Death in Leamington

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Death in Leamington Page 24

by David Smith


  ‘Perhaps he knew something about why Nariman was going to be assassinated.’

  ‘Yes I think that’s more promising. We do really need to find out exactly what Nariman knew or did that would have caused someone to want to get rid of him.’

  ‘OK, I’ll get on to it again straight away, but I’m still confused about Miss Taylor. Do you want me to get the Sydney police to question her or not?’

  ‘No, we know where she is, and an international artist like her has fixed appointments for months to come. She hasn’t exactly been covering her tracks. For now, it looks to me like we should just work out what our next steps should be here. Although I’m intrigued to know how she knew that Troyte would be here this weekend, but let’s think about that more before we create an international incident.’

  ‘OK and I’m sure you know I’m dying to ask you this. How on earth did you know the combination to the safe?’ I asked, stroking his ego a little more. He laughed, but looked distinctly pleased to be asked.

  ‘Let’s say it was an informed guess – ‘a day that will live in infamy’. That’s the expression Miss Taylor used with me when I asked about the origin of her name, and it was on the note she left Eddie – it was originally said by Roosevelt to describe Pearl Harbor.’

  ‘Pearl Harbor?’

  ‘It was attacked by surprise by the Japanese fleet on December 7, Nineteen-Forty-One.’

  ‘So, 12, 7, 19, 41, that’s very clever.’ I said, realising that he had even got the American date system the right way round. He was truly a genius. I reminded myself that that was why I still wanted to work for him, despite all his foibles and predilection for unsuitable women.

  *

  In the autopsy room, Alice removed Troyte’s clothes and then rolled the body on to its side. She noticed and then pointed to a freshly tattooed scar that had been carved into the perineum below Troyte’ buttocks – three Greek letters – ΑΖΩ. She got on to the phone straight away to Hunter, who put the call on his speakerphone.

  ‘It’s the same mark as on both the rings,’ said Alice.

  ‘Are you absolutely sure, Alice, can you look closer?’ asked Hunter. In the autopsy room, Alice looked again at Troyte’s ring and compared the markings to the drawing in her notebook.

  *

  ‘As usual, you’re absolutely right; both rings are marked with APX, the architect’s fraternity. But this one is different, I’m afraid my Greek is not great, Sir.’ She described the shape of the letters to him over the phone.

  ‘Alpha, Zeta, Omega. Penny, can you look that up?’

  ‘Just give me a second.’ I turned on my iPad and put the new combination of letters into Google.

  ‘Alpha, Zeta, Omega, it’s a pharmaceutical fraternity,’ I read and then noticed the next sentence with excitement. ‘It is also known as the ‘Dead Men’s Club’, Sir.’

  Hunter turned to me and whispered, ‘What more does your magic machine say about this Dead Men’s Club?’

  ‘Nothing much, Sir, they just seem to be a bunch of pharmacists doing charity stuff. What do you think it means?’

  ‘At the moment it means we have a bit more than a practical joker on our hands – the Dead Men’s Club is becoming more apt by the minute.’

  ‘And Pearl Taylor started a pharmacy course didn’t she? So what are we going to do next, Sir?’ I asked.

  ‘Well what would you suggest, if you were me?’ he replied, but I was at a loss also.

  ‘Really, Sir, I’ve no idea. It’s a confusing picture with all these codes and secret societies. Maybe we’ll get something on the identity of the Tamils from Sri Lanka.’

  ‘Hopefully, but in the meantime we need to speak to this Rohit and let’s get back on to researching Sir William’s business interests. My guess is there is something there he doesn’t want us to know about, something that links him and Nariman and maybe even Troyte. Meanwhile, your fraternity research has given me another little idea. Stay here, I’m going to pay Sir William another visit but it’s probably best if you don’t come this time.’

