by C. D. Neill
“How trustworthy is this Kathleen?”
The question surprised Hammond. He responded as such, wondering what relevance Kathleen’s character had to do with Lloyd Harris’s forwarded investigation.
“Admittedly, I am not an expert on knowing how a woman’s mind works. However, it sounds like she is using her charms to get what she wants.”
“Which is?”
“To stop your investigation.”
Hammond sucked the juice out of his Satsuma segment and then chewed the pith slowly. He remarked that Kathleen had wanted him to stop the investigation because she knew it would be a waste of his time.
“Qui Bono?”
“What are you talking about?” Hammond was starting to think Edwards was being deliberately annoying.
“Who benefits, from the investigation being stopped?”
“Me, obviously.”
“So she asked you to stop your own investigation simply because she cares that an officer (whom she hasn’t had any contact with for several years) might be wasting his time?” Edwards scoffed and squashed his can with both hands.
“She asked me to stop because she knew it was a waste of time, and perhaps she didn’t want her Father to be humiliated.”
“Her father has Alzheimer’s. Would he know if he was being humiliated? Maybe now he would, but later, he won’t remember. What I don’t understand is what makes a man who knows he will soon lose his mental faculties call an ex-colleague for help with a case? Why now?”
Hammond didn’t reply, he was wondering what Edwards was thinking and wished he would just come out and say it.
“Why now?” Edwards repeated and then answered his own question. “He calls you because he knows he won’t be fit enough to continue the investigation himself. He trusts you to do as he asks, out of respect for a man who spent his whole career seeking truth. Harris hasn’t forgotten his vocation despite his illness. That should at least tell you that it is worth trusting his instinct to investigate, like he trusted you to carry out his wishes.”
Hammond listened to Tom Edwards. Begrudgingly, he admitted that his companion was making sense. He was surprised by Edward’s almost compassionate support for Harris whom he had never met. His thoughts were interrupted when his mobile phone rang, he held up a finger to indicate to Edwards to wait whilst he wrote down the address and information Dunn was giving him from the office. After several minutes, Hammond finished scribbling in his notebook, thanked Dunn and ended the call.
“We have an address. He lives in Sandgate.” The car left its parking space in the lay-by and headed westerly towards Adam Schaffer’s house.
Adam Schaffer had no objection in telling the two officers at his door exactly what he had thought of Graham Roberts. He described the man in the picture Edwards showed him as a “freak” finishing his sentence by spitting on the portrait, narrowly missing Edwards hand who scowled in disgust. Hammond was interested in knowing why. Schaffer looked at Hammond and evaded the question.
“I’ve just realised why you are working for the pigs, it’s ‘cos your name’s Hammond...get it?” He revelled in his own joke, tossing his head back with an open mouth, displaying several silver fillings in his upper teeth. His breath smelt strongly of liquor. Hammond made an attempt to smile and repeated his question. He was cold standing in Schaffer’s porch, but it was obvious the man had no intention of letting them in the house. The way Edwards was wrinkling his nose suggested it was preferable to have fresh air around him.
“Because that man was a pervert that’s why.”
Schaffer spoke loudly as he answered. Edwards asked him to elaborate, the man in the doorway obliged but answered his question looking at Hammond. “He used to hide in the bushes and watch people whilst having it away with himself.” He waited for his audience to take the bait and ask for details but instead Hammond just stood silently, his notebook in his hand whilst Edwards made an attempt to keep his hands warm by rubbing them together.
“I used to work for the council. I was near the library, picking up litter, that sort of thing and THAT freak is there with his ...”
Hammond interrupted, he wanted Schaffer to stick to the facts. “You saw him masturbating?”
The younger man nodded and spat again, this time aiming towards Edwards feet.
“Did you confront him?”
“Yeah, I told him to get the hell away from me.”
“But you saw him since that time?”
“Yeah, but he avoided me. I warned them other boys though, the ones at Saltwood that you talked about. I told them to stay out of his way.”
Hammond noted this, he wondered why Samuel Lawson hadn’t mentioned this earlier. Edwards spoke up. “Did you report Roberts?”
Schaffer admitted he had tried but hadn’t been believed.
“You reported it to the Police?”
Schaffer shook his head and groped around in his trouser pocket before withdrawing a packet of cigarettes. He offered the open box to the officers. They both declined the offer and waited patiently whilst the cigarette was lit and Schaffer took a long drag. He exhaled the smoke into the air and watched it disappear. Then he turned back to Hammond. “No. I went into the council offices next to the Library. No offence boys, but I try to keep away from the pigs as much as possible.”
Edwards smiled at this last comment, as if to say the feeling was mutual.
“Graham Roberts was found dead in Saltwood Woods earlier this week. Where were you between Sunday and Monday morning?”
Schaffer laughed again causing Edwards to grimace with distaste at the smell that bellowed in his direction.
“I didn’t kill him, if that is what you are thinking although I hate perverts. I can prove where I was though, if you want to waste your time checking it up. I was at my Mum’s in Seabrook. I stayed there all weekend and returned home on Monday evening.”
Hammond thanked Schaffer for his co-operation. Schaffer responded by slamming the door closed.
