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

by Stephen Edger

  ‘What else do you know about him?’

  Benold gave the impression he was choking back tears again.

  ‘My wife hired him to catch me having an affair,’ he said, lowering his head in apparent shame.

  ‘Had you been having an affair?’

  Benold nodded his head without looking her in the eye.

  ‘I am so ashamed,’ he added for good measure. ‘I had strayed and she had asked me for a divorce. I told her I was sorry and pleaded with her to give me a second chance. I vowed to her that I would never cheat again if she would take me back. It was then that she told me she had been having an affair with the private investigator as well.’

  Mercure was dumbfounded. ‘You’re telling me your wife was sleeping with Johnson Carmichael?’

  Benold nodded frantically, his eyes scrunched once more.

  ‘She told me everything on Thursday night and we talked into the early hours of the morning. We agreed that we had both been at fault, and that we should put the past behind us and move our marriage forward. But then yesterday…’

  ‘What happened yesterday?’

  ‘Yesterday morning, Carmichael turned up at our house with the photographs he had taken of me with…another woman. He said he would publish them on the internet if I didn’t pay him fifty thousand pounds to keep quiet. I was shocked with how much of a low-life he was. My wife didn’t want to pay him but my business could not afford the scandal. Can you imagine if compromising pictures of the C.E.O. leaked out? Our best clients would leave in a flash. I told her that we would have to find the money to pay him.’

  Benold wiped his eyes.

  ‘I told him I would get the money to him on Monday morning, but I guess he was impatient for it and came to our house this morning to find it himself. I guess Frankie must have disturbed him or something…’

  ‘Mr Benold, you have been very brave in coming down here today. One of my officers will type this statement up and ask you to review and sign it for us. Then, somebody will take you to the mortuary to make a positive identification of your wife, if you feel up to it.’

  Benold nodded and thanked Mercure for being so understanding about his desperate situation. It was fortunate that the bruises from his earlier scuffle were hidden by his clothing.

  *

  ‘You neglected to mention you have been sleeping with your client,’ Mercure said as the interview with Carmichael recommenced.

  ‘An affair? Who told you that?’

  ‘Is it true?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘I see, so if we asked the forensics team to undertake an assessment of the victim, they wouldn’t find any trace of your semen?’

  Carmichael felt like his world was crumbling before his eyes.

  ‘Look,’ he said pointedly. ‘I had a one night stand with her the other night. I’m not proud of what happened but we were both a bit drunk and she seduced me.’

  ‘Oh very chivalrous!’

  ‘It’s true! I woke up at her house yesterday morning and some bloke working for Benold was there taking my photograph.’

  ‘How convenient.’

  ‘It’s true! His name was…Williams! Tim Williams. Find him and check the time stamp on the photographs; that will confirm I’m telling the truth.’

  ‘No it won’t. All it will confirm is that you slept with her on Thursday night. Incidentally, James Benold has just signed a statement that he and his wife were together on Thursday night and talked until early morning. He made no mention of you sleeping with his wife in between.’

  ‘He’s lying! Can’t you see that? He’s covering his back. I expect he was the one who killed Frankie and now he is trying to make it look like I did it!’

  ‘And why would he do that?’

  ‘He hates me for proving that he was cheating on her!’

  ‘Or maybe it’s because you have been cuckolding him for the last three months?’

  ‘Three months? Are you kidding? I only met Frankie Benold for the first time last month! You need to get your facts straight!’

  ‘Do I? Or maybe you need to get your story straight. It’s your word against his, Carmichael, and his case is a lot stronger than yours. This is the second time you have been before me in a day. I was willing to accept that you had been unlucky to be found in the home of Lauren Roper, but to be found in the home of a second murder victim, well, lightning doesn’t strike twice. On the other hand, Mr Benold is a respected businessman who has no motive for lying to us.’

  ‘He did it!’ Carmichael shouted, slamming his hand down on the edge of the desk. The bang echoed around the room. ‘He is covering his tracks. I swear to you, I caught him trashing his house; I didn’t know he had killed her first.’