  *

  The initial forensics report on the Browning proved interesting; the serial number was from a batch that was produced by the Ishapore Arms Factory for Indian Army service and that had been decommissioned several years earlier. They had also now confirmed that Winnie was killed by a massive overdose of Moban or Molindrone, a drug no longer approved in the UK for psychosis and one therefore that the nursing home had no access to. Interestingly also Moban is an anagram of No MAB.

  *

  Hunter was seated again in the library of No. 6 Clarendon Square.

  ‘Sir William, I wonder if you’d had any more thoughts about whether there are any business arrangements that may have triggered these events,’ he asked.

  ‘Inspector, you asked me that yesterday and my answer is unchanged. I really can’t think of anything.’

  ‘OK then this may seem a strange question, but have you ever had any dealings with US fraternities by any chance?’

  Sir William laughed. ‘Well that is a most surprising question, especially coming from a police officer. But no, of course not, those fraternities are really just like the Masons aren’t they? They’re silly games for middle managers?’

  Hunter told him about the murder of Nariman’s friend. Sir William responded quickly yet did not look completely surprised.

  ‘My God, another murder? In the circumstances I had completely forgotten about that gentleman, Inspector.’

  ‘Yes indeed, we all had to some extent. Nariman and Troyte obviously knew each other from way back, but the only real connection we can find is that they were once both architecture students at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor and belonged to the same fraternity. That’s why I asked about that aspect – I was wondering if there was anything there you could remember?’

  ‘Well again, Hunter, nothing that I am aware of.’

  ‘OK, thank you. Do you know anything else about their past, anything that linked them that might account for the fact that they have both been murdered?’

  Sir William hesitated slightly before speaking.

  ‘Well, yes, there is something, but it’s a long time ago and very personal. Apparently Arish got Nadia’s grandmother pregnant just before Troyte married her – there was some sort of three-way thing going on. The woman died in childbirth and Arish had the resultant child spirited away back to Sri Lanka and adopted her. That child, Nadia’s mother, also had Nadia out of wedlock, she is dead now too but I can’t believe that would have caused someone to want to murder either of them.’

  ‘I agree, but we should not rule anything out, Sir William. On another matter, do you by any chance keep any weapons in the house, any guns for example that might be missing?’

  ‘No, your officers have already asked, guns are my ex-wife’s department; I’m a rotten shot, I’ve never really been interested. I certainly don’t have any guns on the premises.’

  ‘One final question if I may, Sir William. Are any of your employees ex-military, UK, Canadian maybe, Singapore or Indian Army?’

  ‘Well I can’t say for certain, possibly, we recruit widely. Do you suspect an insider now? I thought you said these Tamils were terrorists?’

  ‘No suspicions yet, just checking all possibilities. Maybe I can get one of my officers to check over the personnel lists of your companies as a precaution.’

  ‘Well of course, but really Inspector, we need you to make some real progress here. You seem to be trawling about for ideas, all this secret society and secret code stuff. Do I need to speak to the chief constable to make sure you have the right resources?’

  Hunter looked at Sir William intensely. ‘There’s no need, I have the resources I need. The secret codes are certainly a puzzling element, but I think we are making good progress. By the way I hope the press have left you alone.’

  ‘You’re not a very political animal are you, Inspector Hunter?’

  ‘I’m just doing my job, Sir William, the best wa
y I know how. I leave the politics to smarter people like you.’

  ‘Yes, but you know if you solve this you’ll be up for chief inspector next. I could help that along, you know.’ Hunter looked at him, finding it hard to hide the look of disdain on his face. The bad taste was returning to his palate as he sensed the corruption in this man.

  ‘Really, Sir William, as I said I am just trying to do the right thing, that’s all.’

  ‘Well you don’t have long to sort all this out and you need to learn to watch your back Inspector, that’s my advice to you.’

  ‘Thank you, Sir William, I’ll remember that, but I think that’s all for now.’

  *

  In the study of No. 6, Sir William was on the phone to the chief constable immediately after Hunter left, demanding to know what they were doing to wrap up the case. Having heard the inspector’s comments about Troyte’s death, he was even more eager to make sure that nothing could possibly stick to him.

