael awoke to find himself in handcuffs for the second time in twenty-four hours. His head was spinning as he tried to control the feelings of nausea that accompanied the concussion he had sustained. He tried to remember what events had led to his collapse and eventually he recalled the struggle he had had with James Benold. He assumed that Benold must have hit him with a blunt object and then phoned the police claiming that the private investigator had broken into the house. That was all he needed following his questionable presence at the scene of Lauren Roper’s murder.

  ‘I can explain,’ he tried to say as he was led unceremoniously out of the Benold residence and placed onto the rear seat of a waiting police car.

  He fervently searched for a familiar face he could talk to, and explain why he was there and what he had witnessed Benold doing. He was still looking out of the window when a stretcher was wheeled through the front door. There was a large white sheet covering the lifeless body beneath it. He felt confused. Was it possible that Benold had keeled over after he had clobbered him?

  Then a second thought struck him.

  Frankie.

  The stretcher was pushed along by two paramedics in uniform and was followed by D.C.I. Mercure. She had a solemn look on her face that told him all he needed to know. Frankie was dead and they had their prime suspect in the back of the car.

  He watched as Mercure relayed instructions to her officers individually and then, eventually, told the officer in the front of the car to drive him to the station. He tried to make eye contact with her, but she refused to even look at him. She returned to the house as the officer started the engine and Carmichael watched in horror as she started talking to James Benold. He was no longer dressed in black, but was looking relaxed in a pair of chinos and a woollen jumper. He looked like he had been crying and he was limping slightly, probably the result of the beating Carmichael had inflicted. Mercure put her arm around him and the two meandered back inside.

  Oh shit, he thought.

  *

  Mercure arrived at the interview room an hour later. Carmichael had been read his rights but had declined the opportunity to have legal counsel present. He did this for two reasons: firstly, he had conducted enough interviews himself, when he had served, to know his rights and secondly, he couldn’t really afford to pay a solicitor without Frankie’s cheque anyway.

  ‘Can you tell me what you were doing at the home of James and Francesca Benold this morning?’ she asked, her tone firm and authoritative.

  ‘I was there to visit Frankie.’

  ‘You know Mrs Benold then?’

  ‘That’s right. She is one of my clients.’

  ‘I see, and what was the purpose of your visit?’

  ‘She owed me money, so I went round to ask her to write me a cheque.’

  ‘How long has she been your client?’

  ‘She hired me a few weeks ago to monitor her husband’s movements. She was convinced he was having an affair and she hired me to get photographic evidence of his infidelity.’

  ‘And did you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did you speak to Mrs Benold when you arrived at her home earlier today?’

  ‘No, I didn’t think she was there.’

  ‘I see. So you spoke to Mr Benold then?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So who let you into the house?’

  ‘The door was open when I got there.’

  ‘The door was open? So you just walked in unannounced? You have a habit of doing that, Mr Carmichael.’

  He could tell she was trying to bait him and he resolved not to rise to it.

  ‘When I arrived at the house, I thought it was suspicious that the front door was open. I could hear some crashing noises upstairs and suspected that a burglary was und
erway. I quietly moved up the stairs and found James Benold trashing his own bedroom.’

  ‘Can you explain what you mean by trashing?’

  ‘He was pulling drawers out and throwing them on the floor. He was also emptying his wife’s jewellery into a pillow case. I got the impression he was trying to make the room look like it had been burgled.’

  ‘Why would he do that?’

  ‘I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him?’

  ‘He is not here, Mr Carmichael. I’m asking you.’

  ‘I’ve no idea. Maybe he was trying to rip off his insurance company.’

  ‘What happened next?’

  ‘We scuffled a bit and then he smashed something over my head, knocking me unconscious.’

  ‘He knocked you unconscious upstairs?’

  ‘No, we were downstairs when that happened. After the scuffle, he ran downstairs and I chased him.’

  ‘You chased him?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I wanted to know what he was doing. His behaviour was very odd.’

  ‘Why did you scuffle with him?’

  ‘He attacked me so I defended myself.’

  ‘Do you know Mr Benold?’

  ‘I’ve had the displeasure of meeting him before, yes.’

  ‘So you don’t like him?’

  ‘You could put it that way. Let’s just say I’m not his number one fan.’

  ‘So you fought with him?’

  ‘When I caught him in the bedroom I told him I was going to phone you lot and he tried to run away. That’s when he attacked me.’

  ‘How tall would you say you are, Mr Carmichael?’

  ‘I don’t know…six foot two maybe?’

  ‘And you’re pretty well built, wouldn’t you say? You know how to handle yourself?’

  ‘That’s a fair assessment.’

  ‘So why would Mr Benold, who is both shorter and more slight than you, think he could beat you in a fight?’

  ‘You’d have to ask him that one, I’m afraid.’

  ‘What happened after you chased him downstairs?’

  ‘I saw him run into the living room so I followed and that’s when he smashed something on the back of my head.’

  ‘You went into the living room? You didn’t go anywhere else in the house?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘We found a muddy foot print in the dining room, matching your shoe make and size. How do you suppose that got there?’

  ‘Oh…well…I…’

  ‘Take your time, Mr Carmichael. It’s better to get your story right first time.’

  ‘When I entered the house I quickly scoured downstairs before I heard the crashing upstairs.’

  ‘I see, but you told me a moment ago that you only entered the house because you heard crashes coming from upstairs. If that was your motive for entering the property, why did you look around downstairs first of all? Surely, you would have headed straight upstairs if you suspected a burglary, particularly considering your background?’