  Carmichael waited for some acknowledgement but in that second of silence, a moment of clarity presented itself.

  ‘Benold is a sick little man who gets his kicks by dominating women. I have photographs of him whipping one of his conquests with a belt. He has admitted to me that he watches sadomasochism online. He is a pervert! I know he killed his wife and the more I think about it, he is a strong suspect for the murder of Lauren Roper too.’

  ‘Oh please!’ Mercure exclaimed.

  ‘Don’t dismiss it out of hand…he saw her…Lauren, I mean…yesterday at my office. Ask my secretary; he made a comment about her being needy or something…that’s who he targets: vulnerable women.’

  ‘Why didn’t you mention his name when we interviewed you this morning?’ Davies chipped in.

  ‘I knew he was a pervert but I didn’t have him down as a killer…but now…now that I know he killed Frankie, I realise he could have killed Lauren too. It makes perfect sense!’

  ‘It may do to you, but it sounds farfetched to me.’

  ‘It’s him! Let’s say he followed Lauren home from my office, maybe he even offered to give her a lift…they get talking; he spins her his usual smarmy lines and she invites him in…before you know it, she is tied up and he is…well, you saw the body…check his internet history if you don’t believe me.’

  ‘The thing is, Carmichael, I don’t believe you,’ she replied.

  ‘Well I guess that leaves us at a bit of a standoff, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Not quite,’ she said leaving the statement hanging whilst she produced a folder. ‘This isn’t the first time your reputation has been called into question, is it?’

  ‘I explained last night to you this morning.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not talking about the Roper case, Mr Carmichael.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Before you resigned from the Metropolitan Police, you were accused of taking matters into your own hands, weren’t you?’

  ‘Not this again,’ he sighed.

  ‘Janus Stratovsky’s body was found in a burnt out taxi cab, wasn’t it?’

  He didn’t answer so she continued, ‘The man who was convicted of the murder has just been released on appeal; did you know that?’

  ‘It has been brought to my attention, yes.’

  ‘I was contacted by the Met’s Sapphire Cold Case team this morning to advise they are re-opening the investigation and would be coming onto our patch to speak to you. It was a courtesy call, but I told them we would not stand in their way. So it appears you are now in the frame for three vicious crimes. Why not do us all a favour and just come clean. The courts will reflect better on you, you know?’

  ‘How many times do I have to repeat myself? I did not kill Lauren Roper, I did not kill Frankie Benold and I did not kill Janus Stratovsky! There is no concrete evidence linking me to any of the crimes, so you need to look elsewhere!’

  ‘Elsewhere? Like Stan Pensa? You mentioned his name this morning as a possible culprit for Lauren Roper’s death.’

  ‘Yeah, I did. Have you tracked him down yet?’

  ‘In a manner of words, yes we did.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And…Stan Pensa has been dead for the past two years. It’s true he was a former cell mate of Nathan Green, b
ut he died of terminal cancer while incarcerated.’

  Carmichael was speechless.

  ‘You really need to do better research,’ she continued. ‘Next time you try and dig up an alternative suspect for one of your crimes, you should check that they are at least alive.’

  ‘That’s impossible! A man approached me yesterday lunchtime in The King’s Arms in Eastleigh and warned me away from the Green family. He identified himself as Stan Pensa. I’m not making this shit up!’

  ‘Did he show you any identification? A driver’s licence maybe? Anything to confirm his name?’

  ‘Well, no, but…’

  ‘Can anyone corroborate that you were at the pub with this mystery man yesterday?’

  ‘No, I don’t…if you showed my picture to the barman; he might be able to confirm I was there. I can’t believe this is happening!’

  ‘It might be an idea to call your solicitor at this point, Mr Carmichael as the evidence is stacking up against you.’