  After he had finished with the chief constable, Sir William called Khand again on his special mobile.

  ‘He’s on to something, something about ex-Indian Army personnel.’

  ‘OK let me handle this; I’ve got someone in his office who will let me know what’s going on.’

  ‘My God, you’ve got a spy on his team?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Later that morning Sir William left for London, intending to meet with friends who managed party business, to see if he could get them to calm down the noise around Whitehall that had been caused by DC Penny Dore’s persistent enquiries into his business affairs.

  *

  After his meeting with Sir William, Hunter decided to walk back to his flat, which was around a quarter of a mile away. Sir William’s guard had slipped; he had told him something very important in their meeting. Only his team knew about the secret codes, but Sir William had definitely used those words in addition to the secret societies that they had discussed. Hunter was worried; he was sure this was more than a coincidence. It meant that either Sir William was involved in the codes or he had a leak on his team. He needed to think about this one, he had been working pretty much non-stop over the last forty-eight hours and even he recognised the need for some downtime occasionally.

  On the way back to his flat, he stopped off at Kang’s corner store to pick up the local newspaper, a bottle of scotch and a ready meal that he could reheat in the microwave for dinner. As he walked past the Dell, he could hear voices in the playground below. After the storm of the previous night the air had cooled considerably. Kids probably, he could hear a guitar and a girl singing. He thought about walking through the park to see what was going on, but he was feeling very tired. He noticed the birdsong as he crossed the road toward his flat in Strathearn Road and the last flowers of summer in the window boxes of the large house on Beauchamp Hill. He did not notice the two men that ran up behind him and forced a crowbar down on his shoulder. At least not until it was far too late.

  *

  He woke half an hour later, bound, gagged, blindfolded and tied to a chair. He could sense others in the room, could hear murmurings in a language that he did not understand. He struggled to free himself to no avail.

  Suddenly the sacking was ripped from his head and his eyes were filled by a strong light source from across a table. He blinked and turned away from the brightness. He could now see the blurred shapes of three or four masked men in the room, all brandishing weapons of some sort. One of them lashed him across the face with a crude mace fitted with leather-thongs. He felt the blood running down his scalp onto his cheek. One of his arms throbbed like it was broken and each hand felt like it had been stamped on. He couldn’t register any feeling from his legs apart from a shooting pain in his right knee.

  ‘Now my friends, it’s so good of the great Detective Inspector Hunter to drop in on us at last,’ said a quiet voice, clearly well-educated and with a distinct Asian accent. Hunter could hear the voice and the distant sound of something that sounded like snooker balls clicking in the background, but couldn’t see anything beyond the strong light that shone directly into his face.

  ‘Who are you, what do you want?’ he murmured through the gag that was bound tightly around his face. His knee was really beginning to hurt him now; he thought that they might have broken his patella.

  ‘Oh don’t worry, Inspector. This is just a little fireside chat. We are good friends of the police, who just want to help you close this case quickly and painlessly.’

  ‘Like hell you do.’

  ‘Please, Inspector, we are on your side, and I am sure you understand what I mean by closing the case. You are making it far too complicated. You have your victims, you have your assailants, their motivations and in a short time you will be provided with the murder weapons and the rest of the evidence you need. As I said, it is really very simple and at the moment you are trying to make this all too complicated. It really isn’t. I think you know that and I hope you’ll see to it that it is wrapped up quickly.’

  ‘I’m not going to be intimidated and diverted by a bunch of thugs. How do you know all this anyway?’

  ‘Oh Inspector, I quite understand your point of view. But please think of this as a little guidance rather than intimidation. We are just trying to move you along a little in the right direction to the inevitable conclusion.’

  ‘Is that why my arm feels like it’s been broken and I can’t feel my legs properly?’

  ‘Oh yes I am sorry about that, some of my colleagues can get a bit carried away I’m afraid. Like you, they just want to do their job properly too. And I know of course that you yourself will bear any amount of pain, you are a proud and brave man, aren’t you?’

