Green burst out laughing, ‘How the bloody hell would I know? I couldn’t even tell you where I was that night. Are you for real?’
‘I know you know something, Tony. You were cagey when I met you the other day, like you were worried about letting something slip. What is it? He’s dead now, why do you continue to protect him?’
‘Do you have children, Carmichael?’
He shook his head.
‘Well what you will never understand is that parents will do anything to protect their young. He’s my son! I would do anything to protect him!’
‘Including lying? He destroyed that young woman’s life!’
‘You have no proof he did it.’
‘Maybe not, but I know.’
‘And how does that feel? Knowing something that nobody else will believe? I bet it’s eating you up inside.’
Green lit a cigarette and exhaled in Carmichael’s face.
‘Why did you pay Carl to warn me off if your son is totally innocent? You are fucking hiding something!’
‘Keep your voice down! I don’t want you dragging my son’s name through the dirt. I slipped Carl fifty quid to frighten you off. Waste of fucking money that was!’
‘Did you pay him to kill my client too?’
‘You are off your rocker, you know that?’
‘It’s just such a coincidence that she was killed shortly after I paid you a visit on Thursday morning.’
‘I’d heard they’d arrested someone for that crime already. In fact, there was a rumour it was a private investigator, like you. Was it you, Mr Carmichael?’
He didn’t want to stitch Mercure up so he ignored the question.
‘Why would I kill my client? Don’t try and shift the blame.’
‘Well why would I pay someone to bump her off? My son was innocent so I have no motive either.’
Carmichael was growing bored of the conversation. He wondered whether driving Green out to the spot in the New Forest would help change his mind, but he thought better of it. Carl was a lowlife who wouldn’t report the threat to his life; Green was different.
‘I will find out,’ Carmichael warned as he made his way to the front door, ‘and when I do, I will drag you down with your evil rapist son!’
‘Grandad?’ said a young voice.
A girl’s face appeared at the foot of the stairs.
‘It’s okay, sweetie,’ the old man pacified. ‘Go and watch telly upstairs again and grandad will be up in a bit.’
The girl eyed Carmichael cautiously. ‘Why were you shouting?’ she asked.
‘It’s okay, sweetie, we weren’t shouting. The man is just leaving. I’ll show him out and be up.’
The girl headed back from where she had appeared. Carmichael was confused.
‘I didn’t think Nathan had any children?’
‘He didn’t. She’s Matthew’s daughter.’
‘Matthew? Your son Matthew? But I thought he was in Scotland?’
‘No, they moved back last Christmas.’
A connection fired in Carmichael’s mind, and it felt like suddenly everything had slotted into place.
‘The man I saw on the doorstep the other day? That was him?’
‘Yeah, why? What of it?’
‘Where is he? Why are you watching his daughter?’
‘He’s not here.’
‘Where is he?’
‘None of your fucking business. Leave him alone! He’s got nothing to do with this.’
‘I’ll be back, Tony; you hear me?’
He slammed the door behind him for effect and jogged back to the car. He climbed in and tried to remember back to Thursday morning’s encounter. The man he had bumped into on the doorstep had reminded him of the picture of Nathan Green that Lauren had had in her possession. His hair colour was darker than his younger brother, but those eyes. It was the eyes that made them resemble one another. When he had looked up Nathan’s relatives, he had dismissed Matthew Green out of hand simply because he lived in Edinburgh. But now that he was back…
He started the engine and drove straight back to his office.
What if Nathan had been innocent after all? What if he had taken the fall for his big brother? It would explain why Tony had warned him off: if the police learned that Matthew was in fact responsible, Tony would have to watch a second son get locked up.
He had butterflies in his stomach as he drove. If he were the original rapist, Matthew Green would have every reason to want to silence the daughter of his previous prey. It fitted so perfectly, but it was too soon to pass over to Mercure. At the moment, it was pure hunch; he needed to generate some hard evidence first.
38
There was no sign of Melissa as he strode back into his office. She had done a good job of getting the place back to a respectable state. He had stopped off at an electrical store on his way back and picked up a new monitor for his PC. He had had to apply for a store card to get it, but after a quick credit check had been performed, he had what he needed. He removed the screen from its box, plugged it in and loaded up an internet search engine. He typed in Matthew Green’s name and reviewed the initial hits that showed. He studied the handful of photographs that appeared and it was easy to see how the two brothers could have been mistaken for one another. Despite the three and a half year age gap, Matthew Green was almost a double of his brother. If he hadn’t known there was an age gap, he would have thought they were twins.
A thought struck him: if the two looked so similar when they were younger, why was Matthew Green never considered as a suspect for the crimes his brother was sentenced for? He decided to phone an old friend.
P.C. Alex Young now worked in the records department in the Southampton Police Headquarters building in Millbrook. Since the Grimmy-incident, he had called on Young on occasions when he needed a background check performed on a target. It was always done off the record, but he found it helped to know if one of the philandering husbands had a criminal history, particularly if it was violent.
‘Hello?’ Young said when he answered the phone.