  ‘I’ll level with you, D.C.I. Mercure,’ he eventually said. ‘Things do seem to be stacking up against me, and you’re probably pretty pleased with how the case against me is progressing; lots of loose ends neatly tied up. Heck, it’s an open and shut case, right? But doesn’t that strike you as a little odd?’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘When I passed the detectives’ board, the first thing I was told was to trust my instinct. If something didn’t seem quite right, inevitably it wasn’t. Does this sit right with you? I know my way around a crime scene. Would I really be stupid enough to allow myself to get caught in not one, but two different crime scenes? The only reason you lot were called to Lauren’s flat yesterday was because of an anonymous phone call. Have you considered who made that call or where it originated? Am I really stupid enough to set myself up to take the fall?’

  ‘Not stupid, but calculating enough. The anonymous phone call gives us reason to doubt your guilt, and you’re probably smart enough to think of that.’

  ‘Seriously? That’s what you think? Have your forensics team found a single trace of Lauren’s blood on my clothes yet?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And have any of the fibres from my clothes been found in the vicinity of the body?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Have you checked the CCTV footage at the Winchester library yet?’

  ‘Not yet, but we’ll be looking at that in the next few hours.’

  ‘I swear to you, Mercure, you’ve got the wrong man.’

  ‘Okay, Carmichael, now it’s my turn to be honest with you,’ she said, turning the cassette recorder off. ‘I already have enough evidence to continue investigating you for Frankie Benold’s murder and I have enough suspicions to extend that investigation to include the murder of Lauren Roper. That said, I will admit that the evidence is a bit too convenient for my tastes.’

  ‘Thank God,’ he sighed.

  ‘Don’t get ahead of yourself. Just because it doesn’t sit right, doesn’t mean that it isn’t. I am going to give you a break.’

  ‘You are? Wait, what kind of a break?’

  ‘It is now four p.m. on Saturday. You’re the Private Detective; you have until six p.m. tomorrow night to bring me a list of suspects for the crimes you are accused of.’

  ‘That’s not enough…’

  ‘Before you argue with me,’ she interrupted. ‘I would be well within my rights to charge you for both crimes right now and hold you over until a bail hearing can be set on Monday morning. I still believe that you know who killed Lauren Roper and, if you are half as good as you think you are, you will be able to find the killer. I’m giving you until six p.m. tomorrow night. I will expect to see you back here at that time or I will sanction a warrant for your arrest. I am taking a massive risk with you here; don’t you dare make me regret trusting you.’

  Carmichael couldn’t believe what she was saying but embraced the opportunity that was being presented to him.

  ‘Okay,’ he said, standing. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  ‘One more thing,’ she added, opening the door for him, ‘If I hear that you have been harassing James Benold, I’ll have you straight back in here. Do you understand?’

  ‘But…’ he began but stopped when he saw her glare. ‘Yeah,’ he grunted reluctantly, walking down the corridor.

  ‘Watch him,’ Mercure whispered as Davies slipped out of the room. ‘I don’t want the shit to hit the fan if my hunch goes wrong.’

  ‘Understood, Guv,’ said Davies following Carmichael.

  34

  Carmichael could not believe he was breathing fresh, if not rather bitter, air. Twenty minutes earlier he had thought he would be locked up for the rest of his life. He was relieved and surprised that Mercure had suggested releasing him. It went against all police protocol and procedure and he knew she was taking a massive risk in allowing it. That said, it was the opportunity that he needed. In the back of his mind he was wondering whether now would be a good time to cash in his assets and take that extended vacation he had been promising himself. Now seemed as good a time as any to go, but it wasn’t really a serious consideration. He was a man of principle, a fighter, not someone who ran away when the going got tough. Twenty-six hours wasn’t a lot of time, particularly considering how tired he felt after the stress of the previous twenty-four. But this was an once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to prove his innocence.

  The Sapphire Cold Case Unit hadn’t been in touch yet, and that would just have to simply be something he dealt with when it occurred. It was the weekend now, so they were unlikely to speak to him before Monday, at which point he would have either cleared his name, or be locked up pending bail.