Detective Sergeant Lois Dunn was waiting with Galvin in the briefing room; she offered Hammond and Edwards’s coffee as they walked into the room. Edwards accepted the drink gratefully wrapping his fingers around the mug and savouring the warmth. Hammond declined the coffee, preferring to get the meeting started. The four investigators compared notes on their morning’s activities. Galvin had succeeded in interviewing the neighbours and tracing family members of Roberts. Dunn had completed a background search on their victim on the computer. Neither party had found anything to suggest Roberts was antisocial. He had been employed by the Council’s environmental services for the last twenty years and had been described by his employer as being a valued and trustworthy employee. The neighbours had also had a good opinion of him. Family members had been traced. Roberts had a sister Eleanor whom he hadn’t seen since she moved to The Lake District twelve years ago with her family. She was saddened by her brother’s death but refused to travel to Kent to formally identify her brother’s body, although the dental records and fingerprints were enough. The parents had died within the last five years. The team took a second to wonder what kind of relationship Roberts had had with his family, there was a suggestion that Eleanor and Graham Roberts were not close, Hammond wondered why. He suggested making a discreet enquiry as to their family background. Michael Galvin had searched Robert’s home and found nothing to suggest a motive for his death. No evidence of child pornography had been found or anything to suggest that Roberts had an unhealthy interest in underage boys. Hammond was personally relieved, even though it made their hypothesis of a motive less plausible. It was significant that Robert’s wallet had not been found at the house. This substantiated the theory of robbery although it was increasingly evident that the thief would not have been rewarded for his efforts. Dunn produced four bank statements that she wanted to share with them. The contents were worthy of investigation. There had been four separate withdrawals from a savings account within the last six months. One withdrawal was for £800 in cash. A la
ter withdrawal six weeks later was for £250, the third transaction was for £400. The last, also in cash, was for £300. Although the amounts were not excessive, it was noticeable that these four transactions had been the only withdrawals in the eleven years since the account was opened. Before that, the only activity recorded on the account had been a monthly deposit of £150 paid on the first day of every month.
Tom Edwards looked up from the statements that Dunn had laid on the table. “You think Graham Roberts was being blackmailed?”
Hammond stood up from the table and arched his back. His muscles were still healing after their sudden employment from the run in the park a few days earlier.” It could be, but it is worth looking through any receipts we find in Graham Robert’s house. Would you say he was an organised man from what you saw at his house? He turned to Michael Galvin as he asked his question who answered with a nod.
“Yes, everything was tidy so it is likely he was the kind of man to keep receipts.”
“Fine, we’ll have another look. The withdrawals could have a simple explanation. We’ll consider the possibility that he was blackmailed when we have ruled out other possibilities. Perhaps check with the sister again, perhaps she was having money troubles and was loaning money from her brother. It would help if she could give us a photograph of Roberts also.”
Lois Dunn volunteered to phone the sister later in the day.
They considered Adam Schaffer’s story. His mother had confirmed that he had been staying with her at the weekend, helping to renovate her garden. Receipts from the local garden centre showed a bag of compost had been purchased during Sunday afternoon, the checkout girl remembered serving him and a check at Schaffer’s mother’s property showed evidence of recent work in the garden. It was enough to eliminate him as a suspect. Schaffer had been enraged when he saw Roberts masturbating in the bushes previously. The forensic results proved that the situation had been repeated; only this time, someone else caught him in the act. Hammond and Edwards had successfully managed to obtain non-intimate DNA samples and fingerprints from all the boys interviewed at the Grammar school. Their bikes were to be examined by forensic examiners who would visit the boys’ homes later that day. Within the next 36 hours the forensic results would confirm any matches to the nail fragment found on Graham Robert’s body. Until they received the results, there wasn’t much else to do other than focus on Robert’s financial records and find an explanation for the cash withdrawals.
Hammond poured himself a coffee before venturing to his office. He closed the door and dialled Kathleen Di Marco’s number.
It was with relief that Hammond walked through his front door later that afternoon. He was looking forward to relaxing in front of the television and allowing his mind to be occupied with other people’s fictitious dramas for a change. His shoes were kicked off into their usual place near the door, the door keys slipped into his trouser pocket and the coat was shoved onto the mound of forgotten items on the coat hook. As he headed toward the kitchen, he was greeted by the smell of warmed vanilla. He breathed it in with rapture. It was a long time since he had smelt baking in the house. For a second his mind allowed him the fantastical thought that maybe Lyn had regretted the divorce and was back home, making a cake to celebrate their reunion. He opened the door and stopped in his tracks surprised to see an elderly woman he didn’t recognise taking a baking tray out of his oven. Unsure how to react he looked for Jenny and was relieved to see her entering the back door carrying tupper-ware boxes which she heaped onto the kitchen table. She noticed Hammond’s look of confusion and approached the woman by tapping her on the shoulder to get her attention. Jenny gestured to the woman by closing her right hand leaving the index and middle fingers visible as she placed them on her forehead before turning her hand so that the half-closed palm was visible at shoulder level in front of her, then she pointed to Hammond and spelt letters with her hands. The woman smiled and nodded at Hammond who stood in the doorway incredulously as he watched the two women communicate in silence. The woman raised her own hand and fluttered her fingers against her nose. Jenny signalled back and the two women laughed at their private joke. Jenny turned to Hammond and eased him out of his confusion.