  ‘Don’t believe anything you do will stop me from pursuing these murders until the culprits are behind bars and that includes you lot, whoever you are.’

  ‘Inspector, I just ask you to consider this. Next time I’m afraid it won’t be you in that chair and none of us want to see what my friends here would do to such a pretty colleague of yours, do we?’ He pushed a photograph of Penny into Hunter’s line of sight.

  ‘You bastards! Who’s been feeding all this to you?’

  ‘We have very reliable sources, Inspector, impeccable. And by the way my parentage too is of the highest quality, but that is of no real consequence.’

  ‘What are you planning to do with me?’

  ‘Oh you can go now. I’m going to ask my friends to put that mask back on and dispose of you somewhere you won’t be found too quickly.’ He felt strong hands drag him away and received several more blows to his head and body before he passed out again.

  *

  When he woke for the second time he could smell earth, vegetation and something worse smeared around his head. It was cold and he sensed immediately from the damp air on his exposed skin that he was in the open. He could hear the sound of running water nearby. His eyes were still masked and he was gagged. He tried to call out but his voice was muffled completely by the gag. He wriggled his hands, which were tied behind his back. He could move them a little, and strained toward the pocket where he kept his cell phone, but it was just out of reach. His legs appeared to be tied to something so that he couldn’t move them at all. From the rough feel on his ankles it appeared to be the trunk of a tree.

  The pain was beginning to return all round his body, so much so that he thought he might faint. He struggled again but to no avail. He realised there was nothing much he could do for the moment but wait and he settled himself as comfortably as he could to wait for a long time if necessary, gritting his teeth against the pain. Surprisingly there was already another sound, the sound of panting and sniffing in the undergrowth. Some sort of large animal was searching through the vegetation nearby; he wondered if it was a fox. He heard a bark and then a yelp as the first animal was chased away by another, larger dog – the bark was a familiar sound he recognised only too well.

  ‘Come on Dan, come on, over here boy,’ he mumbled through th
e gag.

  *

  ‘Are you feeling any better, Sir?’ I asked as I sat alongside Detective Sergeant Jones at Hunter’s bedside in Warwick Hospital. It was nearly 10pm on Monday evening and Hunter had been patched up as well as possible.

  ‘What do you think, Penny? I’ve got a smashed patella, my arm is broken in two places, my fingers feel like they have been through a wringer and I’ve got 23 stitches around my body. It would be fair to say that I have felt better.’ I could hear the pain he must be feeling strained in his voice.

  ‘Yes Sir, I’m sorry for asking. Well at least with Dan finding you, you know there is a dog.’ That was a stupid thing to say I thought as soon as the words left my mouth.

  ‘A dog, you mean God? If I was sure of that, I wouldn’t have joined the police force, would I?’ He didn’t get the joke. This was probably the first time I had really seen him lose his cool. He was grimacing in pain but appeared to regret immediately talking to me quite so sharply; I was only trying to cheer him up after all. Hunter took a few minutes to describe his experiences, leaving out the bit about the threat to me as I found out later. He asked for all known snooker and billiard halls to be searched as soon as possible, given the noise that he had heard in the background during his interrogation.

  ‘OK, Jones, what progress are we actually making here?’ he snapped.

  ‘Well Sir, there’s been quite a lot going on but maybe not a whole lot of progress. Forensics came back to us on the black cab. Nothing at all, it’s as if it’s been wiped completely clean by someone. They confirm that the dent was most likely caused by a lamppost, not by an impact with a body. We had to release the taxi driver as we had nothing on him, the plates were not enough, and in any case the only linkage was that actress whose statement is not admissible because of the drugs we found in her. We are still keeping a watch on where he goes. And the murder weapons, Sir, they’ve confirmed that the sniper shot and the spent copper cartridge we found in the square were both .22 LR calibre, the same as Lady Mary’s missing rook rifle, the one that the kids found in the playground this morning. What’s more, the Browning Sir?’

 

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