‘Alex, it’s Johnson Carmichael. You at work?’
‘Johnson, you can’t call me here. I’ve told you that before. If my Sergeant found out I’d been helping you…I’d probably be banged up myself!’
‘No-one will find out, Alex. I wouldn’t say anything and I know you wouldn’t, so it’s okay.’
‘I could be put on report for even answering my mobile while at work. Don’t you get it?’
‘Listen,’ Carmichael persisted, ‘I’ll be quick. I need you to dig out the original case notes of the Nathan Green investigation.’
‘Are you joking? Do you know how big that file is?’
‘I need to look through it. I want to understand why his brother Matthew was never considered as a possible suspect.’
‘You don’t want much then,’ Young replied sarcastically. ‘Look, the file is too big for me to sneak out. When do you need it?’
‘As soon as possible, Alex.’
‘You’ll need to come in and look at it,’ he whispered in case anyone was listening. ‘The station is pretty quiet at the moment, can you get down here now?’
‘I’m on my way,’ he confirmed before hanging up the line.
*
Carmichael parked in the car park at Southampton Central train station and jogged the five minute journey to the Police Headquarters building. He knew D.C.I. Mercure would be lurking nearby and it was a huge risk to come down, even if his motives were pure. Young had told him to come to the front desk and ask for him by name. However, he must have changed the plan as he was waiting in the reception area when Carmichael walked in.
‘I overheard Mercure telling the counter staff to buzz her as soon as you announced you were here,’ Young whispered, as he waved his warrant card at the officer behind the glass and he let them through. ‘She reckons you’ve knocked off a client you were banging. Tut-tut, Johnson.’
‘You think she really believes tha
t?’
‘To be honest if she did, you’d be shackled in custody by now. We’d better keep our heads down nevertheless.’
‘Who did you tell the guy at the desk I was?’
‘I told him you were from the Sapphire Cold Case Team and that I was to take you straight up to Mercure.’
‘Won’t he say anything?’
‘Doubtful. He’s due to knock off at any minute and he’ll have forgotten all about it by the time he gets home.’
‘Look, I really appreciate what you’re doing for me, Alex.’
‘Yeah? Well it’s the last time. Clear?’
Carmichael nodded.
‘You should know I’m only doing this as I want to see justice served. If you are close to catching a rapist, then you deserve our help.’
Young led him through to a small interview room, used for taking witness statements. The room contained two large, overflowing paper folders crammed with bits of paper and plastic sleeves.
‘I see what you meant about not being able to sneak it out.’
‘You’ve got ten minutes with it, Johnson. I’ll hang about outside to make sure you’re not disturbed but I will need to get it back when the shift changes over. Do you understand?’
He nodded.
‘And Johnson, don’t even think about taking anything from those files with you.’
He made a hurt face, but Young wasn’t buying it.
‘Okay, okay,’ he eventually said.
Young closed the door behind him as he left. Carmichael had no idea where to begin. The case file was made up of paper copies of every statement, photograph and evidential report completed in the days leading up to and following the arrest of Nathan Green. Unfortunately, owing to the nature of how evidence is collated, the file was not in chronological order. He flipped open the folder marked as ‘One’ first of all and was presented with the mug shot of Green. This was followed by a fact sheet listing his vital statistics, known address and associates. He skim read the information but none of it was anything new. He removed his wrist watch and placed it on the desk in front of him so he could keep track of when Young would return.
He flipped through the pages, skim reading headings. He eventually fell upon the witness statement provided by the barman who had seen Green harassing Patricia Tropaz on the night of her death. The man he described in his first statement was not overly detailed. Average height, white, aged between twenty-two and twenty-six, strawberry blonde hair. Carmichael remembered back to photos of Matthew and Nathan he had seen at their father’s house; there hadn’t been much difference between them at a young age. Surely, it was possible that the barman had identified the wrong brother?
Possible but not concrete.
The second statement by the barman, described the man in the photograph that had been slyly taken. The man in the photograph was clearly Nathan Green, but it didn’t mean he was the one who had hassled Patricia Tropaz. So far, in the file, there had been no mention of Green’s relatives. He reached the last page and then opened the second folder. This one started with forensics photographs taken at Patricia Tropaz’s flat, including the infamous bloody thumbprint on the tap. It was this questionable evidence that had ultimately led to Green’s conviction and that there was no way the thumbprint belonged to anyone other than Green. However, what if Matthew had committed the act and then phoned his younger brother to come round and help clean up the mess? Would Nathan really have taken the fall for his brother? No matter how much he idolised him, it seemed unlikely.
Carmichael ploughed on but none of the reports made any reference to Matthew Green. It seemed as if once the police had found the bloody thumbprint, they stopped looking for other suspects and looked to link him to the other two crimes.
Young tapped on the door and opened it, saying, ‘Time’s up.’
‘Alex, come and listen to this: what if both brothers shared a penchant for attacking women? Call it some kind of psychological reaction to their mother passing away or something. They looked so similar back in the early nineties, what if they were both at it?’
‘And this is based on?’