  ‘I…ugh…I heard the noises but didn’t know what they were, so I looked around downstairs first to see if Frankie was about. When I couldn’t find her, I headed upstairs.’

  ‘And that’s exactly how it happened?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It’s just, I wouldn’t want you to change your mind later on and to correct your story.’

  He took some breaths: I won’t rise to it; that would make me look guilty.

  ‘That’s how it happened,’ he said evenly.

  ‘Okay, so just to recap the story in my mind, and for the purposes of the tape, you arrived at the Benold residence sometime before lunch?’

  ‘That’s right. When you released me this morning I went into town to buy some new clothes, headed to my office, found it had been burgled and that the Benold case file, including a cheque, had been taken. I suspected Mr Benold was responsible so I drove to his house to ask Frankie to write me a new cheque…’

  ‘You suspected Mr Benold of breaking into your office,’ she interrupted.

  ‘Yes, that’s right, and…’

  ‘That must have angered you?’

  ‘I was angry yes, but…’

  ‘What was your real reason for going to Mr Benold’s house, Mr Carmichael? You were angry when you left your office, you felt he was responsible, then, when you arrived the two of you had a fight. Do you see how that looks? Like you had gone there with the intention of confronting Mr Benold about a crime for which you had no evidence of his complicity.’

  ‘You’re very clever, D.C.I. Mercure. I can see what you are trying to make me say, but I assure you I only went to the house to get my money. The only reason we fought was because he attacked me first.’

  ‘But Mrs Benold wasn’t there?’

  ‘No she was not.’

  ‘When you entered the house, did you look in every room downstairs before you went upstairs?’

  ‘Yes…no…I don’t know…this concussion is making it difficult to remember things clearly. I went into the living room and connected dining room only. I didn’t go into the kitchen.’

  ‘What about the conservatory?’

  ‘There is a conservatory?’

  ‘Yes. It leads out past the kitchen.’

  ‘I didn’t know that. No I did not enter the conservatory. Why is that important?’

  ‘We found the body of Frankie Benold in the conservatory. She had been strangled with a cotton scarf. We are examining the murder weapon at the moment and we have located finger prints. These are being run through our database, so if there is anything you want to tell us, now would be a good time.’

  ‘I had nothing to do with her death. I didn’t even know for sure she was dead until you just confirmed it.’

  There was a knock on the interview room door and a young uniform walked in and whispered something into Mercure’s ear. She terminated the interview and said there was something she needed to deal with urgently. Carmichael was returned to his cell. He was beginning to worry what James Benold may have done whilst he had been unconscious.

  33

  ‘Mr Benold,’ I’m so pleased you could come down. How are you holding up?’ asked Mercure entering the private room.

  ‘It’s so hard,’ he replied in a strained voice. ‘I was speaking to her this morning before I went to the gym, and now…she’s dead.’

  ‘I appreciate this isn’t easy for you, but it would really aid our investigation into the suspicious nature of your wife’s death, if you could tell us what you witnessed?’

  ‘Sure, sure, I understand,’ he said, dabbing a tear from his eye. He had practiced this next bit several times already and knew just where to let his voice trail off for dramatic effect. He had concocted the plan as soon as Williams had taken the photographs of his wife shagging that P.I. She had agreed to take him back, for now, but it was on the understanding that he remain faithful to their marriage. It was a compromise he really didn’t want to make. Frankie had been a great catch but their lives had grown apart, and whilst financially they both benefited from the relationship, the truth was that both would be happier without the other. Well, that was his opinion anyway.

  Frankie just wouldn’t understand my desires, he had told himself as the plan to bump her off had formed in his mind and a scapegoat stepped into the limelight. He had discovered a darker side to his sexual appetite and the usual missionary position and occasional birthday-blowjob was not enough. He tended to seek out those women whom he thought would enjoy his array of toys and gadgets. After all, over half the population had read Fifty Shades of Grey so exploring sexual desire was no longer so taboo. There were several websites he’d secretly joined but watching videos was not as satisfying.

  Frankie just wouldn’t understand, he had reasoned. Sure, she would agree to a divorce, but then she would want half his money and he had spent a long time building his fortune, and didn’t feel she deserved a cut. After all, what had she contributed to his business success
? She had stayed home with the kids but he had been the one away, days on end, taking risks and driving the business forward. He had earned that money, so why should she have any?

  ‘I drove to the gym this morning at nine and spent the next couple of hours pounding the treadmill and exercise bike. I showered and then drove home. I thought something was odd when I pulled into my driveway and saw the front door wide open. My wife’s car was in the drive, which was odd as well as she was due to go to a yoga class with a friend at ten. I approached the door as quietly as I could and as I entered I heard strange noises coming from upstairs. My gut told me we were being burgled. I am not a confrontational man, I confess, I was scared out of my mind and I decided to hide in the kitchen when I heard him coming down the stairs. It was…’

  ‘Go on, Mr Benold, you’re doing well.’

  He took a deep breath and with his eyes scrunched up, as if he was trying to prevent himself from bursting into tears, he said, ‘It was then that I saw her body lying on the floor in the conservatory. She wasn’t moving and her eyes were wide open, so I knew that she was dead.’

  ‘What happened next?’

  ‘I must confess, something snapped in me, I was overcome by an animalistic force. I told myself that I wasn’t going to let this intruder get away with it. I heard him walk down the stairs and head towards my living room. I crept in there after him and with his back turned, I smashed a table lamp over his head. You cannot imagine the relief when he fell to the floor in front of me. I was petrified that the table lamp would do little damage and he would turn on me, but I guess I got lucky.’

  ‘Did you recognise the man you hit?’

  ‘Yes I did. He is a private investigator.’