  He knew what he needed to do but had no idea where to start. Whilst Benold seemed as likely a suspect for both murders, he didn’t fit as the man who attacked Beth all those years ago. And who was the man claiming to be Stan Pensa? He could have chosen any alias, but why did he choose that particular one? Who had sent him? If he hadn’t been Nathan Green’s long-lost cell mate, did he even know the family? It was all so confusing!

  He decided to head back to The King’s Arms first and ask the locals if they knew who the man had been. All he needed to do was get from the centre of Southampton, where he was presently, across to Eastleigh. His car had yet to be released and now Melissa’s car had also now been taken in for examination.

  Oh God, Melissa, he thought.

  He hadn’t spoken to her since banging on the door that morning. He had taken, and now lost, her car and hadn’t checked in with her. He fished his mobile out of a pocket but the battery was dead.

  Damn it!

  He needed a pay phone fast and the only place he knew he could find one was the train station. It took him five minutes to walk there and he was relieved to find it still functioning. He slotted some change into it and punched in Melissa’s phone number. She answered it on the third ring.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Melissa, it’s Johnson. How are you?’

  ‘Jesus Christ! Where the hell have you been? It’s been all over the news that Frankie Benold’s body was found by police earlier this afternoon and that a suspect is being held. I’ve been ringing your phone for hours. What the hell?’

  ‘I know about Frankie. I’m the one they’ve been holding.’

  ‘Jesus Christ, Johnson! What did you do?’

  ‘Nothing, nothing, it wasn’t me. Look, it’s a long story and I don’t have the time to go into it now. I need your help.’

  ‘Shouldn’t you be using your one phone call to contact a solicitor? Or do you need me to find you one?’

  ‘No, no. Look, they’ve released me temporarily, but it’s on the condition I return to the station tomorrow night with the name of the person who killed Lauren Roper.’

  ‘What? You mean you know who it is?’

  ‘No, not yet, but the detective in charge reckons I can solve it in a day.’

  ‘What the…’

  ‘Look, I haven’t got time to discuss
this, Melissa. I need you to look up Lauren Roper’s biological father. His name is Darren Watkins, and he was in Southampton the year Lauren was conceived so I need you to check around nineteen eighty five and track him back to today. His name was on the birth certificate and, given how young Beth Roper was when Lauren was born, my guess was he was somebody she knew from school, maybe a year or two older.’

  ‘Okay. I saw that name on a note you left for me on my desk.’

  ‘You’ve been to the office then?’

  ‘Yeah. I had nothing better to do so I tidied it up. You know the Benold case file is missing don’t you?’

  ‘Yeah, and the cheque for the fee.’

  ‘Oh no, I cashed that yesterday morning. That’s safely away.’

  ‘You’re kidding, right?’

  ‘No, I always do the banking on Friday morning. I found the cheque on your desk and assumed you wanted it banking. Sorry, did I do wrong?’

  He would have hugged her at that moment if she had been nearby.

  ‘No, no, you did nothing wrong. You’re my little saviour!’

  ‘Phew. Okay, I’ll try and locate this mystery man for you. Where can I reach you if the battery is dead?’

  ‘You can’t; I’ll phone you back in an hour or so and see what progress you’ve made.’

  ‘I will be putting in a claim for overtime this week you understand?’

  He laughed, ‘I’ll give you a massive bonus if you help me clear up this mess, Melissa, I promise you.’

  He heard three short beeps in his ear and the line went dead.

  *

  The train to Eastleigh was pretty quiet, thankfully. He was able to get a seat away from anybody else and just relax. He realised the best place for him to put the various jigsaw pieces back together in his head was his trusty chair. He promised himself that he would nip back to the office once he had spoken to the barman at The King’s Arms. The walk from the train station to the industrial estate took longer than catching the bus, but his lack of funds meant it was his only option.

  The pub was noisy when he arrived. The Southampton football team weren’t due to play their weekend fixture until the following afternoon, but eager football fans were gathered around the pub’s large screen television watching the BBC’s Final Score programme for the afternoon’s match results, with pint glasses in hand. There were two men working behind the bar and Carmichael recognised one of them from the previous lunchtime.