‘Supposition: all great breakthroughs start with a hunch, don’t they? A gut feeling. I’m sure Nathan is not the only Green involved in this. That’s why their father warned me off. He doesn’t want the truth about his two evil sons to come out.’
‘What did the file say about your suspect?’
‘Nothing, but it looks like he was never even considered as a suspect. What if this is one of the world’s greatest miscarriages of justice?’
‘I think you’re clutching at straws, my friend.’
‘Can you do me one more favour?’ he asked.
‘No…what is it?’
‘Can you review any unsolved reported sexual assaults between nineteen eighty-eight and nineteen ninety-three? I want know if anyone described a similar attacker. If Matthew Green is involved in all this, maybe he continued after his little brother was sent down.’
‘Do you have any idea how long that will take?’
‘Do you have any idea how good you would look if you were able to solve several unresolved cases?’
Young looked unhappy but eventually relented, saying he would start in the morning. Carmichael wanted to review the two files again, in case he had missed something but he knew it had been a longshot to begin with. He thanked Young for his help and waited for his friend to return before allowing himself to be escorted from the premises. He checked his phone and saw that he had had a missed call from Melissa. He phoned her back.
‘A D.C.I. Mercure has been ringing your desk phone all afternoon. The last time she phoned, she was pretty insistent on knowing where you were. I told her I didn’t know so she told me to get hold of you and tell her where you are. She threatened to charge me with obstruction of justice, Johnson: you need to phone her!’
‘I will, I will. Don’t worry about her; she’s just trying to scare you. I’ll sort it.’
‘Have you had any luck with your other issue?’
‘My other issue?’
‘Who killed Frankie Benold?’
‘Not yet. If I could just get Benold alone, I know I could…’
‘So do it!’
‘Mercure warned me to stay away from him,’ he protested.
‘And when has that ever stopped you?’
He knew she was right. It was five o’clock already: he only had an hour to get back to Mercure.
39
James Benold sat at the bar, a bottle of wine in an ice bucket nearby. It was too early to start hitting on any potential candidates, but that wouldn’t stop him shooting admiring glances at any of the women who happened to walk by. He had set up a bar tab, as he was planning on eating here tonight. The Specials board said that the grilled lobster was exquisite. He poured a glass from the nicely chilled bottle and raised the glass upwards, offering a small toast to his recently deceased wife.
He couldn’t believe the weight that had been lifted from his shoulders. Suddenly there was no mortgage to pay, no responsibility, aside from the two boys, but boarding school would take care of them. He could happily go out and sew his seed with no repercussions. There was no longer anybody who could upset his cosy little life. All he needed to do was find someone who might be enticed into his darkest desires.
A tall woman with a shock of long auburn hair approached the bar and ordered a gin and tonic. She must have been in her early forties, judging by the way she held herself, but her face looked almost wrinkle-free. She was not usually what he went for, but a chill went down his spine when he imagined her bound up, begging him to fuck her. He made eye contact and she smiled coyly back at him. He lifted his glass to toast her and she blushed slightly as she glanced away.
Playing hard to get are you?
‘Good evening,’ he offered, as the barman placed her drink on the bar.
‘Good evening.’
‘Are you here alone tonight?’
‘I’m meeting someo
ne,’ she said. ‘You’re not Jones568, are you?’
Oh God, she’s a bloody internet-dater!
There was one thing he could not stand: women who signed up to internet dating sites, because they were too shy or boring, or a combination of the two, to strike up a conversation with a stranger in a bar.
‘Alas I’m not,’ he said, turning away slightly, suddenly bored of the pursuit.
‘Oh, well…have a nice night,’ she said, before moving away to find a table.
Stick to what you know, he told himself.
He was just reaching the end of his second glass when he saw her. Dressed in a floral mini dress, stilettos and her blonde hair in a ponytail. She must have been in early thirties and by the look of it, she was out with a chubby girlfriend. Just two girls out for a quiet drink, yet something about the way the blonde was dressed, suggested she wouldn’t be averse to a bit of fun. He called the barman over and asked him to send a bottle of rosé wine to their table, and to add it to his tab. He sat back and watched the barman carry a bucket and two glasses over to the table. He saw him whisper where the drinks had come from, and watched for their reaction. If they declined it, he knew he was out of luck.
The barman placed the bucket on their table and began to pour the wine into the glasses. Both women shot him glances. The chubby friend seemed wary, but the blonde smiled warmly and mouthed ‘thank you’ in his direction.
Jackpot!
The barman returned and told him that the two ladies wished to accept his wine, and wondered if he would care to join them at their table. He made his way over, placing his suit jacket over the chair closest to the blonde.
‘I’m James,’ he said, extending his hand.
‘I’m Audrey,’ the blonde replied, placing her hand in his. He lifted it and planted a small kiss on her knuckle.
‘Enchanté.’
She giggled coyly and invited him to sit. The chubby friend coughed awkwardly.
‘This is my friend Maggie.’
Trespass (P.I. Johnson Carmichael Series - Book 2) Page 23