“Mary wants to know how old you are; I told her you were too old to be her son, but young enough to be her toy-boy.”
Hammond smiled awkwardly. He pointed to the biscuits cooling on the wire rack and rubbed his tummy in circular motions in an attempt to demonstrate his approval. Mary placed her fingertips on her chin and moved her hand away from her as a thank you. Then she turned back to Jenny and made rapid gestures, smiling with twinkling eyes. Jenny looked up at Hammond with a look of resignation.
“Mary is surprised you don’t recognise her, you have been next door neighbours for over ten years”.
This information was a surprise to Hammond, who instantly felt ashamed under Jenny’s gaze. His hand reached for a biscuit as he considered what excuse he could give, but Jenny was not easily fooled.
“The biscuits are for the Christmas fair, not for your stomach.” Hammond took one anyway and moved around the kitchen unsure what to do or where to stand as Jenny bustled about arranging the food containers. Feeling Hammond watching her she turned around and ushered him away with her hand. “Ok, go now. Leave us in peace.” She practically pushed him out of the kitchen and shut the door ignoring his look of bewilderment. Hammond had no idea what had just happened. He shook his head in confusion and muttered to himself about the complexities of the female species before heading to the living room and the television.
It was after 7pm when Hammond’s boredom threatened to make him irritable. He fancied another biscuit but didn’t want to enter the kitchen in case he was scolded by the female who had taken over his house. It puzzled him how such a petite slip of a girl like Jenny could create so much chaos. He looked out the window and contemplated going to the Fish and Chip shop a mile away but was interrupted in his deliberations by the phone ringing. He answered it grateful for the distraction.
“Wallace, that you?” The voice was impatient at the other end.
“Lloyd. I wasn’t sure whether to call you or not.” Hammond wasn’t sure how to relate to his old friend now he knew the man was suffering from the early symptoms of Alzheimer’s. It felt as if the man he thought he had known had been replaced by an imposter. Hammond knew this feeling was irrational and unfair but he couldn’t trust that Lloyd was contacting him whilst being in his right mind.
“Why not? I was expecting you to call me. How is the investigation going?”
Hammond ran his fingers through his hair as he thought how to answer, he wasn’t sure how truthful he could be. He explained he had been preoccupied with another case. He allowed the unsaid to remain hanging in the silence before Harris plunged in
“You’ve found nothing?”
“No. I looked Lloyd. I am sorry, all I found were a few..” he searched for the appropriate word “..oddities, but I haven’t found a shred of evidence that would justify reviewing Mark Callum’s death or any of the others. Even if they had consulted advice on how to guarantee their deaths, they died by their own hands. There is nothing to investigate.” There was a splutter of agitation; Hammond was asked what efforts he had taken to prove Harris wrong.
“To be fair Lloyd, you didn’t give me anything to go on. I checked all the names on the list, the information is limited, despite checking police databases. There are no friends or family to talk to for any of them, if there are, they have chosen not to be forthcoming with any relevant information.” Hammond was interrupted sharply by Harris who was now playing the role of a head-teacher scolding a naughty child.
“But I gave you all the information you needed to get you going! Wallace, I thought you were a better detective than this!”
Hammond quietly counted to ten. He was tempted to let Lloyd know that his Alzheimer’s diagnoses wasn’t a secret and suggesting that his mind was playing tricks on him, but instead of losing his temper
he reminded Lloyd that no information had been given to him. There was a prolonged moment of silence for a while before Harris asked Hammond to make sure. Hammond thought back to their meeting at the Golf club. Harris had not provided any enlightening information other than the small crumbled list of names, he said so.
“In that case, I apologise Wallace. Can you come here? I will give you everything I have.”
Now he was in two minds how to respond, Hammond wanted to use the excuse of being too occupied with the investigation into Graham Robert’s murder. It was true that his time was limited. Instead, he let his conscience do the talking and allowed himself to be persuaded into collecting any further research Harris had collected. It would be easier to wait until the following evening he suggested, since he was due to pick up Kathleen at that time. There was no reply for several seconds and Hammond realised too late that Lloyd Harris was unaware that his daughter and Hammond had been in contact, but the older man hid his surprise and accepted Hammond’s idea graciously before ending the call.
As Hammond replaced the receiver, he discovered his hand was shaking slightly. His body was buzzing with nervous energy. Lloyd Harris had sounded perfectly rational on the phone. He had been impatient and persistent, slightly more forceful than Hammond had ever know him to be, but he would never have guessed that Harris’s mental health was failing. He remembered what Tom Edwards had said earlier that morning. Harris certainly was persistent with this investigation, there must be a reason for it other than a dogged mind. He looked toward the kitchen door and wondered again what Jenny was doing in there. He hadn’t seen anyone leave the kitchen and the smells that wafted down the hall into the living room were sending his senses into overdrive. The phone was picked up again as Hammond’s stomach ordered an Indian take-away curry to be delivered to his door.
